Chapter 30
The light streaming from the window woke him, and Thorin's eyes were open in an instant. He rolled over, the sheet still half-covering his body, but the space next to him was empty. He glanced up to find Bilbo sitting against the headboard, and noticed with some disappointment that he was fully clothed.
"Morning."
Bilbo glanced at him with a slight smile. "Good morning." He had a number of papers spread out on his lap—the collection of notes about Erebor.
Thorin glanced back at the window, hoping he hadn't slept too late. They needed an early start to make it to the mountain, and he didn't want to set a poor example for the rest of the group. He untangled himself from the sheet and stood up, then went to retrieve his clothes. Now that he was fully awake, he could hear the others moving around downstairs.
"Thorin," Bilbo said as he finished pulling on his shirt. "Can I ask you something?"
There was a strange hesitance in his voice that made something freeze in his chest. Thorin turned to face him. "What is it?"
Bilbo had his eyes trained on the papers in his lap, though Thorin could tell he wasn't really seeing them. "I was looking through these this morning. I glanced over the whole stack. And I didn't see any pictures of burn victims."
The cold sensation in his chest intensified. Thorin said nothing, standing perfectly still.
Bilbo still wouldn't meet his eyes. "Not…Not that that's the first thing I'd want to see in the morning. But you mentioned them, and I don't see them here." He finally looked up, as though hoping for some sort of reassurance, and the look in his eyes made ice trickle into his gut.
Thorin forced himself to speak. "I'm sorry. I…I shouldn't have lied to you."
The sliver of hope in Bilbo's expression crumpled. "You lied to me?"
The trembling hurt in his voice made his throat tighten. Thorin fought to keep his expression steady as he said, "I-I wanted you on my side. But you've never been able to come to terms with killing, and I thought—"
"W-Wait, is this about the fact that I stopped you from shooting Beorn?" Bilbo's eyes narrowed as he stood up. "Because in case you've forgotten, I was right about that."
"This is different. That man in Erebor is a psychopath. He is hoarding supplies and weapons that could save our group and the lives of ten times as many people."
"So you could have said just that," Bilbo said, crossing his arms. "I still don't understand why you lied."
"Because I didn't think you would come otherwise!" Thorin spread his hands. "I saw the look in your eyes. You don't have what it takes to kill someone, and I-I've tried to shield you from that. But maybe you shouldn't have come at all."
Bilbo's mouth fell open, and Thorin inwardly kicked himself. He'd worded that terribly.
"You—You are—" Bilbo spluttered for a moment, then turned away and made for the door.
"Bilbo, wait." He reached out, but Bilbo was already gone, slamming the door behind him.
Feeling hollow, Thorin sat on the bed next to the discarded notes and put his face in his hands.
Nothing would have stopped him from trying to take Erebor, but a part of him had desperately wanted that approval from his family, from Bilbo especially. After so many years of feeling that strange detachment, he'd wanted something more, a common goal that would bring them together.
But maybe that was something they would never find. When the rest of them found out about his deception, perhaps it would become clear that he was nothing like the others, and nothing would change that.
When the door creaked open again, he looked up, and found Balin standing in the entrance, his face drawn with concern. "Trouble in paradise?"
Thorin relaxed slightly, but his relief was short-lived. Bilbo hadn't told them the truth, which meant the burden was still on him. "Balin," he said lowly. "I made a mistake."
Balin shut the door and went to sit on the bed beside him with a sigh. He was getting old, had been showing signs of it for years, and the thought sent another spasm of guilt through him. He was risking a lot, making this trip, as was Óin. And Fíli was so young…
"I lied," Thorin said, and the words felt numb on his tongue. He forced himself to explain everything, separating the truth from the lie, and explained haltingly why he had done it.
Balin let out a long sigh after he was finished, and clasped his hands on his knees. "I see."
