Disclaimer: I do not own any familiar characters/settings/plot featured in this story. They all belong to (most likely rolling in his grave) J.R.R. Tolkien.

Act I: The Nomad

Chapter Ten

"The first area on the list are the training grounds," Bilbo announced as he scanned his notes. "Do you know where they would be?"

Thorin hesitated for a moment before nodding firmly. "Near the center of the palace there is an old rock garden. He and... the Crown Prince often practice there."

"A rock garden?" Bilbo repeated, glancing up at the guard. "What is that?"

"Exactly what the name implies: a garden of rocks," replied the Dwarf, raising his eyebrows. "It belonged to... the former Consort Under the Mountain. Since her passing it has fallen into disarray, and now only the princes bother with it."

"A garden of rocks," Bilbo mused, trying to imagine such a sight. "How interesting. Do many Dwarves practice such things?"

"Not to my knowledge," answered the guard, frowning. "Are you ready to leave?"

The healer nodded and patted his pack fondly where it rested against his left hip. "Ready as I'll ever be. Lead on."

The guard continued to frown but still turned and began to lead the Hobbit through the winding halls. Bilbo quickly jogged to catch up with his companion's longer stride, and had to practically skip to keep in step with him.

"You don't wear the same uniform as the other guards around the palace," he commented casually, taking in the plain but finely crafted leathers that Thorin donned along with the scarce jewelry.

Thorin grunted and kept his eyes focused on the horizon before him. "No, my—I mean, the personal guards of the royal family wear a different uniform from the palace guards."

"Do the different colors and styles have different meanings?" Bilbo asked, studying the geometric shapes woven into Thorin's clothes.

The guard glanced at him for a second before his eyes flickered forward. "Yes. Blue is the color of the Royal Family and the uniform of the palace guards. Other colors represent personal guards and servants of different clans."

Bilbo nodded absently in thought. "Do the King and Crown Prince have their own colors?"

"Why are asking me all these inane questions?" Thorin asked suddenly. "Do they hold any sort of connection to your task?"

"Well, no—"

"Then cease pestering me with pointless chatter," ordered the guard, cutting him off.

Bilbo felt his irritation spike up sharply, and struggled to hold back from lashing out. Instead, he gave a melodramatic sigh and shook his head. "Wow. You're a real bastard, huh?"

Thorin froze. "... What did you just call me?"

"But that's fine. I suppose you have good reason to be an ass," he continued calmly, nodding thoughtfully. "One of your princes is ill due to reasons unknown, and I'm the stranger that's suddenly supposed to help him. Being a total bastard to me is the only logical response."

"Are you accusing me of being ungrateful?" the guard snarled, spinning around to face him fully.

"Oh caught on to that did we?" the Hobbit replied, widening his eyes innocently.

"You—do you know who I am?" demanded Thorin, his face twisting into an ugly snarl.

"A very rude guard?" Bilbo offered, raising his brows and crossing his arms over his chest. "One who does not seem to realize that I came here to help?"

"No one asked for your help," Thorin retorted. "You have no reason to help our prince, let alone care about what happens to him. He's hardly of any great importance to you—"

Bilbo felt his frayed patience finally snap. "Are you kidding me?! What is wrong with this kingdom?!" he demanded, poking the Dwarf in the chest hard enough that Thorin took a step back. "Why is it that, every time I try to help someone, I get nothing but disbelief and suspicion? Is it really that hard to believe that I—a healer—would like to simply heal my patient? Why do I need some underhanded reason to help someone? Why can't it be that I simply want to help because it's the right thing to do?"

Thorin stared at him, wide-eyed, and looked close to actually taking another step back from the Hobbit. Bilbo sneered, and reached out to grab the rude Dwarf by his belt, and yanked him closer just in case he did try to make a run for it. "Don't try to slip away," he ordered, standing up on his toes in an attempt to meet Thorin's eyes evenly. "We have a job to do and we are going to do it! So quit being such a rude bastard and help me heal your prince! Understood?"

The guard slowly nodded; his blue eyes large in his face and his mouth hanging open like a fool. Bilbo clucked his tongue in satisfaction, and released the Dwarf with a small shove. "Good. Now take me to the rock garden. Now."

Thorin was silent for the rest of the walk to the garden. Bilbo didn't mind the quiet and took the time to study the palace some more. To his surprise, he saw next to zero Dwarves in the halls, and the ones they did pass were the statue-like guards who didn't seem to blink. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him, and he broke the awkward silence to ask why that was so.

"I am using the private corridors to avoid attention," the guard explained quietly. "The King would not be pleased if word got out about Prince Kíli's condition."

