In this chapter, Thorin is exhausted. He's hardly slept, barely ate, and has been searching mindlessly, desperately through mountains of gold to find the Arkenstone for days. He is at the brink of his endurance, and more likely to listen that to explode in anger, just because anger takes more energy and he is so, so tired.

This chapter takes place after Chapter XVI, The Gathering of the Clouds in the Hobbit.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Consider it disclaimed. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien or the Appendices of the Lord of the Rings.

Summary: Instead of tip-toeing around the subject like a proper hobbit, Billa Baggins decides to face the issue like a dwarf and ask straight out. "Thorin," she said pleasantly as he pawed through piles of gold, "Have you gone mad?"
In which Billa Baggins confronts Thorin about the Elves and Men on his kingly doorstep, and won't take no for an answer.


Chapter 1

Billa paced the high, stone hallways of Erebor impatiently, wondering what on earth they were going to do. They'd run out of fresh food this morning, and all they had left in their meager pantry was cram, and only enough to last another week.

Her dwarves, rather than worry about silly things like food and survival, were either fortifying the Front Gate, guarding the Front Gate, or searching through the treasury for the Arkenstone. Thorin was the worst. He hadn't left the treasury at all since he'd entered it, and none of Billa's hints or leading questions had been enough to draw him away from his search. He brushed her off impatiently, and then shoutingly. He searched like a dwarf possessed... or a dwarf gone mad. Billa wasn't sure which was worse.

After witnessing the disastrous attempts of the Men and Elves at the Front Gate to negotiate, Billa had had enough with all three foolish races. Four, if you counted Gandalf, and Billa rather thought she should count Gandalf.

Hadn't the fool learned that insulting a dwarf never actually led to a dwarf changing his mind? He'd only dig in his heels, even if he knew you were right, just to spite you.

As for Thranduil, Billa was ready to push him off a cliff, and if he ever dared to climb the Front Gate in search of those jewels he lusted over, she really wouldn't hesitate to give him a shove. It probably wouldn't kill him, but at this point, Billa wasn't sure if that was a point in favor of her plan, or against it.

Bard, well, Bard was the only one Billa had any sympathy for right now. He had been suddenly thrust into leadership after tragedy devastated his home and threatened his family, and he'd only just come out of it alive. He rather reminded her of Thorin, and her heart went out to him. Still, he made demands of Thorin in such a way that saved his own pride, perhaps, but only made Thorin more stubborn.

Speaking of Thorin, Billa was terribly confused. She had come to admire the dwarf immensely on this journey, despite their rough start. She knew she would die to protect him, and had thrown herself into danger for his sake enough times to prove it. She could understand his reluctance to treaty with the Elves and Men on their doorstep because of their demands, but if he didn't, they would most assuredly starve.

The Arkenstone weighed heavily in her pocket with each step.

She sighed. Acting like a hobbit had gotten her nowhere so far. Hobbits and dwarves were different, after all.

Take, for instance, their greetings. Hobbits rubbed noses among their close friends and family. Dwarves slammed their foreheads together and smiled through the pain. Perhaps, Billa thought, that explains why they are so excruciatingly hard-headed. You have to prove you mean business and have the strength to back up your opinion.

A bold, wild idea blossomed in her brain. She imagined sneaking up behind Thorin and whacking him repeatedly about the head with- was that an umbrella? or a broom?- with something, until he came to his senses. She snorted, and then giggled at the idea. No, she thought regretfully through her unrepentant snickers, that would never do.

Still, there was something to be said about approaching this like a dwarf. She'd have to be blunt, and she couldn't back down until she was satisfied. Otherwise, nothing would be accomplished. Otherwise, her dwarves would probably starve this winter and so would Bard's people. As for Thranduil's people, well, they'd keep causing trouble until she came up with a plan to stop them.

Billa gritted her teeth and straightened her spine. She had a dwarf to beat some sense into. She scurried to find him before her courage ran out.


When Billa finally saw him, a tiny figure among the rolling hills of gold, she swallowed down her rising fears and rapidly recited her questions and her opinions in her head. She charged towards him, plowing through the gold with a determined stride.

