Wow, I must say this is the first time I got quite a remarkable amount of feedback via Private Messages and most of it was very positive though one question appeared again and again, so I'll quickly answer it here if nobody minds ;)
Question was, why I changed Smaug's death so drastically. Simple answer: I never liked his death in the book. To me it was too quick, too unspectacular, considering that he was THE villain plus I always found it unjust that Bard, though I like him a lot, was the one who shot him. Ever since I read the book for the first time, I knew that Thorin should have been the one to kill Smaug. So I didn't hesitate for long and wrote the scene the way I would have imagined it. I hope that answers the question?
Anyways, wonderful reviews again from all of you! Thanks a bunch guys! Now, Welcome to Erebor and enjoy the Chapter!
The Halls of Erebor lay quiet and dark. A swath of destruction lead across the Hall, drawing the track that Smaug had taken when he first entered the Mountain. Pillars were crushed, tiles broken, stairs had caved in and tumbled down but overall the great Palace below the earth looked surprisingly intact.
Kíli and Fíli stood in the middle of the Entrance Hall, looking around in wonder. Their hearts raced until both believed they would explode any minute. Erebor. Much bigger and brighter than they had imagined. As children, they had often dreamt of these Halls, building them in their own minds from the tales of others and they had often pretended that the dungeons below Thorin's Halls were the large corridors and catacombs of their true home. As they had wandered through them, they had imagined to be Kings, waving at their people and bellowing orders, dressed in Thorin's large coats and his boots that had been way too big for them then.
Now that their plays and dreams had become reality, neither of them could believe it. Whilst a wave of joy crashed over Kíli and he quickly hurried on, drawing his fingers over the dark stone, Fíli still stood frozen to the spot and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to scream or cry or laugh or all of it at once. Hence he remained quiet but he was shaking like a leaf. He began to realise that he was afraid. Afraid that Erebor might not be what he had imagined it to be after all but so different to his dreams.
"Oi, airhead."
Fíli snapped back into reality when his brother waved his bloody hand before his face.
"This way I think. If we just follow the path, we should get to the treasure right?" Kíli asked, pointing at the lane that Smaug had left. He grabbed his brother's wrist and dragged him along.
They passed Halls and Corridors, wandered below the highest ceiling and amongst the most beautiful pillars. Paintings, carvings and mosaics decorated the high walls and they stared in wonder as they hurried on, both clutching torches they had found and lit. The Kingdom in the Blue Mountains had been beautiful enough already but it was nothing compared to the glory of Erebor. Their breath caught in their throat when they reached the treasure chamber and before them, a most magnificent view unfolded.
The Great Hall of Thráin was one of the largest chambers deep at the root of the mountain and it was filled to the brim with the Treasure of Thrór. Golden towers reached as high as the ceiling, countless alcoves and balconies held more coins, chests and bags stuffed with jewels and preciousness and though the boys were used to treasure and the sight of gold, they had never seen anything as marvellous as this. The shimmer was reflected by the dark, polished walls and pillars and they felt like they stepped into a golden dream when they entered the hall.
"Bilbo?" Kíli called out and hurried off to the left whilst Fíli found a way to the right, nearly getting lost between the high piles of gold.
"Master Baggins!" he called. "Bilbo!"
"Please be alive", Kíli muttered under his breath as he looked around feverishly, holding the torch high above his head. The light flickered when a sudden draft caught it and curiously Kíli followed it until he stood before the most enormous pile of coins, dented and spread like a massive nest. It smelled of copper and burned metal and the youngster was sure that he had found Smaug's lair. He looked around and spotted the small plateau in the dark that led into the tunnel and further to the secret door.
"Bilbo!" he called out once more but there was no sign of the hobbit. A sudden clink of coins caught his attention once more and he walked around the enormous pile to find some smaller stacks of gold by the stairs that led up to the plateau. When he spotted a burned down, black torch amongst the coins, he suddenly became white as a wall.
"FÍLI!" he yelled. "FÍLI!"
Kíli cast his own torch to the side and began to claw at the coins, shoving them out of the way and digging through the countless piles and mountains. The clangour was deafening but Kíli did not care. Soon his brother arrived and together they searched through the treasure, unsure of what to expect. Both of them feared the worst. To find the hobbit slashed up or burned badly. Or worse; to not find him at all for the dragon might have eaten him. They dug through the sharp metal plates and golden coins, cutting their hands and fingers open until they were bleeding but neither cared. Not even Fíli, who detested pain like nothing else in the world.
