Author's note: Thanks everyone who read/reviewed/watched!
Chapter 2
Bilbo was half expecting to be hustled out of the Mountain the next morning, but several days passed with no mention of it. He saw little of Thorin and nothing of Fíli or Kíli. He ended up spending most of his time with Bofur or Ori, helping where he could as they worked to return order to Erebor. The Dwarves were obviously on edge, but none of them would explain to Bilbo, telling him vaguely that it was 'complicated' or 'a difficult situation'. Bilbo got used to never quite knowing what was happening.
Thorin came to find him one evening, glancing distastefully around at the small, plain room Bilbo had been moved into. "I would give you better if I could," he said apologetically.
"It doesn't matter," Bilbo said quickly. "It has a roof and a real bed. That's all I care about. Thorin, what's happening?"
"I am making plans for your escort back to the Shire. I cannot be as generous as I had planned with your reward. The king will not authorise one cent more than your contract entitles you to."
"Hang the contract and hang the gold! Thorin, things are wrong here. You can see that, can't you?"
"He's my father," Thorin murmured. "And he is my king. What would you have me do, Master Hobbit?"
"I would have you remember that you are Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo said softly. "It's thanks to you that your people can come home. History may not remember it, and your father seems determined to make everyone forget, but we who love you know the truth." Thorin was staring fixedly and his hands. Bilbo shifted uncomfortably. "Er – it's not much, I know, but – oh, forget I said anything. I'm sure I got it wrong. I generally do."
"Forget?" Thorin echoed, voice hoarse. "I shall never forget what you have said, Master Baggins. Excuse me, please." He slipped out without once looking at Bilbo.
Two days later Dwalin came into the library where Ori and Bilbo were sorting scrolls. "Ori! Throne room, now. Come with me, Master Hobbit."
"What's happening?" Ori asked.
"Announcement from Long-May-He-Reign, and he wants all of us there. Come, Master Hobbit, I'll be missed."
Bilbo scurried along behind him, absently wondering who had started the Company's new habit of referring to the king that way. It sounded like something Fíli and Kíli might have done, but Bilbo wasn't sure anyone had seen them in days.
Dwalin led him up several levels and along some corridors before pausing. "Follow this corridor to the end," he murmured, "and stay very quiet, Master Baggins."
"I shall," Bilbo promised. He didn't bother asking what was happening. If Dwalin was going to tell him, he would have done it by now.
The corridor opened onto a narrow balcony, and he could hear the low murmur of a crowd. Bilbo ducked as he approached the end of it, staying below the level of the railings. He could see enough to know he was above the throne room, and most of the Company was gathered, along with Dain and two or three of his people. Thorin, Fíli and Kíli were standing near the dais; the boys were whispering urgently, but Thorin stood alone and silent even when they spoke directly to him.
Bilbo turned, putting his back to the railings and sinking down to sit. He really didn't want to get caught up here, but Dwalin must have had a reason for bringing him.
Several minutes passed before the room fell abruptly silent. Bilbo resisted the urge to stand and see what was happening; the only thing it could be was Thrain arriving. "Is this it?" he demanded.
"Your people here in Erebor, and Lord Dain and his counsellors," Thorin said. "As you requested."
"Good. You are here to witness as I name my Crown Prince and Heir. Fíli, step forward."
"What?" Fíli said.
"Step forward," Thrain repeated impatiently.
"Thorin is Crown –"
"Thorin is what I say he is!" Thrain spat. Bilbo risked peering through the railings, counting on everyone being absorbed in what was happening on the dais. "And you are what I say you are, and I say you will step forward and be crowned!"
"No," Fíli said clearly. "I will not, my King."
"Fíli," Thorin started.
"You will be silent!" Thrain hissed. "Was this your idea, too? Undermine me before my people?"
"I did not know you were planning this," Thorin said evenly. "Fíli, remember your promise."
"I remember," Fíli agreed. "But I cannot do this, Uncle."
"What promise?" Thrain demanded. "What promise are you exacting from my heir, Thorin?"
"He bade me obey you in all things," Fíli said. Bilbo, above and to the side of them, could see the grip he was maintaining on Kíli's arm, keeping his brother silent. "But I will not stand by and see him dismissed, my lord. Thorin reclaimed this kingdom. You will not deny him his place in it."
"I am your king. You should need no promise to give me your loyalty. Step forward, my heir."
"I am Thorin's heir," Fíli told him. "Not yours. My King."
Thrain rose, slowly, from his throne. "I am King," he said, surprisingly quiet; Bilbo found himself leaning forwards a little, breathless. "My word is law. You disobey me at your peril. Once more, Fíli, son of Dis, and this chance only because my blood runs in your veins; step forward, and be crowned as heir to Erebor and her riches."
"Fíli," Thorin started.
"You will be silent!" Thrain shouted. "Speak again and you will regret it!" Thorin bowed his head, jaw tight and fixed.
Bilbo watched as Kíli and Fíli seemed to wrestle for a moment before Fíli stumbled forward a step or two, jerking to a halt. Thrain didn't seem to notice how awkward the move was; he only saw that Fíli had come forward, and he beamed. "Good. Lower your head, boy."
