Dark Side of the Moon

by Hobbsy3

When the peace of the Shire is shattered by a frantic wizard and Darkness falls upon Erebor, the patchwork family of Kili Baggins is thrown into chaos. Sundered by distance and duty, they must each play a part in the war revolving around the Ring that has long dwelt in Bilbo's pocket. But a conspiracy forms in the shadows and the Ring vanishes, putting the whole world at stake. T/M

83. Chapter 83:Potential Problems with Pairs

Hey there! Sorry for another delay - again, real life is pretty busy right now.

As ever, please forgive any mistakes here.

Chapter Eighty Three: Potential Problems with Pairs

"Y'know, lass, this doesn't go any easier if you hold your breath."

A small, sheepish smile tried to twitch onto Dís' cheeks, but nerves brushed it away after one feeble moment. She forced herself to breathe out, and then in again, but it was hard. Very hard.

It had been a long time since she had lain on her back in the Royal Healing Halls, with her stomach exposed and a healer and a midwife standing over her. But it had not been long enough. The last time she was here, Thora had taken Dís' hands gently in her own, and softly told her that they could no longer feel the baby moving, nor hear any trace of a heartbeat.

Dís took a deep breath, trying to banish the memory to the darkest depths of her mind. It would not help her. Besides, the baby seemed to be engaged in a vendetta against her belly button, kicking at it ceaselessly. They were definitely still moving. Definitely still there.

But Dís was afraid, so afraid, that something would be wrong. If it was, she did not want to know. She was not sure she could stand it.

"Did you not hear me, Dís? Breathe, woman. You'll raise your blood pressure," chided Óin, prodding her rather unceremoniously on the nose as if she was a little girl again.

She raised her eyebrows. "When did my sweet little cousin grow into such a mannerless brute?"

"That's more like it," said Óin, grinning in satisfaction and pulling out his measuring tape. "Now, when do you think you fell pregnant? How long ago, now?"

Dís sighed, leaning back a little as Óin positioned his hands on her stomach and began to stretch his tape across it. "It must have been in Rivendell, on the way to the Shire. So, July, perhaps late June? It feels like a lifetime ago… What month is it now?"

"January. The 19th, to be exact," replied Thora, striding over with a steaming cup of lavender tea. "Here. This should help calm you down, though you ought to know by now that we don't bite unless bitten first."

Though she rolled her eyes a little, Dís also gave her friend a grateful smile, and took the tea.

"But that would make you seven months along at most," said Óin, a puzzled frown on his face as he checked, and then double checked, his measurements. "You're surprisingly large for seven months, all things considered."

Dís frowned, trying to keep her composure. "All things considered?"

"Well, the fact that you ought to have another five months to go," Óin said, furrowing his brow. "Though, from what Ellie Took has told me over the years, hobbits tend to carry for nine months, give or take, which'd just give another two or three – now that would make a little more sense with the size you are, but hobbit babes are also typically smaller, and even for a dwarven child with two or three more months, the child's a big'un."

"That's… that's not normally a bad thing…" said Dís, trying not to state it as a question. Thora patted her hand gently.

"No, pet, it's rarely a bad thing. Let's see whereabouts baby's resting, shall we?"

"Somewhere that they can inflict maximum damage upon my belly-button," grumbled Dís, playing up her indignation, and Thora laughed.

"I can feel that," she said, her hands resting over Dís' stomach. They pushed down, gently, applying pressure here and there to get a better feel of the baby's positioning. After a long moment, she nodded at Óin, gently tapping the right side of Dís' stomach.

He nodded, reaching into his kit and pulling out a Midwife's Horn, pressing the cool metal against Dís' bare skin, and putting his ear to the other end. For a long time, he was silent.

A very long time.

"Óin," she said, in the slowest, most controlled voice she could conjure. "Is everything alright?"

