Hello!

Sorry about how short and filler-y the last chapter was. I got back on track this week, and this one's a lot longer. :)

Thanks for you patience with me!

Mrs Sorbo: Thanks :)

kaia: Lol, I deliberated whether I should include that, but I figured the chapter was so sparse, I may as well add a bit of humor. ;)

MugglebornPrincesa: It gets darkest before the dawn? That's the only thing I can say, lol.

Just4Me: As someone who lives in a hurricane state, I can confirm that these next couple chapters are indeed the calm before the storm. But every story needs drama and angst, right? Thranduil's not really a bad elf; he's just been through a lot. And it helps that Lee Pace looks so good. XD

Sesshomaru's Babydoll: I'm sorry! This chapter makes up for the last one, as it's double the length and substance. Whoa, you've two writing-heavy majors, so your seemingly neverending papers make sense now. XD But my field is constant writing, too, though I enjoy it most of the time. As for a Kili and Fili spin-off...as much as I love them, I don't think I could write an entire story centered around them, lol.

LianaDare8: I need it, too! Teaser trailer, indeed. Sigh.

Check my profile for a picture of Talaitha's braids.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for Thorin's gold sickness, but alas, that belongs to Tolkien and Jackson.

Chapter 35: Bones, Burglars, and Braids

Legolas remained with the Company for a while, exchanging stories with Bilbo, Talaitha, and some of the more amiable dwarves. Thorin occasionally commented, but for the most part, he was silent and pensive. Now that Smaug was well and truly dead, the dwarves had the daunting task of making the mountain habitable again. He considered, rather ironically, that the journey to Erebor might have been the simpler part.

Several loud caws attracted Thorin's attention. Flocks of crows were wheeling above, as if circling an animal carcass. There were other birds, too, but none were as plentiful or as agitated as the crows.

"Something strange is happening," said Thorin. The others followed his gaze. "The carrion birds are behaving as if a battle were afoot."

The black birds were not an auspicious omen, Thorin knew, and Óin's grim expression confirmed that thought.

As he scanned the skies, alarmed, Bilbo spotted the same thrush that had been cracking snails' shells outside the secret entrance. It flew towards them and perched on a nearby stone, fluttering its wings and singing animatedly. When no one moved, it cocked its head to one side, as if listening, then chirped more insistently.

"I think it's trying to tell us something," Balin said. "Can anyone make out what?" He looked pointedly at Legolas, who had approached the thrush. It now sat perched on the elf's finger, singing to him.

They shook their heads and watched Legolas with a mixture of curiosity and expectation. If elves understood trees, then surely they understood birds, too. But their hopes were in vain, for he did not.

"Well, whatever it is, he's rather excited about it," Bilbo said, just as the thrush gave a loud call and flew away.

Thorin stood and strode from the shelter. "We may not understand him, but he understands us. Follow him!"

The bird led them to the other side of the hill. From there, they could see the first of the refugees from Lake Town, with Bard at the head and accompanied by some of the elves from Mirkwood. Even from this distance, the humans looked ragged and weary.

Legolas stepped back and turned to Thorin. "It is my understanding that you offered payment to Esgaroth in exchange for supplies."

The dwarf king's expression darkened. "That agreement was made with the old Master, and since you have informed us that he is no longer in command, the deal no longer stands."

Talaitha shifted from one foot to the other, disquieted by the possessive gleam in Thorin's gaze. Legolas saw it, too. "Take care, Dwarf," he warned. "One among them felled the dragon. Do not deny him his people's share."

Thorin glowered up at Legolas, undaunted by the prince's height. "You have fulfilled your task, Elf," he spoke lowly. "You have told us Esgaroth's tale and have heard ours. Return to your kin now."

Legolas met the dwarf's cold gaze, but his held no malice. "Remember Thrór," he said solemnly. Then, with a final, concerned glance at Talaitha, he descended the hill to meet the other elves.

Bilbo watched the prince leave, an unease growing in his heart. "What did he mean by that?"

"That is none of your concern," snapped Thorin. He stomped out the fire more forcefully than was necessary and started towards the mountain, impatiently calling back to the others, "What are you waiting for?"

They exchanged wary glances and followed hesitantly, giving their ill-tempered leader a wide berth. Talaitha looked at Balin, who nodded at her, and she jogged to join Thorin. For a while, she just walked silently beside him, hoping he'd calm down on his own, as he often did. But when he still radiated anger an hour later, she felt she had little choice but to attempt to coax him from his foul mood. Otherwise, the rest of the day would be very unpleasant.