"That makes sense," he acknowledged. "I had heard the King really loves his nephews. He's probably really worried about the prince right now."

"Very worried," agreed Thorin, the edges of his mouth tightening. He then abruptly stopped, and Bilbo turned to face him, confused over the sudden change.

"I owe you an apology," the guard said before Bilbo could speak. Thorin curled his hands into tight fists at his side, but met and held Bilbo's gaze straight on. "I did not mean to offend you. I am simply... Erebor is a very rich and powerful nation. Many people would do anything to get a bit of that wealth. The Royal Family has faced... more than their fair share of such worms. Most of us here have given up on being open and trusting. The consequences of such naivety... it is not a price anyone would like to pay."

Though he didn't want to, Bilbo felt his sympathy rise with each of the Dwarf's words. He knew what it was like to have your trust twisted and misused by someone whom you thought was a friend. Even worse, he knew what it meant to have others rely on you, only to fail them because of you own faulty judgment. He did his personal best not to be jaded by such actions, but Thorin had clearly been burned too many times to hold onto the belief that people were good at heart.

With a small sigh, the Hobbit nodded his head. "Apology accepted. I understand it must be hard to trust me when I have offered you nothing to believe in. So I won't hold it against you anymore."

Thorin blinked a few times, looking taken back by Bilbo's reply. "You... You are very strange, Master Healer."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Bilbo muttered, scratching the back of his knee with his heel. "To be honest, I'm kinda surprised you apologized. You don't seem the type to admit he was wrong."

"You're right. I don't usually give out apologies," Thorin admitted bluntly, gesturing for Bilbo to follow him again. "But even I can see I was too harsh on you back there. I should not have taken my frustrations out on an innocent stranger. It was dishonorable of me."

Bilbo decided to take the highroad and not mock him for that. "How long have you guarded the Crown Prince?" he asked instead, changing the subject.

"Since his birth," Thorin replied, his furrowed brows easing up and the tight lines at the corner of his mouth softening. "His mother entrusted him into my care shortly after he was born, and later did the same with his younger brother. They are both... very dear to me."

Bilbo felt his sympathy go up another notch. "This must be very hard for you then. I'm sorry."

Thorin gave him another odd look as if the Hobbit had slipped into a foreign tongue. "Thank you for your concern, but I am fine. I worry more for Her Highness than anyone else. Prince Kíli is her favorite so this is very hard on her."

Bilbo frowned. "That doesn't sound... right. I thought favoritism among royal families was a bad idea? Doesn't it create tension and competition between siblings?"

Thorin scoffed, and waved his question aside with one gloved hand. "Prince Fíli is many things, but insecure and petty is not one of them. He is doted on by not only his own father, but by the King and Prince Frerin and most of the court. Prince Kíli needs his own corner to fall back in, and the Crown Prince recognizes this. It is one reason why he can never say no to the boy."

"And does Prince Kíli feel the same? Or does he resent his glorious older brother?" the healer wondered, raising his brows.

Thorin faltered for a moment; his blue eyes flickering with unknown emotions before settling on something murky and callous. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice lowering. "I like to think he's fine but—I don't know. Prince Kíli loves his brother, I don't doubt this, but love and hate are like a double-edged blade. It would be far too easy for him to fall from one side to the other."

Bilbo couldn't think of anything to say to such words. But before the silence could drag on, Thorin shook his head fiercely; his gold and blue beads clinking together in a messy harmony. "But enough of this," he declared, his face settling into a scowl. "The garden is close by. Let's hurry and get to it."

As far as gardens went, Bilbo wasn't very impressed by the Dwarf version.

"This is the ugliest garden I have ever seen," he announced, bracing his hands on his hips and looking around him. Thorin gave him a dirty look but did not dispute his claim. The rock garden was a sad sight of random boulders cut into unique shapes, dried out canals with equally dried out waterfalls, and uncut gems that stuck out from the ceiling. The only interesting feature he could find was the sandy floor that glittered like a silver sea under the lanterns.

"It was in better condition when the Royal Consort was still alive to tend to it," Thorin tried to defend halfheartedly. "She used to have waterfalls and small ponds with fish in it. It was a good place to relax and forget your worries."

"And now it's a playground for two rowdy princes," the healer mused, glancing down at the numerous footprints pressed into the fine sand. He lifted up his own foot and idly ran a finger over his now silver heel, and was surprised to find that the sand was actually finely ground stone.

"What kinda stone is this?" he asked his companion, rubbing the silver powder between his fingers and sniffing it. To his disappointment, it was odorless.

"I... am not certain," the guard replied, squinting down at the ground. "It is not familiar to me. But I can have one of the guards find out."