Fíli stared at him for a long moment before looking, desperately, at Thorin. "Uncle…"
"Do as he says," Thorin said quietly. Fíli gritted his teeth and lowered his head, standing still as stone as the crown was lowered onto his head and Thrain continued the ritual. As soon as Fíli was released he stumbled backwards; Kíli tried to touch his shoulder, and the older brother shied away from him.
"Now, one more thing," Thrain announced, and he sounded so relaxed Bilbo was instantly suspicious. "I did say, did I not, that you would regret speaking again, boy?"
Thorin's jaw ground. "You did, my lord."
"And yet you spoke again, did you not?"
"I did."
"Come here." Thrain pointed to a step two below him; Thorin moved to that exact spot, eyes locked somewhere in the distance.
There was a scuffle, and Bilbo looked away from Thorin to see Dwalin and Bofur holding Kíli tightly. Balin had a hand on Fíli's arm, but the prince wasn't moving, only watching with a terrible look of resignation.
When he looked back Thrain was holding a blade, a short, sharp dagger, and Bilbo almost cried a warning before catching himself. Of course the others could see it; that's why they were holding on to the boys.
Thorin didn't move, didn't react, as Thrain carefully and very deliberately severed every one of his braids at the root. Apparently unsatisfied, he then grabbed handfuls of hair, pulling and ripping, severing it in random spots. Bilbo looked back at the boys. Kíli's eyes were bright, but he was watching, even if he was gripping Bofur's arm so tightly it had to hurt. Fíli's chin was up; Balin seemed to be looking somewhere over Thorin's shoulder. Bilbo glanced at the others; Ori was looking away, too, but everyone else was watching with a strange intensity.
Finally sated, Thrain threw the blade away, releasing Thorin. He didn't move, not until Thrain waved him carelessly away; then he drew himself up, bowed, and turned to leave. "Boy," Thrain said lazily, and Thorin halted. "You will clear your belongings from the Heir's quarters. They are Fíli's now."
"Of course, my lord," Thorin said. "They will be ready at once, my prince," he added to Fíli, bowing before continuing out of the hall. The Company drew back, clearing a path down their middle for him; he stared straight ahead as he passed between them.
"Attend on me, Fíli," Thrain ordered. Fíli bowed, murmuring briefly to Balin before going to join his grandfather; Balin crossed to Dwalin and Bofur, and they pulled Kíli away, out of the hall. The rest of the Company was melting away, and Bilbo took the opportunity to slip away.
Thorin had never had much time to himself, but Bilbo knew where to look for him. He made sure to avoid the others as he slipped through the halls, heading deeper into the mountain and eventually reaching one of the large tombs. The door and part of the wall had collapsed, and Bilbo was careful to make plenty of noise as he scrambled inside. The tombs themselves were untouched. Thorin was leaning against one, arms folded and eyes downcast; Bilbo glanced at the tomb, but though the engravings were clear he couldn't read a word of it.
"You saw?" Thorin asked without looking up.
"I saw," Bilbo agreed. "I won't stay, if you'd rather be alone, but I'd like to make sure you don't need Oin. I know you, you'd bleed to death first."
Thorin shook his head. "The blade touched skin in only two places, and both are shallow. I need no care."
"If you're sure." Bilbo hesitated. Thorin hadn't looked up yet. "Should I leave?"
"Who else knows where I am?"
"I didn't tell anyone, if that's what you mean. I wasn't even sure until I got here and saw you."
Thorin nodded. "Then, Master Hobbit, I would take it as a kindness if you stayed."
Bilbo considered for a moment before gesturing. "Sit?"
"Pardon me?"
"Sit, Thorin. I can't reach your head." Thorin hesitated, and Bilbo gentled his voice. "Just to clean you up a little. Those cuts may have been shallow, but any head wound still bleeds, and you'll have to face the others eventually. Your boys are quite upset enough."
Thorin nodded, settling on the edge of the tomb. Bilbo gave it a dubious look before climbing up and carefully positioning himself behind the Dwarf.
He worked on the remains of Thorin's hair for a while, untangling the strands and wiping the blood away. "You were right, at least," he murmured. "The cuts are shallow, they're already sealed. I suppose that was the point."
"Yes."
Bilbo nudged him gently. "Tell me who you are."
"I am Thorin Oakenshield, and I brought our people home."
"Good." Bilbo considered Thorin's hair. "You won't braid it for a while, and it will have to be shortened, for it's dreadfully uneven. But it won't look so bad then. And after all, Kíli wears no braids."
"Kíli is very young," Thorin murmured. "How are the lads?"
"Fíli was attending on Thrain when I left. Dwalin and Bofur had taken Kíli. I don't know where, I left to find you." He stared sightlessly at Thorin's head for a moment. "It looked to me as though Kíli made Fíli step up to be crowned."
"He had no choice," Thorin said sharply. "He did as I wanted him to."
"I know," Bilbo agreed placidly. "You'll have to tell both of them that, I should think. Fíli didn't seem too happy about it."
"No," Thorin said quietly. "Tell me, Master Baggins, were they watching?"
"They were. Everyone watched."
"Everyone," he murmured.
Bilbo touched his shoulder lightly. "I'll go distract the Company from looking down here. Who will you tolerate best?"
Thorin sighed. "Oin or Gloin."
"Good. Then Oin or Gloin you shall have."
He scrambled off the tomb and slipped out, leaving Thorin alone with his ancestors.