Óin stood up, his face grey, and Dís' heart began to pound desperately against her ribs. "I – I can't hear anything, lass, I can't-"

The child in Dís' womb gave a particularly strong kick, and even before Dís could open her mouth to panic Thora gave a snort and ushered him away.

"You're deaf as a damn post, Óin, of course you can't hear anything. I felt that child move not two minutes ago, of course there'll be a heartbeat. Now you're the one who'll be raising her blood pressure, by the Valar." Thora tutted, taking the horn and adjusting its position herself. She leant down, and her hair tickled Dís' stomach as she listened.

And listened.

And listened.

Dís began to count the seconds herself, and when she reached a hundred and twenty, she whispered, "Thora?"

Her friend stood up and turned, taking Dís' hands in hers.

"No," Dís murmured, shaking her head. "No-"

"No, no, don't panic!" said Thora quickly, squeezing Dís' hands with a smile. "There is most definitely a heartbeat there. Definitely. In fact, I am quite certain that I heard two heartbeats."

Dís froze. "T-two?"

Thora nodded, a smile on her face. "Two. Now, both sets of heartbeats are going rather fast – quite a bit faster than I would like them to be – but they both sound strong, and consistent, and there's a good, steady rhythm to them both."

All the air fled from Dís' lungs, and it felt she was falling from a height higher than eagles could fly. The world was spinning, and she was dropping, and she felt weightless, and she could barely breathe, and wonder and fear and exhilaration were soaring through her, and she could see nothing but light above her –

"Breathe, Dís!" barked Óin, prodding her arm.

"Twins?" she gasped, seizing Thora's arm. "Two babies?"

Thora smiled, nodding. "I think so. I am certain of it – there are two heartbeats."

Two heartbeats. Two babies.

Two babies?

"By the Valar," she breathed, staring up at Thora. "But… but I haven't even been able to bear one child to Bilbo – let alone two…"

Thora's smile faded, and she sighed, looking at Óin for a moment. "We can make no promises, Dís, you know that. And it is true that twins pose a greater risk to your health and their own – but for now, they sound strong. They are moving, their hearts are steady… Given how far along you are, I would say they are also of a good size, and we will give them every chance."

Dís winced. "Bed rest?"

Thora shook her head. "No, not completely – I do not think it would help. You should get lots of rest, and lots of sleep as well, but it will be important for you to be strong enough to deliver them both. I say an hour of easy exercise every day – walking, or swimming, perhaps, something that will get your heart-rate up a little, but not push you, and an hour or so of stretching besides that. What's more, we will monitor your diet – you should have plenty of red meat and vegetables to ensure your blood is strong. Lots of vegetables, given that they're half-hobbit babes. And try to keep your stress down."

Dís laughed. "Well, you were making feasible suggestions for a while, there, Thora."

Her friend did not smile. "I mean it, Dís. The higher your stress, the higher your blood pressure – the more danger your babies are in."

"Well, in that case could you please speak to the armies outside and tell them to come back in six months' time?" asked Dís in a perfectly sweet tone. "And while you're at it, it would be lovely if you could repair my son's spine, and just pop out to pick up Frodo on your way."

"I'm not saying it's easy, nor am I saying you have no need for fear," said Thora sombrely. "But you must manage your stress, Dís – you must absolve yourself from courtly duties, you cannot take on any more pressure than that which is already upon you. No conferences, no war meetings, no meeting the people to hear their concerns – none of it. Not until you have given birth."

"I-"

"Fíli and Bilbo are more than capable of fulfilling such roles, and I'm sure Vinca will thank you for something to do. You need to relax, as much as it is possible for you too."

"She's right," said Óin gravely. "Healer's orders. And mind you follow them."

Dís sighed, and then gave an obedient nod. Both healer and midwife seemed to relax at this, and she eased herself up into a seated position, taking the lavender tea in both hands. The warmth was comforting, familiar, and despite herself, she felt her body relax a little as she breathed in the calming scent.

