Hello, hello! I am sorry for the late post but my BetaReader is really, really, really busy! So many of you (kind of) complained about the lack of dwarves... Here! Have a dwarf chapter! Enjoy Thorin´s bath in desperation! Enjoy the chapter!


Chapter 11 - The Future of Erebor Falls

Thorin was kneeling on the cool sand, staring at the place where the dragon stood just moments ago with mind blank and mouth open. He couldn´t see, he couldn´t hear and he couldn´t make a sound.

A hand on his shoulder brought him to the reality, although he suspected a lot later than it should, judging by the face of the dwarf captain.

"My king! Thank Mahal you snapped out of it! I thought the beast put some kind of spell on you!" The captain said as he helped Thorin to stand up and dust him off. The other guards stood rooted to the ground not far away, looking around frantically with weapons drawn.

Thorin remained silent, much to the captain´s visible displeasure. The dwarf shook him carefully, quickly withdrawing his hands when Thorin looked his way.

"Are you alright, my liege?" The guard asked tentatively, his hands twitching and hovering around Thorin as if he was to faint every second.

"I am not." The king answered silently. Of course he was not alright. He felt like he was thrown over 70 years into the past. His head was spinning and his ears hurt.

"My liege," one of the other guards started awkwardly, shifting on his feet, "what-what are we going to do about the beast?"

Thorin looked at him for a long time – perceiving the short beard, wrinkles only from laughter and young eyes now filled with fright. The juvenile dwarf startled when Thorin approached him, bowing his head in shame.

The king put a heavy hand on his shoulder, making him look up.

"You do nothing." He said, surprising the other dwarves. "You keep this a secret. If people knew they would panic and we don´t want that. Their nightmares are still fresh." Thorin couldn´t hold in a heavy sigh. "I will deal with everything."

"Your majesty?"

"I need you to forget what you saw today and keep it forgotten until I say otherwise." Thorin said firmly. "The only think you will focus on is to find Tharkún."

"Yes sir!" The guards saluted and ran into the woods to retrieve their ponies, leaving their king with the captain behind.

"I´m listening." Thorin murmured, not looking at the other dwarf.

"Forgive me, my liege, but..." the captain trailed off, visibly not sure with himself, "it-it wasn´t Smaug the fire-drake, was it? They said he lays dead on the floor of the Long Lake."

A long while of silence followed the dwarf´s question.

"He is dead." Thorin said, but he himself heard the doubt in his own words.


Dís was only a little disturbed when her brother stormed into his room, slammed the door closed and locked himself up.

She ordered her two most trusted servants to remain close to him and inform her of his every move.

Maybe she was more than little worried. After all, it was not usual for her brother to look like he saw a ghost...

And while Dís worried about him, Thorin stood in the middle of his room, spacing out.

He didn´t know what he really felt.

Was it happiness from seeing that the hobbit was still alive?

Was it sadness?

Fear from seeing the dragon alive?

Desire? Anger? Agony?

Perhaps it was all these feelings at once. Perhaps none of them. He felt dull. Old even, as if the age and sorrows have caught up on him suddenly. He was hurting all over. And he definitely needed something to make all the pain go away.

He opened up the liquor cabinet and brought up the strongest alcohol. Eyeing the pure fluid, he scoffed. It all felt just like a bad dream. Maybe if he waited long enough he would wake up and all things that happened would be just his imagination.

Saddly, it was not true. He drank and drank, the mocking face of the burglar in his mind and sound of the dragon in his ears.

The sleep didn´t come. The liquor from his cabinet was gone and he still felt miserable.

The next day he woke up and announced his leave from Ered Luin, taking Dís along. His sister did not have the heart to refuse when she saw his tired face. Nobody questioned him. The lords scrambled away the second they saw him and the servants did everything without second thoughts.


The journey back passed almost into complete silence. Thorin absently stared at the mane of his horse, trying his best to ignore everything that was going on around him. Dís tried to talk to him several times, but she gave up after Thorin replied into humms and shrugs.

As the time passed the princess of Erebor grew more and more worried about her brother.

More and more whispers stirred every day but Thorin didn´t pay them any mind.

He was lost in his own thoughts and problems, he didn´t need to add more to them. He let Dís take care of the fools who dared to utter a single doubt or insult.


Arrival to Erebor didn´t prove to be any better.

They were greeted by Balin and the members of Thorin´s not-really-trusted council; Kíli, who was wringing his tunic, looking anxiously everywhere but at Thorin and his sister; and Dwalin, who was stiffly standing behind his nervous nephew.

Only the lack of the crown prince finally made Thorin snap out of his trans.

Dismounting his pony and thrusting the reins into his servant´s hands, he strolled towards the group by the giant gate.

"Balin," he greeted the oldest chancellor with a friendly pat on his shoulder and Dwalin with a nod of his head. His eyes fell upon his younger nephew who was just hugging Dís.

"Where´s Fíli?" He asked, noticing how Kíli´s shoulders tensed and his eyes fell to the ground. Balin was the one who spoke first.

"The prince is resting. He´s... not feeling well." The dwarf said, also turning his sight at Kíli.

Thorin frowned. "Not feeling well? Is he sick?"

"No!" Kíli interrupted, surprising everyone with the sudden outburst. "No," he repeated somewhat silently, shifting uneasily on his feet, still avoiding any eye contact, "he-he is just tired."

Dís looked from her son to Balin, not really satisfied with the answer. "Is something wrong?" She asked, noticing her youngest son´s painful smile.