A few minutes later, she finally reached him. She watched for a moment, gathering her courage.

Thorin didn't look mad. He looked exhausted, and hungry, and worried, but not mad. His calloused hands were scratched and bleeding in places from his frantic, unending search. His face was pale and his brow was clammy. His eyes were bloodshot. His braids were frizzed and his hair was tangled, and Billa felt so sad looking at him that she wanted to cry.

She breathed deeply for a moment and pulled herself together. "Thorin," she said firmly, "We need to talk."

He didn't even turn to look at her. "Not now Billa," he said shortly. "We need to find the Arkenstone." It was at this point in the past that she and all of the other dwarves had obediently backed off.

Billa gritted her teeth. "Humor me, Thorin. If you answer my questions, I will search with you until it is found, I swear it," she said, guilt, concern, irritation and worry warring in her.

He huffed irritably, his hands and his jaw clenching. He bowed his head for a moment, exhaustion in every line of him. "Fine, Billa," he said. "Speak."

"What happens after we find the Arkenstone?" she asked.

He sighed. "The other kingdoms are sworn to come to our aid, bringing food and warriors and workers. We need the Arkenstone to begin rebuilding Erebor," he explained slowly, like she was a child. Which was probably good, because even a dwarf child would understand more about this than she did.

"Okay, that makes sense," she admitted. "Why aren't we helping the Men on our doorstep?" she asked bluntly.

He threw his hands up into the air, frustrated. "Billa," he said warningly, "If you have come to - to natter at me like Gandalf, then I suggest you leave right now." He glared at her for effect.

"Thorin," she said, glaring just as threateningly, "Answer the damn question!"

Thorin reared back, surprised. Through trolls and spiders and barrels and dragons, Billa Baggins had kept a very prim and proper mouth, and he'd never heard her cuss before. He blinked at her, nonplussed.

"Uhhh," he said convincingly.

Billa narrowed her eyes and repeated the question. "Why aren't we helping the Men on our doorstep?" she asked again.

Thorin sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Why must you question me in this?" he asked her, looking and sounding so worn out that Billa truly felt guilty. Her eyes settled on his hands, still bleeding in places.

She had taken to carrying around a few bandages and some basic salve after tripping and skinning her knees, elbows, and hands so often in the dark of Erebor.

She walked closer to Thorin, who only gazed at her with tired eyes. She looked up at him for a moment, questioning, and then she suddenly gave him a sharp shove, pushing with all her might, and he fell backwards, his arms wheeling and his eyes popping wide open. He landed with a grunt on his bum, gold skittering away from the impact, and then he glared at her.

She plopped down before he could begin to yell at her, and took one of his hands. He yanked it out of her grip, still glaring thunderously at her, and she, glaring just as fiercely, yanked it back.

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, muttering what sounded like a prayer for patience as she fished in her pocket for her first aid supplies. He fell silent as she started to dab the salve on his cuts.

"Thorin," she said quietly as he watched her work, "I have followed you away from everything I have ever known: My home, my country, my people and my friends. I have followed you into danger, into darkness, and into certain death. I admire you as a leader and as a warrior, and there is no one I would rather have beside me when trouble comes, but sometimes I question your judgment," she admitted, her voice still soft and soothing.

"Sometimes I think you are wrong. Sometimes, that is because I don't have all of the information that you do. Sometimes, it's just because you're a prideful, prejudiced git," she finished, her voice still soothing. Thorin snorted at her words, but he didn't interrupt.

"Thorin, please explain to me why we are not giving assistance to the Men on our doorstep. It looks like you are abandoning them the same way that Thranduil abandoned you."

Thorin snarled at this, jerking his hand back and glaring at her.

"Please," she continued, "That doesn't fit with what I know of you. The Thorin Oakenshield I follow and admire would never be guilty of the same crime he condemns others for committing. So please, Thorin," she said insistently, "Explain what I am missing."

Thorin did something then that she had never seen him do before.

He seemed to shrink before her eyes, as he curled his legs up underneath him, leaning forwards with drooping shoulders. He hid his face in his hands, and his hair spilled around him like a waterfall.

