Searching for a Burglar

Kíli hoped against hope that the Hobbit he was searching for was still alive.

Ever since Bilbo had admitted to giving away the Arkenstone to Bard, he had not seen hide nor hair or the Hobbit, as Thorin had banished him from his sight, angered by the betrayal. It was likely that the Halfling had returned to the Men's camp, but after that, anything could have happened. He could have left for home, or stayed in the camp, but something told him that Bilbo would probably have taken that 'letter opener' of his and charged into the fray.

Wiping his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time, the young dwarf walked towards a group of elves, pride and inherited grudges long forgotten.

"Excuse me," he said, but his voice didn't seem to deter them from their conversation in their own language. Coughing, he cleared his throat of the lump that had lodged itself there and tried again. "Excuse me!"

Turning to face him, the four elves gave him a sour look, one of them actually sneering at him. Undetered by their hatred of him, he took another step forward.

"I'm looking for a friend-"

"We cannot tell one of your kind from another," one of them stated, "how do you expect us to help you? And why would we aid your search in the first place?"

Swallowing, Kíli shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he continued to look up at them. "He's not a dwarf. He's a Hobbit."

One of the speaker's eyebrows rose as the others whispered amongst themselves. "A Hobbit?"

"Yes. He is a little smaller than I, with short, curly brown hair, and has large feet, but wears no boots or shoes."

The elf nodded thoughtfully. "I believe I know of whom you speak. But I ask again, why should we aid you in your search?"

Kíli looked down at his muddied boots, feeling the tears beginning to form again. "My Uncle… He has requested to see him, and if I do not find Bilbo soon, I fear… I fear they will never meet again in this life."

He knew his voice was breaking, but he couldn't bring himself to care at that moment. As much as he tried to deny it, he knew that Thorin wouldn't recover. The wound was deep, and there was no doubt in his mind that it would not take long for the King to leave the world of the living. It was as though his life had been tied to the sun's light, and it was fading quickly.

Looking up through tear filled eyes, he found his audience were giving him curious looks. One of them said something in elvish and the others nodded and hummed in reply. Frowning, he wondered what had been said when the one he had been speaking to stepped forwards.

"I'm sorry, but I have not seen your friend."

Kíli lowered his eyes, disappointment filling his gut.

"But my companions and I will help you in your search."

Blinking, the dwarf stared up at them in surprise. "You will?"

The elf nodded.

Smiling, Kíli bowed his head to them. "I thank you," he said, "If you do find him, tell him his friends are by the Gate."

The elves nodded in reply, and he left, continuing along the road.

Each time he passed a living soul, Dwarf, Man and Elf alike, he asked them the same question; have you seen a Hobbit? And each time he was answered, his heart sunk a little more, for the answer was always the same; no.

It had been over an hour since he had left his brother and Uncle, and still his search was as fruitless as it had been when he had first begun, though the number of those searching had grown exponentially. The sun had almost reached the horizon, and the clouds had disappeared from the sky, leaving it as bare and clean as fresh fallen snow, but that did nothing to lighten his spirits.

As he reached the peak of one of the hills which littered the field, he spotted the impressive form of Dwalin as he talked with his brother, Balin, about something. Running down the hill, he shouted their names in greeting, causing them to turn to him, smiles on their faces.

"Kíli!" the warrior cried, pulling him into his arms and squeezing the young dwarf against his chest, "It is good to see you lad!"

Supressing a cry of pain as the bones in his left arm moved again, Kíli smiled. "It's good to see you too!"

"Dwalin! Put the boy down!" Balin exclaimed, "His arm's already been injured enough without you trying to crush it!"

"Ah, he can take it!" Dwalin replied, dropping back onto his feet, "Can't you!"

Rubbing his arm, Kíli's smile disappeared. "Have either of you seen Bilbo?"

The taller dwarf's features darkened. "That traitor? No. But if I had-"

"Thorin wishes to see him."

The two brothers looked at each other in confusion.

"Why?" Balin asked.

Swallowing, he pushed his sorrow back once again. "He… He wants to amend his mistake. He wants to take back what he said… before he leaves."

Dwalin snorted. "I'd be surprised if the ratling was still here!"

"No! I didn't mean…!" Kíli's words caught in his throat, and he took a deep breath. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"It's not… It's not Bilbo who's leaving."

For a moment, they just stared at each other, but then Dwalin began to shake his head.

"No. No, he can't be…"

Kíli bit his lip as he nodded.

Balin stepped closer to him, disbelief written all over his face. "Where is he?"

"He's by the Gate, with Fíli. But I have to find Bilbo. I don't know how long…"

Nodding, the old dwarf gave him a small smile. "I haven't seen him since before the battle."

"Me neither," Dwalin chipped in, "but I suspect he'd be on high ground if he's still here."

Thanking them both, Kíli dashed off to continue his search.

Sticking to the higher ground, as Dwalin had suggested, he began to shout the Hobbit's name, hoping he would hear it. A few others would stop and stare at him every so often, but with the sun's rays quickly disappearing they didn't spend long looking, too concerned with finding a warm bed for the night as the heat of battle faded from their muscles.

