A/N: I'm back! And sooner than I thought I would be too :) I've decided that my problem was/is that I am entirely over-thinking this thing and really letting it get to me. So I'm just going to toodle along my merry way forward with what I had planned to happen since the beginning and let the chips fall where they may :) If you hate it, feel free to let me know (and some of you probably will hate it), but we are pushing through to the end! Let's do this!


Chapter Twenty-Nine

"It is here... in these halls. I know it."

Brie shifted anxiously and exchanged a glance with Bilbo. He was pale, but Brie could not tell if that was simply an effect of his near-Fading, or if he felt as uncomfortable as she did. She hated the throne room almost as much as she hated the treasury. Almost. The dark chasms and the broken throne held their own ghosts, but at least it didn't feel as if something was trying to claw up her leg every time she put her foot down. At least it didn't feel as if she were drowning.

"Thorin," Dwalin said, "We have searched and searched—"

"Not well enough."

"We all would see the stone returned—"

"And yet, it is still not found!"

Brie flinched as Thorin whirled on them, the echo of his roar ringing in the emptiness.

"Do you doubt the loyalty of anyone here?" Balin asked, so calm, so steady, so reasonable.

Thorin took a step toward him and Brie stepped too, stepped in front of the old dwarf, between him and the king.

"Thorin..." she said, her voice trembling a little.

Thorin barely acknowledged her. He put a hand on her shoulder, almost absently, but his gaze still rested on Balin, narrowed and angry.

"The Arkenstone is the birthright of our people," Balin said, still sounding frustratingly sensible.

"It is the King's Jewel," Thorin snarled, "Am I not the king?!"

"Thorin," Brie said again, her voice a little more steady now, prying away the fingers he had dug into her shoulder and clasping them in both of hers.

He stopped his advance and stared at her, at his hand in hers. His brow furrowed, as if he couldn't quite remember where he was. Brie's heart dropped. He'd looked at her like that more and more these last few days. His fingers wrapped around hers gently and squeezed. Brie let out a breath and smiled, feeling the warmth of his grip travel from her fingers to her chest.

"Know this," he said, his eyes still fixed upon their hands, "If anyone should find the stone, and withhold it from me…" He turned his glaring eyes on Dwalin, and Balin, and Bilbo, "I will be avenged."

His hand slipped from hers and he was gone, stalking off into the dark, back to the treasury, back to the gold.

Away from her.

Brie's hands felt ice-cold and she thought the weight of the rock in her pocket might pull her straight down into the earth. Perhaps that was where she belonged.

I will be avenged…

You have been used, Thief in the shadows...

"Come on, lass."

Dwalin was holding out his hand to her, his eyes dark wells of emotion in a staunchly neutral face. Brie swallowed and straightened her shoulders before she took his hand and let him help her down from the empty dais. Bilbo put an arm around her shoulders as they left the throne room behind.


"Dragon-sickness," Balin called it. "I've seen it before…"

Brie slumped against the wall, curling her legs up into her chest and burying her face in her knees. She was shaking. Would they never be free of Smaug? Would he always haunt these halls? Would he always haunt her thoughts?

Watch it destroy him… drive him mad…

Something had to be done. She couldn't keep doing this, dancing about, pretending. But what was she to do?

"If Thorin… had the Arkenstone…"

She took a deep, shaking breath and dipped her hand into her pocket.

"...if it were found…"

She could feel the smooth surface of the stone, nestled in a dirty cloth, emanating a steady warmth against her palm.

"...would it help?"

She pulled the bundle from her pocket, felt the weight of it in her palm.

"No, my dear… I fear it would make it worse."

"What is that?!"

Brie's heart hit her throat and she shoved the cloth back into her pocket, her eyes flitting over the darkened hallway. But there was one there. Thorin's voice was coming from an open doorway a little way down.

"It— It's nothing." Bilbo's stuttering voice had Brie on her feet in a moment, her heart hammering.

"Show me!"

There was a long pause. Brie remained frozen in the dark, not sure if she should go, if she should stay, if she should...

"...I picked it up in Beorn's garden."

"You've carried it all this way."

Thorin's voice was softer now, and Brie relaxed a little, unclenching her fists and sagging into the stone. She could feel it humming against her back, but she wasn't sure if that were the kelur'abani or her own frazzled nerves.

"I'm gonna plant it in my garden, in Bag End."

"That's a poor prize to take back to the Shire."

She slid down the wall and buried her face in her knees again.