A big, hairy foot appeared first and it looked remarkably whole and unburned or uneaten. Bilbo's tattered pants appeared, followed by his belt with Sting still attached to it, his jerkin above a dirty shirt and finally the curly head of the hobbit. Kíli let out a small yelp and he began to drag Bilbo from underneath the pile of gold and Fíli's face lit up as well. Until they noticed that the Halfling wasn't moving.
"No", Kíli whispered, propping Bilbo up and settling his head on his lap. "No no no, come on now. Don't be dead. Don't be dead."
He carefully brushed some brown locks from Bilbo's forehead, smearing blood across his face but he did not care. Fíli gently looked for wounds or burns or any other form of injury but Bilbo's clothes were untouched and sound.
"There's no injury, nothing", he muttered, watching the hobbit in wonder.
"Maybe he died from the shock? You know how prone he was to heart attacks!"
"Rubbish, Balin only said that so we wouldn't irritate him anymore", Fíli waved it off, watching Bilbo's unmoving face. He still looked like he had that evening in Bag End, when he had slammed the door in their faces only a second after they had arrived. Brave little Bilbo Baggins and a true friend indeed.
Kíli suddenly noticed something blinking from the corner of his eyes. Between the coins lay a small, golden ring. He reached out and carefully picked it up, holding it before his face, only to witness the last thin lines of a magical writing disappear on the golden surface. It felt heavy in his hand and somewhat misplaced, as if he was not meant to touch it.
"We should put it on a necklace around his neck. It was his after all", he pondered, waiting for his brother to say something, but when he looked at Fíli, the older Dwarf still watched Bilbo carefully.
"It will be hard to tell the others. They did like him after all", Kíli tried again and knit his brows when he noticed the expression on Fíli's face. "Excuse me Master Unaffected but could say something? Anything?!"
He did not anticipate what followed though. For instead of saying anything, Fíli struck out and without hesitation, slapped the poor hobbit across the face. Once, twice and when he struck out a third time, Bilbo skyrocketed up, squealing and yelling and screaming like a piglet on the shambles. He drew his sword and pointed it at Fíli, his face red and his eyes panicked.
"Begone!" he yelled, waving the sword about before Fíli's nose. "Begone monstrosity! I will not die down here! I'm warning you! I am a Baggins of Bag End and Bagginses don't die from dragon fire!"
"No, apparently they don't", Fíli chuckled, holding his hands up in defence. "But it seems that Bagginses of Bag End are blind as bats for they are confusing a dwarf with a dragon."
"It's us Bilbo, all is well", Kíli laughed and when Bilbo came to his senses again, he recognised the blood splattered faces of the brothers and their clear, gentle voices rang in his head like familiar bronze bells. He looked from one to the other, confusion on his rosy face.
"T-The dragon. There was a dragon. Right there!" he exclaimed, pointing at the pile that had formed Smaug's nest. "I saw him! I saw him with my own eyes, he was there! We have to hide! You should have seen that beast, it was huge!"
"We know, we know", Kíli chuckled. "The dragon is dead. You're safe now."
"Hobbits surely are a sturdy little people", Fíli grinned, ruffling Bilbo's dark locks gently. The hobbit once again looked from one to the other and suddenly, without any warning, tears began to dwell in his eyes and he flung his arms around Kíli's neck, sobbing badly.
"Oh dear", the youngster laughed, wrapping his arms around the small shaking body in a tight embrace. "There there, we're all fine."
Bilbo reached out behind himself, his face still buried in the crook of Kíli's neck and his fingers searched for something. Fíli watched the grabbing hand curiously, before it eventually got a good hold of one of his golden braids and pulled with a force that tears shot in Fíli's eyes.
"Ouch!" he yelped but was nonetheless yanked into this embrace as well and while Kíli laughed wholeheartedly, one arm wrapped around the trembling hobbit, one around his brother, Fíli showed a crooked smile, trying to ignore the stinging at his skull and Bilbo cried. And he cried and cried until no tears were left anymore, all the time safely tucked in between the warm bodies of the brothers, protecting him from all the harm in the world.
It later turned out that Bilbo, the moment he had set his eyes upon Smaug, had dropped unconscious from fright and remained like that for the whole two days, covered safely by mountains of gold. Nobody but Fíli and Kíli of course knew that he had been wearing the ring that had apparently slipped off some time after Bilbo had fainted. Still buried under the gold, his scent covered by the coppery reek, the dragon had not noticed him and when the little Hobbit learned that he had spent a total of two days, lying side by side with a dragon, he nearly fainted once more.
