Bilba struggled to open her eyes, the simple act incredibly hard as the lids felt like they weighed a ton.
Blurry shapes came slowly into focus with each sluggish blink until she realized she was staring at dark rock overhead. Dim light played off it in slow patterns, creating strange shapes and shadows.
Bilba frowned in confusion. Since when did Bag End have stone ceilings?
She cast her mind back; her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
Dim memories floated lazily to the surface, hands grabbing her, coaxing her to eat and drink, familiar voices talking to her though she couldn't make out what they said.
Oh, Bilba remembered with a start, that's right, the quest. She wasn't in Bag End anymore, or even the Shire. She'd left with a bunch of dwarves she barely knew, trekked halfway across Middle Earth, nearly died a half dozen times and finally ended things by pissing off a dragon…in Erebor. The Lonely Mountain.
Her head was clearing. Bilba shifted slightly, enough to take in her surroundings. She appeared to be in a small chamber. Broken bits of wood and other debris littered it, there was no telling what it had been before the mountain fell.
She was alone.
Where was everyone?
Something niggled at the back of her mind. She was forgetting something, something important.
She lifted a hand to push wayward strands of hair off her forehead before lowering it to rest on her chest.
Unfamiliar, rich fabric lay under her fingers. She wasn't wearing the clothing she'd had on before. Why -
Memory crashed back in with such force she physically gasped.
Her eyes burned and she struggled to swallow past the sudden, jagged stone lodged in her throat. Hot tears tracked down her face and she ground the heels of her hands into her eyes, choking on a sob.
"Bilba?" Boots scraped across rock and she felt someone kneeling beside her, a hand on her shoulder. "Bilba, please. Please don't cry."
Bilba pulled her hands away and focused on the blurry image of Kili. Reaching out she grabbed his shirt and dragged herself up to a sitting position where she immediately wrapped both arms around his chest and buried her face against his shirt. "I killed them," she choked out, "Kili, I killed them."
She felt him flinch, and then his arms came around her in a tight grip. "No, you didn't," he insisted. "Bilba, this wasn't your fault."
"I took them into a dragon's den," Bilba maintained, her voice hoarse and breaking, "how is it not my fault?"
"You didn't know." Kili shifted so he could look her in the eyes and repeated the words in a deliberate tone. "You didn't know." He swallowed and an anxious look entered his eyes, as though he struggled with something. Finally he took a deep breath and said, "What if-" He swallowed again. "I mean, what if they're okay? Or—maybe one of them? Smaug said twins—maybe-" He ducked his head. "I don't want to get your hopes up…or make it worse…but we don't know, you know?"
Bilba nodded dully, her own eyes focused on the ground, pain still twisting her heart. She had barely known about them and might have already lost them. "Did you tell?" Her voice dropped to a low whisper, the words barely breathed out.
"No," Kili answered instantly.
Bilba leaned forward and dropped her head against his shoulder, her entire body sagging against him. The last thing she wanted was for Thorin to know he had been a father...had been, might have been, could have been...should have been...wasn't.
Kili's words repeated inside her head in a slow loop. A tiny spark of hope flickered in the back of her mind. She slid a hand down to her stomach. The small mound was still there but she felt nothing, no nausea, no headache, no fatigue beyond what she'd expect from nearly starving to death. She felt none of the symptoms she'd had the prior few months, symptoms she now, belatedly, recognized for what they were.
She thought of the number of times they'd barely escaped death on the quest. Could she honestly expect her luck to have held out even further? To have spared her children after having already spared her and her friends so many times?
It had to run out, eventually.
She shifted, fatigue dragging at her, and lay down with her head on Kili's thigh. Once there she curled up, pulled her legs in and wrapped an arm around them, creating a protective cocoon around her stomach.
Kili didn't say anything. He probably didn't know what to say. It was ironic in a way. She and Kili were the youngest among the Company, the least likely to know how to deal with a situation like this, and the only ones currently capable of doing so.
Bilba took a deep breath. "How did we get out?"
"There used to be a small colony of intelligent ravens near Erebor," Kili answered. "Before Smaug attacked we had an alliance with them. Uncle was desperate. He knew he needed help and there was no time to walk back to Lake-town and return. He went looking and found descendants of the Ravens. One of them agreed to fly to Lake-town and get aid."
Bilba frowned. She shifted until she was laying on her back, looking up at him. "In return for what?" The people of Lake-town, aside from Bard, didn't know them, owed them nothing.
"Uncle promised them a significant payment. They came and, together, everyone was able to break through the rock and get to us, just in time according to Oin."
As he spoke his voice grew tense. "What aren't you telling me?"
Kili's eyes cut to the side, his jaw clenched. It made him look years older. It made him look like Thorin in fact and, for the first time, Bilba found herself wondering where he was. It wasn't as though she expected him to be glued to her side. He was the King under the Mountain now, he had responsibilities.
The same went for the others. They had a mountain to clean up, alliances to restore. They'd spent most of their lives waiting for this moment. She couldn't expect them to set it all aside for her.
Still…she'd spent nearly seven months in their company and fallen in love with their leader. She'd started to think of them as family and had hoped, however faintly, they might feel the same way toward her.
And, as selfish as the thought probably was, not having them there when she woke up hurt.
Kili hadn't answered her.
Bilba grimaced and struggled to a sitting position, one hand protectively cradling her stomach in spite of her fear there was nothing left to protect.
Kili's hands grabbed her and helped her up. As he did it occurred to Bilba she didn't feel as exhausted as she would expect. Looking at herself for the first time she noted that, while thin, she actually had more weight than she remembered from those last few moments of consciousness.
"Kili," she whispered, her mind going back to hazy memories. "How long have I been asleep?"
"You were a lot worse off than I was," Kili started, stumbling a bit over his words. "You were so much smaller and…" he clenched his jaw, "you had the babies…so…"
"Kili," Bilba repeated, her voice hard, "how long was I asleep?"
He swallowed. "Two weeks. You've been out, more or less, for two weeks."
Bilba blinked, her mind struggling to comprehend. Two weeks her mind repeated dully. It certainly explained why Kili looked so hale.
Her hand slid over her stomach, fingers lightly probing the small swell. The tiny, tiny flicker in the back of her mind grew just a bit. Would it still be there if she'd lost her children? Wouldn't it have gone down?
Kili's eyes followed her hand. "I thought about talking to Oin," he said, "but he'd tell Thorin and I knew…" He shrugged helplessly.
Bilba forced a weak smile. "What's done is done. I doubt him knowing would have made much difference." She reached out and slid her hands along both sides of his face, turning him to face her fully. "Now, why don't you tell me whatever it is you're trying so hard to hide? Two weeks is a long time. What's happened?"
Kili sighed and his entire body seemed to sag. "I don't know," he said, his voice tired. "Everything was fine at first. Uncle was so worried about you. He wouldn't leave your side for two days. He didn't even eat or sleep. He just sat, waiting for you to wake up."
Bilba felt her heart leap. She hadn't been abandoned after all. "Okay," she continued, keeping her voice level. "Then what?"
Kili grimaced. "Dwalin caught some of the Men trying to raid the Treasury. They had sacks full of jewels and gold and were trying to haul it off. When Uncle confronted them they claimed they were just taking their due. Uncle promised to pay and they started demanding outrageous sums." He hesitated and then allowed, "Not all of them…Bard was there and he argued for everyone to be patient and not give in to greed but the group was split down the middle."
"Let me guess," Bilba said. "The Master was somehow behind it." She'd never met the man but, given Thorin's stories of him, she imagined he was particularly odious.
Kili nodded. "The Master saw an opening in Uncle's desperation. There was no contract, no set terms, just a plea for aid."
He's so greedy that, rather than settle for an outrageous amount, he demands it all.
Bilba dropped her hands and closed her eyes closed in despair. "This is my fault. The plan was my idea. If I hadn't-"
Kili's hand grabbed her chin and pulled her head up to face him. "Are you going to blame yourself for the Master's greed now too?" He forced a small smile. "Not everything is your fault, Bilba. You focus too much on what you think you've done wrong and little on what you've done right. We wouldn't have been saved from the Trolls if you hadn't been free. You saved Uncle from that thing in the cave and from Azog. We would have been killed by the spiders if you hadn't released Dwalin and helped get us out and, good plan or not, your idea with Smaug worked." He grinned at her, a genuine smile for the first time. "We have Erebor back because of you."
