Bilbo didn't think that his waistline would ever be the same. He'd started this journey as a properly plump hobbit, with his middle beginning to round out just right for one coming into his best years. Their months spent traveling, often on foot, and the exertions his poor body had been put to saw that middle melt down until precious few reserves remained between skin on the outside and bone on the inside. He tried not to think about what other hobbits would say, tried not to imagine the look of shock on their faces, if they saw him in his current state- he was almost thin. Hobbits had learned the hard way that thin meant vulnerability, for should another time of privation come, the thin always died first. The Fell Winter had taught him that lesson personally as he'd watched a cadre of young Goodbody faunts, bare weanlings all and none old enough to yet carry the protective pads of fat that they'd have developed in a few short years, shrivel and fall fatally still as their tiny bodies tried to save them from the starvation. The sleep only bought them an extra day and then his little cousins, several times removed, were gone. Bilbo hadn't had time to properly grieve as their deaths were soon eclipsed by the deaths of his parents, and then he hadn't felt much of anything after that.

This, however… this situation truly took the cake! They'd survived the orcs which had hunted them at every turn, goblins that wished to torture and eat them, gigantic spiders of horrifying proportions which wanted to hang them up and suck the juices out of their still-living bodies, and a dragon's furious rampage. They may not, in the end, survive Thorin's descent into madness and intellect-numbing greed. No provisions from Erebor's stores had lasted through the dragon's occupation- that section of the mountain had been brought down in the creature's eagerness to strip Erebor of its golden decorations. Even the railings had been stripped from the walkways, leaving them with sheer drops and more than a few were crumbled beyond hope as the stone had given way in the face of the beast's rough greed.

Fourteen mouths depended on the food which had been stored in Bombur's pack, and in the rescued packs which Fíli and Kíli had dashed outside to retrieve once the crow confirmed Smaug's death at the hands of Bard. Their ponies had either been eaten or fled, for there was no sign of them other than great scorch marks near where they'd been picketed, but their small campsite under a rocky overhang had escaped the dragon's notice. Unfortunately, many of their provisions were still on the ponies as they were never expecting to camp below. Thorin's grand plan had seemed to consist of dealing with the dragon and then bringing them into the stables through the front gates.

Thorin. Oh, how Bilbo would love to shake that dwarf until his bones rattled and some sense shook loose! Right now, Bilbo was ever so thankful that he hadn't given the gold-hungry two-legged dragon his gem: Thorin was abusing all sense of friendship, and it even appeared as if courtship had been pushed far out of the dwarf's mind in favor of hoarding his gold. Thoughts of food certainly had been.

Their meager supply of food was dwindling fast, and rather than being rational about trading over a share of the treasure with the men for food and reparations, Thorin had refused. Bard tried several times to reach an accord then, wisely, gave up and challenged Thorin to eat the gold he was so unwilling to give up. No food would enter the mountain through the blockade of men and elves and fourteen were consigned to a slow starvation through the greedy intractable actions of one dwarf.

They had plenty of water as the River Running originated in the mountain, so Bombur did his best with ever-thinning soups. They used the liquid to fill up the empty spaces in their bellies, and spices to trick the tongue. Two wafers of cram per pot of soup were boiled until they fell apart, to act as a thickener, and then one piece of dried meat was cut as finely as possible so that they would all get a few flakes floating in their bowls. Along their journey, Bifur had collected and secreted away greens in his packs, and he'd offered those for the pot as well. Not a single one of them was choosy enough to refuse his generosity- hunger made the grasses and flowers palatable to even the pickiest dwarf.

Bilbo knew what he had to do, had known what he had to do once Thorin returned with Bard's ultimatum, but he shivered uncontrollably every time he thought about it. Thorin had become absolutely crazed about the Arkenstone, the same stone which weighed heavily in Bilbo's pocket and on his conscience. Tonight, Bilbo decided as he stared morosely into his empty bowl, tonight he had to carry out his plan or there wouldn't be anything left to save- they only had one wafer of cram and a handful of dried flowers left for tomorrow's soup. After that, there would be only water to slake their hunger, and that could fool a starving belly for only so long.

