A/N: May the Fourth be with you! :D I am so sorry I left you guys hanging so long here (I especially apologize to the Guest who has had a tab open to check for updates since March, dude, you are intense, I like you! ;D). April was far more crazy than I expected it to be and my Age of Ultron fic sort of took over my life. I want to thank you all so much for your kind words and reviews while I was away, they really do mean so much to me :) Hopefully I can get back on schedule for a little while before I have to leave you again in July. But that's far in the future, here! Have a new chapter! I feel like I may have been a little self-indulgent with this one, I hope you can forgive me :)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Kili's uncle was an idiot.

Briallen did not even want Kili to come, and she was still bristling on his behalf. Because the look on the boy's face was not just disappointment. It was… It was heartbreak.

"I'm going to be there when that door is opened," Kili insisted, his chin thrust out stubbornly, pressing against the hand holding him back, trying to keep him inside the house as the other dwarves gathered at the door to make their final trek through Laketown, "When we first look upon the halls of our fathers, Thorin."

Thorin's resolved expression wavered for a moment and Brie could see again how much this pained him, how difficult it was. But all that disappeared beneath a smile that did not reach his eyes as he moved his hand to Kili's shoulder, squeezing.

"Stay here, Kili. Rest. Join us when you're healed."

Kili stumbled back out of his uncle's grip, looking around him as if he were lost, adrift, not sure what he should do or where he should go.

"Uncle, we grew up on tales of the mountain," Fili said desperately, "Tales you told us. You can't take that away from him!"

"Fili-"

"I will carry him, if I must!"

"One day you will be king," Thorin insisted, his face set again in that cold, distant expression that Brie hated so much, "And you will understand. I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of one dwarf, not even my own kin."

Kili shrank back, looking nearly green he was so pale. Oin shouldered through the group and took the boy's elbow, examining him despite Kili's feeble protestations. Brie's heart ached.

"I'll stay with the lad," the old dwarf said, gruffly, "My duty lies with the wounded."

Fili set his jaw in a stubborn look of determination, and started to shove past his uncle. Thorin grabbed him by the arm.

"Fili, don't be a fool. You belong with the Company."

"I belong with my brother!"

He jerked out of Thorin's grip and, in anger, Thorin took a step toward him. Brie finally intervened, almost without meaning to, slipping to Thorin's side and putting a hand on his arm.

"Thorin," she murmured, "If it were your brother…"

These words froze him in his tracks. For a long moment he was very still, not looking at her, his jaw working beneath his skin. Then he turned a glare on her so heated Brie thought he might actually snarl, but she stood her ground and met his glare with determination. Finally he shrugged off her hand and stomped off, shouldering his pack.

"Let's go," he growled to the remaining members of his Company, "Durin's Day is hard on our heels."

"Um, aren't we still missing someone?" Bilbo spoke up timidly, "Where's Bofur?"

"If he's not here, we leave him behind," Thorin snapped and, without waiting for reply, slammed out the door and into the crowded street, leaving the rest of them scrambling to catch up.

She managed to get one glimpse over her shoulder, Kili standing forlornly in the doorway, supported on both sides by Oin and his brother. Brie got a sudden sinking feeling, a twinge of unease that she quickly pushed aside. This was best. Kili would get better and he would join them later.

If there was a later.

Brie was still feeling uneasy about the whole affair hours later when they finally reached the opposite shore of the Long Lake. Despite the sun dipping toward the western horizon, Thorin pushed them on, hiking through the sloping foothills toward the craggy cliffs of the mountain. The gray monument thrust into the sky, surrounded on all sides by little more than scrub and blackened earth. No birds sang. No animals rustled. The air was still and smelled barren. Brie shuddered and Nori eyed her warily.

"Cold, sweet?"

She pulled her jacket closer about her (fur-lined and quite lovely, if a little big for her) and shook her head. Nori's dubious expression didn't subside. He had been overly attentive all day, sitting next to her in the boat, plying her with food and water, asking if she was too cold or too hot or uncomfortable, touching her arms, her shoulders, fussing endlessly with her hair. They still wore one matching braid of lavender ribbon from the night before (tradition apparently stated they were to wear them for three days and three nights after their words were spoken, solidifying their family bond) and Brie flipped at the braid by his ear, managing a playful half-smile.