"Do it. The place is covered in this stuff which means the two princes have been breathing it in with every step," he pointed out, wiping his hands on his pants and leaving a smear of silver across his clothes.

A corner of Thorin's mouth tightened but he did as asked, and began to gather up the powder in a small leather pouch. Once the powder was sent off to another guard to investigate, the two returned to exploring the chamber. But to Bilbo's disappointment, they could find nothing but common mold and the occasional bug.

"There's nothing here," he admitted after nearly an hour of exploring the chamber. "Nothing useful, anyway."

Thorin grunted in agreement as he hopped off a boulder colored a sickly amber and green. "Agreed. What is the next area on the list?"

Bilbo pulled out his scrunched note and squinted as he struggled to read it in the dim lighting. "The baths and kitchens. Do you know where they are?"

Thorin nodded and began to march off for the exit. "Indeed. Follow me; they are not far from here."

The baths of the Royal Family were grand and spacious and divided into private chambers. Prince Kíli's personal section was as luxurious as the rest of the palace with red marble tiles, a tub built into the ground that was as wide as a house, and a waterfall that cascaded directly from the ceiling. Looking at it all made Bilbo feel a bit ill.

The cost of making all of this could feed my entire clan for years, he thought, poking at a gold plated vase with his toe. Probably an entire lifetime.

"Do you see anything unusual?" asked Thorin as he stalked around the pool towards a marble table that housed an assortment of bottles.

"This whole place is unusual to me," replied Bilbo as he examined one of the many silky red drapes hanging from the ceiling. "Why are there curtains here? What could you possibly need it for when bathing?"

"It's for decoration, really," answered the Dwarf as he picked up one of the bottles and sniffed at it. "That's what most of the furniture in here is for."

"It's a waste of money that's what it is," muttered the Hobbit, sneering at the small pond masquerading as a bathtub. He then paused and narrowed his eyes as something sparkly caught his attention. Squatting down, he leaned closer to the water and stared at the twinkling peach-colored stone of the gigantic pool.

"Was this tub always this color?" he asked the guard, tilting his head to the side in order to get a clearer view.

"No. It was recently redone. Why?"

"Because this marble has flakes of silver in it too," he replied slowly, finally tearing his eyes away to meet Thorin's surprised pair. "I think it's the same material from the rock garden."

"I'm beginning to sense a theme here," Bilbo announced after they had examined the kitchens and found bowels and plates made of the same sparkly stone. He held up one of the thin plates in question to the light above, and squinted at the intricate designs chiseled into the sparking white dish. "What a waste of a perfectly nice plate."

Thorin was not as calm about the situation. As soon as they had entered the kitchens, he had begun barking orders at the servants in Khuzdûl, but it was not until they had been presented with the tableware that he had truly exploded. Bilbo didn't have a clue what the Dwarf was saying, but he knew it was nothing good thanks to the expressions of sheer terror on the servants' faces.

"Are you done yet?" he asked, setting the plate done with the rest of the dishware scattered across the table. "Or do you need to bark some more?"

One of the servants let out a squeak while Thorin merely gave him a vicious glare. "I am not barking," the guard snarled, his voice deepening on the last word. "I am interrogating the servants over the poisoned dishes that have somehow ended up in the prince's personal kitchens."

"Save it for later. We have one more place to investigate," he advised, waltzing over and snagging the Dwarf's hand before dragging him out the door. Behind him he heard one of the servants gasp as whispers broke out like a swarm of rats. Bilbo wasn't too surprised; they probably weren't used to Hobbits manhandling Dwarves around.

"I wasn't done with them," the guard grumbled, his arm oddly tense beneath Bilbo's hand. "I have more questions."

"Like I said, save it for later," replied Bilbo as he finally paused at a crossroad of halls. "Now how do we get to Prince Kíli's private chambers? The ones he doesn't share with his brother?"

Thorin said nothing. When Bilbo turned to look at him, he found the Dwarf staring down at their joined hands. The Hobbit immediately released him and took a step back. "Sorry. Forgot not everyone likes to be touched," he apologized.

Thorin blinked a few times and then shook his head. "It's... fine," he said, flexing his hand a few times before turning his attention to the corridor to their left. "Come; Prince Kíli's chambers are to the east of here."

Like the rest of the palace, the second prince's personal chambers were a fine display of wealth and overindulgence highlighted in green and gold. Though they were not as large as the Crown Prince's rooms, they were still bigger than any single person would ever have need for, and still made Bilbo ill to see so much money being wasted on one person.

"How often does he use these chambers?" he asked Thorin as they searched through the four interconnected rooms.

"Often enough. It is mostly storage for his possessions as he spends most of his time sleeping in Prince Fíli's chambers," the guard answered as he examined a huge fireplace that could probably fit an Elf or two.

