Author's Note: Long, long chapter that involves much Frodo shenanigans, Thorin over-reactions and the company spending a good chunk of once again knocking some much needed sense into their majestic idiot of a King. If only they knew that they'll be doing this for quite some time still... actually they probably do know and I can think of some who are probably banging their heads against rocks... no wonder Balin buggers off to Moria (though I'm still trying to decided if I'll have that happen in this verse or not.)

This chapter is a bit up and down, it has some high points and some low. I probably could have broken it into two (maybe even three) chapters, but I just couldn't find the right place to break it and really, this is the last chapter before Bilbo reaches Erebor and I know you're all just about dying for her to get there already so, lets not drag it out any longer, shall we?

Anyway, please enjoy this long and winding chapter of kids being brats, adults being idiots and the overall madness that happens within Erebor's stone walls. Enjoy!

Chapter Forty-Four

Nowhere, a Grudge Will Lead

Frodo could barely contain his glee as he played tag with Bombur's boys. It had been so long since he had played with someone of a similar age to him and as much as he missed Sam and Merry and all his Took and Brandybuck cousins, there was just something about playing with dwarrow children. They were much more rough and tumble than hobbit fauntlings were. Happy to explore and play fight in ways hobbits children were simply not able to and were never interested to try.

Yes, he had several bruises already from his rough housing with Bofar and Bofdur but they had all been received in good fun and he delivered a few blows himself that were causing some swelling and bruising to the two dwarf lads faces.

"Honestly, leave you lot alone for ten minutes and ya look as if you've fallen off a cliff!" Eir, Bombur's pregnant wife was growling in exasperation at them as they ran circles around her legs, laughing hysterically as they did so.

Frodo giggled along with the two dwarf boys before they ran out of Bombur's home and shot off down one corridor and then another. Even though Frodo's feet were still bandaged, he was now given free rein to run around, just as long as he stayed within particular areas of the mountain.

"Tag." Bofdur cried as he shoved his older brother. Bofar gave a small cry before lunging at his brother who squealed and jumped away.

"Run Frodo!" Bofdur yelled and Frodo gleefully shot ahead laughing as he heard Bofar swearing as he ran after the two of them.

Frodo laughed loudly as he jumped down some stairs, Bofdur following close behind him.

"Who are you then?" Frodo staggered to stop causing Bofdur to smash straight into his back and almost sent him toppling downwards to the stone floor of the corridor.

Rubbing the sore spot on his spine, Frodo blinked cautiously up at the nasty tone speaker, ignoring Bofdur's worry gasp from behind him.

"I asked you," a young dwarf with only the shadows of a beard gracing his chin poked Frodo's chest, "who you are?"

"Frodo Baggins." Frodo replied feeling his hackles stick up at being poked so roughly in his chest, "at your service." The other young dwarflings standing behind the rude one before him, snorted to one another, pointing to his feet and whispering to each other.

Bofdur took hold of Frodo's arm and gave it a small tug, clearly trying to convince Frodo, without using words that it was high time for them to leave, hopefully in the direction of home and Bofdur's mother's arms.

"What do you want Wren son of Tren." Frodo looked over his shoulder at where Bofar was moving cautiously down the stairs towards them.

"None of your business peasant." Wren sneered and Frodo felt his temper rise.

"We're all equals here Wren. The King says that no one is below anyone else within Erebor's great walls." Bofar replied but his eyes flashed dangerously and he moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Frodo with Bofdur whimpering softly behind them.

Wren and his followers snorted and took a menacing step towards them.

"Your father and uncles may have been able to trick the king into thinking that they are greater dwarves than they are, but the rest of us see you all for what you truly are; minors, toymakers, the lowest of the low. You will never be our equal Bofar son of Bombur and you never will…"

"And yet," Frodo snapped, "it was his father and his uncles that came when Thorin called; they who possessed the willing hearts to follow him through the deepest mountains, the darkest forests and into the very heart of the Dragon's den. I don't seem to remember your father's name ever being mention? Was he always a loyal follower of Thorin or did he only become a friend and ally when Erebor was reclaimed and the gold and jewels started flowing once more?"