"I'm fine, Nori," she assured him, "Stop fussing or I might mistake you for your brother."

To her surprise, instead of looking offended, he grinned wickedly.

"Our brother now, sweet," he said, "Welcome to the family."

Brie rolled her eyes, but was saved from reply by Thorin's sharp retort.

"Keep up! You fall behind and we'll leave you there!"

Nori growled, but Brie put her hand in his and shook her head.

"Come on."

They caught up to the others, settling in with Bilbo, Ori, and Dori. Bilbo looked pensive, biting his lip and frowning, his eyes focused on the ground. They hadn't found Bofur. And, just as Thorin had threatened, they had left him behind. Brie didn't know what had happened between her brother and the good-natured miner, but tension between them had been high, ever since Mirkwood. And if she knew her brother, he would be kicking himself that he hadn't made things right between them. It wasn't in his nature to hold a grudge, not even with their terrible relatives back home, who more than deserved it.

"He'll be alright, Bilbo," she said, making her brother jump out of his revery, "In fact, he's probably safer than we are, considering…"

Realizing what she'd been about to say, she trailed off, trying to ignore the twisting feeling in her stomach. Both their eyes skimmed up the long, barren slope, tracing the sharp lines of rock outlined against the deepening twilight.

"Right," Bilbo said, grimly. "Considering."

Brie felt Nori's fingers tighten around hers, but when she looked up, he didn't meet her eyes.

Thorin finally called a halt about an hour after full dark. The sky was filled with shimmering pinpricks of starlight and the moon was nearly full, washing the empty land around them with silver. They built a small fire and Brie sat close by, sticking her hands out to the flickering flames to warm them. She didn't realize for a long time that she was waiting for something, and it took the same amount of time again for her to realize what it was.

Dwalin had not come over to braid her hair. She had come to expect it of him, it was routine now. They made camp, they started a fire, and Dwalin redid her braids. That was simply how things were done. But tonight the dwarf remained where he was, a few feet away, concentrating on his axe handles as if there might be some previously unseen flaw in the construction. Once she what was amiss, she discovered also that it vexed her. She liked Dwalin braiding her hair. And of late there seemed to be a terrible lack of things that she genuinely liked.

She turned and dug in her bag until she came up with a comb she had managed to acquire in Laketown. Then she marched straight over to Dwalin and held it out, trying her best to look as stern as possible. He stared at the comb in her hand, then up at her with an expression that she didn't understand at all. It was almost pained.

"You've a family now, Miss Baggins," he said, gruffly, turning back to his axe handles, "They'll see to it."

"Ori hasn't the experience, Dori fusses too much, and Nori does everything up as if I'm a doll," Brie said, still stubbornly holding out the comb to him, "I like yours better."

"T'wouldn't be proper-"

Brie stomped her foot.

"I am cold, I am tired, I am nearly sick with worry, and I am asking you, Dwalin," she said, holding out the comb to him again, "Please."

He stared at the comb in her hand for a moment, almost longingly, as if it were a jewel that she held just out of his reach. Then his gaze slid to the side, toward Nori, who lay reclined against a boulder and had said nothing throughout this entire exchange, lazily smoking his pipe. He caught Dwalin's eye and shrugged.

"The lass wants you, guardsman," he said, no malice in the title now, "Certainly not going to argue with her, I've got better things to do."

He took another drag on his pipe and exhaled a perfect ring of smoke. He smiled satisfactorily.

So Brie settled herself by the fire and Dwalin went to work, loosening her braids (being careful not to touch the small braid by her face that contained her lavender ribbon) and smoothing her hair with the comb. His hands were gentle and steady, and Brie shut her eyes, letting the fire warm her face. For the first time since Mirkwood, she felt herself again. For the first time since Mirkwood, she felt like singing.