"Why does he share his brother's rooms? Doesn't he have enough space here?" Bilbo wondered, poking at a gold and silver carving of a dragon. It had rubies for eyes and actual diamonds for claws. "If I had a chance for my own room, I would take it in a heartbeat."

The guard shrugged. "Prince Kíli has never liked sleeping alone," he said simply, moving on to examine a chest of drawers.

Bilbo rolled his eyes at the childish answer, and then froze at what he saw. Sitting up on the wall was a large painting of what was probably meant to be the ocean at night. But what caught his attention was not the artistry, but rather the glimmering silver of the waves.

"Hey," he called to his companion without looking away from the painting, "give me a boost."

"... Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Give me a boost," he said, finally looking to Thorin who had frozen in the middle of rummaging through one of the drawers. "I want to examine that painting."

Thorin just stared at him. "Then why don't you use a stool?"

Bilbo snorted, and raised one of his ashy and silver feet in the air. "Yes, let me use one of Prince Kíli's gold stools to stand upon. I'm sure he won't mind the stains," he drawled, wiggling his dirty toes at the guard.

A muscle in Thorin's jaw twitched.

Point made, Bilbo set his foot down and crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, if you're too weak to hold me up then I can get another guard—"

"You will do nothing of the sort," interrupted the Dwarf, his eyes narrowing and his shoulders drawing back. "I can lift you just fine. Just tell me which painting you wish to study."

Bemused, the Hobbit pointed it out, and waited for the bristling guard to walk closer and then lower himself to his knees. Carefully Bilbo sat on one of the Dwarf's wide shoulders, and then squeaked as said Dwarf stood up suddenly; his thick arms locking around the Hobbit's legs securely.

"Warn a person before you do that," scolded the healer as he looked at the painting that was now at eye level.

Below him, Thorin snorted. "Are you planning to make this a common occurrence?"

"Depends on how many times your princes get sick," Bilbo retorted, reaching out to touch the silver waves. To his surprise, the paint crumbled into powder at his touch; staining his fingertips a familiar silver.

"Well that confirms it: this painting is made up of the same stuff as everything else," he commented, looking down at the glowering Dwarf. "Do you know who gave this to the prince?"

The muscle in Thorin's jaw twitched again. "I do."

"Good." Bilbo rubbed the odorless powder between his fingers and smirked as he finally made the connection. "You can put me down. I think I figured out this mess."

"It's nickel poisoning," Bilbo announced sometime later after getting confirmation on the metal.

Thorin looked away from the guard who had delivered the news, and stared at the Hobbit making himself comfortable on a table. "What?"

"Nickel poisoning," repeated Bilbo, swinging his legs idly. "Not surprised no one noticed since the palace doesn't seem to use nickel. Why is that?"

"Because the Royal Family only uses gold, silver, electrum, sometimes platinum—but never nickel. That is for the lower classes," replied Thorin, waving the other guard away who left after a silent bow.

"Which is why you lot didn't recognize it when Prince Kíli was poisoned by it," connected Bilbo, wrinkling his nose.

"But how?"

"Through small exposure. The rock garden was sprinkled with ground nickel. His tub and utensils were made with it. Even that painting on the wall was made of it. He's been exposed to it in nearly every way," explained the Hobbit, raising a brow at the guard. "You were there for it all. Remember?"

Thorin closed his eyes and began to rub his forehead. "That's not what I meant. I'm asking how do you know that this is nickel poisoning?"

"Because I did it," Bilbo deadpanned, and then immediately held up his hands innocently when Thorin's face went white. "No, I'm kidding, just kidding, that was a joke! No, actually I know because I saw it in the Blue Mountains when I lived there. The Dwarves there are pretty immune to the stuff since they work with it all the time, but us outsiders weren't so lucky."

"Is there a cure?"

"Not really. All we can do is flush it out of his body and then keep him away from it," the Hobbit admitted, sliding off the table and to his feet. "Look, Óin knows how to help the prince so I'm going to go tell him. But while I help him, you need to report this to the King and ask him to get rid of anything with even a hint of nickel in it. Get rid of all those plates and bowls, the bathtub, the painting—everything. Have someone lock up that garden and then get some miners to come collect all that powdered nickel sprinkled all over the ground. They have the best resistance to the stuff, and they'll know how to get rid of it."

Thorin frowned but still nodded. "Very well. I will inform one of the guards to help you back to the Crown Prince's chambers. And I don't think I have to tell you the consequences if your prediction is wrong, yes...?"

Against his will, Bilbo found himself flinching as memories sprung up. "No, you don't. You really don't."