Thorin sat upon his cold throne, his thoughts clouded and disjointed. His deteriorating mental state would have been cause for concern, but he no longer had wits enough to notice. They had been holed up in the mountain for so long that he had lost all track of time. It could have been days or even years since they had first reclaimed it, he no longer knew. And still, Thranduil and his army lingered about Erebor's doorstep like hungry mice, taunting him with their infuriating presence. But he had been fair: he had warned them that any move on their part would drive him to do the unthinkable. And he had! Already, many of the jewels that had once belonged to Thranduil's wife had been smashed and tossed over the edge of the mountain. It was only this that gave Thranduil pause. But he would not wait in limbo forever. Thorin knew this, and so he had sent a crow bearing a hand-written war cry to his distant kin. If the land was to be stained with blood, then so be it. He would not see his gold taken again.

They all would have surely perished in the mountain had it not been for the caravans that arrived intermittently at the mountain. They had come from Lake-town where, according to the caravan driver, Fili had taken over as master. To think that his own nephew had run away when he was needed most, just to wear a silly paper crown and prance around with Kili and the rouge cur Nadi! Thorin accepted the supplies out of necessity but not with appreciation. Upon the arrival of the latest caravan, he had dispatched a note meant for Fili alone. He would never stoop so low as to beg him to come crawling back, not after what he had done. For all that he cared Fili, Nadi, and Kili were dead to him. This thought caused him no pain, not anymore.

He was disappointed, however, to find that Nadi was still alive. The strange woman Khurza had promised to kill her and deliver her body back to him, cold. The thought of tossing Nadi's severed head into the Pit where the Bahndobihn brothers had once suffered was just as consuming as his desire to find the Arkenstone. There was an irony to it, after all. If Bahn truly was the girl's father, as many in Erebor had suspected throughout the years, it would only be fair that her bones rested alongside his. Assuming that Bahn had died there.

Once, Thorin had considered the possibility that Nadi had carried the stone away with her. But the thought of the stone being stolen from right under his feet was a slight to his intelligence and his mission. He would not entertain it. Instead, he pushed the Company to work harder. Only the patient hand of death would liberate them from their cause and take their efforts in vain.

Someone had been calling him.

He looked up and found Balin standing before him with that same look of pitiable worry on his creased face. The Dwarve's mouth moved but Thorin, in his trance, could hear nothing but the echoes of his words. Something about Elves, a meeting, Gandalf…

"What did you say?" Thorin growled, revealing a slight slur in his speech. Balin swallowed and tried again.

"The Elves are at our door, along with Bard. They are requesting one final meeting. Gandalf is with them."

"Gandalf?" Thorin repeated curiously. He was having trouble placing where he had heard that name before. Then he remembered: it was the wandering wizard that had left them high and dry too many times during the journey. He shook his head in disgust. "What constitutes this as the 'final' meeting?"

"Their patience has run its course, I should think," Balin said as he wrung his hands nervously.

"Do you think that my patience hasn't?" Thorin asked. Balin averted his eyes at his king's needling tone. "Destroy more of the Elven jewels and cast them down. They can have their 'final meeting' with the desecration of their possessions, for all that I care."

"Thorin," Balin said before taking a deep breath in. "They only want to negotiate. We can still turn this in our favor-"

"You know as well as I that the only favors that they seek are bags full of gold carried away on their backs."

"Which they are rightfully owed," Balin said in a small voice.

Thorin reared up. Balin cowered as if he feared a blow from his king, but Thorin simply walked past him. Of all that remained of the company, Balin was still high in his favor. The elder Dwarve's bravery was commendable, and if speaking a few empty words to the intruders upon their door would satisfy him, then so be it.

The rest of the Company rose and followed him as he walked towards the fortified wall. Out of habit, he swept his gaze across them in search of his nephews. Long ago, before the desolation and the wars, he used to walk the marketplace of Dale with his father. Always, without fail, he'd find his young nephews causing mischief at the edge of the crowd. Either it'd be Kili dancing with exuberant, childish joy to the music or Fili offering to polish the warriors' army for a few coins. But they were no longer there with him in the mountain. Two sets of armor sat abandoned in the lower level: armor that would have looked resplendent on them and made him proud. If only...

Damned Nadi…

If Khurza didn't kill her first, Thorin would find Nadi and apply steady pressure to her throat until his nails punctured her skin.