Nori joined her first, and that was no surprise. His tenor hum echoed her own soprano, twisting into the air like floating embers. But she was surprised when she heard another dwarven voice mingle with their two, Dwalin's deeper baritone like a billow of smoke rising out of the dark. Dwalin almost never sang. That was when Brie heard other voices too, all different timbres and vibratos, humming against the night… And she realized with a jolt what she had done. She shot upright, eyes flying opening, choking on the tune that had come to her throat from unbidden memory. It was their song. The dwarves' song, the song they had sung in her parlor the night everything had changed. The last night.

"Do you remember the words?"

Thorin's voice was sharp, but not angry. He was watching her from over the fire, his blue eyes flickering. The others all turned to him. Dwalin's hands had stilled in her hair. Brie dropped her eyes to her lap, where her hands had clenched together.

"It's not my song to sing," she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"It belongs to all of us," Thorin answered, "Now, more than ever. Sing, if you remember."

Brie sucked in a breath through her nose and shut her eyes. She could see him, the light of a different fire dancing over his hard face, his distant gaze as the words bubbled up from someplace deep inside him. In his soul.

"Far over… the Misty Mountains cold…"

The words shook in her chest and came out in shimmering vibrato. She kept her eyes shut, but the dwarves were humming again and she felt their strength holding her up.

"Through dungeons deep-" She nearly faltered as Mirkwood swam before her eyes, but she swallowed and caught the melody again before it escaped her. "-and caverns old."

She felt Dwalin's fingers card gently through her hair, and she took in another breath for courage.

"We must away…" Thorin's voice joined hers now, deep and lovely, sad and powerful, twisted together with her own and somehow giving the melody a depth that Brie could never hope to find on her own. "...'ere break of day. To find our long, forgotten gold."

Brie opened her eyes as the others joined them in the second stanza, the song swelling in an attempt to fill the emptiness of the land that surrounded them. Thorin was still watching her, studying her, as if she were something new and possibly dangerous. His eyes wavered and danced in the light, but they never left her face, not until the last notes faded into the night.

They reached the overlook at noon the next day and paused to rest. The ruined city of Dale stretched out below them and Brie felt gooseflesh crawling up her spine as if ghostly fingers walked along her back.

"Let's go," Thorin said, shouldering a pack after only a few moments, "We must find the hidden door before the sun sets."

"Wait," Bilbo said, glancing curiously from the city to Thorin and back, "Didn't Gandalf say to meet him here? At the overlook, on no account were we to-"

"Do you see him?" Thorin snapped, "We have no time to wait upon the wizard. Durin's Day is here and we have only this one chance to find the door. We are on our own."

He turned his back and Brie shuddered at his words. They were cold, determined, detached. Something was wrong with him, and had been for some time, days it seemed now that she thought about it. But she could not put her finger on what it was. She didn't like it. She rushed to catch up to him, hoisting her pack as she matched pace at his side.

"You don't really believe that," she said, looking up at him. He did not meet her gaze. "We're not alone. If nothing else, we have each other."

Thorin's jaw tightened.

"Keep your eye on the mountain," he said and pulled ahead, leaving her intentionally behind.

The hidden stairs were tall, even for dwarf legs, but for hobbits it was like scaling a series of small cliffs. Brie did not dare look down, for though she had never been particularly averse to heights, the steep drop to the sharp rocks below made her head spin. She was grateful when the stairway ended, even if the clearing cut into the mountainside seemed a bit crowded. She and Bilbo shuffled carefully out of the way as the dwarves clustered around the blank wall of stone.

"Right," Dwalin said, matter-of-factly, dropping his bag and rubbing his hands together eagerly, "We have a key. So that means, there must be a key hole."

"That would stand to reason," Brie grumbled, stretching her back. The growing lump of unease that had been growing in her gut made her grumpy and sharp. She squinted at the setting sun as Dwalin began running his fingers over the wall.

"The last light of Durin's Day-" Thorin murmured, his eyes fixed upon the old map in his hands, "-will shine upon the keyhole.

Brie could not help peeking over his elbow to get a look at the map herself. When he abruptly turned, she shrank back out of his way and he paused, his brow furrowed.

"Sorry," she muttered, shuffling off to fiddle with her bag, hoping she was imagining his eyes following her.

