Disclaimer: Not mine. And the prompt came from the kink meme on lj. For the lack of hyperlinking: prompt post 10, p.5.

Warnings: PTSD, angst and political intrigue.

AN: Thank you for the lovely feedback and reviews! I was overwhelmed, especially since I hadn't updated in a very long time and was thinking everybody had either forgotten or wandered on. Well, this chapter is not quite as angsty and depressing and we're moving forward quite a bit.

The Price of Gold

Chapter XXI

"What in Mahal's name are you doing?!" Oin shouts as he bursts from a corridor to see Bilbo swaying on his feet, Thorin frozen in grief with a hand reaching for the hobbit and Dwalin hovering helplessly, "You should not be out of bed! Back! Back to your beds, all of you!"

Bilbo twitches in surprise. He's wearing a thick overcoat and Oin realizes the flush on his cheeks is not just from shouting at Thorin. "Are you all insane?" Oin shouts, and marches over to Thorin. Bilbo shouldn't be out of bed, much less outside.

"Dwalin, get the hobbit," Oin orders, "Thorin, you're coming with me. And don't tell me Balin's wandering somewhere around the mountain, too."

Of course, the empty room they return to confirms exactly this. Oin rolls his eyes at the sheer stupidity.

"Dwalin, do me a favor and fetch your brother," Oin says and knows without turning around that Dwalin is hesitating. Eyes Bilbo and Thorin critically, and Oin understand – he himself is uncertain if having them both in the same room is a good idea. Bilbo still has nightmares and Thorin guilt has already almost devoured him.

But there is a ball of fury rolling in Oin's own stomach and he sees no point in giving the same lecture twice. "You two," he seethes, "You two of all people should realize just how incredibly stupid you are behaving!"

Thorin crumples and ducks his head to avoids Oin's glare while Bilbo, positioned on the other end of the room, watches Oin with wide, frightened eyes. The flush has faded from his cheeks, leaving him pale.

"I have done my utmost – my very utmost – to make certain that at least here you will not be disturbed. Not by elves, not by men, not by Dain himself, and what are you doing? Marching out there as if you were on top of your game?" Oin shakes his head. "Thorin, I told Dain you were too sick to see him – he was here not hours ago – and you just stride out? What would you have told him had you come across him? You could've just given him the crown yourself!"

Thorin's shoulders sink forward and a small part of Oin cautions him that perhaps yelling at Thorin may not help – self-recriminations have brought Thorin here, after all – so he gentles his voice when he turns to Bilbo. "And you, Master Baggins. You shouldn't have gone outside in your condition – I can see that ankle's swollen from here. But more than that – you know somebody out there is after you and as long as they haven't been found, you shouldn't leave the mountain alone."

He sees Bilbo blink and swallow, and thinks that the hobbit at least has understood the point. Now, however, Oin knows he has to apologize unless he wants his two patients to add his own visage to their nightmares.

"Now, I – "

But Thorin interrupts him. "You are right," he says, quietly but with a spark of determination that Oin has not heard in a long time. "You are right, Oin, I have been stupid. I apologize for forcing you to face the unrest I have brought upon everybody. Onto you, Oin, and, onto you as well, Master Baggins, though I believe no apology I extend can ever be enough."

He casts a short glance over to Bilbo and Oin is ready to intervene in case anything happens. But Bilbo catches the glance, flinches, but says nothing and Oin breathes out slowly.

"Oin," Thorin turns back to him, "May I ask you to summon the company?"

The healer in Oin wants to protest. Thorin is in no condition, and Bilbo too fragile to last through such a meeting. But when he actually looks over to Bilbo he sees the hobbit gnaw on his lower lip, fear warring with resolve on his face. And Thorin's head may be bowed, but he appears to have found his inner strength in this.

It's like hoping for a miracle, Oin realizes. But perhaps, after all the hardship, they will be granted one.

Bofur warms his hands over the fire. Now that the cold has settled in, leathers and armor barely provide enough warmth and discontent is slowly spreading through Dain's camp. Rations have been cut, too, and ever since he arrived he thought the air felt tense.

As if everybody waited for something.

