A/N: Someone (and yes, you know who you bloody well are) dragged me kicking and screaming into writing this fic. And by kicking and screaming I mean they talked Hobbit with me until I went, "I HAVE A REALLY BAD AU IDEA," and she went, "oh no. Bad as in bad or bad as in angst?" In the end the decision is up to you. This isn't finished, it's going to be at least two parts, but here's the first part. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own any Tolkien claim and I also make no promises to contribute regularly to this fandom rn b/c I'm writing Christmas presents like a mofo.
Dedication: To my Boo, who's a terrible influence, honestly, I have so much to write, why did you make me write this, pls.
Bilbo watched the destruction of Laketown from atop the rock outcropping, feeling hollow and defeated. The dragon was slain, yes, but at what cost? Into the lake it went, felled by a great, dark arrow, and Bilbo was sick with grief, and worry, and guilt. They had sent the dragon to that town.
He had done this to them.
Shortly after the dragon fell Dwalin was there, hand surprisingly gentle on his arm as he hauled him to his feet. He called Bilbo lad in a tone of voice Bilbo had only ever heard applied to Fili and Kili, and Bilbo wondered how long this stretch of peace would last. Dragon slain, but the hobbit wasn't so foolish to think that the men of the town wouldn't seek retribution for the destruction. And maybe in another time, another place, Thorin would have gifted the town with gold enough to repair, to rebuild, but there was a dark look that lingered in Thorin's eyes since entering the mountain and Bilbo feared the dwarf he had followed through danger and darkness was not the same as the one who stood before the throne when Dwalin brought him back inside the mountain.
"Fili and Kili are being fetched from the town," Thorin said, his voice echoing in the chamber that had only know the dragon's slumbering snores for the past sixty years. Bilbo did not suggest that Fili or Kili, or winter curse them, both the dwarves be dead, because he knew there wasn't a single member of the company that wasn't holding that horrid thought behind their breast.
"And Bofur," Bilbo added instead, because he missed his friend. Bifur made a gesture at him that he didn't not understand in a technical sense, but still understood at heart; yes, the dwarf seemed to say, my brother too.
Thorin had that strange look in his yes again when he echoed, "and Bofur." Bilbo might have questioned that look, had he not ached in placed he hadn't realized existed. He sat down upon the ground, weary and sad, and stayed there despite the huff of irritation Thorin made at his actions.
"As soon as the lads are back, we begin the search," Thorin announced to the once great hall. Bilbo bit back a sigh, not having to ask what they were searching for. Every dwarf in the room muttered their agreement, shifting so that they too were sitting, taking what rest they could.
It was dark outside the mountain before the lads and Bofur returned. Balin was the first in the room, Fili and Bofur both supporting a sour looking Kili.
"I can walk, you know," Kili claimed, a farfetched feat indeed considering the arrow that had been sticking out of his leg barely two days before. The hobbit had to admit, however, that there was a certain amount of color back to his cheeks that hadn't been there before, a brightness to his eyes that gave credit to his words though common sense nagged about arrow injuries being serious things.
"Ah, nephews," Thorin boomed, loud and happy and almost himself, for a second. He marched forward, sweeping them both into a tight hug, lifting their feet off the ground by several inches until they were squeaking like piglets.
"Welcome home," Thorin whispered, but the hall was not made for secrets and Bilbo watched as emotions flooded over the company, teary eyes turned to the ceiling, small smiled hidden in the beards they so prided themselves on. And though Bilbo understood that proper manners demanded he turn and pretend the family display was not happening, he could not move.
Lit by the nearby torches, hair a dark mess upon his head, eyes lit from within, burning bright as he clutched his nephews; this was the dwarf Bilbo Baggins had followed across more land than he had ever considered possible. How could he turn away from such a sight?
His pocket felt heavier than it should as Thorin drew back, hands still clasped to the lad's shoulders. Bilbo wanted to walk up and confess right then what lay hidden in the folds of his coat, but he bit back the urge as if it was one of his aunt's bread-cakes, rock hard and uncomfortable to digest.
"Now, we search for the Arkenstone," Thorin declared, twisting to face his company. "And once we find it we will restore our home to its former glory!"
Bofur swallowed visibly and even Balin looked vaguely uncomfortable as well. Bilbo wished they would both just leave it be, at least for another hour, but he had been sitting upon the floor for several hours already, so it seemed their period of peace had already passed. Besides that, he had to admit, he could not blame his friends for the news they bore, heavy upon their shoulders like the weight of the mountain itself. He braced himself, already fearing the worst.
"Thorin," Balin said, crossing his arms across his chest. "The men in Laketown are not pleased that the dragon laid siege upon them. They blame you and wish to have the wealth you promised them before we left."
The dark something in Thorin's eyes reared its ugly head, pulling the dwarf's expression into an ugly snarl. "This is our wealth," Thorin declared hotly, drawing up to his full height and staring coldly down at his friend and mentor. "If those jealous men wish to have it they will have to pry it out of our cold, stone hands."
Bilbo held his breath as the white haired dwarf studied his new king. Slowly, as if still unsure, Balin shook his head from side to side, arms falling to swing at his sides like the dropped reins to a tired pony.
"Aye, you're right," Balin agreed, much to Bilbo's internal dismay. "Come along then, let us find your birthright so that this kingdom can once again be great."