Bilba snorted, a smile tugging at her own lips. "I think you all contributed, a little."
Kili smirked.
"Okay," Bilba said, taking a deep breath. "So the Master and his henchmen and Bard and his group. What happened?"
The light dimmed in Kili's eyes again. "Bard is apparently well liked and has a lot of support. It seemed likely he would win the argument."
"But," Bilba said, hearing the unspoken word.
"Thranduil showed up," Kili said, anger creeping in his voice. "And demanded a portion of the treasure. He insists it's owed to him by right from before Erebor fell. He also started inciting the Men further, stating they should demand Uncle rebuild Dale, since it never would have been destroyed if not for the gold luring the dragon."
Bilba shivered, the cold of the small room reaching her. "I imagine Thorin loved that."
"Uncle…" Kili shook his head. "Uncle threw them out and barricaded the doors. He's stated that any attempt to enter Erebor will be considered an act of war."
Bilba stared. "War?" she said dumbly. "He wants to go to war with the elves and the men of Lake-town?" She pushed away from him and struggled to her feet. Dizziness assailed her and she staggered. She probably would have hit the floor but Kili jumped up and grabbed her, wrapping both arms around her waist to support her. Bilba held onto him, giving her head a slight shake as she waited for the dizziness to subside. "Where is he? I need to talk to him."
"He's in the Treasury," Kili tightened his grip. "They all are, searching for the Arkenstone."
"The Arkenstone?" Bilba said blankly. "Why? What good does it do now? They wanted it to raise an army to kill the dragon. He's dead."
Kili bit his lip, and then scowled, apparently coming to a decision. "Uncle sent word to our cousin Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills, and requested his army to defend Erebor. He worded the claim as being from the King under the Mountain. The problem is that Dain has the same bloodline as Uncle, going back to Durin himself."
"Meaning he can lay claim to the throne," Bilba said, piecing it together. "Unless Thorin has the addition of the Arkenstone which-"
"Most dwarves accept as being a gift from Mahal granting the divine right to rule," Kili finished. "If Dain arrived and found it himself it would be thought that Mahal had chosen him over Uncle to be King under the Mountain."
"Would he do that?" Bilba questioned.
"I don't think so," Kili replied, "but Uncle…he's not himself."
Bilba was feeling better. She straightened in Kili's arms, stepping away to support herself. "What do you mean?"
"Ever since the issue with the men and then Thranduil he's been different," Kili continued. "He's paranoid, really paranoid. He thinks everyone is out to take the treasure and mountain from him. He's convinced the Arkenstone is his only hope and spends every waking moment in the Treasury looking for it." Kili locked eyes on her. "Once Dain and his army arrive he plans to use the Arkenstone to command them to fight for him, against Thranduil and the men of Lake-town."
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Bilba growled. "I didn't go on this idiotic quest just to watch him throw it all away for a pile of gold and a shiny rock."
She stomped out of the room and stopped short at the sight of an unfamiliar hall stretching off in both directions. "Kili."
He stepped up next to her. "Yes?"
"Which way is the Treasury?"
He grinned and offered an arm. Bilba rolled her eyes and took it, trying to pretend she wasn't leaning on him more than she normally would. They started moving again, slowly.
"Where's Fili?"
"In the Treasury." Kili answered. "He's been trying to get through to Uncle."
"And everyone else?"
Kili sighed and shrugged. "They aren't happy but they don't see it as their place to say anything." He gave her a rueful look. "Keep in mind these are all people so loyal to Uncle they undertook what should have been a suicide mission simply because he asked them to. Now, it's succeeded. Thorin is King." He gave a slight grin. "Dwalin's been telling him off about as much as Fili has and Balin keeps trying to counsel him. Uncle finally got so mad he threatened to throw the lot of them out of the mountain if they kept it up." His smile faded. "Since then only Fili's dared continued to challenge him."
Bilba felt a chill in her gut.
They continued the walk in silence.
The air began to change well before they reached the Treasury. At first it was vague, so faint that Bilba wasn't entirely sure if it was real or imagined. With every step closer, however, it grew stronger until there could be no doubt.
The smell of rot, sickly sweet and nauseating, so thick in the air she felt as though it coated her tongue and throat.
Kili stopped, his own features twisting. "I keep telling myself I'm remembering it worse than it was," he muttered. "Then I go near again and find out that, if anything, I wasn't remembering it bad enough."
He fished in his pockets and came up with a few handkerchiefs. He handed her one and proceeded to tie the other one over his mouth and nose. "It doesn't help much," he said, "but you can at least fool yourself into thinking it does."
Bilba tied the one he'd handed her around her mouth and nose. As warned, the cloth barely took the edge off the stench. Kili took her hand again and they continued.
The smell grew worse, so bad her eyes watered and nausea roiled almost constantly in her throat.
"And you say they're all in there with that?" she asked Kili, "and they've stayed?"
Kili nodded. "Now you see why I'm so worried."
Bilba agreed silently.
The entrance to the Treasury came into view. Bilba saw mounds of rubble blocking most of it. An opening had been driven straight through the middle; the edges jagged and uneven, the supports jammed and wedged in every which way. She felt her steps slow and, without thinking, drew closer to Kili's side.
He paused as well. "We don't have to go in," he said. "You could wait out here and I'll go get him."
Bilba took a deep breath, and promptly gagged, practically able to feel the smell squelching down her throat. "No," she choked, "let's go."
Kili sighed, resigned.
They started moving again, through the door and into the Treasury itself.
By that time Bilba's eyes were watering so badly it was difficult to see anything but a blur. This was probably a good thing as Smaug's corpse dominated the room and, even through the tears, she saw enough of his decaying carcass to haunt her dreams for years.
Kili tugged her away, murmuring something under his breath as he moved her in an odd pattern over the coins.
It was only as the corner of her foot hit something slick and she slipped, forcing Kili to steady her that she understood he was trying to guide her around the pools of rot and decay that had slipped off the dragon.
"I think I'm going to be sick," she muttered.
"It's a good place for it," Kili said dryly. He nodded toward the back of the Treasury. "Uncle liked your idea of where the Arkenstone would be so they've been searching the area around Smaug's nest the entire time."
Bilba frowned. "And they haven't found it? Maybe it's not even there."
Something in Kili's face seemed to twitch, an odd expression she didn't recognize flitting across his features for an instant.
"Come on," he pulled her toward where she remembered Smaug's nest being.
She started to hear the clink of coins and the clunk of heavy objects being moved. Every so often Thorin's voice would ring out, harsh and tinged with frustration, and Bilba would feel her heart jump in response.
Finally they moved over a mound of gold and Bilba caught sight of the Company, ringed out around Smaug's nest. Deep holes had been dug through the treasure, items of incredible value tossed to the side as though they were worth nothing. Oddly enough, no one but her and Kili had cloth tied over their face. Were the others so obsessed with finding the Arkenstone they didn't notice the smell of rotting dragon?
Her eyes sought out Thorin and found him at the far end of the nest.
She stumbled to a stop, her eyes wide.
Thorin had cleaned himself up at some point, the dirt and grime of seven months gone from his hair and body. He'd changed his clothing too; going from the travel weary gear she'd become used to seeing to gleaming, gold and black armor. He wore a crown on his head, matching the armor in color and design, and a heavy, velvet cloak flowed from his shoulders and down his back.
He was every inch the King under the Mountain.
Bilba knew that. She knew he was a King. She knew Fili and Kili were Princes.
But, while familiarity may not have bred contempt, it had certainly bred a failure to truly understand that Thorin was a King.
She was used to seeing him slogging through mud and muck with the rest of them, taking his turn on watch, cursing at the cold when forced to bathe in ice laden creeks and rivers. She'd grown accustomed to the blacksmith, the traveler, the road weary warrior.
But that had all been a façade. This, this was Thorin Oakenshield.
Son of Thrain.
Son of Thror.
Lord of the Silver Fountains.
King under the Mountain.
Bilba swallowed, suddenly all too aware of her own matted and tangled hair, the layers of grit on her body accumulated since her last real bath, the ridiculous dress that hung off her like a child playing dress up.
"Maybe we should go," she whispered, her fingers digging into Kili's arm and…oh Valar but he was a Prince, a Prince and she treated him like he was a friend, same as any other.