"They're not negotiating today either," a dwarf calls out and the dwarves around Bofur groan, "Dain's just come back from the mountain."

"I wonder what they're doing," another dwarf mutters, "You'd think they'd be able to get their heads wrapped around this. I want to go home sometime."

Bofur's neighbor, a dwarf with bright red braids, hums. "Or that they'd at least open the mountain to us. They're what, thirteen? And we're freezing our asses of, even though we've come to their help?"

"D'you think he's still mad?" Somebody asks and Bofur glances up. He dimly recalls having seen this dwarf around before, even though he's not particularly remarkable. "Oakenshield. I mean he's not been seen quite a while."

The dwarves around Bofur shift. "Somebody said something about his health? Apparently the battle did quite a number on him."

"And the quest before that," Bofur adds, before he can stop himself. But his words garner no reaction except for some nods. The soldiers – at least the few he met since Dain installed him here – have so far expressed no outright disrespect toward the company. But, Bofur suspects, it is not necessarily them begrudging the company their success either.

"Perhaps," the red-haired dwarf agrees with shrug, "Still, I'm a bit annoyed that we're sitting out here when there's an empty mountain right here."

"Well, I heard the gold's cursed. It's why nobody's supposed to enter the mountain." Their latest arrival pulls over a box and drops down on it.

"Yet Oakenshield's Company went in?" a dwarf who remained silent so far speaks up.

"Apparently that was due to the fact that somebody torched the traitor's tent," Bofur's neighbor puts in, and Bofur flinches. There's no heat behind the word, and yet the soldiers keep calling Bilbo a traitor. "They're afraid the princes might be next."

"Wait. Is that why there've been no negotiations? Did somebody attack the King?" Somebody asks and receives only shrugs in reply. Their latest arrival – the dwarf who knew Dain'd returned empty-handed – spreads his hands. "They say he's sick, as is his advisor, so others have been treating on their behalf, though it's dubious they're actually in any position to make decisions."

"Maybe they've all gone mad," the red-haired dwarf suggests with a chuckle, "Dragon-sickness, y'know."

Uneasily the others chime in, though Bofur keeps his head lowered. It's not an unreasonable assumption on the part of these dwarves. Even if he wishes he had a way to dispel it, though Nori had insisted he should only watch and learn.

"Actually," the dwarf on the other side of the fire says, "It does make sense. Why, after all, did the traitor hand over the Arkenstone unless Oakenshield was incapable to negotiate? I do wonder, would Oakenshield make a good king? Won't he and his company, if they've all fallen to madness, not bring about the next disaster?"

A smile that turns Bofur's stomach spreads over his lips. "Isn't it already happening? Winter is here, the mountain is shut to us and supplies are running out."

Bofur swallows against the uneasiness in his chest. He casts a glance at the dwarf – dark-hair with strands of grey, his beard well-taken care of and not elaborately braided. His insignia mark him as a member of Lord Fror's host, and Bofur knows that Fror has been among the ones most outspoken against Bilbo.

Was Fror behind the attempt after all?

"Hmm, no, no, that doesn't add up at all," their latest arrival remarks, "You know, they saw some of the company carry gold from the mountain. Gave it to some of the Lakemen who sailed south before the sun was up. I don't know if all the company's been involved, but at least some do not plan to let us all starve."

Nobody was supposed to know, Bofur thinks and curses in silence. Even if it dismantles the dragon-sickness hypothesis, it will make the company's position in negotiations even more precarious.

He casts a glance up and places the armor of the other dwarf as associated with Lord Kham. Nori will want to know, and everybody else must be warned. If Dain's generals know the company has been trading with the Lakemen, they may feel pressured to take action.

Bilbo heart flutters wildly in his chest and by the time the company has all gathered, cold sweat beads his forehead. Dwalin stands next to the cot he is seated on, a silent guard. Kili is on his other side and Ori next to him. They are not blocking Thorin from view, however, and now that Bilbo looks at him he can see the strain of these last days all too clearly on the King.

But he cannot look for long. A part of him still recoils in horror, a horror no degree of rational understanding can resolve.