He arrived at the balcony and simply gazed down upon the throng with dislike. There was Thranduil, the cursed Elven king with his gold-plated army surrounding a rather pitiful group of Lake-town pilgrims. Bard sat beside him astride a magnificent white horse with Gandalf at his side. Bilbo came up and stood beside Thorin, his shoulders hunched and his nose twitching. Thorin had no idea that just the other night, Bilbo had made his way into Dale and tried his best to sway Thranduil's mind. Seeing them all gathered below him, Thorin had a sudden, irresistible urge to spit upon them all. But instead, he raised his bow and fired an arrow between the hooves of Bard's horse.

"I will put the next one between your eyes," he called down as Bard grimaced.

Thranduil gave a dainty roll of his eyes and said to Bard, "This is the man that you insist that I reason with?"

"The man that I would have you reason with is buried deep within him," Bard said back. "But he is there, nonetheless-"

"DO YOU THINK THAT I CAN NOT HEAR YOU?!" Thorin bellowed and Bilbo cringed.

"I would have assumed as much, considering our most recent attempts at conversations," Thranduil said back. Thorin raised his bow again but was met with a synchronized wave of Elves lifting their weapons. The Company ducked in alarm, leaving only Thorin standing.

"You have few jewels left in this mountain," Thorin spat. "Do not think for a moment that I will not crush them all!"

"That is not necessary, King Under the Mountain," Gandalf interjected swiftly. "None of this is. These people here are more than willing to leave you and your Company in peace-"

"If I silence their incessant begging by bargaining my own gold!?"

"Thorin-" Bard paused, balled his fist in front of his mouth, and then quickly dropped it. "That is why we are here. Not all of the gold in that mountain is yours. Please, can you not see reason? All we want is our fair share!"

Thorin laughed. "I admire your bravery, bowman, even if it irks me deeply. Let me teach you a lesson my father once taught me: sometimes bravery requires letting go of that which binds you."

"Can you not see the irony in your own words?" Thranduil called. Thorin's fists tightened by his side and Bilbo called his name in a warning tone.

"Thorin," Gandalf called, squinting up at him. "I've heard whispers that Fili has now become the new master of Lake-town. I assume that his brother is with him. But where is Nadi? I do not see her amongst your ranks."

"If Nadi is not dead by now, then she will be soon," Thorin said simply.

This was met with gasps from the Company. He turned around to face them and saw that they were all looking at him with wide, worried eyes. Bilbo walked up to him slowly, in his eyes a burning question, the answer of which was reflected on Thorin's face.

"Thorin," Bilbo said carefully, "What did you do? What have you set in motion?"

"Only what the girl deserved."

Bilbo looked away and braced his hands across his mouth. He took a deep, shaking breath in and looked back up at Thorin with watering eyes. "You…" he said with difficulty as the Company began to moan and stumble to their knees around them. "You…you-" his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Hm. You…got her k-killed? You sent someone to kill N-n-nadi?"

Thorin could not answer this. Hearing the truth of the matter spoken upon someone else's tongue was unsettling. For a brief moment, as he listened to his kin wailing and saw the hopeless desperation in Bilbo's eyes, he felt a weighty sense of despair. His eyes brimmed with water and he took a shuddering breath in. But he could not answer Bilbo. The answer was already there, hanging heavily between them. Bilbo took another shaking breath in. Even Dwalin had fallen to his knees and buried his head in his hands at the news of Thorin's treachery.

"She…" Bilbo struggled. "S-she was pregnant. S-s-she…she-" The Hobbit before him was stuttering so terribly that he had to hang his head and collect himself. When he looked back up at Thorin, tears were cascading along his face and rolling along his parted lips. "S-she was carrying your n-n-nephew's ch-child. And…and you had her k-k-killed. For what, Thorin? Because she ran away after you threatened her l-l-l-life?"

Thorin looked away. There was a heaviness spreading along his chest. A single tear track rolled along his face and dropped between his boots. He didn't want to bear witness as Bilbo unspooled his greatest guilt and laid it out before him.

"That poor, innocent girl was murdered because she defied you," Bilbo said, his voice growing stronger now and echoing across the land. "She loved you, Thorin, and could not bear to witness your descent into insanity. She alone was strong enough to do what we all should have done long ago: abandon you the moment that you abandoned yourself. I'll tell you something, King Under the Mountain," Bilbo sniffed and wiped his eyes roughly. "If Nadi is dead then the Arkenstone has died with her."

"What?!" Thorin said in shock.

"You heard me! Nadi left the mountain with the stone in her possession. I allowed her to leave with it. I was going to hand it over to you when I had it. Many times I wanted to, but-"

"But what, thief?"