After a long moment, Thora clapped her hands together. "Right – now that we're done, I will have to take my leave of you, my darling. There are other women who need me now. But I will meet you for tea tomorrow."

"Of course." Dís smiled, squeezing Thora's hand. "Thank you. And thank you for taking the time to see me."

Thora tutted, pulling her hand free to give it a dismissive wave, and pressing a kiss to Dís' forehead. "Not only are you my princess, but you are also my friend. It is my pleasure, and my honour."

With a final smile and a quick curtsey, Thora left the room, the door closing behind her with a soft snick. Almost at once, Óin stepped forward, his arms folded over his arms.

"I think you were a fool for leaving Rivendell, Dís."

Dís closed her eyes. She had expected this, of course, from all her family. She was not naïve enough to expect that simply making it home would be a good enough justification for putting herself at risk, but she was also firmly wedded to her choice. And it was her choice after all – hers and hers alone.

But of all her kin, there was no one with more right to criticise her decision than Óin.

"I did what I felt I had to do," she said softly. "For Frodo, and my sons."

"You should've gone back. When you knew you'd not catch Frodo you should've listened to Bilbo and gone back to Rivendell – of all our kin, I'd have hoped you would not gamble with death so freely."

Dís opened her eyes and frowned. "That is not fair – the baby, babies, they are not yet born, Óin, if they pass it shall shatter me, but-"

Óin's voice interrupted her in a whiplash. "I wasn't talking about the babies."

Dís' heart was falling again, but this was not the breathless thrill of discovering that there were two babies within her. This was plummeting down into an abyss of fire and darkness, and battering against ice and rocks on the way down.

Idun.

It was not that she had forgotten Óin 's wife – how could she? She had been Idun's bridesmaid, and Idun had been hers.

It was only seven months after Dís' wedding that Idun passed away delivering a baby who was not breathing.

Dís knew full well that she may be heading for the same fate, and it terrified her, but she had not thought of how difficult that fact would be for Óin to swallow.

"I am truly sorry for worrying you, Óin," she said, reaching out to squeeze his wrist. His hands were still tucked stubbornly beneath his arms. "But I do not regret what I did for my sons."

Óin's nostrils flared, but then he sighed, and shook his head. "Aye, maybe not. But you best help them now, lass. They need you, and they need you here."

"I know," she murmured, but even as tears pricked at her eyes, she smiled. "That's terrible advice you know, as a healer. 'Don't die.' Very helpful."

Óin gave an unrepentant shrug, but Dís thought she saw the crinkle of a smile around his eyes. "Sound and sensible, that's what it is. Come on then, my cousin. Time to go and tell Bilbo the news. Although-" Óin bustled to the other side of the room and held up a small vial of yellow crystals. He shook it, and when Dís raised her eyebrows he grinned. "Smelling salts. Just in case."

Smiling, Dís rose and took Óin 's arm. The walk from the Healing Halls to the Royal Chambers was a matter of minutes, but it was unusually quiet today. They saw but one servant passing by, and a single dwarf travelling in their direction. It was not part of the mountain known for heavy traffic, but it was still a route where you could expect to see a handful of people, were it not in the dead of night.

"I do not like this quiet," she murmured, a smile twitching at her cheek at the irony as Óin frowned, and shoved his trumpet into his ear. "I don't like it when things are this quiet," she said, louder.

"Aye, me neither, lass. But it's been this way since the siege began – folk aren't making many unnecessary trips anymore, even inside the mountain."

Dís sighed, trying to keep her fears in check. The hair on the back of her neck began to stand on end, and she noticed Óin shudder beside her. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he grunted. "Just a bad feeling, that's all."

Dís said nothing – in fact, neither of them spoke again until they had reached the Royal Chambers. The heavy closing of the door behind them let a wave of relief wash over Dís, and she ducked her head into the nearby company room. There was always someone there, always someone to make her smile –

Except that today, it was empty.