Balin has settled in a chair next to Thorin and Fili on a cot nearby. He looks haggard and unhealthy, and Dori hovers next to him. Bifur and Bombur awkwardly search for places to sit themselves and when Gloin comes in last, he takes a look around before closing the door.

"Or will Gandalf come?" he inquires.

Fili shakes his head. "Gandalf left yesterday. He was called away on urgent business – I do not know why."

Gloin grumbles under his breath and Bilbo feels like agreeing. He may not have felt particularly charitable to the wizard lately, but Gandalf may have helped them in negotiations. As it is, their standing is fragile, and their company – when he looks around – even more so.

"Bofur isn't here yet," Ori remarks quietly.

"He won't come," Nori replies, "He's being our eyes and ears down in the camp. Dain agreed to help us plant him."

"What?" Balin asks sharply, and Bilbo realizes Thorin and Balin are just as surprised as he is. Bofur, a spy?

Fili swallows. "Negotiations destabilized more and more and after the last attempt, we – that is Nori, Gloin and I – thought we had better keep a watch-out in case anything is being planned again."

Balin takes an audible breath and sits back in his chair. "Have you found out anything?"

Fili sighs. "Nothing so far."

Bilbo feels his own shoulders slump and despair rise in his chest. Out there several hosts lead by cunning, experienced and well-rested leaders plot against them – how ever should they preserve?

Thorin is the one to straighten up. "It is not as if we do not know nothing, however," he says gently, "Some of us –" his lips quirk up in a shadow of a wry smile – "remember some of these dwarf lords and advisors from long ago."

"Aye," Balin agrees and Nori tilts his head, "And as long as they can't proof any of our failings their own honor won't permit them to move openly against us."

The entire company flinches and Nori rolls his eyes at them.

A shiver runs down Bilbo's spine. Nori is right, he thinks and the though is stronger than his own terror. It's like color bleeding back into his world.

"What proof are they looking for?" Kili inquires, looking uncertain.

"Dragon-sickness," Balin replies, "If they can successfully accuse the company of having been sick with it, it will annul all of our claims."

"Oh," Kili nods, "That is why –"

He glances over to Bilbo who draws a shuddering breath. "Fear not," Bilbo tells them and his voice is hoarse, but loud, "I signed on this in order to help you win back your home. I have little interest in seeing Dain or anybody else on the throne – no matter how good a ruler he may be."

Nori inclines his head slightly while Kili's eyes widen. Ori tilts his head contemplatively. "If we'd go back to the books?" he suggests, "Dragon-sickness and gold-sickness are two different things. We might be able to –"

Oin shakes his head. "The old differentiations won't work."

"And the moment you admit to gold-sickness, they'll name it dragon-sickness and be done with it," Nori adds.

"Also," Balin chimes in, "Thranduil, I believe, is looking for any indication of any sort of sickness of the mind. He doesn't care what it is, the moment he sees proof he will support another on the throne."

Fili grimaces. "Though I doubt he'd like to have people like Lord Fror or Janvi in his immediate neighborhood."

"Nobody likes them," Kili mutters, "I think even Dain wants to get rid of them."

Balin hides a grin behind his hand, though Dwalin snorts out loud and Gloin chuckles. Bilbo feels the corners of his mouth twitch.

"That's what I was wondering," Ori speaks up when the air has cleared, "Why are they being so obstinate?"

"Khazâd," Bifur mutters and earns another round of chuckles. Dwalin leans forward and whispers "because they're dwarves" to Bilbo who feels the ice in his chest beginning to melt.

He's missed this, he realizes. And, when he glances around, the others did, too. They are, after all, the company. They've weathered trolls, orcs and elf dungeons.

Balin takes a deep breath and straightens in. "At this point, much is conjecture," he begins, "But as far as I remember all of them – I do not believe Dain has serious ambitions as to Erebor. Thorin?"

Bilbo stiffens automatically when Thorin clears his throat, even though madness no longer distorts his voice. "I doubt it, too. But I believe Dain is weary of the dragon-sickness. His father was consumed by it, and he is wary. Rightly so."

"Actually," Ori chimes in, and Bilbo sees Dori frown. He himself is surprised at how outspoken their scholar is – but then, their journey has changed them all and Ori spent much time in the library. "The incurability of dragon sickness is nothing but a myth."