Movement at his side had Bilbo jumping guiltily, and he nearly dropped his bowl in fright.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Master Baggins," Bombur apologized as he settled his girth beside Bilbo's at the fire. They were the only two left; the others had either retired to their bedrolls or been dragged back down to the treasury with Thorin to continue looking for the Arkenstone.

Bilbo waved off the apology and set his bowl on the floor. As his heart had jumped, so had his headache, to pound along in echo with the beat, and reached up to rub at his temples in a futile effort to soothe it. Between the strain of Thorin's uncertain temperament and their situation, and the onset of starvation, Bilbo's poor head had suffered for days. He jerked, nerves fizzling and popping, when a hand landed on his shoulder.

Bombur peered at him worriedly. "You don't look well, and don't try to wave me off this time. You haven't looked well for a while," the dwarf gave Bilbo a narrow and assessing look which reminded the hobbit that, jovial as he may be, Bombur still possessed the keen eyes and mind of his people. "I think that you lied to me, a bit, when you said that your reserves would get you through this. I think that they were nearly gone before we even got to the mountain."

The words fell onto Bilbo nearly as physical hits and he cringed back a bit, only stopped by the hand still gently grasping his shoulder. "I… well…" Bilbo sputtered, very much caught in the lie that he'd told. He sighed heavily and decided to confess, as the little lie wouldn't matter much in the face of what he planned to do later.

"Yes, well, I did fib a bit about that. With Thorin so concerned about finding the Arkenstone there wasn't any reason to worry anyone, and we're all hungry," Bilbo admitted.

"I don't think that's the entire reason, though I believe you not wanting to worry anyone." Bombur shoved his own bowl, miraculously still filled with his ration of thin soup, into Bilbo's surprised hands. "I watched you tonight, and waited, and you're going to eat this. That headache's the worst it's been in days, and your hands are actually trembling now, so don't even argue with me."

Bilbo looked down in astonishment to discover that Bombur was right- the hand he held up did tremble, though he couldn't tell if it was from hunger or the terror of what he planned to do that night. He considered refusing the bowl, as it was far too generous to accept, but one look at Bombur's stubbornly set face decided the matter. Bilbo picked up the spoon and began to shove lukewarm soup into his mouth, faster as his stomach realized that more food was forthcoming and began to gnaw at him. Once the bowl was empty, guilt returned and he could barely look up into Bombur's eyes as he handed the bowl back.

"Now, don't you be doing any of that! I've far more reserves than you, enough for three hobbits, and I won't have you feeling bad about what I gave as a gift, Master Baggins," he scolded. Bombur patted his own girth when Bilbo looked up, and they shared a moment of mirth as the dwarf truly did carry enough weight for any three or four hobbits. In the Shire, his size and appetite would have been met with glee, at least until his lack of table manners were demonstrated.

Bombur rose to collect Bilbo's bowl for cleaning before he headed to his own bedroll, as the dwarf had the late watch that night. Bilbo remained to stare morosely into the fire though his belly now gurgled happily away at the second helping. Without warning, a sob caught in his throat and shook his entire body. Bilbo curled into himself, face pressed to his knees and arms wrapped tightly around them, as the emotion ripped through him with the force of a springtime storm. After the tension, the fear, the hunger, Bombur's incredible kindness was more than he could withstand and he was so very thankful that he was alone- he couldn't have held back the tear even had there been orcs in front of him.

When the crash and twist and tangle of emotion had passed and his shudders calmed to an occasional hiccup, Bilbo lifted his head and released the bruising hold he had on his legs. Caught in the folds of his trousers sat a little gem, dark where it was shadowed against the fire's light. He picked up with fingers which now trembled with fatigue from the emotion's release, and held it up to see the little wonder. In the light, it positively glowed as if it contained a miniature copy of the fire inside of itself. Bilbo also chuckled, as the light made it turn a medium blue which resembled a ripe blueberry, so very perfect for Bombur that Bilbo couldn't have imagined a more suitable gem. Yavanna truly did bless her creatures, he marveled as he clasped the gem and stood to find the dwarf. With this tear, Bilbo would gain one last friend before he had to perform one of the worst actions that he'd ever done in his life, but it also reminded him that even amongst the most ugly of circumstances, beauty could still be found if one looked for it.