"One day it'll grow. And every time I look at it, I'll remember. Remember everything that happened, the good, the bad…"

Tears were leaking from her eyes. She couldn't do this. She couldn't keep doing this.

"...and how lucky I am that I made it home."

"Thorin!"

Brie sat up with a start at the sound of Dwalin's voice, wiping her eyes.

"Survivors from Laketown," he said, "They're streaming into Dale. There's hundreds of them!"

"Call everyone to the gate." Thorin's voice was sharp again, hard-edged and commanding. "To the gate, now!"


If there was one thing to be said for dwarves, it was that they were shockingly efficient. Within an hour of the order being give, the gaping hole that had once been the ruins of Erebor's gates was almost completely impenetrable. Bofur gave most of the direction as seemingly random bits of stone rubble were dragged up from all corners of the entryway and stacked together in the wide opening, almost as if they had been perfectly fitted for this exact task. If Brie hadn't felt so incredibly cold at the thought of being walled into this tomb of a place, she might have been impressed.

"I want this fortress made safe by sun-up," Thorin ordered striding past her without a second glance, "This mountain was hard won. I will not see it taken again."

"The people of Laketown have nothing!" Kili exclaimed, tossing down a wheelbarrow of stone in disgust, "They came to us in need. They have lost everything."

"Do not tell me what they have lost," Thorin snapped, "I know well enough their hardship."

"If you know it so well, will you not help them?"

The words leaving her mouth surprised Brie as much as anyone. But she felt a sudden surge of desperate fury, the need to say something, anything, to stay this… She marched up to Thorin and stood toe-to-toe with him, glaring up into his furious face with every ounce of dignity she could muster.

"Is that not what you wished for, when the dragon took your home from you? For someone to show you kindness, to take you in, to help you in your hour of need?"

"No one helped us!" Thorin shouted, "No one came to our aid!"

"And how is that the fault of the Lakemen?" Brie shouted back, "How have their starving children wronged you, Thorin, that you would turn a deaf ear to their cries?"

"That their children live at all is enough cause to rejoice," Thorin snarled, turning away from her, "Those who have lived through dragonfire have much to be grateful for. Bring more stone!"

Brie took two steps toward him, fire burning in her blood, but someone reached out and pulled her back.

"No, sweet," Nori murmured, wrapping his arms around her trembling form, "It's no good. Let it go, namad. Let him go."

She pulled free of his arms and marched off, before the others could see her cry.


"A bargain was struck!"

"A bargain?" Thorin snarled, his ire rising with every second spent speaking to this vagrant, this begging child, "What choice did we have but to barter our birthright for blankets and food? To ransom our future in exchange for our freedom? You call that a fair trade? Tell me, Bard the Dragonslayer—" The Lakeman looked surprised by this moniker and that pleased Thorin a bit, made him feel more at ease, brought a smirk to his face. "Why should I honor such terms?"

Yes. Why should he give away what they had fought so hard to reclaim? Had they not escaped the elves of Rivendell, fought the goblins of the Misty Mountains, the orcs of Azog, the spiders of Mirkwood, slipped beneath the noses of even Thranduil's guards? All for what? To simply give away what they had come so far for? Had they not suffered too?

"Because you gave us your word," Bard said, earnestly, "Does that mean nothing?"

Something struck a chord, vibrating in Thorin's chest and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He pulled away, leaned back against the steady wall and shut his eyes, letting the power of the stone shore up his muscles, the kêlur'abani of his kin, past and present, new structure from old, the power of so many dwarves filling his trembling body. It was… too much. There was such a cacophony in his mind, in his heart…

A tiny hand slipped into his, delicate and strong. He opened his eyes and looked down into the wide, hopeful eyes of Briallen, his nanging, the most lovely thing to come out of all this horror. The world seemed to center around her, to harden into crystalline clarity. Mahal, how he loved her. He touched her cheek and she smiled. It was like sunlight bursting into the mountain, lighting the way. He would do anything for her. He would do anything to keep her safe. To treasure her and give her everything she was due.

How could he do that, if he was handing it all out to beggars and vagabonds? How would he ever be worthy of her, if he did not stand strong against those who would drain this mountain dry? What would he give her, if he could not give her everything?

"Begone!" he shouted into the hole where the worm still waited, the snake that would sneak in through the cracks, "Ere arrow fly!"

The clatter of hooves was a welcome answer to his declaration. He pressed his lips to Briallen's trembling fingers and then went to make ready. For as much as Bilbo fussed and complained, he was right. War was coming. And he had to keep her safe. No matter what that cost.