Dwalin raises his eyebrows and Gloin tilts his head. Ori clears his throat. "I looked through the accounts. Of the deaths connected with the sickness, I'd gauge at least a third to be suicide upon realizing the impact of their actions. And there are two documented cases of dwarves coming shaking off its grasp, atoning and moving on to live long and prosperous lives."

"Unsurprisingly," Ori adds with a grim smile, "These accounts were difficult to track down. For after the shook of their sickness, these nobles did nothing outrageous enough to be noted in the chronicles. I fear our own approach to history has created that unfortunate myth."

Bilbo's heart skips a beat. This – he cannot yet fathom what it means, his heart is too afraid to hope, and Dori is the one to step forward. "You must take that up with historians, then. I fear, you'll have a hard time convincing those nobles. You know how they are!"

Ori nods, but doesn't deflate. "I was merely thinking – if they accuse us of what essentially is nothing but a made-up horror story, are we not then required by responding with our own fiction?"

While Dori gapes and Bilbo marvels at just how scary innocent little Ori has become, Gloin laughs. "Best suggestion I heard in a while, lad. So, what tale do we tell them?"

"With your permission, of course, Master Baggins," Balin cautions, and they all deflate.

"Certainly," he hurries to nod. A part of him is uneasy about condemning himself to keep the truth about what happened a secret.

As if he'd read Bilbo thoughts, Thorin speaks up. "Do not let this stop you from seeking justice whenever you like, Master Baggins. We have much to answer for where you are concerned, I most of all."

"Indeed," Balin agrees, while Bilbo's mind spins, "You needn't support our tale if you do not want to. We won't make you sign anymore contracts, Master Baggins."

"It's Bilbo," he says before he can stop himself. He doesn't know if he wants Thorin to use his name, but sitting here, listening to them makes him remember their shared friendship. "And, well, since I had to answer the question already – so far I told Dain and Thranduil I did not know about that … that stone's value."

His voice cracks. "Which is why I bartered it away without telling you."

"Dain knows we were at loggerheads with the elves and men ever since Thranduil showed up demanding payment," Balin says, "I believe the missive was short?"

"And didn't you make a point that we'd be willing to pay the Lakemen once Thranduil withdrew?" Gloin suggests.

Thorin gives a tentative nod and Oin shrugs. "So, there's your narrative: that pointy-eared elflord's at fault."

"A nice, dwarfish tale," Kili adds with a grin, "That should satisfy them."

"And hopefully it will," Balin says with a sigh, "But we already know some of them aren't exactly playing fair."

The air grows heavier. A pounding headache sets in behind Bilbo's eyes as he begins to feel the exhaustion gaining on him. His heart doesn't feel quite as hollowed-out, but his body is starting to wear.

"While I don't like guesswork," Nori eventually speaks up, "My suspicion is that we're dealing with different fractions. Thranduil's only interested in stirring up trouble and Bard wants to make sure nobody starves – we've got a tale for Thranduil that he won't like and Bard's sent a ship south with a nice bit of gold."

"When did that happen?" Balin inquires with a raised eyebrow.

"This morning," Nori answers with a toothy grin, "Clandestine operation, really."

However, the glance he directs towards Thorin is asking, Bilbo realizes. Fili seems to notice it too, so he straightens his shoulders. "I authorized it," he admits.

His pallor is terrible.

"And I suggested it," Bilbo hears himself announce.

Balin raises both eyebrows and Nori shakes his head. "Lord Fror and his friends won't like that – if they find out."

Dwalin stiffens, but Nori waves his hand. "I'm not certain if it matters," he offers bluntly, "There's already been an attempt, and a number of Dain's generals have been arguing to declare Bilbo's contract void or have him tried for betrayal."

Bilbo's heart drops. Blackness swirls in his chest, and when his vision returns he finds Kili watching him in concern. On the other side of the room, Thorin has gone pale.

"I believe Lord Janvi was lobbying for this," Nori mentions, "Lord Fror made no mentions of justice, but as far as I know he'd do anything to keep the gold out of Thranduil's hands. There's Lord Kham – I believe Bilbo encountered him already – who was more interested in whether or not any of us were sick with the dragon-sickness. As was Loni, who, I believe, is quite close to Dain."