They slowly strolled back through the large halls and corridors, marvelling at the high staircases and the dark, angular architecture. The closer they got to the entrance, the lighter the corridors became and Bilbo quickly whiped his tears off with a handkerchief that Fíli gave him. A real handkerchief, made from finest silk with Durin's crest on it and still a little flustered and nervous, the Hobbit gave the young prince a good wigging for not offering him this marvellous handkerchief when he had been using Bofur's ripped shirt ever since. Fíli shrugged it off, explaining that he had forgotten all about it, for Dwarves didn't need handkerchiefs so much. They had long sleeves usually.
When they reached the Gates of Erebor again, they found the rest of the company and immediately, Bilbo was pulled into various hugs and he was petted and they ruffled his hair and were honestly joyful that their little burglar was not dead after all. Even Thorin seemed relieved, clasping Bilbo's shoulders with both hands.
"I think I have never been more delighted to see a Hobbit", he smiled and Bilbo believed him. "Have you been crying, Master Baggins?"
"What?! No! No no it's erm- it's – the dust! Yes. Very dusty. Your Kingdom, my dear Thorin, is full of dust!"
And they laughed and ventured on, equipped with torches and finally carefree. The boys never told anyone about Bilbo's little breakdown and he was most thankful for it.
They stared in awe at the marvellous beauty that was Erebor and Dwalin, Balin and Thorin soon scurried off on familiar paths, for they were the only ones of the company that had actually grown up in the Halls of Erebor. The way led them past the great Hall of Thrór, the biggest and vastest place that Bilbo had ever seen. Here, Balin explained, the banquets and meetings had taken place and the hobbit and the two youngsters tried to imagine what the glorious place would look like with banners wafting from the walls and silver platters on the heavy, dark stone tables, that stood firmly in the centre of the hall, completely unscratched.
On they went and they finally understood the sheer size of the place. Eventually, they reached a broad staircase right in the middle of a large corridor and without hesitation, Thorin began to climb it, followed closely by Dwalin and Balin. The others, still looking around, followed one after the other and Bilbo looked down while he walked next to Kíli. From above, he noticed for the first time that Erebor was not made up of few, proper floors. It seemed rather like a maze of various corridors and halls, connected by stairs and it was so carefully and beautifully interlaced, that Bilbo nearly toppled off the staircase in wonder.
"How can one not get lost here?" he asked quietly and Kíli merely shrugged.
"No idea. I'm lost already."
"That's because you have the orientation of a concussed duck", Fíli gently explained and the Dwarves that walked close by chuckled. The older of the two princes indeed seemed to find his way around just fine and Kíli blamed it on the fact that Fíli had been an extraordinarily boring child and studied maps of Erebor too much in his youth, whilst he had been keener on destroying the Halls they had lived in at the time.
They halted abruptly and when Bilbo peered around the youngsters, his gaze fell on a large, marvellous throne. It was carved from black marble, laced with beautiful silver beads that shone bright in the torchlight. Two similarly carved chairs stood to each side and a thick, dark carpet reached from the throne to the top of the stairs. At the very top of the high backrest was a small, hollow binding and Fíli and Kíli immediately knew that this was where the Arkenstone had been embedded, many many years before.
Thorin carefully stepped towards the throne and as he reached out and his fingers touched the cold marble again, his eyes swam with tears. 171 years. And he still saw his grandfather sitting there, the heavy crown deep on his head, glistening with jewels. And his father sat beside him, his back straight, grey strands running through the thick, black beard. On the other side sat his younger brother Frerin, a cheeky smile on his face and the small, black goatee had only started to grow properly. And Dís, his beloved sister, the most precious diamond of his life, sitting next to Frerin with her beautiful, long black braid and her warm, dark eyes.
"Go on", Balin gently put a hand on his back, his voice calm and warm.
He took a deep breath, devouring the sight once more, before he slowly sat down on the massive throne. His clothes hung down in rags, singed and burned, his beard and long, silver streaked black mane was uncombed and his hands and face scratched and bloody. And yet he had never looked more powerful.
Balin was the first, followed closely by Dwalin and then Fíli and Kíli and one after the other, the Dwarves kneeled down before the throne, their heads bowed. And Thorin looked upon them, his head high and his chest swollen with pride and he smiled as one single tear rolled down his cheek.
The King under the Mountain had returned.