"I don't know what to do," Thorin said, and he was suddenly reminded of a similar moment so many years ago. It had been a week after Frerin had died, and Thorin had felt as though his life was caving in around him. He'd stumbled into Balin's office where he worked for the local university, feeling himself begin to unravel entirely, and had broken down right there.
There's no shame in asking for help, Balin had said, and for a while, he'd listened. But now, Thorin was beginning to wonder if he should have tried to make it to Erebor by himself instead. He wasn't sure this chance was worth gambling the lives of his family.
"I think you do know," Balin said. "You want to take that mountain, because you think it'll make us safer. I saw the look in your eyes when you told us about Erebor. You've been waiting for something like this for a long time."
"But everyone else," Thorin began hoarsely.
"Well, that's up to them, isn't it?" Balin raised an eyebrow. "You've always been good to us, Thorin. You've kept us on the right path, but we've been free to make our own choices…and mistakes. I say you give them the full picture, and let them decide what to do next."
Bilbo had said something similar the previous day. Thorin nodded stiffly. If nothing else, he owed them the truth. "Alright." He straightened and tried to compose himself. "I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes."
"Good." Balin squeezed his shoulder and gave him a small, reassuring smile. "You're going to be alright." He stood and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
"Punch me."
Fíli took a deep breath and swung his fist forward, and Dwalin deflected the blow with his forearm.
"Good. Don't put so much force behind it, though."
With a sigh, Fíli shook out his hand. He was already a little sore in places, and he had a feeling some of them were going to bruise. "Isn't the point to hit you hard?"
"Yeah, but you're putting yourself off balance. Move your energy forward, but keep yourself grounded. Try again."
Late morning light was streaming through the living room, which had been cleared to provide a space for them to practice. Dwalin had offered to teach Fíli some self-defense moves while they were waiting to leave, which was apparently taking a while longer than it should have. Bilbo had stormed down the stairs and out the front door a while ago, and Bofur had gone to talk to him, while Balin headed up to check on Thorin.
Fíli hoped they would work out whatever they'd been fighting about soon. Seeing them upset with each other gave him the same uneasy feeling he had on the rare occasion that his parents would fight. He tried to push those thoughts to the back of his mind as he swung another punch at Dwalin.
Instead of blocking this one, he stepped to the side, and Fíli stumbled forward, nearly crashing into the coffee table pushed to one side of the room.
"Careful!" Óin snapped from where he was watching on the couch. "I don't want this one getting a concussion because you were being too rough with him."
"Oh, lighten up. I'm teaching him how to defend himself. He's gotta learn that there's consequences if he messes up."
"I'm fine," Fíli said, straightening up. He was starting to sweat, but Dwalin didn't even look winded. "Let me try again."
After a few more minutes of practice, Balin came back down the stairs, and they all looked at him, eager to hear about Thorin. But he only nodded a bit stiffly and said, "We should start packing up. We'll be leaving soon."
Dwalin clapped him on the shoulder and went to start gathering their supplies. Fíli flexed his arm with a slight wince and headed to the kitchen.
Ori was already in there, packing up the small amount of rations they'd found. He turned and handed Fíli a water bottle as he walked in. "You're getting pretty good. I was watching for a little bit."
Fíli shrugged and took a swig. "Dwalin could still kick my ass, though."
"Yeah, well, Dwalin could kick anyone's ass." They both chuckled at that. "I still think you're a natural, though."
"Thanks." Fíli lowered his gaze, absently crumpling the plastic beneath his thumb. There were times when he still felt like a little kid among adults, with everyone being so much more experienced than he was. Even Ori, who had been pretty young when the outbreak started, still had a good ten years on him. "I just don't want to be a liability, you know? I don't want anyone to feel like they have to protect me."
"I get it," Ori said, looking down at his arm. "You just gotta prove them wrong, yeah?"
"Yeah."
They both turned at the sound of Thorin's voice by the entrance, and finished gathering up their things.
Thorin was standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, while everyone gathered around. Bilbo and Bofur had returned from outside, and the former was standing with a furrow in his brow, looking anywhere but Thorin.