"And what," Wren snarled, his wide face turning an interesting pink shade as he gave Frodo's shoulder a shove, "would you know about that."

"More than you ever will, you ignorant frog!" Frodo shot back and the next thing he knew he was flat on his back, his nose bleeding profusely. He heard above him Bofar and Bofdur roaring savagely and suddenly there was an all-out fight going on above his head.

Fighting back a sob, Frodo dragged himself to his feet and lunged at Wren who had stuck Bofdur into a headlock and started beating and kicking him furiously. He was smacked in the back of the head for his troubles but at least Bofdur was free and was sprinting down the corridor, obviously determined to grab the help of an adult.

Frodo was about to yell for him to stop, to not get anyone when he was dragged to the bottom of a shrieking, yelling, kicking, beating pile of wrestling youngster".

"What by Mahal's hammer is going on here?" Frodo fist dug further into Wren's face as he head shot up around the wrestling bodies around him to stare sheepishly at Dwalin who was striding towards them purposefully.

Frodo bit back at yelp as he was wrenched free of the pile, Bofar following shortly behind him

"He started it Master Dwalin." Wren spat, pointing a shaking hand at Frodo who glared back at him venomously.

"Did he now?" Dwalin asked, keeping a firm grip on the collar of Frodo's shirt.

"Yes," Wren and several of his followers nodded their heads vigorously, "we were simply minding our own business when these three jumped out and started attacking us."

"Aye, really?" Dwalin rumbled, not sounding like he believed Wren for a single second.

"They did," the dark haired dwarrow lad insisted, "They started the fight and as soon as my father hears…"

"Oh yea?" Frodo asked thickly, his nose clogged with blood and snot, "And are ya gonna 'ell him tat I finished it 'oo." He stuck his tongue out and watched as Wren's face turned furiously red beneath the bruises that Frodo had inflicted upon his face.

"Shut it, mongrel or did your whore of a mother not teach you better manners when it comes to speaking to your betters?" Wren snarled back at him and Frodo saw red.

"Oi, now."

Whack!

TMPoT

Thorin was seated with several of his council members inside his council chambers, thoroughly bored by the proceedings and struggling to stay awake.

He glanced to his side where Fili and Balin were both diligently taking notes of the current discussion that Thorin had tuned out of long ago. Not that he was the only one to have done so, it should be mentioned. From his vintage point, he could clearly see Kili, who was seated between Fili and Balin, drawing stick figures, spiders – and was that meant to be a dragon? – all over the parchment in front of him.

"Sire?" Thorin's head snapped in the direction of one of his slimmest council members, Lord Tren of the Iron Hills. If the dwarf wasn't a dignitary and advisor of Dain's Court, Thorin would have thrown him out of his mountain the moment the slimy bastard step inside the entrance hall. His family along with him. He had already heard that his boy was causing issues for Bombur's lads and…

"Sire?"

"Ah, yes, um…" he was spared from humiliating himself by having to admit that he hadn't been paying attention for the last ten or so minutes by a loud knock on the council doors.

Thorin nodded at Kili, who looked overwhelmingly delighted at having something to do to relieve his boredom even if it was only for a few moments and it was only by answering a door.

"But we are in session." Lord Tren protested furiously, a protest Thorin ignored and Kili opened the door only for him to give a strangled sort of yelp as a dark haired dwafling tried to shove his way past him.

"OI!"

"ADAD!" the dwarfling cried as he continued trying to shove his way past Kili, his face black and blue. Lord Tren was on his feet in a moment, completely forgetting his annoyance over the interruption of their council session, his face now a picture of rage as he took in his lad's state.

"Wren, who did this to you?!"