"Thorin," Talaitha said gently. "Smaug is dead now. You can pause to enjoy your victory."

"But it's not my victory, is it," he said harshly. "It's Bard's. He slew Smaug, while I cowered in a tunnel."

"I wouldn't say you cowered," she said, smiling wryly. "You were forced in there. We all were."

"True," he replied, watching as she jogged beside him to keep up with his long strides. "Erebor is won, even if we didn't do the winning. You're free to return to Nemere now."

Talaitha's pace faltered, and she felt hurt and taken aback by his dismissal of her. "I said I'd stay until Erebor was restored."

"You'll receive your share, if that's what you're worried about." His tone was casual, almost mocking, and it set Talaitha's teeth on edge.

"I didn't join your Company for the damned gold! I joined it to help you right a wrong." She looked away, reminding herself that Thorin's current behavior was caused by the gold sickness, and when she spoke again, it was in a softer voice. "You know me, Thorin. You know that the gold is and always was inconsequential to me."

"Then you are either fortunate or foolish," he said with a bitter laugh. "For you did more to deserve it than I did."

"For Valar's sake, Thorin." She stopped him with a hand on his elbow and pulled hard enough that he actually moved towards her. "This self-pity needs to end now. Yes, Bard killed Smaug, and yes, you owe him payment." The stormy expression on Thorin's face did not escape her notice, but she'd already spoken carelessly so might as well continue. "But it was not Bard the Bowman who initiated this quest. It was not Bard the Bowman who endured Middle-earth's perils or who will rebuild Erebor for his people."

"I do not owe him anything," Thorin growled, wrenching his arm from Talaitha's grasp.

She looked back at Balin, biting her lip, silently questioning what to do now. But Balin had not been able to help Thorin's grandfather either, so he shook his head gravely. Talaitha sighed and once again ran to catch up with the tall dwarf.

"Remember Thrór," she said softly, echoing Legolas' parting words. That made Thorin pause, and when he turned to her, she was surprised to see his gaze clear of anger and possessive greed. "This is not you."

He exhaled a ragged breath, as if with it, he could expel the sickness, then pulled her close and buried his face in the crook of her neck. The sound of footsteps following them grew silent; the others had stopped a good distance away and averted their gazes to give Talaitha and Thorin privacy in the dwarf king's moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability.

"I need-" he whispered against her neck but broke off, unable to finish.

But she'd understood. "I'm here," she said, tightening her arms around him and kissing the top of his head. "I'll be here for as long as you need."

#

The dwarves spent the next few days exploring Erebor and clearing the century-old debris and rubble. Dwalin and Bofur built a temporary door for the front entrance that sufficed in keeping the warmth inside and the wind outside, but a stronger, grander one would inevitably have to be constructed when the rest of the mountain was habitable.

Fili and Kili had gone out hunting and had returned with a pheasant, a few rabbits, and some fish from the river. When Talaitha saw they'd only brought back meat, however, she'd sent them out again to forage for fruits and vegetables, unperturbed by their grumbles. In fact, she'd resumed her work with more amusement than was befitting, considering its nature. She'd taken charge of the dwarf skeletons after sensing that most of the others were reluctant to do it. Óin and Nori offered to help, and the three of them relocated the skeletons to a large, unused room off the main entrance, where they would remain until they could be given proper burials. Once they'd finished, they could only walk about the room with great care, for the individuals' rearticulated bones were placed as near to each other as was possible without commingling the remains.

Talaitha was just exiting the skeleton storage room when she saw Bilbo place down the ladle he was using to stir the soup, glance furtively at the dwarves, who were too preoccupied with their tasks to notice him, and light a torch. But Talaitha thought his behavior was strange, and when he looked at her, his eyes widening momentarily in surprise, she beckoned him over.

"Is the soup ready?" she asked, watching him with veiled interest.

"The soup?" he repeated, looking back at the fire. "Yes, nearly."

"Good. You'd be surprised how hungry one can become after moving dwarf bones."

Bilbo shifted on his feet, his gaze darting to the closed door of the skeleton storage room. He gave an awkward laugh. "Yes, well if you'll excuse me, I'll go tell Thorin dinner's ready."