When he spoke, his voice was small and there was a tiny, weary pause between each word.

"What would you have me do, Billa?" he asked. "Thranduil already aids them, which is more than happened to us. I cannot offer them food to eat, for we have none. I cannot offer them tents, or beds, or healers, or medical supplies. My own home is in shambles, and my own people are at risk. I have nothing left to offer them," he said, so tiredly.

He tipped back and back until he fell against the gold, looking up to the treasury ceiling which seemed almost as far away as the stars.

"For all I am a King, Billa Baggins," he said softly, "I am only one dwarf. There is only so much I can do."

Billa was relieved at the thoughts behind his answer. He did not refrain out of greed, but because he would serve his own people first and had nothing to share. But she had more questions.

"That makes sense," she said. She shifted to sit nearer to his side so she could continue to tend to his hands. His eyes flickered between her and the ceiling, his gaze distant.

"But why not give them the gold they ask for? It sounded like you promised that, back in Lake Town. You said that everyone would share in the wealth of the mountain," she reminded him.

He sighed gustily. "I meant in trade," he grumbled at her. "The men of Dale grew wealthy from trade with us, and so it would be again. I hardly meant that we would be giving out fistfuls of gold for free, let alone a twelfth portion." She smirked at his grumpiness. Here was the dwarf she knew.

"Do you think they would go away if we did give out a few fistfuls of gold?" she asked pointedly. He put one hand up to grind tiredly into his bloodshot eyes.

"I hardly know," he admitted. "And since I do not know, I don't dare risk it. It could make me look weak, and we are in an untenable position as it is."

Billa snorted. "You don't look weak," she told him bluntly. "You look unreasonable and cold-hearted. For all you hate the Mirkwood Elves, they are looking a lot more heroic to the people of Lake Town than we are right now. We set a dragon on them, and the elves swooped in to the rescue."

He growled, turning his head away from her.

"I bet that's Thranduil's intention," she said, goading him a little. "He gets to look like the noble, wise elf of old and tries to make you look like a greedy, petulant child, and from here on out, Lake Town does better trade with Mirkwood than it does with Erebor."

Thorin growled again, this time glaring right at her.

"And what would you have me do?" he snarled. "We've already established that there is nothing I can do!"

"No, we haven't," she said sharply.

She finished bandaging one hand and set it down. Then, she held out her hand imperiously for the other. He turned away pointedly. She smacked his stomach and held out her hand again. He waited just long enough to make it clear that he was acting because he wanted to and not because she asked. Then, point made, he gave her his hand.

"I think," she said, unapologetically telling him what to do, "That we should invite Bard up here, to view the damages himself. We take him up to the western guard room, show him all the most damaged parts, and play on his sympathy."

Thorin tried to interrupt, but she smacked his stomach again and talked over him.

"Dwarves are made of tougher things, so perhaps this doesn't apply to them. But, among Men, Elves and Hobbits, showing a soft underbelly is sometimes the best way to keep someone from attacking.

"We tell Bard about the fall of Erebor," here, Thorin tensed, but Billa kept talking. "We talk about the suffering, and the horror, and how Thranduil arrived with an army at his back, and did nothing and offered no aid. We tell him that when a group of thirteen came to reclaim their homeland and crossed through Thranduil's realm, he imprisoned us after we came to beg, starving."

Thorin's lip was curled, sneering at the thought of humbling himself before one who was colluding with the enemy.

Billa smacked him. "Stop that," she said. "If you can make an enemy into a friend, you have defeated an enemy and gained a friend, after all. We explain in detail what Thranduil cost us, and how he treated us, and explain to Bard very clearly that we will not do business with him while the Elves that abandoned and tormented us flock threateningly` around our gates."

"But I've already said that!" Thorin burst out, frustrated.

"So you did," Billa agreed. "Unfortunately, you said it like a Dwarf, and he heard it like a Man, and neither of you had the right of it," she explained. "However, over tea and cram," she said humorously, "I believe you and Balin and I can bring him to a proper understanding."