Bilbo knew then, in the pit of his gut, that the world would never be the same again, because as each of the company turned to head further into the mountain, to where the gold was kept, the same darkness that was present in Thorin crept over them. Many times during their journey Bilbo had felt his chest seize in fear and worry, but there was nothing quite like the feeling of fearing what it is your friends will do next.
Peace, Bilbo learned, could only last a day or two at most. Dawn came and went, the dwarves hunting throughout the golden piles for their precious gem, while Bilbo caught a quiet nap in the corner. Supposedly he was to keep an eye on Kili and make sure he didn't over exert himself, but the lad seemed almost magically healed, which Bilbo had his suspicions about but he said nothing. The morning light gave way to twilight, which slid into night without many noticing. Bilbo's stomach was more aware of the passing of time than he was, but the dwarves could hardly be persuaded to pause long enough for a snack, let alone an entire meal. D
Perhaps that was what happened, he reflected later; perhaps is was worry and hunger sickness that made him stumble, vision whirling as the gold he was perched on slid like mud in the wet season under from under his tired feet. He cried out softly, arms swinging as he tried to catch himself, and suddenly Thorin was there, reaching for him to keep him steady. They both ended up sliding a good couple feet, hands clutching at the other, gold clicking as it went in every which way, but for one wonderful moment Bilbo felt safe in the circle of Thorin's arms, the dwarf's heartbeat a steady thunder inside his chest.
"Bilbo," Thorin said, voice like a rockslide, loud and brash against Bilbo's tired senses. "Watch what you are doing, you could have been hurt. What would we do if our company's burglar was-"
Bilbo felt his heart crash against his ribcage as the dwarf froze, one large hand pressed against the hobbit's side. Bilbo's curly hair, limp as it was with sweat and grease from lack of washing, flopped against his forehead as he snapped his head up, gaze locking on the dark cloud that was overtaking the King Under the Mountain's expression.
"Thorin," Bilbo said weakly, but the dwarf was already reaching roughly into the coat pocket, closing his fingers around the treasure hidden inside. Bilbo head still as he could as the Arkenstone was drawn from its hiding stop, fighting back a flinch as the dwarfs nearby fell silent as it hit the light, throwing its wicked reflection glittering upon their cheeks.
"Bilbo," Thorin said, gaze drifting between the stone he held in his hand and the hobbit still within reach. "Bilbo Baggins, how long have you held this treasure in your possession?"
Lie, something dark and wrinkled spoke from within, but Bilbo was tired of lies. He was tired of the dark and the shadows that lingered upon everyone as if they were practicing for their own funerals. He was tired of this madness, coiled around his friends, his king, like the spider silk in the forest had. He was, to put it simply, just quite tired of it all.
"Since I first stepped foot in the room and was found by Smaug," he whispered. Hs resolve gave him the words, but not the strength to project them further than a broom handle's length.
"It has sat in your pocket all this time?"
Bilbo swallowed roughly, feeling small indeed. "Yes."
A flicker of light in the eyes that had seemed so kind before, a moment of silence that stretched to the Shire and back, and then Bilbo's ears were ringing with the sound of the king's rage. He stumbled back, heart hammering in his chest like a frightened rabbit caught in a trap, and Thorin advanced, more terrifying than any goblin, or orc, or spider Bilbo had faced, because the hobbit knew, deep inside himself, he would never be able to fight back properly against this foe.
"Out," Thorin growled, grabbing the collar of Bilbo's coat and hauling him off his feet. Bilbo scrambled, hands gripping at Thorin's wrists, but the dwarf seemed too enchanted with the idea of strangling the hobbit to free him instead. No one in the company spoke up in Bilbo's defense, not even when he was tossed back onto the gold, swallowing back a small noise of pain before it could echo in the silence left behind from Thorin's shout.
"Please," Bilbo whispered, shaking as he peered up at his king. "Please, Thorin, don't do this, you need to listen, you made a promise to the people of Laketown and-"
Up again Thorin hauled Bilbo and up again he went, scrambling against the grip. Something flickered in the darkness across Thorin's gaze, like a shooting star in the night, so at odd with the snarl curling his lips.
"Bilbo Baggins," Thorin spoke, holding him up for the company to see. "You are a traitor to this company. You are hereby banished from this kingdom and your return to such will be upon the penalty of death. You will be escorted from the mountain and delivered back upon the road, where you will make your way home yourself. If you resist this order, you will die."
In his nightmares Bilbo had imagined Thorin shouting, swinging him about and holding his sword against his neck, but this was more frightening to an extent. There was such a level of calm about the king, cold and cruel, and powerful, like there was nothing in the world Bilbo could do to change his mind. His heart hurt with the weight of the words spoken and he found that as he was dropped on his feet he had no more strength to stand.
"Fili," Thorin commanded. "Kili. Take Bilbo out of our kingdom."
The two lads, who's laughter and joy had been such a balm on the worst of the journey, stepped forward, their faces mostly unrecognizable with fury. The each stepped forward, until they were standing on either side of Bilbo, but then they seemed to hesitate, hands extended to pick him up, but not yet touching. Bilbo swallowed roughly past the fear, opening his mouth to plead with them to listen, but Thorin cut through, his bellow echoing like the dragon's roar had only a two days prior.
"Go," the King Under the Mountain shouted and the princes curled their fingers around Bilbo's arms, hauled him to his feet, and dragged his limp form out of Thorin Oakenshield's presence.