"Lord Himril, too, is among Dain's most important lords," Balin offers. "Himril, Fror, Kham, as well as Teitur and Imundur are his five most important lords. They occupy all the important posts, provide many of the soldiers and the supplies. Whether he likes them or not, Dain cannot make a decision without them."

"Loni, however," Balin continues and Bilbo can observe the afternoon is taxing him. He has not yet recovered from the poison, then, "Is an advisor with no titles of his own. There are also Stigur and Heptar."

"And Mjothi and Althin are his generals," Dwalin offers, "Though while they are obviously cunning on the field, I doubt they have ambitions on the Lonely Mountain, either."

"What about honor?" Nori questions, "Would they try to take the law into their own hands if they felt the situation wasn't addressed adequately due to politics?"

Dwalin frowns. "Mjothi, no. It has been years, but he has always concentrated on executing orders and winning his battles. Althin, however, I do not know very well."

"We'll keep an eye on him then," Nori mutters, "And you, Bilbo, will not leave the mountain on your own. There is a reasonable chance some mad dwarf out there believes they need to avenge themselves – do not give them the opportunity."

The wound on his back aches in echo, and all Bilbo can do is nod. His fingers feel cold, and at the moment he misses his bed most of all.

"What about the others?" Nori questions, "Obviously, Dain's generals are the ones to benefit most from Dain's ascension. What about the advisors?"

"Loni is the one most invested in cultural integrity," Balin provides and Bilbo swallows drily when he recalls that unfortunate encounter. He never managed to work out who was more unpleasant, Lobelia or Loni.

"Stigur handles the economic aspects and Heptar, I believe, collects intelligence and oversees diplomatic relations," Balin finishes. "I've known neither of them for very long, though."

Gloin clears his throat. "I've worked with Stigur. Seemed like a decent fellow, then."

"We'll keep an eye on all of them," Nori decides, "Most on that Loni, though. Might be the type we're looking for. Now, those lords… we've established they all stand to gain a fair bit should the crown fall to Dain. What I do wonder however – who would have a motive to remove Balin from the negotiations?"

Balin shudders and Bilbo notices Dwalin stiffen next to him. All in all, he thinks, it is luck that they're all sitting here.

"Balin knows most of the lords," Ori offers, "Also, he's been doing most of the negotiating. If they were certain they could find proof of dragon sickness, they'd still have make certain their claim wouldn't face too much resistance."

A glum silence descends as they all mull individually over the implications. The previous euphoria has faded, Bilbo realizes, and exhaustion is spreading. Beneath their feet, the ground is thin and precarious.

"So we have several parties to watch out for?" Fili asks, as he pulls himself upright in his seat, "Those wanting the crown to Dain and those obsessed with seeing justice done in regards to Bilbo?"

Nori tilts his head. "Possibly. There's still a chance the attempt on Bilbo was meant to unsettle negotiations – he is the personified guarantee of peace, after all. Also, he guards the Arkenstone. And I believe we all do understand the ideas the stone and this gold are capable of summoning."

Bilbo swallows, and Kili raises his head. "So what do we do? Wait and watch?"

Nori shrugs. "Not only," he replies, "I believe whoever is working against us wouldn't be happy should negotiations progress. Also, handing over gold to the Lakemen, while possibly angering them, is a good step. Bard has no reason to work against us."

"Regarding the Lakemen," Dori says, "I have a suggestion: Dale is inhabitable still and it's freezing – what if we open the mountain to them?"

"Loni will have an apoplexy," Gloin announces cheerfully and Balin's eyes light up. "We do not have an army, but I believe the men would rather support those offering them shelter. I like the idea. Thorin?"

All eyes turn toward their king. Thorin takes a deep breath before facing them. Grief and guilt have worn deep lines into his expression and dark shadows surround his eyes. But his voice is clear when he speaks.

"Invite the Lakemen," he announces, "And find those white gems. We win over the men. We pay off the elves. We may not have an army or weapons – but we do have piles of gold."

tbc