Thorin raised an eyebrow, curious, and she continued. "We tell him that we are willing to defend our mountain to the death, but we remind him that his people can't eat gold and neither can we, and tell him that we are willing to trade gold for food. You can use gold from my share, if it really bothers you, because all I'd buy would be food anyway," she said. He grumbled a little, but he wasn't throwing her off the ramparts or anything, so she kept talking.

"Maybe we promise to help rebuild Dale. Maybe we offer to house the sick, young and elderly for the winter. It's sure to be warmer in here than out there, right?" she asked.

He shrugged. She huffed at him.

"In any case, we listen to his requests, and send him away knowing that we won't do anything unless he makes the Elven host leave us alone. If he does as we request, we immediately begin to help as much as we can. We get food, they get gold and maybe shelter, and everyone goes home happy. Hm? How does that sound?"

He shrugged again. "I've already said I'll not deal with them unless the Elves remove themselves, and he said that the Mountain is besieged. I cannot be seen to gainsay my word, and he will hardly come in to enter into private negotiations without his elves," he said. His tone was careless, but his eyes were hard, and just a little hopeless.

Billa searched for an answer. Thorin couldn't be seen to beg, after all. But... she could.

"What if I invited Bard to tea, and gave him the tour (with a particularly knowledgeable dwarven expert along to keep me safe, of course) and then told him our story? Balin supplements if necessary. No agreements are made, but information is shared and reiterated that may change his mind. You aren't seen to beg or gainsay anything, and Thranduil is left out in the cold where he belongs. Aye?" she asked.

Thorin eyed her speculatively, actually seeming to consider it. "You'd just invite him... for tea?" he echoed.

"Mmm," Billa nodded. "Perhaps I'd actually invite his daughters, and he would come along to keep them safe," she improved on her first idea. "That way we can circumvent the leaders altogether, and we womenfolk can scheme in peace. If Bard so happens to come along, well, I can hardly help what conclusions he draws," she said, winking at him.

"That," Thorin admitted quietly, "sounds promising."

Billa smiled at him, and his mouth twitched weakly back at her.

"Billa," he said tiredly, "Dain will be here in a few days. I need to find the Arkenstone before then to cement my position. If he or any of his dwarves found it before I did, they could claim Erebor and all its wealth for the Iron Kingdom, and all my kin in Ered Luin would be left homeless again," he told her gravely.

Billa bit her lip, feeling extremely guilty.

"Help me search, Billa?" he asked.

"Just a few more questions, Thorin, and I swear I'll help," she said softly.

He nodded, resigned. He put an arm over his bloodshot eyes, resting them for a moment, and Billa steeled herself to ask the question that had been burning inside of her since Rivendell.

"Is there really such a thing as gold sickness?" she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.

Thorin threw his arm off and stared at her, not expecting that question at all. He started to sit up, and Billa scooted back to let him. She thought she saw hurt in his eyes, and rushed to explain.

"It's just, in Rivendell Elrond said there was gold sickness in your family, and Thranduil said that he warned Thror what all the gold could bring, but Thror didn't listen, and Beorn said that dwarves were greedy, and I didn't believe them," she said, her voice coming desperate and fast now, "I didn't! Except, you held a sword to my throat when we were running away from Smaug, and you didn't seem to worry about Oin or Bofur or Fili and Kili when Lake Town was destroyed, and after Lake Town burned, you didn't do anything for the people, but just stayed in here searching. So I'm very confused, and I really, truly need to know," she begged him.

"Please, Thorin," she said, clenching her eyes shut for a moment, "Is there such a thing as gold sickness?" she breathed, pleading on her face and in her voice.

Thorin continued to stare at her, but his gaze was more considering. He opened his mouth a few times, and then closed it again, pursing his lips or furrowing his brow.

"No," he finally said. "Not in the way you are thinking."

She leaned back, breathing deeply in relief as he explained.

"The thing is, Billa, each coin in here has a story, and for those who can see, the story is clear," he said, his voice low and melodic. He plucked a coin from the ground beside them and showed it to her.

"Just from looking at this coin, I can tell where this gold was mined, who mined it, when it was mined, where it was minted, when it was minted, and the name of the dwarf that minted it."