Kili gave her a confused look. "It's fine. Come on, Fili was hoping you might be able to get through to him."
As he spoke Bilba saw Fili was indeed near Thorin, talking to him in a low, hushed voice, not that Thorin appeared to be listening. Fili had a handkerchief tied over his mouth and nose and looked slightly green; he at least seemed to be aware of the stench.
Kili virtually dragged her forward and Bilba allowed it, her steps wooden and unwieldy.
Fili spotted her first and Bilba felt something relax at the brilliant smile that instantly graced his features.
"Bilba!" He rushed forward over the gold and grabbed her in a giant hug. By the time he released her the rest were there, also reaching to hug her or state how glad they were she was feeling better. Bilba grinned and basked in the glow of being cared for, her tension easing.
"Enough."
The voice cut like a sword through flesh, instantly silencing the crowd. Thorin stepped into view, his bearing and posture rigid, and nothing at all like the dwarf she was used to seeing.
"Get back to work," he ordered, his voice a low growl with the barest hint of a cultured accent she'd never noticed before. "We must find the stone."
Hands fell off her and the other members of the Company quietly returned to shifting through piles of treasure, their eyes downcast and not meeting hers. Bilba hesitantly met Thorin's eyes.
He nodded at her. "Bilba. I am glad to see you well." He reached out and grabbed her shoulders, his grip just a tiny bit tighter than she would have liked. His eyes on her were intense. "Kili says you searched for the Arkenstone. Did you find it?"
"Of course not," Bilba said, confused. "Kili would have told you if we had." She indicated her dress, sliding her hands into the two, small pockets and turning them inside out, "This is all I was wearing."
His eyes, already dark, seemed to grow even more shadowed. This close she could see heavy bags under his eyes and a gaunt look to his face as though he hadn't eaten in awhile. He gave another nod, sharp, and released her.
And, with that, he turned and went back to what he was doing.
Bilba stared after him in bewilderment. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fili exchange an unreadable look with Kili. He opened his mouth to say something but Bilba shook his hand off and went to where Thorin was digging through the treasure.
"Thorin." He didn't react, didn't even twitch. Bilba reached a hand out, hesitant, and laid it on his arm. "Thorin?"
He heaved a sigh and straightened, facing her. "Don't you think you should retire to your chamber? You've only just woke up."
For the first time Bilba felt her ire begin to rise. "I did," she bit out, "not that you were there. You were far too busy in here looking for a shiny rock."
Her voice rose on the last few words and several members of the Company paused in what they were doing to look their way.
Thorin's eyes went over her head, glaring the rest into submission. He growled something and then grabbed her arm, leading her over to behind a column, well out of sight and earshot of the others.
The location happened to be near the fountain.
As they came to a stop Bilba spotted a few splotches on the rock and bottom of the fountain, dark, rust colored marks marring the stone. Her stomach clenched and the back of her eyes burned. She tore her eyes away and looked up at Thorin. His head was turned to the side, eyes fixed back out into the Treasury. By the time he looked to her, Bilba had gotten herself well enough under control again.
"Thorin," she said, keeping her voice low, "Kili told me what's going on. You can't declare war on the elves and men!"
His eyes narrowed. "They will not have my throne."
"They don't want your throne," Bilba shot back. "They just want what they were promised." She turned and swept her arm out, indicating the massive room. "Look at it. You have so much you could probably make every person in Middle Earth rich for life and still have enough left over for several lifetimes of your own."
He sneered, his eyes tracking over the gold. "The gold does not belong to Middle Earth. It belongs to me, to my people. I lost it once. I will not lose it again."
"You never lost anything," Bilba argued. "You were a child when Erebor fell. What happened wasn't your fault."
"Protection of Erebor and her people was entrusted to my bloodline," Thorin insisted, "which means I share in the responsibility for her loss and for every loss thereafter."
"What about what Thranduil said about your grandfather?" Bilba contended. "His lust for power and treasure was so great he let your people starve rather than accept aid. Will you do the same? Is your own pride and desire for the Arkenstone so great you'll send your people to war over it?"
It was the wrong, wrong thing to say. That or the right thing but Thorin was nowhere near ready to hear it.
Bilba saw his face twist into something ugly and dark. His hands clenched into fists and his body went rigid, she could actually see the muscles and veins in his neck tensing as he struggled for control.
"I am not my grandfather," he virtually snarled at her. "Do not presume to believe that because you've traveled with us a handful of months you know anything about me or my people."
Bilba flinched as though struck. "Thorin."
"You know nothing," Thorin continued. "I have spent one hundred years seeking the restoration of Erebor and I will not see it given away to thieves and scavengers the second it is reclaimed. I-"
She never heard what else he planned to say. As he spoke Thorin had started to lean closer and closer until he was looming over her. Bilba, without thinking, had instinctively leaned back, cringing slightly as he drew nearer.
A hand fell on Thorin's shoulder suddenly, just as an arm slid around Bilba's waist and pulled her away.
"That's enough, Uncle." Fili's voice was cold, his eyes flat. Bilba looked up to see Kili beside her, his own face set.
Fili released Thorin's shoulder and stepped in front of Bilba. "We'll take her back to her chamber. She just woke up after all. I doubt she's well enough to be out for long."
Thorin growled something but Bilba didn't catch it. She was startled to find she was shaking. Thorin stalked away from them and Bilba took a step forward, lifting a hand after his retreating back.
Kili's arm tightened around. "Don't," he said, his voice low. "Just let him go."
"I don't understand," Bilba said. "Why is he acting like that? What's wrong with him?"
Fili grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the exit. "Come on," he said, his voice tense, "let's talk somewhere we're less likely to pass out from the smell."
Bilba allowed the two to usher her out, deliberately taking a route that kept her out of sight of the rest of the Company.
It did take her nearer to the mortal remains of Smaug and she found her gaze caught by the rotting carcass.
They left the room and entered the hallway and, suddenly, it was all too much, too dark, too small, too closed in.
"I want to go outside."
Fili frowned. "Bilba."
"I want to go outside," Bilba insisted, feeling hysteria rising up in her. "Now."
Fili looked at Kili and they did that bizarre, mental communication thing they always seemed to have going on. Then, as a unit, they began leading her in a different direction, away from the room she'd woken up in.
They went up, the rock under her feet becoming steeper, staircases leading to higher ledges and walkways.
At one point they went through a low archway that opened up into a massive chamber, filled with intricately built stairs, buildings and statues. In the center of the area, seemingly suspended in midair and connected to the rest of the room only by a narrow bridge, stood a platform with a throne on it. Bilba studied it as they moved past. It was large and dominating and, try as she might, she couldn't picture Thorin, her Thorin, seated on it.
She could picture the Thorin currently in the Treasury on it though, with little trouble.
Tearing her eyes away, Bilba focused on her feet, trying to ignore the hint of a lump under her dress.
Another area she didn't want to think about.
The air began to clear and she reached up to pull the handkerchief off her mouth and nose. They rounded a corner and Bilba saw what looked like a blank wall of rock in front of them. Fili strode forward and put his hand on it, finding a recessed area she never would have seen, and pressed on it. A low rumble sounded and a slit of light appeared straight down the center of the slab. It widened and then split in half, both sides swinging open to reveal a burst of sunlight shining in.
Bilba squeezed her eyes shut to let them adjust, even as she inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh, if cold, air rushing in from outside.
When she felt her eyes were properly used to the sunlight she opened them and stepped up the few stairs to the landing leading out.
It was early morning outside, the sun still chasing the last vestiges of darkness away. A late fall breeze darted around her as though in welcome and she heard the distant sound of birds greeting the day.
Bilba's entire body sagged in relief and she nearly sat down right there in the doorway. It was strange to think it had been two weeks since she'd seen the outside world, longer than that even when she considered how long they'd been trapped in the Treasury.
The balcony was large and, surprise of all surprises, sported a high railing carved from thick stone.
"See?" she said to Fili. "You people do know how to build railings."
Fili shook his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. "You have a bizarre obsession with railings."
"You have a bizarre obsession with a lack of them," Bilba muttered back.
She moved forward to the edge. The railing went up nearly to her neck but was carved in an intricate design with pieces cut out to let light in. The bottom was a thick slab that had carved pillars set into it, leading up to the top slab and she easily stepped up onto the lower one, bringing her head over the edge of the railing and putting it at a more natural height.