Talaitha watched him walk quickly but quietly farther into the mountain, her brows furrowed in curiosity. Where was Thorin anyway? He'd been absent most of the day, which was odd considering everyone else was working to restore Erebor. And now Bilbo seemed anxious, almost guilty. She knew she couldn't follow the hobbit, though, for she didn't want to attract undue attention to his demeanor. It was best the others remained ignorant to her suspicions, especially if they turned out to be baseless.

With a final glance at the passage down which Bilbo had disappeared, Talaitha helped Bombur set the long, wooden table some of the dwarves had found while exploring and waited for Bilbo and Thorin to return.

But they didn't.

#

Bilbo found himself standing twenty feet from the treasure chamber. He'd seen Thorin grow increasingly obsessed over finding the Arkenstone and more possessive about the treasure with each passing day, and the change alarmed him. If the dwarf king discovered him with the gem, Bilbo knew the consequences would be dire. That was why he was going to return it. With a confident nod, he strode forward...and stopped so suddenly that he nearly dropped his torch.

In the shadows by the door, stood Thorin Oakenshield.

"What are you doing, Bilbo?" he asked suspiciously, hand on the hilt of a dwarf-made sword he'd replaced Orcrist with.

"Nothing!" Bilbo replied, a bit too cheerily. "Just wandering around, and I got curious as to what's behind that door."

Thorin saw through his poor lie. "We came through that door," he said, walking-though Bilbo thought it looked more like stalking-towards him. "You know very well what's behind it."

"I, uh, just wanted to-"

"I know what you wanted," Thorin interrupted, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes glinting coldly.

And before Bilbo even registered the movement, a dwarf sword flew up with a clang against the marble wall, the flat of the blade touching Bilbo's chest and barring his way. Thorin slowly turned the sword, forcing the hobbit back, until the sharp tip rested above Bilbo's heart.

"You thought you'd sneak inside and steal my Arkenstone to display on your mantle piece."

The hobbit's eyes widened, and his hands came up in a gesture of innocence, though the dwarf's accusation was startlingly valid. Although Bilbo had no intention of taking the Arkenstone home, he had, however, stolen the gem. It now felt very heavy in his trouser pocket, and he resisted the insane urge to withdraw it.

As Thorin studied him, he dug the sword's point into the hobbit's coat, watching for any sign of dishonesty. Bilbo tensed, not even daring to breathe, and tried to keep the panic hidden, praying to whichever of the Valar happened to be listening.

After a moment that felt more like an hour, Thorin sheathed his blade. "Go," he barked.

And Bilbo did. Quickly.

Balin had witnessed the confrontation, having also been searching for Thorin, and now he stepped forward. "Was that necessary, laddie?"

Thorin turned his glare on the elder dwarf. "I will not risk this quest for the life of one burglar," he said firmly.

"His name is Bilbo." There was a slight edge to Balin's normally kind voice. "The quest is over. We've made it safely to Erebor, and Smaug is dead. The threat is gone."

"Don't you understand? Without the Arkenstone, there is no Erebor. Smaug may as well still reign!" Thorin shouted. "And the hobbit is plotting to steal the stone. His name is not Bilbo, it is Thief."

Balin stepped back in surprise. He'd seen such irrational behavior once before but could do nothing to stop it then, either. "Listen to yourself, Thorin," he said sharply. "Don't you realize who you sound like?"

"Keep your thoughts to yourself, old friend," hissed Thorin.

For a second, Balin expected a blade at his chest, but Thorin just clenched his jaw and turned on his heel, wrenching open the door of the treasure room and storming inside.

When Balin returned to the Company's temporary residence hall, the others, including a stoic Bilbo, were already sitting at the table, the steaming pot of soup placed in the middle.

"Thorin is assessing the repairs that need to be done farther in the mountain," said Balin, smiling. "He said to eat without him."

After dinner, though, while Talaitha was collecting the empty bowls for Bombur to wash, Balin whispered to her, "Treasure chamber."

A slight downturn of her lips was the only indication that she had heard him as she called to Kili. "Is there any more of the pheasant you and Fili caught today?"

"Yeah, a thigh. Why?"

"I thought I'd bring some to Thorin."

"The soup has vegetables in it, though," Kili said cheekily, handing her a plate of pheasant meat, berries, and cram. "He might like that better."

"The soup will be cold by the time he eats it," Talaitha retorted. "So I doubt he'll like that."

"Well, the leftover will be over the fire anyway, if he wants it," said Bombur.

"I'll tell him." She took the torch Glóin held out to her and, with both hands full, thought wryly that if she encountered a potentially hostile animal, she'd have to throw the plate of food at it before she could draw her sword.