The sun dipped further toward the horizon and the dwarves began to get restless. Dwalin's examination of the wall had lost its methodical steadiness, replaced with frazzled urgency. Nori had joined him, tapping a spoon to the stone, his ear pressed against the wall with a look of intense concentration. A breeze blew over the rock face and Brie shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

"We're losing the light," Balin said, an edge to his normally calm, steady voice.

"Maybe we have the wrong day?" Brie said, but she didn't sound convincing even to herself.

Dwalin began to kick and Nori snapped, "Stop that! I can't hear when you're thumping!"

"It's not here," Dwalin said, running his hands over the stone one more frantic time, "It's not here!"

The sun dropped dangerously low, now only a sliver flaring in the distance.

"Break it down!" Thorin ordered and a few of the dwarves grabbed their weapons.

"No, wait!" Brie exclaimed, but Nori pushed her back, out of the way of sharp objects and panicked dwarves, "Thorin, what if you damage it?!"

"It won't make much difference if we can't get inside, will it?" Thorin snarled as the clang of axes and maces on stone reverberated on the mountainside.

"Oh, you… You're impossible, the lot of you!" Brie snapped, ducking under Nori's arms, scrambling to Dwalin's side as he hammered on the unyielding stone with his axe, "Dwalin, stop this idiocy, before I-!"

Brie didn't see what hit her. Probably a sharp chip of rock, but it could have been any number of things. All she felt was a sharp pain as something struck the side of her face and she cried out, stumbling back and clutching at her cheek. Something warm coated her fingers and she pulled them away to look. They shone red in the fading light.

"Briallen!" Nori cried and she heard a great clatter as various weapons hit the ground.

"Let me see, lass," Dwalin said, his gruff voice shaking a touch as his hands reached for her.

"I'm fine," she said, clenching her jaw and ignoring the sting as she covered the wound again, "It's just a scratch."

"The light…"

Ori's sad, small voice turned them all back to the horizon. The sun had set. There was nothing but a line of orange and purple coloring the edges of the sky, rapidly fading away to deep blue. The lump in Brie's stomach clenched painfully.

"The last light…" Thorin's voice sounded empty and hollow in the sudden silence of the clearing. "...will shine upon the keyhole. That's what it says."

The map lay flat in his open hands, trembling. He looked up at the wall. His face was shadowed, but the hurt and confusion were etched deeply into the lines of his expression. His eyes fixed on Balin and he seemed young for the first time since Brie had known him, like a child that's been betrayed and can't understand.

"What did we miss, Balin?" he asked, dazed, faint, "What did we miss?"

Balin sighed and looked back at the dark horizon. "We've lost the light. There's no more to be done."

"What are you talking about?" Bilbo asked, looking about in frustrated bafflement as the others began to gather their things together, "Where are you going?"

Brie couldn't speak. She felt as if any words had been frozen in her throat. Thorin was staring at the key in his hand, the oddly shaped thing he had been wearing around his neck since that first night in Bag End, the night he had both captivated and infuriated her in the space of a moment. He had stared at the key in wonder then. Now he looked stricken, as if this piece of his father had simply died in his hands. Brie took a step toward him, holding out her hand, not sure what she planned to do, but needing to do something.

"Thorin?"

He looked at her. There had always been fire in his eyes, forge fires that Brie had imagined burned at the very heart of who he was. There was no fire now. There was only a shimmer of pain, of longing. He took her offered hand and pressed the key into her palm, closing her fingers around it.

"I'm sorry, nanginguh," he whispered, that unfamiliar word forcing the air from her lungs in a shaking breath.

Then he was gone. Brie could still hear Bilbo angrily protesting, but his words were very far away. The key was heavy in her hand, heavier than she might have thought, weighted with expectation, with regret, with purpose unfulfilled. She stared at it through her fingers, not trusting them to open. She was shaking too badly.

"Stand by the gray stone," Bilbo muttered behind her, in his thinking voice, "When the thrush knocks…" She pulled the key into her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. Her cheek still stung. That felt very far away too. "The setting sun… The last light of Durin's Day will shine... Hmm..."