She grabbed the edges, feeling the unfinished stone bite into her palms, looked out over the landscape…and felt her good mood die instantly.
The balcony stood over the front gates of Erebor, providing a view of a small plain that separated the kingdom from the ruins of what had once been Dale.
The plain was currently covered in tents, horses and equipment. As she watched Bilba saw a handful of elves and men wandering about, starting their day.
"Fili," she gasped. "How many are there?"
"I'm not sure," he said, stepping up next to her. Kili came up on her other side. "Hundreds at least, possibly well over a thousand. Thranduil was trying to make a point, I think. He succeeded."
Bilba swallowed. "And how many are coming with Dain?"
Kili answered. "At least a thousand, maybe more."
Bilba nearly staggered. Over two thousand men, elves and dwarves, all ready to go to war with each other, and for what? Gold?
"How can Thorin want this?" she whispered.
"I don't think it's entirely him," Fili answered from beside her. "Or, at least, I'm pretty sure."
Bilba pulled her gaze away from the army stretched out below and faced him. "What are you talking about?"
Fili's face was troubled, his expression grim. "Do you know of the Rings of Power?"
Bilba nodded. "Of course. The rings of Sauron. Nine went to the men, seven to the dwarves and three to the elves."
"Right." Fili leaned against the stone, his arms crossed. "Most of the dwarven rings were lost, but not all of them. The line of Durin has one. There are many who believe possession of the ring is what drove our great-grandfather to sickness, and then our grandfather after him."
"The ring passed to Uncle after grandfather died," Kili piped up from behind her. "And he's worn it ever since. He doesn't believe the ring held any power over his father or grandfather, or over him."
"He wouldn't," Bilba muttered. "He's got that cursed pride of his." She shook her head. "I don't understand, though. He's had it for years hasn't he? Why would it make him act like this now?"
"I don't know," Fili replied. "I confronted him about it. He got so angry he took the ring off and threw it at me." He fished in a pocket and pulled the ring out, laying it on his palm. "I've had it for days now and Uncle shows no sign of getting better. I thought about getting rid of it entirely but it is an heirloom of our line and I've never heard of the rings being able to affect anyone from a great distance. I've certainly felt nothing."
Bilba stared at the ring, chewing on her lower lip as her mind raced. "Maybe it's like an infected wound. You removed the source of the infection but that doesn't remove the contamination itself."
"I don't know." Fili closed his fist around the ring again and put it back in his pocket. "I'm not even sure it is the ring. I just know Uncle isn't thinking, or acting, like himself and no one seems to be able to get through to him."
"Not that anyone has tried," Kili said, coming around to stand next to Fili. "They're all afraid of Uncle."
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Bilba whispered. Thorin should have been celebrating, not planning for war. Almost absently she rested a hand on her stomach. If only she knew for sure. She had no doubt learning he was going to be a father would reach him, but she also firmly believed telling him he'd been a father and lost the children would drive him further away. "What can we do?"
Kili cleared his throat and fidgeted slightly. "Well, here's the thing. We kind of have a plan but we're not sure how…wise it is."
Bilba met his eyes calmly. "You're talking to the person who came up with the plan to stab the dragon in the eye. Tell me."
Thorin stalked back into the main portion of the Treasury, guilt gnawing at him. A few of the others dared meet his eyes, only to quickly go back to what they were doing when he glared at them.
He stormed past them all and headed to a different area of the Treasury, away from the rest of the Company and as far as he could get from the dragon who somehow managed to find a way to torture him even in death.
There was a solid gold throne like chair shoved haphazardly against the wall, a gift from some forgotten dignitary or another. Thorin dropped into it, bracing an elbow on the armrest and putting his head in his hand, his other arm draped across the opposite armrest.
Why did none of them understand?
His head throbbed. He'd had a headache for over a week that showed no signs of abating. He grimaced and shut his eyes, pressing the fingers of his hands into his temples.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Nothing should have been like this.
He'd been born into a life of privilege, a prince of the line of Durin. He'd had family, friends, a place he belonged. He'd excelled in his studies, stood with pride alongside his father and grandfather. He'd known his life's path, what was expected of him, what he would become.
And, then, in an instant, it had all fallen apart. The dragon had come and stolen it, replacing safety with fear, luxury with loss and pride with shame.
They had lost Erebor. If Durin still walked the earth he surely would have disowned them.
They had only added to their disgrace by humbling themselves before that wretch Thranduil. Even word of his grandfather's actions, spurning Thranduil's offers of aid, did little to help the fact that they'd had to ask at all. A King of dwarves, reduced to a beggar at the door of one who should have been his equal.
And then had come the long days and the empty nights. The screams of women mourning their children, lost to the cold, starvation, fever, bandits, and wolves. With each one fallen the light in the eyes of those remaining had dimmed.
And then Moria. Thorin could still remember the fights between his father and grandfather over trying to retake the lost Kingdom. In the end Thror had won and so they had gone, thousands they did not have to lose, broken upon the mountain, never to return.
Among them his grandfather, father, and brother.
Thorin had barely time to even understand what had happened before he'd found himself crowned King of a broken and homeless people.
He'd been twenty-seven.
There had been no crown or rich feast as there would have been in Erebor but they had made do with what they had. Thorin had looked out across the sea of grief stricken faces, bodies gaunt with hunger, fingers gnarled and broken from hard, back breaking work.
It was then he'd sworn to them to one day reclaim Erebor.
It was also then that that anger had taken root. Day by day as nothing changed, as he fought against impossible odds it had fanned hotter and hotter.
Anger against Smuag.
Anger against Thranduil.
Anger against the orcs, the goblins, the men, every last person who had betrayed them, cheated them, driven them out under the insistence they had no room.
Anger at himself.
At his own impotence, his inability to protect and provide for his people. Mixed with that anger was an equal amount of guilt over every person who died with Erebor still unclaimed, every person he failed.
He had brought all that and more with him on the quest. Standing over the corpse of his enemy had been the culmination of what was truly a lifelong dream. The quest, as far as he was concerned, had not started seven months earlier.
It had started a century earlier when he'd witnessed the Kingdom fall to flames, when he'd witnessed the majority of his family fall to battle and when he'd stood before his people, not even at his majority, and sworn to protect them.
Mahal, it should have gotten better. He should, even now, be sending word of their victory. He and the members of the Company should be cleaning and repairing, readying the mountain for the return of her people.
Instead he'd found Smaug was far from the only dragon intent on taking Erebor.
They lingered like vultures, circling overhead while they struggled and only swooping down now when they thought the dwarves were weak.
They were in for a surprise.
Thorin's hand on the armrest tensed, his fingers curling around the metal. His head pounded, almost in time to the pulsing anger flowing like molten rock through his veins.
They all thought him weak.
They wanted him to lie down and hand out the contents of his Treasury as though they had any right to it. It belonged to his people. His people, who had suffered and labored for a century with only his promise to keep them going.
Balin and Dwalin thought he was wrong, as did some of the others. Fili thought it was his grandfather's ring clouding his mind.
Both of them were wrong.
He had proven that already by handing over the ring of his own volition. It had not changed his feelings or his desire.
Thorin lifted his eyes, scanning the carpet of gold stretching out to all sides. Mentally he calculated how much he would owe to each member of the Company, how much the men and elves demanded, how much it would cost to restore Erebor.
His mouth twisted in anger. If he handed coin out to every beggar who came to Erebor's door there would be nothing left for his own people once they arrived from the Blue Mountains.
The blood of Durin would not fail again. He would protect them where his grandfather, and father, had not.
As for Bilba…guilt rose once more, displacing some of the anger. The pain in his head increased and Thorin grimaced, digging his fingers into his temple. He didn't expect her to understand. It wasn't a criticism. She wasn't a dwarf and certainly wasn't an Ereborean dwarf. Though she'd had her own share of tragedy she knew nothing of being homeless, betrayed, of witnessing death and destruction on a daily basis and being powerless to stop it.
He'd been alive over a hundred years. She'd only been with them for seven months, how could she be expected to understand?
Still, his mind chided, there had been no reason to point it out to her and certainly not in the tone he'd used. He'd scared her; there was no excuse for it. He should have been taking her on a grand tour of Erebor, showing her the beauty she'd helped restore.