"He-he did." The dwarfling cried, shoved a fist in the direction he had come, his chest heaving. "He attacked me without any cause to and…"

"You mag-got!" Thorin closed his eyes, mentally groaning at the unmistakable voice crying out in outrage from somewhere in the corridor outside.

"Frodo!" Kili yelped as he stared out the open doorway, his eye wide as he took in the boy child Thorin could not yet see from where he was sitting. He did sit a little straight at the mention of his child's name, not only because of the way Kili had said but also because of the small fact that his council didn't exactly know the full extent of his relationship with his burglar's child.

"You mag-got! You 'oul, loathsome 'ittle mag-got." Frodo came barrelling into the room in clear pursuit of Lord Tren's son, only stopping because Kili had the wits about him to grab him by the collar of his shirt.

Thorin fumed over the sight the child present him. As bruised and rough up as Tren's lad looked, his own lad looked a right sight worse with blood pouring out of an obviously broken nose, staining his clothes almost black, blue and purple bruise decorating one side of his face, a split lip and curls wild. The only upside that Thorin could possibly think of about the current situation was that Frodo was showing he still had some fire in him while Tren's brat looked ready to keel over.

"Don't go insulting some-un and then run for it!" Frodo was bellowing threw a blood clogged nose over Kili's restraining arms, "What are you? A cow-ward?"

"Lad!" Thorin pressed a hand to his forehead as Tren snarled furiously at Frodo, "How dare you call my lad a coward when you attacked him when he's back was turned."

"Didn't," Frodo responded but there was far less fire in his voice as the lad took in his surrounding and took in the fact that he had probably just landed himself into even deeper trouble than he was probably already in.

"Did too," Tren's lad said around a smug grin that caused Frodo to twitch furiously in Kili's arms.

"Did… NOT! You 'tacked us first," Frodo said, taking deep breaths as he spoke, his eyes narrowed and furious, "first with insults than with fists. You started t'is fight, I just finished it." Frodo's lips curled into a smug grin while Lord Tren's lad spluttered indignation.

"True that." Dwalin said as he came to lean upon the doorframe behind Kili.

"Getting slow old man." Kili greeted him teasingly.

"Oh yeah?" Kili let out a loud yelp as Dwalin, quick as lightening smack him the upside of his skull, "Slow, huh?"

"Ouch," Kili whined rubbing the spot oh his head that Dwalin had smacked.

"Sorry," Dwalin apologies, mostly to Thorin, "little buggers are quick." He shot Lord Tren's lad a hard look.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lord Tren snarled, "My lad was attacked by that…" Lord Tren's head cocked his head to one side and Thorin could of sworn he heard the coin dropping inside of his head.

"Your letting the traitor's brat run freely around Erebor?" Tren spoke in outrage, his eyes never leaving Frodo's face which had twisted into a look of fury, so unnatural and disturbing upon his young and usually so joyful face.

"Don't call my…"

"Frodo," Thorin said and shot the lad a warning look. He was pleased when he saw the lad closing his mouth and falling respectively silent.

"I do believe that is none of your concern, Lord Tren, as your business here is for trade between the Iron Hills and Erebor, not in my care of old friends and their children."

"It is my business when such children are attacking my son and heir." Lord Tren snapped back furiously and Thorin sighed.

"Maybe we could continue this conversation in my private study?" Thorin offered, quickly dismissing the rest of his council with a sharp nod of his head.

"Kili take Frodo up to his rooms. Dwalin if you could be so kind as to return Lord Tren's son to his mother, that would be appreciated greatly." He added ignoring the annoyed and confused looks being sent his way.

Dwalin shot him a thoroughly unimpressed look before snatching hold of Lord Wren's son by the scruff of his neck and hauled him out of the chambers followed shortly by Kili and Frodo.

"Sire." Lord Tren muttered, his lips pursed in fury. Thorin fought the desire to rub his face. He was sure he was going to need a large drink after this.

TMPoT

"So?" Thorin hid a jump as he looked up from one of his mountains of paper work on his great wooden desk, his eyebrows raised as Dwalin walked into his study that Lord Tren had just vacated moments before.