"You are changed. The Dwarve I met in Bag End would have never gone back on his word, would have never doubted the loyalty of his kin-"

"-loyalty?! You speak to me of loyalty after admitting that the stone was carried away from the mountain at your behest!? I will have none of this! Throw him from the rampart!"

None made a move at this command. Thorin roared and grabbed Bifur who quickly squirmed out of his hold. Enraged now, he swung around and lifted Bilbo by his shoulders. "Fine, I will do it myself. Curse you all!"

He swung Bilbo bodily onto the edge of the stones. The Hobbit struggled and wriggled beneath his clutch, but Thorin would not let go.

"You want to kill me like you did Nadi?" Bilbo hissed in an uncharacteristically venomous display. Thorin's hold on his neck tightened and he choked. "Go right on ahead. I'd rather be dashed to pieces upon these boulders than spend another moment in your tainted presence."

"If you insist," Thorin said in a low voice. "You can deliver my warm greetings when you meet up with Nadi and her spawn-child in the afterlife. Cursed be the Wizard that forced you upon us-"

"Thorin!" Gandalf called as he strolled quickly towards the mountain door. " If you don't like my burglar...then please...don't damage him. Return him to me. You're not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain, are you, Thorin, son of Thrain?"

Bifur handed Bilbo a rope which he tied upon a post and used to descend quickly along the mountain face. Thorin watched him go, his body still as his eyes traced his path.

"Never again will I have dealings with Wizards," he muttered under his breath. "Or Shire rats! Begone, then, all of you! Leave, now!"

"What of the matter then?" Bard called up to him. "Will you have war? Or will you have peace?"

"Spoken to the man who was just accused of killing one of his own," Thranduil said. He drew a magnificent sword from his scabbard and regarded it with appreciation. "I think we are all well aware of his answer."

It was at that moment that a magnificent bird of prey with glossy black feathers came to settle before Thorin. It sat there preening its wings and tossing its neck as Thorin watched it.

So. His callings had been answered. As the grounded troops began to move away and his kin left him standing alone, he stared at the crow. Then, he turned his eyes to the hills beyond. In a day, or maybe two, his cousin Dain would arrive with an army of Dwarves. This news was supposed to fill him with joy. After all, he had spent every day leading up to the moment envisaging the reckoning that would befall all those that had dared oppose him.

But, hard as he tried, he could not summon the joy back into his heart. There was a weightiness hanging upon his shoulders that he could not shake, and it was beginning to frighten him.

He turned away from the wall and descended the staircase quickly, his hand braced upon his stomach. His foot caught up on the bottommost step and he stumbled with a cry. Still, he pushed himself up and began to run as fast as his legs would carry him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the walls around him begin to wriggle and shimmer as if by some mysterious magic. He didn't know what was happening to him. All he knew was that he had to get back to his throne, fast, and collect himself. These panicky spells had begun to assault him with alarming frequency, but he had persevered and hid them well.

Finally, he reached his throne. He flung himself upon the worn stone and braced his arms on either side of his head just as the tears began to flow. He sobbed without shame and yet was not sure why he was crying. Thoughts of Nadi's demise and his fall from grace began to plague his mind, even though he tried his best to push these thoughts away. He told himself that he had done the right thing - that all of his decisions up until that point had been purposeful and true. But now, as he sat there alone - weeping in his big, expansive kingdom - a heart-wrenching pain began to overtake him. This pain had no beginning and no end and he suffered it in solitude.

By chance, he raised his head and glanced at his boots. Small spiders were beginning to scramble from the cracks within the floor. Alarmed, he tried to shake them off but they continued to crawl along his legs. He lifted himself and crawled backward until his back was against the throne. The walls began to glow, pulse, and shift around him. It is not real, he reminded himself as he wrung his hands over his face, it is only a trick of the light. But it all felt too real.

He gasped as a two-headed serpent uncoiled from his boot and began to slither along his leg. The serpent's jaw unhinged and a horde of black roaches began to crawl from its mouth, pooling around his feet like many glittering things. "Begone," he cried as he thrashed his legs. "Away from me, you foul creatures!"

He opened his eyes.