Another thing the elves and men had stolen from him.
Thorin sighed and shoved up from the chair. He would apologize to her, he decided, later, after he'd found the Arkenstone and secured Erebor's security and future. It was important, anyone could take the Arkenstone and claim Mahal's divine right to rule. Even one of the cursed men or elves could do it, or one of the dwarves Dain brought with him even now. He didn't believe his cousin would try to claim his throne but he knew nothing about the other dwarves of the Iron Hills.
With that decided he raised his head and threw his shoulders back, ready to face the task ahead once more.
He strode back to where the others still searched; leaving his doubts and fears behind.
He never noticed his headache had lessened, if only by a fraction.
Bilba stared at the Arkenstone. The gem sparkled with its own inner light, different colors glittering and playing off the area around it.
"Okay," she said slowly, "so maybe it's a bit more than a shiny rock." She looked up at Kili. "When did you find it?"
"Two days before we were rescued," he said; his expression nervous. "I didn't tell you because-"
"Because looking for it was a good distraction," Bilba cut in. She smiled. "I probably would have done the same thing."
Kili grinned in relief.
Bilba chewed on her lower lip and absently reached out to pick up the gem. It felt cool under her fingers and was small enough she could hold it easily in one hand.
"So," she said, studying it, "Thorin wants to use this to cement his leadership and start a war." She looked over to where Fili hovered near the door, watching for anyone who might come by. "And you want to what?"
Fili answered. "We thought we could take it to Thranduil and have him trade it back for a portion of the treasure."
Bilba shook her head. "What's to stop him from making a ridiculous demand for it?"
"We thought about specifying an amount," Kili said, "but we weren't sure how much."
Bilba chewed on her lower lip. "What about what you were promised in the contract? You're both Princes, it's not like you'll be hurting for coin."
Kili shook his head. "We don't get a share because we're Princes. Uncle doesn't either, since he's the King. It was just everyone else that got a part."
"Okay." Bilba's mind worked quickly. She stared at the rock in her hand. "I'll do it then. The Arkenstone for my share of the treasure." She frowned. "Or I could just offer my share in the first place, cut out the intrigue."
"It won't work," Fili said immediately. "Bofur already offered his share of the treasure to ensure peace. Uncle refused. He said he wouldn't give over even a single coin."
Bilba sighed. "Of course not. He always has to make things difficult. Alright, then. I can offer mine. I don't need it anyway."
"No," Kili's eyes locked on her. "You more than earned it."
"What use would I have for it?" Bilba asked. "I already have a home and I'm well off financially." Or she would be as soon as she demanded control of her finances from her grandfather. Honestly, what was wrong with her that she'd quietly accepted him doling money out to her like she was a child for so long? She was thirty years old, more than old enough to deal with her own things. She gave Kili a rueful grin. "What would I spend it on? New clothes? I have a large wardrobe. Food? The market isn't that expensive."
At the door Fili gave her an odd look. "Are you still planning to return to the Shire? Even after you marry Uncle?"
Bilba's mouth opened and she felt her face flush. To be honest she hadn't thought it out that far, the idea of marrying Thorin still far too surreal. A large part of her still firmly believed she'd wake up at any moment to find it had all been a dream and they were still on the road with Thorin glaring at her every five feet. "I would still visit," she said, "maybe even spend some winters there. I imagine Erebor probably gets rather cold in winter. And I have family and friends there. I would want to see them again." She looked at Fili. "Are you sure this is the best plan?"
"Dain will be here in two days," Fili said. "I've spent every day you've been asleep arguing with him. I've even tried to talk to the men and elves, none will budge. The only way I can see to break the impasse is by forcing someone's hand. I have no control over the elves and men so the only one I can affect is Uncle."
Bilba nodded. "Okay." She picked up the Arkenstone, feeling its solid weight in her hand, and stood up. "Best get this over with then." As she spoke her gut churned and a light sweat broke out on her forehead. She trusted Fili and Kili, she did. She'd also seen Thorin, how wild and dark his eyes had been, how he'd refused to listen to a single word she tried to say.
She'd only just woken up, though, and the last time she'd seen Thorin he'd been her Thorin. Fili and Kili had lived with the new one for two weeks; she'd barely met him.
"Bilba," Fili stepped forward, "you don't have to do this."
"I trust you," Bilba stated, looking up to meet his eyes. "If you say this is the best way then it's the best way."
Kili stepped up and put a hand over hers. "I should go," he said. "I can do it instead. You can stay here."
"They aren't going to hurt me," Bilba said with a slight smile. "And you can't do it; it's not your share of the treasure. I don't think they'll agree to treat with you."
His eyes narrowed. "I can still go with you though, just in case you need me."
On the off chance that someone did try to harm her, Bilba seriously doubted Kili would be able to make much difference. They would be grossly outnumbered and far from safety.
She looked in his eyes, saw them pleading with her, and sighed. "I would be honored if you would accompany me, Kili."
He positively beamed and, behind him, Bilba saw Fili grinning as well. She shook her head in amusement. She slipped the stone into her pocket and steeled herself. "Alright, let's get this over with."
"Yes," Fili mused behind her as they headed back in, "lets. Then hopefully everything will get back to normal and we can discuss the nickname Kili reports you have for us."
Bilba choked and then turned and smacked Kili on the arm. "Kili! I told you that in private!"
"Ow!" Kili groused, faux rubbing his arm where she doubted he'd even felt the blow through the padding. "You never said I wasn't allowed to tell!" He turned on Fili. "Why'd you tell her you knew?"
The two fell to mock arguing behind her and Bilba laughed. As she did she turned and found they were passing by the throne room again. Her gaze lit on the throne, hidden in shadow, dark and imposing. A feeling of foreboding fell upon her and, without knowing why, she was suddenly convinced she would not see it again for a very long time.
Her laughter slowly faded.
Getting out of the mountain proved to be no problem for Bilba and Kili. The only way out at the moment was the back entrance, the front still blocked from when Smaug had collapsed the entrance after the fall of Erebor.
That meant going back through the Treasury, an experience she was sure would put her off eating for life.
On her way, Bilba couldn't help but stop and try to speak to Thorin one final time but he rebuffed her sharply, his annoyance clear. The look in his eyes was almost frenzied and Bilba had been startled to see, for the first time, his hands were bruised and bloodied from his frantic search through the treasure.
The others all looked exhausted. Balin appeared near to collapse while Dwalin was leaning on a shovel near asleep. Bofur, Bifur and Bombur were studiously searching and not looking at Thorin at all while Dori was clearly keeping Ori well away from the new King. She could not tell what Gloin or Oin might be thinking as they dug through the gold and Nori seemed more excited about evaluating each piece than searching for a specific one.
Bilba left unnoticed after a few moments, Kili alongside her. Fili returned to his uncle's side, still trying to convince him to rest, eat, anything other than continue searching for the Arkenstone.
As they headed toward the exit, far out of sight of the rest, Bilba couldn't stop the gnawing sense of guilt in her stomach at the thought of what she was doing.
Thorin would see it as a betrayal, of that she had no doubt. Would he be able to see past it to realize she'd been trying to save him, not hurt him? If he was infected by the lasting influence of his grandfather's ring would he be able to throw it off and return to his old self?
Or, a small voice inside her whispered, was this who Thorin had been all along?
She stumbled, forcing Kili to grab her elbow and steady her.
You've known him less than a year, her traitorous mind continued, who can say this isn't who he is? That the dwarf you knew on the road wasn't the aberration?
No, she told herself, no, she didn't believe it. She ran back over their interactions, conversations, all the way back to the Prancing Pony in Bree where he hadn't hesitated to protect her from a pair of drunkards.
That was the real Thorin Oakenshield. Kind, honorable, hero of Moria, beloved Uncle.
Her beloved.
The stairs loomed ahead of them and she let out a breath, trying to calm the nerves jangling all over her body.
"Are you alright?" Kili asked and she nodded stiffly.
"You know," Kili started slowly, "while we're there…I mean…the elves…I'm sure they have healers…"
"We don't have time," Bilba said quickly. "We need to get in and return as fast as possible."
She wrapped her arm around his bicep as she spoke, her other hand flat on her stomach. She didn't want to go to the healers. She didn't want to know. As long as she didn't know she could lie to herself, hold a tiny spark of hope she hadn't lost them.