"So?" Thorin retorted, feeling very tired all of sudden and not at all in the mood for Dwalin's games.

"What arrangements have you made with the slimy bastard?"

"None." Thorin replied, turning back to his papers, "but the boy will have to make a formal apology to Lord Tren and his son."

"You must be joking!" Dwalin gapped at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open a little.

"Do I look like I'm joking Dwalin?" Thorin growled, looking longingly towards his liquor cabinet.

"Thorin, I know this is not how you want the lad to act, certainly not around the brats of stuck-up lords that we annoyingly need to do trade threw, but honestly Thorin, it wasn't the laddie's fault."

"His fault or not," Thorin sighed, "Lord Tren has demanded…"

"I don't bloody care what Lord Tren has demanded." Dwalin growled pressing his closed fists upon Thorin's desk and leant towards his King, "If he has demanded anything other than he's own son to apologies to Frodo and Bombur's lads than, I don't give a damn and he can stick his damn up his arse! The brat and all his little cretins deserved what Frodo and Bombur's lad dished out to them."

"Dwalin…"

"The boy started this Thorin and as Frodo said, he simply finished it."

"With his fists?"

"Like we never finished our disputes like that. Almost all of them, I do believe." Dwalin grinned while Thorin shook his head.

"Even so…"

"Thorin, the boy was asking for it. Yes, the little lad should have tried to sort it out without resorting to his fists… and feet, but you weren't there, you didn't hear what the little brat was saying."

"Such as…" Thorin watched as Dwalin hesitated, which of course meant that it was something bad. And since there were very few things that actually seemed to rile Frodo, Thorin could take a fairly accurate (he was quite sure about this too) stab at what might have upset his son so much so that he forgot all his usual cheer and go completely berserk upon another child. Another child who probably deserved every bit of the thrashing he received from Frodo but that was completely beside the point.

Thorin shook his head, sighing heavily.

"Never mind, I do believe I don't want to know." Thorin said as he stood up from his desk and moved past Dwalin to his study door.

"Where you off to?" Dwalin questioned, falling in step with him as they left his study.

"To see my wild and ill-raised son." Thorin replied threw gritted teeth. Dwalin gave him a wild look and Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose, "Lord Tren's words, not mine."

"Ah, so… he knows then?"

"Well, it's not hard to make the connection," Thorin sighed bitterly, "and with him knowing…"

"Everyone within the mountain will know." Dwalin finished and Thorin let a long hard breath out threw his nose.

"They were going to find out sooner or later, Thorin."

"Yes," Thorin retorted furiously, "but on my terms, not threw some slimy bastard only out to make a bit more coin for himself."

"Let us hope he'll be gone before our burglar arrives." Thorin simply shook his head, knowing that that was too much to hope for what with the coming of Durin's day and the new knowledge the Lord possessed about Thorin.

"Is-is he hurt badly?" Thorin said coming to a halt at the end of the corridor leading to the royal guest chambers that the hobbit were currently staying in. "the lad is he… I didn't get a good look at him in the council room."

"He's more bruised than anything else, though I believe his nose is broken. But," And Dwalin was beginning to smirk, "you think he looks bad, you should have seen Lord Tren's brat's little friends. According to young Bofar, Frodo was the one who did the real number on them. You have a true fighter on your hands Thorin. I look forward to giving 'im some proper training."

"If his mother will allow it." Thorin snorted.

"Eh, why wouldn't she? She wasn't a bad little fighter 'erself when the mood took her, even if she did seem to forget all the training we gave her with that little letter-opener when the going got tough."

"She was never meant to be a fighter Dwalin." Thorin muttered heavily, absently rubbing the ache in his chest.

"Aye maybe, but when the going got tough she still fought with us." Dwalin replied and Thorin nodded silently.

In companionable silence the two made their way to down the corridor, coming to the door from which behind it they both could hear half-hearted chiding and amused tuttering.