"He is just tired." Kíli repeated, but he failed to conceal the panic and desperation in his voice.

Dís looked at her brother with eyes filled with worry.

"Kíli," Thorin warned, making the younger prince flinch and bow his head even lower, "what is wrong?"

His nephew only shook his head and kept looking at the ground. Dwalin put his hand on the prince´s shoulder and squeezed in a friendly, calming manner. "It´s nothing." Kíli whispered.

Dwalin sighed heavily and looked at his brother. Balin took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead.

"The thing is," he began uneasily, "prince Fíli has fallen unconscious and cannot be woken."

Dís´ mouth fell open as she tried to say something but the only sound she made was a soft pitiful mewl. Kíli spun around, flinching away from Dwalin as if the warrior´s hand on his shoulder burnt him and ran inside, leaving his wide eyed mother behind.

Thorin just stood rooted on the spot with a blank face faraway look. From the corner of his eye he saw her shake her head and take off after her younger son.

Another sigh from Balin told him that Fíli´s deep sleep was not the only problem he will have to deal with. He didn´t even try to say something, knowing his voice would surely betray him, so he just waited until someone drops the figurative bomb.

"In private." Balin murmured and Thorin didn´t miss the look his Dwalin gave the other chancellors.


A soft knock echoed throughout his chamber and Dwalin entered, shaking his head.

Thorin didn´t know how long he has been locked inside his room, nor how much alcohol he has drunk.

"You look pathetic." Dwalin commented silently as he helped him sit up on the bed and offered him a cup of clear water. Thorin downed it without a second thought.

"Dís sent me." Dwalin said, taking off Thorin´s shirt. "She is worried."

The king laughed at that, knowing that it was not really true. "When wasn´t she worried." He mumbled, letting the cup fall onto the floor, shattering into pieces. Dwalin tried his best to keep his mouth shut.

"Do you know how long have you been here?" The warrior said, gripping Thorin´s forearms. Thorin stared past him at the wall, not willing to acknowledge that he indeed woke up into the cruel reality. "What is wrong with you?! Have you forgotten that you have a kingdom to rule? Do you think that this attitude of yours will stop the people from badmouthing you and your line? Is it not enough that they doubt your eldest heir, do you want them to start doubting your rule as well?" Dwalin only barely maintained himself from shouting.

He let the king fall backwards onto the bed, grabbing the closest thing - which turned out to be a jug of water, and smashed it against the opposite wall. Thorin didn´t even bat an eye at that. With his back turned to his friend, Dwlin stood in the middle of the room, face covered with his palm, breathing heavily in attempt to calm his temper down.

"What is wrong with you?" Dwalin asked turning around when he finally cooled down. "The Thorin I know would not sit idle and drown his problems in alcohol like a coward! You have been like this since you came back from Ered Luin. And say something for Mahal´s sake!"

"What should I say?" Thorin asked silently, finally turning his eyes on Dwalin.

"You can´t be serious!" The warrior shook his head in disbelief.

"My nightmares came to life in the Blue Mountains." The king whispered.

Dwalin raised his eyebrows, waiting for his friend to continue. After a short while of silence he gave up. "Look, I don´t usually know what you dream about so a little elaboration would help. You seriously act like you´ve seen a ghost."

"Maybe I have..." Thorin mused, closing his eyes and sighing. "When I tell you that a civil war is the most merciful thing that could happen in the future, what would you reply?"

"That you are still drunk and then I would slap your kingly face. Wake up Thorin, do you know what a civil war could-"

"I wish I could wake up and find out that what I saw in the Blue Mountains was just a bad dream but I can´t!" The king interrupted him finally sitting up. "Do you remember what happened at the wall before the battle?"

"I remember you being gold-sick and banishing the burglar while screaming nonsense about dragons!" Dwalin shouted, his voice breaking with accusation and anger.

"Do you remember what the skin-changer told us?" Thorin asked almost in a whisper.

Dwalin dropped his gaze to the floor, gritting his teeth.

"Do you?"

"YES, I do." The warrior half shouted. "He said the burglar is dead."

Thorin stood up from the bed and crossed the distance between them in few long strides.

"He lied." The king snarled.


"Fíli, wake up," Kíli pleaded lying on the bed next to his unconscious brother. "Mum has returned and she is sad."

The younger prince silently sobbed by his brother side. He knew he should tell someone but who would listen to him? They all believed Bilbo is dead, he just didn´t see any point in convincing anyone. People thought the line of Durin is failing as it is, he didn´t need to add more fuel to the rumours. He was afraid to tell anyone since it seemed that the walls of Erebor suddenly grew ears.

It pained him not to be able to do anything. He stayed with Fíli during the night, which he spent staring at the pale and unmoving face of his brother, begging him to wake up.

Just as he was losing his hope, Fíli finally stirred, startling Kíli so hard that he fell off the bed. The younger prince immediately jumped back on the bed and gently shook his brother by his shoulders.

"Kíli..." The crown prince rasped, sluggishly opening his eyes.

"Thank the Valar, you woke up! I was so worried!" The archer cried, burying his head in Fíli´s chest.

"Kíli," Fíli repeated, tugging at the dwarf´s stray strand of hair to gain his attention. "Uncle, he..."

The archer sat up straighter, furrowing his brows.

"He knows...I saw."

"Saw what? You had another vision?"

"He met him," Fíli whispered, his hand gripping the side of his head.

"Met who?"

"Bilbo. He met him in Ered Luin."


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