If she went to the healers, and they told her the babies were gone, what would she have then?
As soon as they reached the edge of the camp they were confronted by several guards stationed there to keep watch.
After that Bilba and Kili were escorted to a large, brightly colored tent near the far, back edge of the camp.
Inside, Bilba saw thick rugs had been spread about the ground, a large oak table dominated the center of the room and a small fire had been built, smoke funneled out through a chute going through the top of the tent. It gave a warm, cozy, inviting feel to the tent, not exactly what she would expect of Thranduil.
The Elven King lounged in a chair at one end of the table, his son next to him. It was much like the first time she'd met him, though in far different circumstances.
Next to Legolas stood Bard. He looked like he'd dressed in a hurry and she wondered if word had been sent to him of their arrival so he could join. He gave her a smile now and she smiled back in relief, pleased the bargeman appeared to have no quarrel with her personally.
"Bilba," he said, inclining his head. "I'm glad to see you're awake. The last time I saw you I confess I worried for your life."
"I was worried about it too," Bilba said, absently wringing her hands, "but Yavanna was with me it would seem."
Yavanna. It was the first time she'd referenced the Valar that Smaug claimed was the creator of the hobbits. Surprisingly, however, the name had an odd familiarity to it, as though she mentioned an old friend she hadn't seen in some time.
She wasn't able to reflect on the thought any further as Thranduil straightened in his chair. "Enough. Why have you come?"
Bilba opened her mouth and, for possibly the first time in her life, found herself speechless. She struggled to pull up the correct words to explain but lingering physical and emotional fatigue dragged on her, refusing to let her have access to what she needed. Almost frantic, she looked at Kili where he stood next to her.
His eyes widened, barely, and then he stepped forward and began confidently explaining what their purpose was. Bilba heaved a silent sigh of relief, grateful she had him with her.
When Kili finished Thranduil, Legolas and Bard were all staring at them in varying degrees of shock.
"And you think this will work?" Bard asked. "That he'll agree to trade a portion of gold for the stone's return?"
Kili hadn't mentioned it was specifically Bilba's gold, for which she was grateful. The issue would probably just muddy the waters even more. Instead he'd simply stated a price and refused to explain how he'd come up with the number. He was a Prince, he was not required to explain everything.
Bilba was proud of him and found herself wishing Thorin and Fili could be there to see him. She'd noticed from time to time how overprotective they both were of him. It would be nice for them to see him as an adult in his own right.
"I do," Kili responded.
Legolas leaned over toward his father. "Is it possible?" he asked. "Could he be influenced by one of the rings of power?"
Thranduil frowned, his face creased thought. "It is possible," he replied finally. "Though I cannot say whether or not this act will free him from its control." He turned his head to face his son. "The rings of power are not like the One Ring. They do not make you into something you are not. They simply make worse traits that are already there."
"We aren't sure about it," Bilba broke in. "The ring has been with him for a long time. Currently it has been removed and, if it is infecting him, we hope the affect will wane."
"It will not," Thranduil said casually, "I cannot say why it has chosen now to infect him, if it even has, but, once done, only a profound event will bring him out of it."
Bilba shivered at the words. It made it sound like the ring had a will of its own, plotting and planning out its actions. She'd heard legends of the One Ring having a will of its own because of its link to Sauron. She'd never heard the same of the other rings, however, and she'd certainly never heard of any of them acting without the Dark Lord influencing them in some way. Since Sauron was gone the rings should be harmless.
Thranduil sighed and straightened in his chair. "It is possible revealing we have the Arkenstone will shock him back to himself, assuming he is not acting entirely of his own will already. It is also possible the action will simply drive him further into madness and start the war early."
"It will start either way in that instance," Kili said. "Shouldn't we take the path that actually has a good outcome as a possibility?"
"What about you?" Bard said, his eyes on Bilba. "He will be angry."
"It's not her fault," Kili said instantly. "The plan was mine and Fili's. We will take full responsibility for it."
"You should stay here," Bard continued. "Until Oakenshield has had a chance to calm down."
Bilba shook her head. "No. I don't want him seeing me as united with you against him." She smiled. "He's not entirely himself but he's still Thorin. He won't hurt me."
"And she'll have me and Fili there," Kili interjected, his voice like steel. "We won't allow her to come to harm."
There was little more to be done after that. Bilba handed over the Arkenstone, barely suppressing a flinch as Thranduil took it from her.
After that they left and made their way back into the mountain. Bilba found herself wrapping her arms around her stomach. Kili, next to her, was also tense, his jaw tight and his shoulders hunched together. Bilba shivered in the cold air, feeling it cut right through the thin material of the dress she wore.
"Do you think we did the right thing?"
"I don't know," Kili responded. "I guess we'll find out."
Bilba retired to her small chamber when she returned, unwilling to spend more time near the rotting dragon's carcass.
Kili sat next to her, his knees pulled up and his arms wrapped around them.
After that they waited.
Neither one spoke.
The sound of footsteps was the first warning of anything having changed.
A shadow fell across the doorway and they looked up to see Dwalin standing there, his face unreadable.
"Thorin wants you both," he boomed, "now."
Kili got to his feet and held a hand down to her. Bilba took it and let him pull her up. His hand felt cold and clammy in her grip, much like hers must feel.
Dwalin turned and strode out without a word.
"You don't have to go," Kili told her. "Fili and I can take care of it."
Bilba shook her head. She'd been involved so she should be willing to face the consequences.
Together they followed Dwalin out.
The path they took ended up on the same balcony she'd first been on with Fili and Kili, though they took a different route that didn't send them through the throne room.
It had started to cloud up outside, as though the weather itself was somehow reflecting the current mood. A brisk, cold wind was whipping in short bursts across the balcony and Bilba shivered.
Thorin stood dead center, alone except for Fili standing near him. Dwalin vanished back into the corridor, leaving them. Thorin's body was so still it could have been carved from mithril and his hands were curled into tight fists at his side. The only movement came from the gusts of wind blowing through his hair and cloak.
The look on his face was thunderous.
They had made things worse.
Bilba knew it instantly. She saw Fili standing in front of Thorin, half turned toward them and could see by the expression on his face that he knew it too.
"Uncle," Kili started, stepping forward.
"Silence." Thorin's voice was like ice. His eyes sought hers out and Bilba felt herself go still. "You," he growled, "you did this."
"What?" Kili said. "No, Uncle, it was our idea. Mine and Fili's! Bilba only went along with it because we asked her to."
"And yet you only sought to betray me after she woke up," Thorin hissed.
"I had the Arkenstone before she woke up," Kili argued back. "Before you ever found us. It was my idea, Uncle, not hers."
"What does it matter whose idea it was?" Bilba broke in. "I am owed a share of the treasure just as much as anyone else. I chose the Arkenstone as that share. If you want it back simply trade the gold for it."
His eyes came back to her and Bilba felt her insides twist. She was scared, oh Valar, she was scared of Thorin.
"You have no share," Thorin said, his voice flat, "or have you forgotten you surrendered it in Rivendell?"
Bilba felt as though she'd been punched. In a flash the fight from Imladris came back to her. Thorin refusing to let her come, insisting he released her from the contract, and Bilba agreeing.
"I forgot," she said, stunned. "I—Thorin-"
"You stole the Arkenstone," Thorin thundered, "and delivered it into the hands of my enemies!"
"They are not your enemies, Uncle," Fili said, his voice hoarse as though he'd been shouting. "You're mind has been clouded, Uncle, please-"
"The only minds clouded are yours!" Thorin roared. He whirled back to Bilba. "Did I not say you would divide us? Did I not say you had no business being with us?" He waved a hand out, encompassing his nephews. "Look what you have done."
Bilba felt faint and there was a loud roaring in her ears. She clasped her hands in front of her stomach, the knuckles white. "Thorin, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I swear. I just…you can't go to war, Thorin. Not over gold."
"What right do you have to any say in it?" he snarled, stalking closer. "You are not one of us," Thorin snapped. "You had no right. Gandalf spoke true when he named you a burglar, for a thief and a liar is what you are. You have betrayed me. You stole the Arkenstone and now you seek to steal my nephews from me as well."
Bilba shook her head. She didn't understand why Thorin was so insistent on blaming her alone. She struggled to figure out what to say to make him see the truth. "I have never meant you harm, Thorin. You know that." She latched onto what Kili had said to her earlier. The slightest hint of anger bled into her voice. "I saved your life, twice. Why would I do that if I was against you?"