Brie watched with uneasy trepidation as the dwarves armed themselves from the ancient stores deep within the mountain. Nori, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, even Ori… All of them in armor and carrying weapons that seemed too big for them, too weighted with responsibility and death. She gripped the strap of the quiver slung across her back, filled to bursting with silver arrows. No, not silver. Mithril, Kili had called it, lighter than air and strong enough to pierce any armor. The bow was simple enough, strong and solid, the wood treated against rot and restrung from Kili's own pocket. But it still felt heavy on her back, weighted with her mounting guilt. She had done this. She had brought the dragon down upon the Laketown people, had taken everything from them, their homes, their livelihoods, their lives and families. How could she take any more?

"Who gave that to you?"

She jumped and turned. Thorin stood in the doorway and for a moment he was so breathtakingly magnificent that she forgot how much he had changed. His golden armor rippled over his form as if it had been poured over him rather than fitted, glinting in the torchlight. His gauntleted hand rested on an ornate sword hilt as if it had been meant for nothing less and his eyes flashed brilliant blue in his determined face. Green Mother, she loved him. She really, truly loved him, and the realization was a painful jolt in her chest.

"Kili," she said, when she finally got her breath back, "He found it in the armory, managed to get it restrung for me. I thought I might take a position on the wall, hold—"

"No."

Brie blinked.

"Sorry?"

"You won't be on the wall," Thorin said, stepping more fully into the hall, straightening to his full height, "I want you to stay inside the mountain, where it's safe."

"But," Brie stuttered feeling quite put off balance, "But what about the others? What about Bilbo?"

"I've taken care of Bilbo," Thorin said, smiling indulgently at her, "We'll keep him safe as best we can. But you…"

He trailed off and put a heavy gauntleted hand on her shoulder, his eyes roving her face.

"Asti uruklai, nanginguh," he said, smiling at her, "I would not risk you for all the gold in this mountain."

He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. Brie could not help closing her eyes and relishing the gesture, though she knew the next words she spoke would ruin everything.

"I can't."

He stiffened. His grip on her shoulder tightened until it was nearly painful. Slowly, he leaned back so that she could see his face. His eyes were burning.

"What?"

Brie stiffened herself, tightening her grip on the strap of her quiver.

"I can't, Thorin," she said again, "I… I did this. I brought the dragon's rage down on the people of Laketown. And I will not hide in this mountain, safe from their wrath, as if it were nothing to do with me!"

"You owe them nothing," he snarled and Brie winced, "They are playing on your gentle heart, Briallen, using you! And I will not stand for it!"

"Thorin—"

"You will do as I say," he said, turning away from her, "I cannot risk your feminine sentiment in the heat of battle. Is that understood?"

Brie was so shocked she could barely find words. She just stared at him, and the words he had spoken on the road outside Hobbiton (oh, so long ago, it felt now) came floating back with painful clarity.

...the whims and fancies of a sheltered mother hen...

Was that really all he thought of her? Even after all this time?

Thorin did not wait for her to find an answer. He turned and strode from the room, leaving her behind, her heart aching.


It was late. Even within the mountain, where neither sun nor moon gave any light, Brie knew that she should be sleeping. She should be with the others, with her brothers. It might be the last time. She bit her lip, stilling the tremble. She would not cry. Not any more. The time for tears was over.

She huddled down into a dusty corner of an old scroll room that Balin had been working through, the scent of old parchment reminding her of her father's books back at Bag End. It was the only place in this thrice-cursed mountain that brought her any kind of comfort. She had shed her tears before, and now she was empty, hollow and numb. The lump in her pocket pressed into her side and, without any emotion, she pulled it out, unwrapping the cloth. The Arkenstone sat within her palm, warm like a fresh egg, gleaming as if in invisible candlelight. She turned it over in her hands, trying to understand it, trying to see what it was about this chip of rock, that might make a dwarf like Thorin Oakenshield turn so completely against himself. It was incomprehensible to her... such a little thing...

There was a sound, a slight scrape on the stone and, quick as a blink, she slipped the rock up into her sleeve.

"Brie?"

She sighed and relaxed a little. It was only Bilbo. Her brother padded cautiously into the room, stepping carefully around the haphazard stacks of books and scrolls, staring around him as if he were afraid that ghosts might come seeping through the walls. No hint remained of his Fading now, and for that she was grateful. She did not know what she might have done if she had lost Bilbo.

"What are you doing up here?" he asked, sinking to the floor in front of her.

"Is Bofur with you?" she asked. Bofur was nearly always with him now. That was good too. He would keep her brother safe, if it came down to it.