He was in the treasury chamber now. He stumbled back with a shout as he looked around him. When had he gotten there? How much time had passed? He whirled about in confusion, his cape flushing around his ankles as he stumbled through the room. He began to run but remained in the same place. The gold trinkets beneath his feet melded into one and soon his boots were sliding uselessly along the solid gold floor. There was a magnificent roar as many gold streams burst forth from the walls and began to spill along the rocky surface, crackling and quivering as plumes of smoke spewed from the cracks. He was no longer in Erebor: he was now steeped in a nightmare that he could not escape. The ground beneath him rumbled and he watched in horror as the floor gave way a few feet before him. A red glow wriggled along the edge and he knew, intuitively, that the dragon Smaug had risen from the dead and was waiting at the bottom of the trench. He could hear Smaug's labored breathing, feel the dragon's unspoken desire to see Thorin fall and join him.

There was the sound of a match flaring and a small fire sizzling. Thorin turned and saw his dead brother Frerin leaning against a wall. He lifted a pipe to his mouth and took a long, slow pull. In his blue eyes was a hatred that Thorin had never seen before.

"Why are you here?" Thorin asked, his words lost even though his lips moved.

Frerin said nothing to this. His disdain was palpable, but Thorin did not understand its source. It had been so long since Thorin had gazed upon his face: a face just like his with its black beard and strong nose, and yet subtly different. Frerin lifted his pipe and gestured at something beyond Thorin. Thorin turned and muttered 'no' as he gazed upon the countenance of his lost sister, Dis. Her beautiful face was wet with tears, and yet her expression was cold as she gazed upon her brother.

"How is this possible?" Thorin asked her. Children's laughter was echoing through the room, the proportions of which were quickly becoming stretched and distorted.

"I am ashamed to call you my brother," Dis said, her strong body a phantom glow with blurred edges. She looked down with a smile as several Dwarvlings appeared from behind her and began to chase each other around her legs.

"I have done nothing wrong," Thorin said.

"You know that that is not true."

The children were chasing a butterfly wrought with tiny rubies and emeralds. The youngest of the group - a small, brown-skinned girl with her hair tied back- jumped up and caught it in her hands. Thorin knew who they were, then: he was gazing upon the apparitions of Kili, Fili, and Nadi in their youth. They began to run towards him, trailing laughter and merriment in their wake as they jumped and tumbled across the floor. He turned and watched as they passed him by. Except now they were changing, growing older by the second. As he watched with bittersweet nostalgia, they grew taller and stronger, their faces and limbs fleshing out as they ran with renewed vigor. A beard began to flush along Kili's face as he followed Fili who was wearing an oversized crown.

And they were running, right towards the ledge. The dragon below gave a roar and firelight danced upon the walls.

"Wait, stop!" He begged them, but they did not listen. Older and older they grew until they reached their present age. Fili was the first to dive off of the ledge, followed by his grinning brother. Nadi was close at their heels, tugging along a small child that bared Kili's features. She stopped at the edge and turned to face Thorin, her face full of loving trust.

"Nadi-" he tried and she laughed.

"This is what you wanted, right?" She asked in an echoing voice. She picked up her son and held him tight to her breasts. The two of them stared back at Thorin, their faces so similar in the wriggling firelight. "You…wanted us dead."

"Nadi, NO-"

But he was too late. She let her head fall back and then her body followed as she tipped backward upon the ledge. He fell to his knees upon the ledge, reaching out for her but she was gone. The firelight from below increased with a sudden luminosity as he watched the three of them fall into the smokey abyss.

"They were only children," Dis said from behind him as he clenched his empty fist. Frerin took another pull from his pipe, his eyes never leaving Thorin. "And yet you would see them perish for your greed. How dare you cry for her, now that you've sentenced her to death? Was her life really worth so little to you?"

"I was wrong…" he said, his chest heaving as his world continued to shift and roll around him.

"And you will carry that weight, unless…"

Thorin stood up slowly and turned to face his dead siblings. They were both watching him: Dis's face was covered with tears and Frerin's face twisted in hatred as the walls of the mountain tumbled around them.

"It is not too late," Frerin finally said. "You know, in your heart, that the girl lives. But not for long."

"What must I do?"

"Find her. Stop what you have set in motion," came Bilbo's voice. But the Hobbit was not there, he was in Dale with Gandalf and Bard. "War is coming, Thorin, a war that you started," the bodiless voice continued. "Protect her, protect her child. It is the least that you can do."

It was settled. The darkness in Thorin's heart shifted, making way for a ray of desperate hope the likes of which he had not felt in a long time. That night, he fled Erebor in secret. He mounted a pony that he found wandering the plains and whipped it into a frenzy. A few from Dale witnessed his departure but did not speak on it. There was only one thing on his mind as the wind blew in icy gusts across his face.

Find Khurza, and stop her before it was too late.