With a sigh, she turned to Kíli's quarters, knocking softly on the door.

"Come in," called Fíli's voice, and she led Óin through Kíli's chambers to the bedroom. Normally, the sight of Kíli, Fíli and Bilbo sat peacefully together was something that warmed her heart, but today she felt a pang of sorrow.

Her little Kíli was lying flat on his back, unable to so much as sit up, and she could read his boredom in his fidgeting hands and dull eyes. Sitting on the bed beside him, Fíli looked even worse – the dark rings beneath his eyes were deeper and more noticeable, and his eyes were beginning to look red and bloodshot.

There was also a tell-tale smudge of soot on the side of his neck, telling her that not only had he still not been sleeping, but that he had also been to the forge that morning. Or, Dís thought grimly, he went in the early morning, before Kíli woke up.

Bilbo looked little better than the boys – he was curled up in the chair beside Kíli's bed with a book on his lap, but his gaze was on the ground before the tome and not on the page, and like Fíli, there were dark bags beneath his eyes. He was also oddly pale, and his face was contorted into a frown that was far too sombre for the book of children's poetry on his knee.

When he saw her, however, he leapt from his seat and hurried over. "Well? Is everything alright?" he worried, taking her hands and glancing at Óin. "Dwarven tradition be damned, it still feels like I ought to be in there with you for check ups like this…"

She smiled softly. "It's alright, Bilbo. As far as we can tell, the babies are healthy."

Bilbo's face broke into a wide smile. "Thank the Valar!" He threw his arms around her and kissed her, and as Kíli protested about being far too young to witness such passion, Fíli began to frown.

"Amad," he said slowly. "Did you say babies?"

She smiled, her hand resting on her bump. "I did."

"Well, what did you think was in there?" asked Kíli, frowning at his brother. "Rocks?"

Dís laughed, and as she did Bilbo gasped, his eyes growing wide as saucers, and his hands clamping over his mouth.

"Kíli?" said Fíli slowly.

"Fee?"

"Babies."

There was a pause, and then Kíli jolted, his eyes growing wide as Bilbo's, and his face mirroring his father's so exactly that it was hard to believe they were not related by blood. "Babies? More – more than one baby?"

Dís nodded, "Twins, we think."

"Twins?" squealed Kíli, delight shining from every facet of his face. "That's amazing!"

"That's – alarming," amended Fíli, his sharp eyes studying Dís carefully. "Amad, if there are two of them-"

"We know the risks, Fíli," she said softly, "and we have a plan. Don't worry, dushtêl, I will be fine."

Fíli gave a shadow of a smile, and Kíli's grin faded in the face of it. Concern filed his eyes, only to be flooded out by fear, and she saw his knuckles turn white as he clutched at the bedsheets.

"Dwarves – dwarves can have twins safely, can't they?" he asked, his voice growing faster by the second. "Of, of course they can, can't they, because Marta had Orla and Ola and then Bodin and Bolin and Bo-"

"I will be fine, Kíli," Dís promised, ignoring Óin's awkward shuffle beside her. Only one thing was stopping her from running to Kíli's side and wrapping her arms around him, and that was Bilbo.

He was still standing before her, as white as marble and just as still. He had not moved a muscle – she was not sure that he had even breathed – and she squeezed his hands gently. "Bilbo?"

Óin uncorked the vial of smelling salts and waved it beneath Bilbo's nose, and the hobbit gave a splutter of indignation, batting the dwarf's hand away.

Óin smirked and elbowed Dís' ribs. "Told you we'd need them."

"Twins?" Bilbo breathed.

She nodded.

"You're sure?"

"As sure as one can be, with these things."

"Oh Mahal…" Bilbo's legs gave out entirely, and Kíli cried out, but Dís caught him guiding him back to the chair at their son's bedside.

"I'll be fine," she said, reaching out to take Kíli's hand even as she ran her fingers through Bilbo's curls. "We are home now. We're safe as can be, and I will be fine."