Dwalin knocked upon the door once before entering the room, Thorin entering a moment after him causing for the room to become momentarily quieten down before the noise picked up again.

Thorin searched for the source of his current headache, quickly finding him sitting in an armchair, playing absently with some painted wooden toys – please let one those toys not be a dragon! – while Oin checked him over.

His nose was swollen and Thorin could see the lad was not going to get just one spectacular black eye but rather two, the lucky lad.

He looked very sheepish when he saw Thorin standing there, blushing deeply behind his bruise cheeks.

"Your mother is going to have my head the moment she sees you." was the first thing Thorin spoke all the while thinking that this would not be the only reason why Billanna would be asking for his head on a silver platter.

"Ours too." Paladin was sighing, though he looked more amused than anything else. Saradoc nodded as he gave Frodo's hair an affectionate ruffle.

"Really Frodo, I thought you had learnt your lesson about fighting those who were bigger than you after you last scuffle with Fatty Bolger."

"I won 'at!" Frodo protested, crossing his arms across his chest, wincing ever so slightly as he did so.

"Only because you tripped him up. And didn't he sit on you for a good three minutes before you finally kicked him off?" Paladin teased causing several amused chuckles from different members of the company.

"I sill won! And he 'asn't teased Sam or Rosie ever 'ince." Frodo added proudly while his two hobbit uncles rolled their eyes at each other in amusement.

"Yes but didn't your mother also ground you for two weeks…" Paladin question tapping his chin in a teasing manner causing Frodo to pout.

"Mam-be…" he glanced nervously around the room, his eyes landing upon Thorin, "I'm in b-ig wouble, aren't I?"

"Oh no," Thorin said striding to his child's side, taking hold of the boy's chin in his hand and peered into his face, assessing his broken nose and the bruises covering a good chunk of his face, "you're in huge trouble."

The boy pouted.

"For 'ighting? Or for being k'aught 'ighting?" The boy asked and Thorin heard his company and the hobbits behind and around him snigger as one.

"And which would your mother think the worst offense?" he asked as he let go of the boy's chin and took a measured step away from him.

The boy gave him a sly smile.

"Oo do ya t'ink 'aught me to 'ead-butt?" Behind him, Thorin heard Dwalin let out a bark of laughter.

"Oh, and a fine head-butt you landed on Lord Tren's brat too." Thorin sighed listening to his fellow company cheered.

"Should I even bother asking what the fight was about?" He asked pinching his nose.

"W'en and his friends… they – they started it! They were insul-ting Bofar and Bofdur and they wouldn't shut up, so I… I, um…" Frodo blushed sheepishly

"Yes?" Thorin prompted.

"I called 'im an… an ignorant frog." Frodo absently went to rub his nose, only to wince as a sharp stab of pain to shoot through his skull, "he didn't like that, obversy, cause he pun-ched me 'ight after-wards. Tat's when Bofar and Bofdur jump't in."

"So the whole fight was over you calling him a what? An ignorant frog?" Saradoc asked sounding a tad sceptical.

"Um," Frodo blushed beneath his bruises, "I may 'ave pro-oked him a 'ittle bit."

"A little?" Dwalin asked with a small smirk.

"Dust a 'ittle." Frodo held up his hand, holding his thumb and forefinger maybe an inch apart.

"Frodo." Saradoc groaned while Paladin chuckled.

"Remind me," Saradoc sighed, rubbing a hand over his dark sandy brown curls, "to tell you at a later date just how many fights your mama got into when she was younger because she let her tongue run away from her. Or better yet, get Lotho to tell you, he fell victim many a time to her words and fists."

"Hilarious." Lotho snapped from where he was sitting at the table reading a heavy book. "Difference between his mother's fights and the fights the boy's getting himself into here, are that his mother was fighting hobbits, he's fighting dwarves." The surely hobbit looked up from his book to fix Frodo with a hard look, "You might want to stick to people your own size and weight, or else you're next fight you might end up having more than a broken nose and bruises."