Once they had all quieted down, Thorin addressed them. "I want to…clear some things up," he said, his voice quieter than usual. "Back when I first told you all about Erebor, I said something that wasn't true. As far as I know, the man living in that mountain is some kind of arsonist, but I…" He touched the straps of his pack, where the notes were no doubt being kept. "I have no evidence that he's ever killed or tortured anyone." He lifted his gaze, scanning each of their faces in turn. "I shouldn't have misled any of you like that. If you're all going to follow me, I don't want there to be any lies. And if any of you want to turn back now, I won't begrudge you that." He glanced at Bilbo, who met his gaze with a frown.
After a few moments of silence, Nori said, "Well, if this guy has been holed up by himself, he's probably some kind of crazy. I say we take him out, Robin Hood style." A few of the others muttered what might have been agreements or just amusement.
Unease prickled under Fíli's skin. He muttered a quick excuse to Víli, who was standing nearby, then made his way through the house and out through the backdoor. Just outside was a small patio of gray stone. He sat on one of the wicker chairs and rested his elbows on his knees.
Before, whenever he'd imagined them coming up against Smaug, he'd been picturing a different face. He'd pictured Azog, the man who had done so much to hurt him and his family, who had driven them out of their home.
But that wasn't it. It was them, it was his group, he realized, who were the ones waiting outside the door with guns, ready to gut whatever was inside.
Maybe it was one man. Maybe he was a bad person. But did that make it right?
The door opened again, and Thorin walked out. He crossed the patio, almost hesitantly, and sat down in the chair across from Fíli.
"You don't have to do this," he said. "If you want to go home, none of us would blame you."
Fíli frowned and sat back. Hearing it like that made something bristle within him, like it was just confirming that everyone still saw him as a kid. He remembered with a twisting sensation how useless he'd been when Azog's group had taken the warehouse, how he hadn't been able to do anything except cling to his mom and cry.
He wanted to be brave—he just didn't know what that meant, anymore.
"What are you gonna do with Smaug? When we get there?"
Thorin's expression darkened slightly. "He's probably not going to see reason. I doubt he's going to invite us in like Beorn did."
"But what if he does?"
"Then we'll go from there." Thorin's gaze flickered back to the house. "I don't want to kill anyone if we don't have to. But I'm not taking any chances that could put you all in danger." He locked eyes with Fíli. "There's a chance we're going to have to fight. And no one is expecting you to take part in that."
His elbow brushed against the gun at his hip, and his hands balled into fists. The weapon had become something of a comforting weight, but it scared him sometimes, too. Dís had drilled it into his head that it only took one wrong move, one tiny mistake, to do something irreversible.
She was probably worrying about him right now. If he decided to go back, Víli would take him. He would get to see his brother again, his cousin, and not have to worry about killing anything.
Until he did. As much as the farm seemed like a safe place, things could fall apart anywhere. As long as he was with the group heading to Erebor, he had a chance to make things better—to make sure they did it right.
"I'm staying with you all." Fíli stood up and shouldered his pack. Thorin nodded, but there was less of the pride that had been there the first time he had volunteered, and more something akin to resignation. He turned towards the back door, then paused. "And you should talk to Bilbo. You guys are both happier when you get along."
Kind of a shorter, filler-type chapter, but I wanted to keep this separate from the sequence that takes place next chapter, which I'm really excited about. And I hope this doesn't come across that I'm stirring up drama for drama's sake, I want this conflict to contribute to what I'm building up here. But I don't really like to have my boys fight. Let me know what your thoughts are!
And with that, last chapter of 2019! This bitch really thought this fic would be finished by November haha. Anyway, thank you all for sticking with me so far, and I'll see you in the new year!
(Also! There is now a playlist for this fic. You can find the Youtube link in my profile, and I'll also be reblogging it on lindirs-gaze on tumblr, so you can check it out there, too.)