"Marta's had four babes born since she delivered her twins," said Óin reassuringly. "And her pregnancy's normal as anything."

"Exact – wait, Marta is pregnant?" spluttered Dís, turning to Óin "How have I not heard of this?"

"You've only been back two days, for one thing," said Óin, but then his face fell, and his eyes grew soft and sad. "Besides, she and Bombur have had more pressing things to worry about, bless their souls."

A soft blanket of sorrowful silence descended upon them, and Dís sighed, sinking down onto the side of Kíli's bed. His hand tightened around hers and his head tilted towards her, his eyes staring up at her as vulnerable as ever from beneath his dark fringe. "You will be alright, Ama, won't you?"

"Of course, makadmûn," she murmured, smiling and poking his nose with his own hand. "I will be just fine."

"Good," he mumbled. "We need you."

A lump grew in her throat, one she could barely whisper around. "I know."

---

Twins. Of all the things that Dís could have told him to ensure that Thorin would once again have trouble sleeping, the news that she was carrying twins was a strong contender for the most conflicting.

On one hand, he was plagued by fears of the risks to the babes – and more importantly, to their mother. Here, completely alone in the dead of night, Thorin could admit to the stars that he did not think he could survive the death of his sister.

But the thought of two babies growing within her, of having two new nephews or nieces filled his heart with joy and hope so strong that it hurt. He knew full well that hope was more dangerous than despair, that hope could prove folly and slice a soul in two, but he could not help but wonder what they would look like, these dwobbit children. Curly haired, he suspected, and small, but would they take after their mother or father more strongly?

He growled, and turned over in bed, trying to think about something else. Anything else – something to distract him from –

A knock at the door.

Well, he thought, sitting up and striding to the door. that will do.

"Who is it?"

"Dwalin. We've got a visitor."

Thorin opened the door and his jaw clenched. Fury smouldered in Dwalin's dark eyes, and his fists were clenched at his sides. Nori was standing in the shadows behind him, his arms crossed and a grim look on his face.

"I take it this is no naked fox woman," said Thorin, and Dwalin shook his head.

"There's a filthy great orc outside our gates, white flag in hand. He says he has word for you."

At once, Thorin grabbed a coat and a belt from the door, wrapping them around himself and making himself decent, forgoing shoes as he stepped out of the door and locked it behind him. "Well, let's not keep him waiting. Where has he come from?"

Nori's face twisted into an even deeper disgust as they strode down the hall to leave the Royal chambers. "Isengard, he claims, and he's riding the same ugly type o' warg that Saruman's orcs were riding when they came down upon the Beornings. Damn thing looks like it ran into the side of the mountain. And he's one of the wizard's uruk-hai – saw enough of them in battle to recognise 'em... And there's something else."

"I don't much like the sound of that," Thorin muttered, turning to the guards on the door of the royal chambers as they passed. "Kyrri, Mikel, keep close watch tonight."

The guards bowed low, and Thorin looked back to his friends.

"Something else?"

"He asked for Bombur," said Dwalin darkly. "By name and title. Won't say why, but I fear it can't be good."

Thorin swore, picking up the pace. "You sent for him, I presume?"

Dwalin nodded. "Aye. He'll meet us there. Bard, too, though he wasn't asked for. I thought excluding him might make the rabble-rousers among the men-folk stir again."

Thorin nodded his agreement, and within five minutes they came to the inside of the gates. He pretended rather stubbornly that his ageing lungs were not close to wheezing as he jogged up the stairs to the balcony, where, hidden behind the sealed walls of the mountain, Bombur and Bard were waiting for him.

"What news?" he demanded, and they both shook their heads.

"The guards outside say he's still there," said Bombur, his face redder than his hair and sleeked with sweat. "We know no more than you."

Thorin reached towards the door, but Dwalin grabbed his wrist.