But she didn't meet any animals. She did, however, take a wrong staircase somewhere to find herself two floors above the treasure chamber in a long hallway with doors on either side. Her curiosity got the better of her, and, as she balanced the plate and torch in one hand to open a door, heavy footsteps sounded behind her. She whirled around and met Thorin's cool gaze.

"What are you doing up here?" he asked. Though the question echoed his previous one to Bilbo, Thorin's tone and demeanor couldn't have been more different. With his hands clasped loosely behind his back, he watched Talaitha, still balancing the torch and plate of food, with the ghost of a smile. Still, if she'd dared to look more closely, she would have seen a hint of something dark and sinister hiding behind the affection in his gaze.

"I got lost," she replied sheepishly.

Thorin grinned, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "So now you understand how I lost my way in Hobbiton."

"Yes, but Erebor is a far cry from Hobbiton," she deadpanned. "And none of your kin got lost."

"Fair point," he laughed. Then he saw the door before which Talaitha stood and seemed to remember why he was there. "This is one of the residence halls. Many warriors I knew lived here."

"Since I brought you dinner, will you show me your room?" she asked shyly.

A shadow crossed his face, and she thought he would refuse. But then he nodded, took the plate in his torch hand and her hand in his other, and led her up two more flights of stairs to another residence corridor. This one, however, had only one door at the very end, which he opened.

Thorin entered cautiously with the torch to search for any threat that might've sneaked in while Smaug slumbered. Satisfied that there was none, he walked farther inside and began lighting candles, until the entire room was illuminated. Talaitha, still standing in the doorway, smiled fondly when she saw that shelves full of books lined one of the walls. But as her gaze passed over his large, fur-draped bed, she felt suddenly nervous. For all her emotional and physical intimacy with Thorin, being in his quarters was somehow different-equally intimate but in a way she couldn't yet understand.

"Talaitha?"

His voice broke her daze; she gave him a small smile and followed him inside. As she inspected the furniture more closely, she was surprised to note there was so little dust. But then again, Erebor had been sealed, and the deeper, higher reaches, like the residence areas, were especially insulated.

She watched him move a low-backed, leather chair in front of a full-length mirror and rummage through a carved, wooden box until he found what he wanted.

"Sit," he directed toward the chair.

She did and heard him move about the room behind her, catching glimpses of him in the mirror. Then he was standing behind her with his hands in her hair, gently unraveling her messy braids. He reached over her shoulder and coaxed her folded hands apart to place five silver beads of various sizes in them; one of them was the bead he'd given her in the tunnel. They were all etched with the same marking-Thorin's. Now she understood. And it was only then that she noticed he was looking at her reflection in the mirror.

"Shall I proceed?" he whispered beside her ear, his hot breath on her neck sending a shiver through her.

Talaitha nodded, not trusting her voice enough to audibly assent. The past week had been a whirlwind of emotions, and she felt overwhelmed.

He brushed the tangles from her hair with surprising care, allowing his fingers to linger in the copper waves longer than necessary. She reveled in it, closing her eyes and sighing softly in contentment when he began braiding the now-smooth strands. He smiled as he worked, his index finger tickling her palm every time he picked up a silver bead.

When he finished, he touched her shoulder. "Go look."

She picked up a small, silver mirror with which she could see the back of her head and stood in front of the full-length mirror, lips parting when she saw the simple-by dwarvish standards-and elegant design. Some of her hair had been pulled back into a double braid that ran down the middle of her back. On either side of her head, a thin braid led loosely into the center one. Running from each temple was a smaller braid, but unlike Thorin's, which hung freely, these were braided into the hair itself, incorporating more as they progressed. Finally, two beads had been twisted into the double braid, and the remaining three secured the ends of her double braid and her temple braids.

"They're beautiful, Thorin," she said with a smile that lit up her peridot-green eyes. "Thank you."

He moved closer, returning her smile, but didn't touch her yet. "You're welcome."

"Should I do yours?" she asked uncertainly. She didn't know what the proper dwarvish response was.

"Later," came the rumbling reply. Thorin cupped her face and kissed her with such intensity that her knees would have buckled if she hadn't thrown her arms around his neck. Surrounded by the warm glow of candles in Thorin's room, she thought about spending the rest of her days kissing him and caring for each other, about falling asleep each night and waking up each morning beside him.

Then his tongue touched hers, and she stopped thinking.