Bombur was easy enough to find, as he was sitting against the mountain's fortified wall atop the gate. They didn't really have to mount a guard, as the blockade was more than happy to let them peacefully starve to death without risking their own skins in battle, but Thorin still insisted upon it with a fervor which bordered on mania.

"Master Bombur, I don't know how much longer any of us have, so I wish to give you this," Bilbo passed over the gem and watched Bombur examine it in the gate's torchlight. He gave his explanation about the gem while the dwarf stood, eyes closed and gem fisted tightly to his chest. Once he'd finished speaking, Bombur looked at him with no trace of his usual joviality.

"The others carry these gems." It wasn't a question, only a very flat statement, and Bilbo was left floundering as Bombur briefly closed his eyes again only to open them again moments later. "They do, and that's why they've not gone as gold mad as Thorin has even though he's dragged most of them off to dig through the treasure for that Arkenstone of his. I could feel it calling to me, pulling and whispering, even while I stayed up top with the fire and supplies, but it's stopped now," Bombur said with wonder coloring his voice. He held his gem up nearly to his nose and studied it.

"This isn't a gem from the ground, Master- I'm sorry my friend, Bilbo. It feels almost like a living thing, if that makes any sense, and not at all like a stone does."

Bilbo squirmed uncomfortably at having his lie so baldly torn apart. He also didn't know what to make of the dwarf's claim about the gold madness- his stomach twisted at the thought that he could have saved Thorin if only. No, Bilbo hastily cut that thought off. This was no time for 'if only', and he had no proof that the gem in his bag would have helped the dwarf; instead, it might have only driven him to new heights of avarice, and Bilbo's folly could have seen the Shire emptied just as the histories of old taught.

"Bombur, I have a favor to ask of you. A very large favor," Bilbo asked instead of answering, and Bombur blinked at the sudden change in tone. He clasped his gem to his chest again, and nodded.

"I can guess at what you're looking to do, and it's far braver than anything that I'd dare." He nodded at Bilbo's right pocket, "I felt that when I sat next to you earlier, and it confirmed what I'd thought. If you're holding on to it, then you have your reasons, and our leader hasn't been in his right mind about this entire thing. I'm fat, not stupid, Bilbo," Bombur dryly joked at Bilbo's astounded look. "What this little gem tells me is that whatever it is, it's tied to you, and you're sick with worry, not greed. So I'll say that I don't feel well tonight, suppose dinner didn't sit right with me, and I'll ask if you'd be so kind as to take over the rest of my watch, my friend," Bombur mimed a stomachache.

Bilbo surprised them both as he threw his arms around the dwarf and squeezed. The hug, though, was readily returned as Bombur's embrace lifted him up onto the tip of his toes and squeezed the air from his lungs in one great whoosh. Despite his temporary inability to draw a full breath, Bilbo adored it and reveled in the rare contact until they both let go and stepped back.

"Now, don't you be thanking me, Bilbo, as I have something of my own to ask in return- don't come back once you've done what you intend. The rest of us will miss you something fierce, but Thorin's gone beyond insane about that thing and he won't recognize friend from foe over it. If you do what I think, then he may very well kill you when he finds out. We're your friends, Bilbo, but we cannot fight our Prince once he's set down an edict," Bombur begged, and Bilbo nodded. He fully well intended to return and face Thorin's wrath, and his justice, over what he planned to do- he still cared for the dwarf, even if that was something which escaped Thorin's mind at the moment, and his own sense of honor wouldn't allow him to abscond in the night without a trace like a true burglar. He would face the consequences of his actions, even to his own death, but he wouldn't torment Bombur with that knowledge.

They parted and Bilbo sat atop the gate and watched the full moon move across the sky before he gathered up enough courage to carry through his plan. His insides shivered with terror the entire time that he walked through the other camp, but in the end, the deed was done and his fate was sealed.