"This may yet be a ploy to lure you out and shoot you down," he said gravely. "Let me go first."

There was no part of Thorin that was happy to allow his greatest friend to act as a living decoy, but he knew the sense of Dwalin's words, and that there was little sense in bickering about it. He nodded, but held Dwalin back from moving straight away.

"One moment," he said, and then he turned his eyes to Bard. "I think you should wait inside. This may be an attempt to wreak discord between our peoples, tear us apart from the inside, and if it is, the scum will speak more freely if he does not know you are here."

Bard bowed his head. "Smart. Be careful."

Thorin bowed back, and then nodded at Dwalin, and at the guards. With scare more sound than the soft scrape of stone on stone, the doors opened, and Dwalin strode out onto the balcony, and Nori slipped into the shadows behind him. After a moment, Dwalin nodded, and Nori reappeared at Thorin's side.

"No bow, no long-range weapons that I can see. If you're gonna go out there, now's as good a time as any," he said, and Thorin nodded, glancing at Bombur.

"If you wish to stay inside-"

Bombur shook his head, and Thorin gave a nod. He understood why Bombur looked so afraid – and why he would join them regardless. Thorin doubted that it was a coincidence that the orc had asked for the one high lord in the king's personal circle whose children were stranded outside of the mountain.

Taking a deep breath, Thorin turned, and strode out onto the outer balcony above the gates of his kingdom. He stood at the very centre on a stone that elevated his head and shoulders above the wall of the balcony, while Dwalin and Nori positioned themselves on either side of him, weapons in hand and ready to aim through the battlements. Bombur lingered a little further back, but made himself visible all the same.

The ring of fire formed by the besieging army was whole and unbroken, but there was only one orc on the ground before the gates. True to Nori's word, the warg the villain rode looked more deformed than any other Thorin had ever seen, and his lip curled in disgust. The uruk, too, was different from most – he was larger, and shaped more like a man than most, and there was a mane of thick, matted hair falling down his back.

Thorin stared down, and twisted his voice to sound as bored as he possibly could. "You've come to surrender, I presume?"

The orc grinned, teeth yellow in the moonlight. "Am I speaking to Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain?"

"You are," drawled Thorin. "And you're lucky to be. Lord Bombur is here with me, as I hear you… requested. If you are here to waste our time, I can assure you that you will regret it."

The uruk opened his arms and gave an elaborate bow. "I am Mauhúr, General of the White Hand's forces, and I bring word from the West, from my Master, Saruman the Great. Will you hear me?"

Thorin's teeth ground together at the mere name of the wizard, but he kept his face passive and bored as could be. "I suppose I will."

Mauhúr opened his arms again, leaning back in his saddle. "The Lord Saruman offers his hand to you in friendship – he wishes to ally with the great dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, and for such an alliance he will reward you richly. He shall clear up this mess at your gates, and allow you lordship over the mountain and all lands around it. You shall govern as you ever have, and your city will be untouched in the wars that are to come – no more shall you have to pander to the whim of the elves, or shelter weak menfolk in your halls. Your lands shall be your own once more."

"Pandering to elves?" snarled Dwalin, quiet enough that the uruk would not hear him. "Who the devil does he think he is?"

Thorin nodded slightly in silent agreement, even as anger surged through his very bones. He would never be 'allowed' to govern his own lands – he would rule his kingdom through his own right, or he would die fighting in its defence.

"Oh?" he called down, his voice trembling with the effort to keep his anger masked. "And what would Saruman get from this oh-so-generous agreement?"

"As your known Lord and Master, you would pay homage to him. Ten thousand gold pieces a year – a reasonable price, I am sure – and your army would be at his service."

Thorin could not help it – he spat at the ground. "Saruman is a cowardly swine more foolish than any foul thing that walks this earth if he thinks such an offer will sway us," he snarled. "Durin's Folk have no Master beyond their own lords, and we never will."