"There won't be a next time." Thorin rumpled. "After you've apologized to Lord Tren's son, you are confined to these chambers until your mother's arrival."

"'ut…" Frodo started while several dwarves around them grumbled under their breathes. "He star-ted it! He 'ould be apologizing to Bofar and Bofdur for the th'ings he said to 'em, not me to 'im! He 'served what he got! I won't… I won't apologize! Not un-less he apologizes to 'em 'irst." He glared angrily up at Thorin and Thorin was struck hard by just how much the lad looked like him.

Was there more of him inside of this child than his mirrored appearance? By Mahal's hammer don't let the child possess his weakness, let him be stronger than Thorin could ever be.

"You will," Thorin said looking away from the reproachful sapphires, "you will swallow your pride and apologise. And," he added determined to stop all outraged protests from the child before him and the company around him, "I will see if I cannot get Tren's brat to do the same."

"Mama…"

"Your mother would make you do the same." Saradoc stepped in before Thorin could say anything on the matter of Frodo's mother. "You know that she would, laddie."

"'ut he star-ted it." Frodo growled angrily, "and he's going to keep starting t'ings 'til someone is brave 'nough 'ops 'im!"

"Laddie," Balin spoke gently, stepping forward and to come stand by Thorin's side in front of Frodo' armchair, "you're speaking as if you were both grown dwarves. But neither of you are. You are both just children, and what do children do? They squabble. Let the squabble go, don't let it fester inside of you and form a grudge. Grudges," and Thorin felt Balin's eyes upon, "get you nowhere. Let it go. Swallow you pride, apologise and before you know the brat will have returned to Iron Hills with his father and you will be once more with your mother. Think of that and not on this silly fight. "

Frodo's chest was heaving and he still appeared furious but after a few moments he swallowed and nodded.

"O-kay."

"Good lad." Balin said with a wide parental smile and the others in the room breathed a sigh of relief while Thorin still stewed.

"I'm still grounded though, aren't I?" Frodo asked, looking to Thorin who glanced away from him.

"Until your mother arrives, yes. She can decide upon whether or not further punishment is needed." Thorin said and with that he turned and all but stalked from the chamber.

"Thorin." He heard Dwalin calling after him but stalked onwards,passing his nephews who were carrying bundles of food in their arms.

"Uncle?" he ignored them and moved onwards, to his study, slamming the door behind him and marched to his liquor cabinet, snatching up a flagon and pouring into it as much of his strongest liquor as it could hold before flopping heavily into his armchair.

He had barely taken to mouthfuls of the powerful stuff before his study door was thrown open.

"What in the bloody name of Durin was tha' all about?" Dwalin snarled as he and Balin marched into his study.

"What was what?"

"You and the lad! You were getting on fine one moment and then looking at him as if he were Smaug or Azog reborn." Dwalin rumbled furiously.

Balin nodded is agreement for his brother's words though his eyes held a hint of understanding in them.

Thorin shook his head and took another large swig of alcohol.

"Thorin!"

"He is like me… too much so. I can't…"

"Thorin!"

"I thought – I hoped it was only in looks that he took after me, but," Thorin shook his head, eyes wild and frantic as he looked over at his two oldest friends, "there is more of me in him than I thought and I cannot… will not allow for that to grow and fester within him. I will not…" Thorin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "He is Durin reborn, which means that Durin's curse will have an even greater hold upon him. I will not risk him falling to the evil that I…"

"But Thorin," Balin interrupted him gently, coming to move by his side, "it did not consume you. You were able to overcome its grips."

"Yes, but at what cost? When I cast out and harmed the one thing that actually mattered in my heart. I do not want him to be broken from this curse the same way as I was. I do not ever want him to fall victim to this curse, not if I can do something to stop it."