Billa stared, wide eyed. The coins looked identical to her. Could he really...?

Thorin continued, "In cases such as this, it is tradition for the coins to be sorted according to families and passed on to their descendants, so long as they swear fealty to the King Under the Mountain. That is why I am so fiercely protective of this gold, because before it is donated to Men who already have the help of Elves, it should first be sorted and stored for my people, the people who mined and shaped it. Do you understand?" he asked. The low rumble of his voice was almost hypnotizing when he spoke passionately, quietly, like this.

Billa nodded, swallowing. "That makes sense," she whispered.

"As for Thror," Thorin continued, "Erebor has not been passed down for generations and generations like you may think. Erebor has only borne the reign of two kings, Thrain the First and Thror, my grandfather," he explained. "Thrain the First, son of Nain the First, son of Durin the Sixth, came to Erebor after Moria was abandoned to Durin's Bane, and began a kingdom here in 1999. His son, Thorin the First, left Erebor in 2210 and took his people north, to the Grey Mountains where they mined and flourished for many generations. Thorin reigned, and Gloin and Oin and Nain the Second and Dain the First all reigned in the Grey Mountains. But," Thorin paused, tilting his head, "Dragons bred and thrived in the wastes beyond the Grey Mountains, and they came and made war with the dwarves, and when Dain the First reigned, a cold drake came down and killed Dain and his second son, Fror, at the gates in 2589."

Billa gasped, riveted by his story. This was far better than any history lesson she'd ever heard in the Shire.

"Gror, the third son went to the Iron Hills with some of his people, and that is where my cousin Dain rules today," he said. "Thror, the first son and heir returned to Erebor with the bulk of his people and built it to all the splendor that it is today. He had known the hardship and terror of the road, the grasping of the winter cold and the implacable advance of illness and disease, and he had been helpless to protect his people. He swore that he would never let his people suffer so again, and he built up such a treasury to ensure that, no matter what happened to the world outside, his people would know plenty and happiness."

Thorin sighed. "Unfortunately, the word of Erebor's riches spread far and wide and came to the ears of the Dragons, and Smaug came down without warning, and laid waste to our people." Thorin hung his head and rubbed at his eyes. "I had to drag my grandfather away from the treasury when Smaug descended upon us, but I do not think it was because he was mad and lusting for his gold. I think he went to find the Arkenstone, so he could unite all the seven kingdoms and take back Erebor for his people, just as I have come to do," Thorin said.

"Thror's intention to protect his people was the unwitting cause of their destruction, but Thranduil, for all his talk, did not warn against the beast for our sake. He wanted us to lower taxes and increase trade with him and used the argument of a dragon as if such a paltry amount could make a difference. Once we were no more use to him, and he could get no more gold nor jewels from us, he turned his back without hesitation. If there is such a thing as gold sickness, it is not to be found among dwarves," he said grimly, letting her draw the conclusion that gold sickness might, in fact, be found in a certain Elvenking's Halls.

Billa stared into the distance, pondering all that Thorin had said. She reviewed her list of concerns and opinions and checked them off one by one. Yes, she thought, I do believe that covers it. Now for the hard part.

"Well, Master Burglar," Thorin said, scrubbing at his face with a tired hand. "Have I satisfied you? I'll admit it was refreshing to sit and rest my bones for a while, and I appreciate your treatment of my hands, but Dain will be here soon and I must keep searching," he said.

Guilt roiled in her stomach, but Billa swallowed down her fear. Thorin had been vindicated in her eyes, and she would return to him the same honesty he had given her.

"Here, Thorin, she said, stretching out a hand. "I'll help you up."

She heaved with all her might, but Thorin still had to do most of the work of standing up by himself. She didn't relinquish his hand, however, but tugged him along after her.

"Burglar," he said warningly, "You promised you would help me search, and it will be a very difficult thing to keep track of where I have already been if you keep walking away!" he said, almost shouting at the end as he resisted her pull.

She turned back to him and pointed a finger, looking him square in the eye.