"I wouldn't know," he snapped back, "perhaps this was your plan all along. To steal Erebor from under my nose and hand her to my enemies!"
"What?" Bilba said in shock. "Thorin, that's insane! Listen to yourself! You aren't thinking straight! It's the ring, your grandfather's ring. It poisoned his mind and now it's poisoning yours!"
"I AM NOT MY GRANDFATHER!" Thorin roared. "What I am is a fool! A fool to think you were ever anything more than what I recognized you for in Rivendell. A thief, a liar and a traitor."
Kili was suddenly standing in front of her. Fili had moved also, stepping up behind Thorin.
"You will not speak to her like that again." Fili stated flatly. Both were tense, their heads held high and, for an instant, they reminded Bilba of something. An image rose hazily in her mind of two figures, slimmer than Fili and Kili with dark hair and clean shaven faces, pride and steel in their eyes as they rose to guard her.
Then Thorin spoke and the image shattered and was gone before she could think of where she'd seen it before.
"You are correct," Thorin stated, his voice suddenly deathly calm. Bilba tensed, suddenly feeling somehow as though a giant weight hung over her head, waiting to come down and crush her. "I will not speak to her again."
Bilba stopped breathing, stopped moving, desperate to somehow stop time itself, to freeze things before they could go past a point from which they could never return. It felt as though she stood at the base of a rockslide, desperately trying to prevent it from happening.
Thorin spun on one heel, shoving past Fili and stalked back to the edge of the balcony. Once there he turned to face them.
"Bilba Baggins, I hereby charge and find you guilty of treason against Erebor."
Fili sucked in a breath. "Uncle."
Thorin's expression never changed. "As your punishment you are henceforth banished from Erebor under pain of death. Do not let me see your face again."
Bilba swayed on her feet, her breath stolen from her lungs. "No," she whispered. "Thorin, no."
"Uncle," Kili said, his voice desperate, "don't do this."
"It is done," Thorin growled. "Be grateful I am showing mercy and not having you executed for your crime."
"Uncle!" Fili snapped. "Listen to yourself! This isn't you!"
He moved forward, still arguing but Bilba could no longer hear him. A loud roaring had started in her ears.
"Kili," she whispered. "Kili, what do I do? What do I do?"
She staggered and his arms slid around her waist. "Come on," he said, gently. "We need to leave."
"Leave?" Bilba asked blankly. "Leave where?"
She looked and saw Thorin had his back toward them and was leaning on the balcony. Fili was stalking toward them, his face hard. He grabbed Kili's arm and leaned in close to him, speaking sharply. Kili pulled back and looked at him, startled, but then nodded and the two separated. Then Bilba was being led and they were walking out, down the corridor, away, away, away.
They were going toward the Treasury. "No," Bilba said, setting her feet. "Kili, no. I have to go back. I have to talk to him."
Fili hoisted her up in his arms. "He's not ready to listen, Bilba. We need to give him some time."
Her face was wet. She was crying. When had she started crying?
"Bilba," Kili said beside her, his voice wretched. "Bilba, I'm sorry. This is our fault."
"It was my choice," Bilba whispered, her voice broken. "No one made me."
She struggled suddenly, wanting Fili to put her down. He obeyed and Bilba sagged down to her knees, wrapping her arms around her stomach and leaning forward until her forehead touched the ground. She didn't want to go. If she could stay, just stay right there in that very spot maybe she could stop it, stop it all before it shattered into a million pieces she could never put back together. Her heart felt as though it had been rent in two, a searing, vicious pain that denoted a wound so profound it would surely prove fatal.
Fili and Kili knelt next to her, their hands on her back. "Bilba," Fili said helplessly. "It'll be alright. We'll fix it. I swear."
"You can't promise me that." Bilba sobbed. She dug her fingers into her sides and struggled to breathe. She couldn't seem to draw deep enough breaths and spots were already dancing in front of her eyes.
Kili pulled her to her feet and picked her up. Bilba wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his throat.
She squeezed her eyes shut, not opening them when the stink of Smaug hit her nostrils, or even when she heard the low voice of other Company members and Fili's angry answer. She heard gasps and protestations but not a single one offered to go talk to Thorin or suggested she should stay.
The pain was like a knife wound, ripping straight through her soul. She thought she'd meant more to them. They certainly had meant more to her.
Then they were moving again and soon a cold breeze was wrapping around her and the creaking of distant branches was in her ears.
"Put me down," she ordered quietly and Kili obeyed, steadying her until she had her footing. Bilba gripped his forearms and looked past him to where the door to the mountain stood closed.
"He doesn't mean it," she whispered, looking at Kili desperately. "Right? He doesn't mean it?"
Kili forced a smile. "I'm sure he doesn't. He just needs some time to calm down, that's all."
"You're still such a horrible liar," Bilba said, her voice cracking. She turned her attention to Fili. "Are you going to leave me here?" Her voice was small, even to her own ears, almost childlike.
"Of course not," Fili said, his voice gentle. "We're going with you. Just wait until our mother gets here and finds out we're not in the mountain. She'll knock sense into him, you'll see."
Bilba didn't answer.
Kili gently steered her toward the camps down below.
Bilba walked numbly, each step agonizing.
She couldn't accept the thought of never seeing any of them again.
None of them came to your aid, her mind whispered, they don't care about you.
Was it possible? Had it all been a lie? Had she spent the last seven months falsely believing they cared about her?
Believing Thorin cared?
Pain stabbed her heart once more, so fierce it was nearly physical, forcing a gasp out of her.
It was like losing her family all over again.
Thorin watched as the three made their way toward the camps down below. His teeth were clenched so hard his jaw ached and his hands dug into the sharp corners of the railing.
How could they? How could they do this to him?
His eyes went to Bilba and he felt a stab of pain in his heart. Mentally he cursed his own weakness. He'd allowed her into his trust and she'd used it against him. She'd turned his own nephews against him, so thoroughly they'd chosen to leave with her rather than stay in Erebor where they belonged.
He pushed off the ledge and turned to head back into the mountain. Thranduil's smug face as he held up the Arkenstone floated through his head and he snarled in anger.
Surely his nephews would see reason soon enough. They would recognize her for the viper she was and return to plea for his forgiveness, which he would magnanimously give, before they returned to his side where they belonged.
For now, however, he had a war to plan. The elves and men would rue the day they conspired against him.
As he stalked into the mountain his headache faded even further intensity, a dull throb in the back of his mind.
Thranduil was angry. Whatever Thorin had said to him, it had succeed in fully enraging the elven king.
"So," he stated coldly, facing the three of them. "It would appear your grand plan has failed."
Bilba didn't respond, focusing instead on nothing in particular. Bard stood off to one side, his eyes compassionate. Bilba looked away, unable to bear it. She didn't know where Legolas was, he hadn't been in the tent when they'd been ushered in.
Fili was talking but Bilba wasn't sure what he was saying. His voice was just a mumble to her ears.
How had things gone so wrong so fast? It still felt so unreal. Her family all over again. One second everything was great, the next there was only pain.
"How do I know this isn't all part of a greater plan?" Thranduil said suddenly. "That this isn't all a ploy to plant you here as spies?"
"We aren't spies," Fili snapped. "We came because we genuinely wanted peace, and we still do."
Thranduil studied them. "It is possible but you'll forgive me if I don't trust you."
He waved a hand and suddenly guards appeared out of nowhere.
"What are you doing?" Kili demanded. He stepped forward but one of the guards grabbed his arm, dragging him back.
One of the guards reached for her arm and Bilba jerked back. "Don't touch me."
The guard stretched out his hand again and, again, Bilba moved away, her nerves at their breaking point.
"You will be taken to Mirkwood and imprisoned until such a time as we can determine your true motives," Thranduil intoned. "Or until your beloved Uncle has managed to get himself killed, in which case the point will be moot."
Bilba cried out at that, her heart wrenching in her chest, and Fili and Kili both broke into shouting. Bard stepped forward, trying to calm matters and Bilba moved forward as well, unsure of what exactly she planned.
The guard tried to grab her again and, when she resisted, he proceed to simply wrap his arms around her waist and pick her up.