"And you think that by distancing yourself from him? Making him feel unwanted… unloved… will stop him falling to the darkness? That it will stop the sickness from festering within his heart? No Thorin, you may think you will be sparing him," Balin shook his white head, "but all you will be doing will be inviting it to him, doors wide open, begging to it tear apart the little boy who is only craving the love of a father he has not known all his life."

"And what, Balin," Thorin snarled at his friend, "would you have me do instead?"

"Be the father that I know is you are desperately craving to be to the boy. Mentor him, teach him to control his pride and temper, simply be there for him."

"And his mother? You do not think she will fear what my influences might have on the boy?" Thorin muttered bitterly.

"I cannot tell you Bilbo's mind. But I can tell you this, from what I know of our Hobbit, is that she would be far unhappier and angrier with you for pushing away your son than if you created a bond with him."

"He's right, laddie." Dwalin said and Thorin groaned.

"I do not know what I am supposed to do. With Fili and Kili everything seemed simpler; I knew what I was meant to do, what I was meant to be to them. But with the boy… I feel like I did in those early days of Smaug's desolation, completely lost and unsure of myself and what I was expected to do."

"But you survived and lead us true." Balin replied.

"Yes, and after how many wrong turns? At how many loses?"

"You are not in this alone, lad. We are with you, every one of us and soon, so will our burglar."

"She is another matter entirely." Thorin groaned.

"Aye, true that. But do you not think it would be better for all for her to meet with you again, with you having forged a strong bond with your child or for her to see the pair of you as nothing better than strangers?"

"But what if…"

"If he does, by some ill fortune, fall victim to the gold sickness, we will help him through it… you will help him through it."

"You have far more faith in me, my old friend, than I do."

"Give yourself time." Balin said gently, "soon you will do everything in your power to protect the laddie."

"I thought that was exactly what I was trying to do?"

"No, this is you burying your head in rock." Dwalin said helping himself to some of Thorin's liquor, pouring himself and Balin large mugs of amber liquor.

Thorin snorted but his shoulders sagged a little, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from them.

"Does the laddie know yet?" Dwalin asked as he and Balin sat down opposite him over his desk.

"Ah… yes, he does actually." Thorin admitted as he took a sip of his drink, "he had suspicions; I only confirmed them the other night."

"Eh? When?"

"The lad has wandering feet. Followed him to Smaug's bedroom. There we, ah… talked."

Fundin's sons raised their eyebrows at Thorin

"Smart lad." Dwalin said.

"Takes after his mother. Thank Mahal." Balin said softly into his mug.

"What was that?" Thorin asked with raised eyebrows.

"Hmmm? Oh nothing, nothing." Balin grinned back at him, all the while, Thorin rolled his eyes at Dwalin who was chuckling into his own mug.

"I will… make it up to the lad."

"See that you do." Balin said, "He's a good lad Thorin."

"And Tren's brat really did have it coming." Dwalin added with a growl.

"Why do I have a feeling that their fight had more than the brat simply insulting Bofar and Bofdur?" Thorin asked and watched as Dwalin grimaced.

"It does, but you can get the reason from the little laddie."

Thorin nodded and three sat in comfortable silence as they drank the rest of their liquor.

"You'll get the hang of it." Dwalin said as they got up and made to leave Thorin's.

"And if not…"

"Billanna will simply burn my braids." Thorin replied and the two brothers laughed.

TMPoT

Thorin was pleased that by the time he arrived went back to the hobbits chambers that the rest of his company had departed after a quick snack.

The hobbits greeted him a tad apprehensively but stepped back and allowed him in. His lips quirked into a small smile when he saw Frodo crouched by the roaring fire, happily playing with some stone and wooden blocks that he had stacked into a rather impressive replicator of Erebor.

Scattered around his mini mountain were metal and wooden figures that he was moving around, his lips moving soundlessly as he played.

"Frodo." Frodo's head jerked up, his blue eyes wide with surprise as his mind withdrew from his make-believe world and back into the present.

"Ah, 'ello." Frodo's nose now had a white bandaged over its ridge and his curls were gently curling over his forehead and around his ever so slightly pointed ears.