"Thorin Oakenshield," she said, clutching her courage like a barrel in a writhing river, "I am helping you to find the Arkenstone. Stop pulling and start following," she said sharply.

He glared at her with suspicious, bloodshot eyes and tugged his hand away, but with a sigh, he took off his coat and tossed it over the pile of gold where they had been sitting, marking his place. Then, turning to her with a rather sour expression, he raised an eyebrow. Go on, the eyebrow seemed to say, Dig yourself in deeper. I'll watch.

She led him across the hills of gold and out of the treasury. When he balked at the doors, she grabbed his hand and pulled him after her. She ignored the fact that he only moved because he wanted to and not because she had exerted any real force on him, and continued to lead him up into the kitchens.

"Hold on," she said, clutching his hand to keep him from escaping. "Let me search in the pantry real quick. It might have been hidden in here."

Thorin snorted disbelievingly as she rooted in a cupboard and produced some cram. She handed two to him and nibbled on one herself.

"Nope, not in there," she admitted, and Thorin smirked sardonically before biting hungrily into a biscuit. She led him out into the room where they'd been sleeping. Thorin hadn't been sleeping at all except for naps in the treasury, and so didn't have a bedroll spread out. By the time they'd reached the room, Thorin's biscuits were finished, and she gave him the last half of hers. Then, Billa pushed him down onto her bedroll and prodded at him until he obligingly lay down.

"I suppose I'm supposed to check your pillow for the Arkenstone, hmm, little burglar?" he murmured sardonically at her.

"Not quite, Thorin," she said ruefully, sitting cross-legged next to the bedroll and looking earnestly down at him. She bit her lip again, and decided the moment was now.

"I was afraid and I thought you were mad, Thorin, and that's the only explanation I have. Now I've heard your explanation and I know better, and I can only ask your forgiveness," she said gravely.

His brow furrowed as he stared piercingly at her. He started to sit up, but she leaned forward and pressed her hands against his shoulders.

"Please, wait," she said pleadingly, blinking away tears. It was dusty in here, that was all. He paused, body still tense, but he stayed on the ground, listening. "If you do choose to punish me, as would be your right, I only ask that you wait until things are settled with the Men and the Elves and I can be of no more use to you," she finished softly, gazing down at him.

She gulped as his icy blue eyes bored into hers, clearly reading the growing suspicion they held. Silently, she reached into her pocket and drew out the glowing, swirling stone that was known to all dwarf-kind as the Arkenstone. His eyes bugged out, disbelievingly, and she thrust it into his hands, and then shuffled back a pace, still sitting.

He gaped at it, turning it over and over in his hands, wondering and awed and wistful and hopeful, all at once. He swallowed audibly, twice, as he searched for words.

"Billa Baggins," he said faintly, eyes still riveted on the jewel in his hands. "Am I to believe that the Arkenstone was hidden in your pocket all this time?" he asked.

Billa flinched and looked away. "Ah... yes." she said baldly.

He only closed his eyes as if to ward her off and pressed the Arkenstone first to his lips, and then to his forehead, and then to his heart, casting blue, pink, and white light in swirling patterns over him. He clutched it close, relief practically carved into his face. Billa quickly tossed her jacket over his chest, covering the stone.

"So you can sleep in peace, without the others waking you to ask questions," she explained bashfully, still waiting for his justifiable anger.

Luckily for her, it seemed Thorin was too tired and too relieved to be angry right now. The corner of his mouth tilted up in a tiny smile, and he let out a long, gusting sigh.

"Billa Baggins," he murmured, as his red-rimmed eyes drooped and his breath slowed. "Troublesome Burglar. Whatever am I going to do with you?"

Then his eyes were closed and his breathing was steady as he slipped into much-deserved and long-awaited sleep.

Billa gave a sigh, relieved that it had gone so well, happy that Thorin was not in fact mad, and grateful he was resting. She knew he'd probably yell at her tomorrow, but she'd deal with it then.

She laid down, her back to him, and she dared to scoot back a little until she could feel the warmth radiating from him. She grabbed a nearby pack- was that Kili's?- and tucked it under her head. Then, she too slipped into sleep. In her dreams, Thorin was smiling.