Bilba fought back only to feel a spike of true terror as the elf's arms tightened to the point of pain around her stomach. She screamed again and renewed her efforts, desperate to get out of his grasp.
"What are you doing?" Kili yelled, "put her down!"
"Tell her to stop fighting," Thranduil snapped, "and he will do so."
The arms went tighter still and Bilba sobbed in pain, her eyes seeking out Kili in a panic. The guard was squeezing her, he was squeezing so tight and even if her babies were still alive he was going to kill them and she couldn't make him stop in time, couldn't make him stop at all and it would all be her fault and he was going to kill her babies.
"You BASTARD!" Kili snarled, wrenching away from the guard and drawing his sword. "Put her DOWN! She's PREGNANT!"
Dead silence fell over the tent. Fili was staring at her, his mouth hanging open.
Thranduil's eyes focused on her. "Is this true?" There was the barest widening of his eyes, the slightest hint of shock in his voice.
"I don't know anymore," Bilba said, struggling to speak through sobs, despair pushing her past her breaking point. "I started bleeding and I almost died and now he won't stop squeezing my stomach and it hurts!"
Without warning Bard was suddenly there. He snapped something at the guard and then was taking her out of his arms, sliding his own around her waist and under her legs. Bilba curled against his chest and sobbed into his neck, no longer able to handle anything at all. Bard stepped toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Fili demanded.
"To the healing tents," Bard barked. "You lot feel free to continue killing yourselves on your own."
And, with that, he strode out.
No one tried to stop him.
The tiny woman in his arms didn't speak the entire way to the healing tents.
Bard handed her off to the elven healer and then took up a stance outside. It was cold but not yet raining, though the dark clouds overhead threatened it later.
He sighed and leaned lightly against one of the support poles for the tent. He wasn't sure if the healer could even help the young woman. For humans the only way to tell if there had been a miscarriage often was to wait for the stillborn baby to be delivered or, if the pregnancy was not yet advanced enough, to wait and see if the woman grew larger with the signs of life.
Still, elves were immortal. Surely over their long lives they had discovered better ways to aid in certain medical mysteries, such as being able to tell if a young woman were still pregnant.
He remembered the shattered look in her eyes, like she was barely holding the shreds of her soul together, and couldn't help a dark glare in the direction of the mountain.
He had no doubt as to who the father was. The same fool who'd apparently banished her for no other reason than her attempts to save him from his own idiocy.
The flap of the tent opened and the healer emerged. He gave a short nod of greeting to Bard. "She has asked for privacy," he said simply and then proceeded to walk away in the direction of the mess tent.
Bard waited over a half hour for her to come out, hoping to be able to talk to her and offer at least some words of comfort, as useless as they no doubt would be.
Finally, worried over her continued absence, he got up and carefully entered the tent.
"Bilba? Is it alright if I come in?"
The inside of the tent was divided into different areas with cloth, allowing privacy for individual patients.
Bard stood quietly but heard nothing. "Bilba?"
He moved to the nearest small area and pulled the curtain aside, the area beyond was empty. The second one was equally empty as was the third after that.
The fourth one he pulled aside…and stopped.
Bilba was just inside, kneeling down with her legs tucked underneath her.
Arrayed in a fan like pattern before her on the ground were long locks of amber colored hair. Lying diagonally across the center of the hair was a long braid, capped on one end by a bead and the other end by a piece of twine.
Bard moved his eyes and saw her hands quietly lying in her lap. One hand held a large knife. He couldn't begin to imagine where she'd gotten it from. The other held a large, ornate silver ring on a chain. He hadn't seen it before but he remembered seeing the braid swinging behind her ear.
His eyes went to her head. She'd chopped her hair down to near stubble, barely an inch or so long. Bard knew little about Hobbits but he did know that, in many cultures and races, such an act would be done from intense grief or mourning.
"Bilba," he said, feeling his own inadequacy. "I'm sorry. I-"
"Did you know I saw my brother get eaten by a Troll?"
Her voice was soft, her eyes focused on the ground. She sounded utterly exhausted and there was a slump to her shoulders, a slight sway in her body as though she barely had the strength to hold herself up anymore.
Bard opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. "No," he said, finally. "I didn't."
She nodded absently before giving him an oddly casual look. "It was my fault." She said matter of factly. "I should have been paying attention." Her eyes cut away again. "But I was distracted."
"How old were you?"
"Does it matter?" She was silent for a time before continuing in a voice so low he almost didn't hear her. "Older than he'll ever get a chance to be."
Bard floundered, wondering what he could possibly say to help her. "Why were you distracted?"
She gave him a sick grin. "I was watching my father being murdered."
He flinched. "I'm sorry."
"I got revenge. It took longer than I would have liked but I got it."
"I'm glad."
She shrugged. "My mother was injured too," she continued, her voice holding an oddly dreamlike quality. Bard wondered if she was even fully aware of where she was or what was going on. She adjusted her hands, still holding the ring in one, the chain tangled about her fingers. She rested that hand lightly on the blade of the knife, the other hand gripping the hilt so hard her knuckles were white. "We made it to a cave next to where the Trolls lived." She hesitated. "She could have made it had she wanted." She raised her head and met Bard's eyes. "But she didn't."
Bard carefully edged around the small space until he could crouch down on his heels next to her. "I am sorry," he repeated, unsure of what else he could say.
"She was in pain," Bilba continued. She nodded, chewed absently on her lower lip and took a deep, shaky breath. Almost to herself she said, "I understand that." She met his eyes. "But she should have fought. I was still alive and I needed her. She left me alone in the wild with nothing but her and my father's corpses for company."
"How did you get back?" Bard asked.
"To this day I'm not entirely sure," Bilba answered. "It almost felt like someone was with me, guiding me. I was only on my own for a short time before running into a pair of Rangers riding on a circuit. They escorted me the rest of the way home."
"Your mother was wrong," Bard stated, his tone sure. He knew well enough the pain she spoke of, he'd felt it himself when his wife had died. It had felt as though his heart had been cut out of his chest. Every breath had been sheer agony, the mere act of getting out of bed in the morning a monumental task.
But he'd done it. His children had needed him.
"You needed her," he continued. "She should have fought."
"I can remember the journey home now." Bilba looked up at him and Bard saw an odd light in her eyes that hadn't been there the last time he'd seen her. It was small, the barest flicker in the depths, but it was there. "I remember thinking that, if I ever had children, I would be better. I wouldn't leave them when they needed me. I wouldn't give up."
Her eyes hardened. She untangled the ring and chain and very carefully laid it down with the braid on top of her shorn locks of hair. Then she stood, her hand still clutching the knife.
"I promised myself I would not be my mother." She raised her chin, features hard. "And I will keep that promise."
And, with that, she marched out, leaving the hair, braid and ring behind her.
She did not look back.
Bard followed her a few moments later, stepping out into chaos.
He saw no sign of Bilba but elves and men ran about shouting orders. Several ran by with piles of weapons and armor in their arms.
Bard grabbed the arm of the nearest man, stopping him. "What is it? What's going on?"
The man stopped, breathless, his eyes wide. "Gandalf the Gray and two others have arrived."
Bard felt an intense surge of reflief. Gandalf. Surely he would be able to reach the fool under the mountain and make him see sense. "That's wonderful news! Why the panic?"
Fear clouded the man's eyes. "It is not his arrival that causes panic but the news he carries with him."
Bard felt a chill run through him. "And what news is that?"
"The wizard reports an army marches on us, from Mordor."
"What?" Bard said, his shock so great his mind nearly couldn't comprehend what the man said, "Why? What reason would Mordor have to attack us?"
"I do not know," the man answered, "only that they are coming."
Bard shook his head, still stunned. "How many?"
"At least a thousand, perhaps more."
Shock rattled through him. "I don't understand this. Who leads them? Who would possibly have a desire, and the means, to raise such an army against us?"
The man opened his mouth spoke words that utterly froze the marrow in Bard's very bones.
"The wizard claims it's the Witch King of Angmar."
Bard gaped. "That's-" he stumbled, "that's...but if that's true it means..."
The man nodded. "If it's true it can only mean one thing. The Dark Lord himself has returned, and means to destroy us all."
He left and Bard stayed, rooted to the spot. Almost against his will he turned his head in the direction of Mordor, his heart near to fainting inside his chest, one, hushed word up on his lips.
"Sauron."