Brie opened her eyes. It was full dark now, and she could just see stars twinkling between layers of clouds scuttling across the sky. It was brighter than it should have been. Bright with silver light…

"The last light…" she whispered, and her heart suddenly leapt in her chest, "The last light! Bilbo!"

She turned just as the moon burst from behind the clouds and there, so obvious Brie was flabbergasted they had missed it before, was a shadowy hole that looked to be just the right size for a dwarven key.

"Wait!" she shouted, stumbling frantically back toward the stairs, her voice echoing against the stones, "Dwalin, Nori, come back! It was the last light, the last moon of autumn! We found it! Thorin, wait!"

There was no answer. She turned back to the wall, clutching the key protectively in both hands.

"Should we...?" Bilbo asked, bouncing nervously from foot to foot, "I mean, we don't know how long it will last…"

"I don't…" She took a step toward the keyhole, toward the door she knew must be hidden beyond, and then stepped back again. "It doesn't… It doesn't seem right. Not without…"

Brie's hands were shaking and she clasped them more tightly together, terrified that she might drop the precious key, that it might be lost in the unending dark. Her heart was pounding. Her throat was dry. She swallowed, and shook her head.

"It's not ours," she said, the knot in her stomach tightening, 'It doesn't belong to us."

"It belongs to all of us."

The low, steady voice loosened her knots and Brie let out a shaking breath as she turned and held out the key, her hands more steady with Thorin's warmth at her back.

"But it wouldn't have been right," she said, smiling up at him, his face softly lit with moonlight, "Not without you."

His smile trembled on his lips as he reached out and grasped the key in her hand. Brie stepped back, leaving a path clear to the keyhole, so clearly illuminated in the moonlit rockface. Thorin's eyes brightened. It took only three steps for him to cross the clearing and slide the key into the lock. It turned with a grinding click. Brie held her breath. Thorin pressed his fingertips to the rock and, with a motion that looked both strong and effortless, the slanted door broke free, sliding on invisible hinges to thump inside the darkened space beyond. Brie let out the breath she had been holding in a sigh.

"Erebor," Thorin murmured and the word swept over the dwarves in a shudder. They moved forward to crowd at his back.

"Thorin..."

Balin's voice was thick. Thorin placed his hand on his old friend's shoulder before he stepped over the threshold. As they had done for so many months, and so many miles, the dwarves followed him, slipping into the dark beyond the door. Even Bilbo followed, with almost the same reverence, his eyes wide, taking in every detail and committing it to memory. Brie hesitated, but then tentatively stepped in after them.

It was not as dark as she had expected, but the hush was palpable, like a weight on her chest. She put a hand to the wall as she took slow, careful steps, running her fingers along the rough hewn rock. It felt warm to the touch and tingled beneath her skin.

A large, warm hand covered hers, pressing it to the stone.

"Can you feel it?" Thorin asked, his voice low and trembling, rumbling in his chest.

Brie nodded and Thorin let out a breath, as if he had been holding it.

"Kêlur'abani," he said, caressing the word as if it were precious, "Pure life, held in stone."

He moved his hand and her hand moved with his, tracing a pattern that she couldn't read, but she could feel, vibrating in her bones.

"Is it magic?" she asked, softly, as if she were afraid that it might break if she spoke too loudly.

Thorin frowned, his hand still covering hers, pressing it to the humming stone.

"It… simply is," he said, "All dwarves feel it, it calls to us, urging us to carve and shape and make, to draw it out. And as we draw it out, we add to it. Each dwarf that carved this wall-" He passed their hands together over the stone once more. "-left a bit of themselves behind, buried within. Each dwarf that passed through this tunnel-" He looked up at the ceiling, as if he could see their shades, "-bled life into these walls."

He paused, then met her eyes.

"Yes, Miss Baggins," he said, "It is the best kind of magic."

And in that moment, Brie found that she wholeheartedly agreed.

Khuzdul Translations

Nanginguh- my flower

Kêlur'abani- I made this up from two separate words, "containing life" and "element/part of the stone", respectively. My intended meaning was "Life of the Stone".