"May I?" Thorin asked as he watched out of the corner of his eye as the hobbits moved respectively off to their own rooms.

"Eh, 'es. Ple –ase 'ave a seat." Frodo gestured to the armchair that sat in front of the fire. After a moment Thorin sat down and Frodo looked up at him, hesitation filling his sapphire orbs.

"I'm not angry." Thorin started off because he knew that was something the child was probably worrying over.

"'Ut y-our dis-appointed, 'ight?" Frodo guessed, his sapphire eyes holding far too much wisdom in them for one so young.

"No, not really." Thorin admitted, leaning forward in the armchair, his hands hanging loosely into his lap, "I mean, I should be. That and angry at you, but I can't. Maybe because as of yet I still don't feel as if I have the right to be angry at you as a parent in these circumstances would be."

"t'en why did you look so an-gry b'fore?" Frodo asked a tad too cautiously for Thorin's liking.

"Because," Thorin sighed, "I thought I saw something that made me afraid."

"w'at?" Thorin shook his head, gently resting a hand upon Frodo's curly head.

"It is one of those things that is complicated. Not because I think you are silly or childish but because you are simply still too young to properly understand. When you are older I will explain to you what it was that I was worried about."

"Pas tentses? Aren't 'ou til a-faid?"

"I am, still" Thorin admitted, "but I have decided not to allow it to consume me. It will do no one any good, least of all you."

"Oh…ood." Frodo grinned widely before wincing as the muscles in his face stretched. "Ow."

"Yes. They do look rather painful." Thorin said.

"til won." Frodo retorted and Thorin chuckled before sitting back and comfortably watched as Frodo went on to build several more mountains and had his toys run over them – and yes there was, annoyingly, a dragon and several elves among his army of dwarves.

Thorin was content to sit there for hours, only for the quietness and peace to end all too soon as Balin, very apologetically came to retrieve him for another council meeting.

"B'ye." Frodo said with happy smile as he waved Thorin goodbye clutching in his hands a large black bear and gold and red painted dragon.

"Behave." Thorin ordered and fought back a smile as the lad gave him only a cheeky grin and innocent eyes before returning to his play.

Thorin left the chamber with a much lighter heart than the one he had stormed out with only a couple of hours earlier.

Author's Note: I can't write people who have broken noses (as I've never had one and have only heard people in movies and TV shows speak with one, that was what I went with. That and pinching my nose close and speaking out Frodo's lines as I typed. My parents found it hilarious) . I write them as well as I write Bofur's, Oin's, Gloin's and Dwalin's accents, which is not very well. But I did my best and thankfully Frodo is a fast healer so him talking with a stuff up, broken nose is only for this chapter :)
Doesn't our majestic idiot of a king over-react? Frodo show's him the slightest indication that he may have inherited the Durin's line temper - though it could very well be the Took temper for all we know - and he immediately starts freaking out. The gold-sickness really did a number on him and he's absolutely petrified that Fili, Kili and now Frodo might suffer the same fate and he will be powerless to stop or help them thorough it. It's, I think, one of his greatest fear, along with losing them. And Bilbo hating him, of course.
Anyway, so next chapter Bilbo will be arriving to Erebor... YAY! FINALLY! And there might even be a bit of a Thorin/Bilbo moment, maybe, possibly... only took forty-five chapters, not counting flash-backs (a grand total of what, two?).
It's amazing, this whole fanfic is basically centre around Bagginshield and they haven't had an actual scene together for forty-four chapters. It's completely insane. I will be trying to make up for that, I promise. They're not fighting too much in my head, but who knows what will happen when I write scenes with them together. Oh gods, the bickering! About the most stupidest of things. Come on, you know that they will. They'll fight over the tiniest of things all the while trying to avoid the huge oilphaunt in the centre of the Throne Room, with the Arkenstone on it's brow.
Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I'll see you all again soon.
Bye!