"Bilbo!" he cried as he crested yet another hill, turning to look back the way he came, "Bilbo!"

Suddenly, he heard a moan coming from behind him, and he quickly drew his sword, not knowing the source of the noise. He looked all around, but there was no one in sight who could have made the sound.

"Who's there?" he asked, swinging his weapon in the direction he was looking, but still he could see nothing, "Show yourself!"

"Kíli!" came a familiar voice, though it seemed to appear from the air itself.

"Bilbo? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me! I'm stood right in front of you!" came the reply.

He frowned. "If you are right in front of me, why is it that I cannot see you?"

"You can't… Oh!"

Kíli heard some of the stones move and then the familiar sight of a Hobbit popped out from behind one of the larger rocks, a helm fitting snugly over his head. "Bilbo! I've been looking for you for some time now!"

"You have?"

He nodded. "Are you alright?"

Pulling the helmet off, the Halfling winced. "A nasty knock on the head, and my legs feel like straw, but that's all I think. Yourself?"

"I think my arm is broken, so I won't be able to carry you," he replied as he sheathed his sword, "but I must take you back to the Gate. I've been asked to fetch you."

Bilbo frowned. "You have? By whom?"

Kíli paused before answering. "My Uncle, he… I don't think he will last the night."

The Hobbit's eyes widened. "Thorin's dying?"

The dwarf winced at the word, but nodded the affirmative. "He wants to see you before-"

"I understand."

Kíli smiled, glad he did not have to repeat it again.

"I suppose we'd better get going then."

It took a while to get down the hill without falling, but after a man had offered to help, it only took about ten minutes to get back to the Gate, now that they didn't have to search the entirety of the field to find someone, plus the road had been cleared, creating an easy route through the carnage.

During the time that Kíli had been searching, someone had erected a tent around his Uncle, keeping the cold winds from pulling faster into the halls of the dead than the fingers of death were already doing. Most of the dwarves from their original company were waiting outside; Dori and Nori fussing over their younger brother as they put his right hand in a splint and a bandage wrapped around his head, Óin was using a cloth to clean up a cut in Glóin's side while Bofur tried to keep them all cheerful with his jests and stories, though it did nothing more than make them smile every so often.

When they caught sight of him, they nodded their head towards him in greeting before returning to their tasks, otherwise continuing to give him sympathetic looks. Stepping into the temporary shelter, Kíli found Thorin had been placed on a sleeping mat with a folded coat placed under his head. His chest had been uncovered to reveal many fresh wounds, but the one in that Kíli had found was still weeping, be it only a little.

Fíli was sat next to him, hands clutched together under his nose as he leant on his knees, a fresh bandage wrapped around his right leg and stitches running up his cheek. Balin and Dwalin were talking quietly amongst themselves at the other end of the tent and Gandalf was kneeling by the King's side. When the man put Bilbo down on the ground from where he'd been carrying him on his back, he bowed politely and left.

Looking over his shoulder, the wizard smiled. "Ah, Bilbo! I was wondering when you'd arrive."

The Hobbit approached the make-shift bed slowly as Kíli came to sit by his brother.

"I'm not too late am I?" Bilbo asked, his eyes not moving from Thorin's face.

Gandalf shook his head. "No. I do believe you're on time."

Suddenly, Thorin began to cough, each one causing his body to shake. When it had passed, he opened his eyes a slither and looked around. When his gaze fell upon the hHalfling, he smiled.

"I see the burglar has returned," he said, his voice gritty and hoarse, "It would seem that this will be the last time we will see one another, for I shall be seated with my forefathers in the hall of waiting soon. I don't think the gold and silver will be of much use to me there, but I think the knowledge that we were friends before we parted will calm my guilty heart. Will you take back your words as I take back mine from our last meeting?"

Bilbo's eyes were fill with sorrow as he knelt beside Kíli's Uncle. "Of course I will! Oh why does this retched adventure have to end so? Not even all the gold in the world can change it now. Yet I am glad to have shared it with you." He looked up and into Kíli's eyes. "All of you. And I would not have missed it for the world, though it was far more than any Baggins deserves."

"No!" Thorin replied loudly, causing everyone to face him again, "You deserved that and so much more. You are kindly, courageous and wise, and you do not boast or brag. You love food more than you do gold or any treasure held within the depths of the mountain, and because of that your judgements have not become clouded by greed. Were there more souls like yours, it would be a happier world." He coughed again, moving onto his side for a moment before rolling tiredly onto his back again. "I would have loved to have seen a world such as that."

Silence fell as the King's words faded into the cold air and he shrunk back into unconsciousness. One by one, the members of the company said their farewells, and Dáin had paid his respects until at last Fíli and Kíli were left alone with their Uncle.

Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, Kíli rested his head on his brother's shoulder and closed his eyes.

The next time he was to open them, Thorin Oakensheild, King under the Mountain and the man whom had been his idol and father figure for most of his life, would be cold and rigid, his heart having fallen silent in the night.

AN - Thank you to everyone who's already favourited this story! You guys are amazing! And for everyone who've decided this is worthy to follow and/or review, you're all awesome! As to my anonymous reviewer... Autumn, I know what you mean, and thank you for reviewing!

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! The next one should be coming along soon!