But Bilbo shook his head and Brie let out another little breath of relief. It was not that she didn't trust Bofur. It was just that… well, she didn't quite know who to trust.

"No one's even noticed you're gone," Bilbo said, "How long have you been up here?"

Brie shrugged, mindful of the weight pulling at her sleeve.

"A while." She glanced around at the dusty shelves and dark stone. "I don't know what to do. I'm no good at this."

"I don't like it either," Bilbo said, rubbing his nose in a gesture of agitation that made Brie smile despite herself. "Thorin's really gone too far this time. Perhaps if we'd only found the Arkenstone, we could have—"

"I found it."

The words slipped from her mouth as easily as water. She hadn't really meant to tell him. She hadn't meant to tell anyone, not until she knew what to do. But... it was Bilbo. If anyone could help her...

"What?" he squeaked, "Where? When?"

"When we were escaping the dragon. It was just... lying there..."

I am almost tempted to let you take it...

"You've had it this whole time?"

Brie nodded. Carefully, she slipped the jewel out of her sleeve and held it cupped in her palm for him to see. It caught on its own light, sparkling and shimmering, reflecting shards of color onto Bilbo's face. His eyes went wide, staring at the jewel for a moment. Then he scrambled to his feet and started wringing his hands.

"We should tell Thorin," he said, "We need to tell Thorin, so he can end this, we can just end all of this and go home!"

"Do you really think that would be a good idea?" Brie asked calmly, patiently. Bilbo was panicking, and she needed him to stop. She needed his Baggins brain. She needed him to think. Because she couldn't anymore. Not with any degree of clarity.

Bilbo stopped wringing his hands for a moment and stared at her, confused. Then, as if he'd suddenly realized what he was saying, he slowly sank back down to the floor. He watched for a moment as the stone slipped smoothly back and forth between Brie's hands.

"We're losing him, Bilbo," Brie whispered, absently following her own movements as if they were out of her control, "I'm going to lose him. Maybe we already have."

Back and forth, back and forth the stone moved, shining and glowing and throwing light wherever it went.

"What are you going to do?" Bilbo asked softly.

Brie shook her head, the stone ceasing its movement and cradled in her palm, warming her numb fingers.

"I don't know," she whispered, "But it can't stay here. I can't keep doing this."

There was silence. Brie could almost hear her brother's thoughts turning over and over in his head.

"We are owed a share of the treasure," he said finally, almost as if speaking to himself, "It's in the contract."

"One fourteenth of total profits, if any." Brie recited mechanically. It felt like a lifetime since she'd read those words in Balin's flowing script, in the comfort of their hobbit hole. It had seemed fair at the time, more than fair really, if what the dwarves had said of the mountain was true. And it had been, and more besides...

"How much do you think Laketown is owed?" Bilbo asked.

Brie flinched. Laketown. She did not want to think about Laketown, about the starving, homeless Men... Bard... His children...

"And the elves?" Bilbo continued, "How much do you think would appease them?"

Brie jerked hard at that, almost dropping the stone in her hand. Something flashed before her eyes, a swirl of snow and blood, and she blinked it away. She did not want to appease the elves... She did not want to look at the elves…

Bilbo's hand appeared in her line of vision and covered the stone, blocking its light.

"How much do you think Thorin would pay..." he said softly, "...to get it back?"

Brie's mind went blank. She didn't understand. Frantically, she forced her mind to reevaluate everything that Bilbo had said.

We are owed a share of the treasure...

How much is Laketown owed...?

How much would Thorin pay...?

One fourteenth of total profits, if any...

How much would Thorin pay...?

Her stomach rolled. She was going to be sick. She clenched her fist around the stone and Bilbo gripped her hand beneath his, holding her steady. She closed her eyes. She couldn't catch her breath. She gasped for air, but it caught in her throat and she thought she was choking, drowning. She couldn't... She couldn't...

He would never forgive her. Never.

But people were going to die. Dwalin. Bard. Nori. Bilbo. So many people would die.

"It's alright, Brie," Bilbo said, his arms around her, rocking gently back and forth, "It's alright. You don't have to go. I'll go, I'll do it. You don't have to."

But Brie gripped the stone even tighter, until her fingers ached. No. It had to be her. If she was going to betray him... the one she loved... then she would do it herself. She would not hide within this mountain and pretend it wasn't happening.

It had to be her.


Khuzdul Translations:

Kêlur'abani- life of the stone

Namad- sister

Asti uruklai- You are too precious

Nanging/nanginguh- flower/my flower