Mauhúr's mouth remained bared in a smile, but it grew darker, crueller, and a trickle of dread bled down Thorin's back. "He thought you would say something like that. Saruman is wise beyond your comprehension, and more merciful than you deserve. He insisted that the offer be given first, so that you will know that you always had a chance at aiding him willingly. Here the offer changes. If you agree to Saruman's terms, and send with me the first payment of gold, he will return some things that were lost to you. Alive, whole, largely unharmed. A little dwarven lordling by the name of Bróin, and a little halfling whore that he calls Nelly."

The blood in Thorin's veins turned to stone as he froze, his widening eyes the only outward sign of the horror pouring through him. He had feared a threat like this, but to hear it, to hear the names of their little ones in the voice of an orc…

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the blood drain from Bombur's face, saw his large hands reach out for the support of the stone wall, saw a horror in his eyes so intense that it hurt to see. On his other side, he saw Nori, with a face like an iron mask – unmoving, unreadable. To most. But his hands were shaking, and Thorin could catch a glimpse of horror in the tightening of Nori's eyes, and it did not look like the Spymaster was breathing at all.

"Ah, I thought those names might ring a bell," sneered Mauhúr, and he pulled out a small box from his bag. He rode his ugly warg to the gate, and Thorin signalled for the guards to lower the message cage – a small contraption that allowed items to be drawn up over the wall, but was too small for even a babe to be brought up in. The orc placed the box in the cage and then rode back, his smile ever growing.

"If you choose to cooperate, they will be returned to you, alive. If you reject Saruman's hand, we will bring you the girl's head," Mauhúr said, a sickening look of serenity passing over his face, like one remembering a treasured memory. "Just her head. Wouldn't that make little Bróin sing, watching the rest of her split between the troops for pudding?"

With a wild roar of anger, Nori broke rank, surging forwards and drawing back his arm to throw a blade at the laughing uruk. To Thorin's relief, Bombur caught him in time, wrapping his arms around Nori's chest and dragging him backwards.

"We need, we need more information," Bombur gasped, breathing heavily as Nori began to go still. "Please, Nori, we don't even know where they are."

With a wordless snarl, Nori nodded, and Bombur released him. Slowly, they returned to their positions, and as they did, the messenger cage reached the top of the balcony. At Thorin's signal, one of the Night Guards opened the box, inspecting the contents before nodding, and signing 'safe' in Iglishmêk.

Thorin inclined his head, but turned away from the box for the moment, looking back at Mauhúr instead. The self-assured smile was still written all over the scum's face.

"If you refuse Saruman's offer," the uruk said, as if nothing had happened, "she is good as dead already. But oh, Lord Bombur, do not worry. Even if the king forsakes the halfling whore, he won't be damning your son – not necessarily. Not if you pledge your own, personal service to Saruman the White, and show your loyalty with a payment of six hundred thousand gold coins. Then, he will be returned to you."

Thorin swore beneath his breath, stepping back and turning away, his hands tugging at his beard as the sound of Mauhúr's laughter rose up behind him.

"Thorin," croaked Nori, but his head was shaking, and hopelessness was half-drowning the anger on his face.

"Those are the conditions," Mauhúr called. "Give us your alliance, and you will get your little ones back. Reject us, and we will gut them, and watch as Mordor wears your walls away and rips you apart from the inside."

"Thorin," choked Bombur, looking desperately at his king. "Thorin, do something!"

But Thorin knew. He knew the call he would have to make, the decision that would break Bombur and shatter Nori and eviscerate their entire family.

Because he could not sacrifice the lives of all within the mountain for the sake of two people.

Not even Bróin and Nelly.

Mauhúr's voice rose up again. "You have until dawn to make your decision. Oh, and if you decide to shoot the messenger, my Master will know. And he will be sure to send you what's left of their bodies."

Without a word, Thorin stormed back into the mountain, hearing Bombur and Dwalin and Nori hurry behind him.

"What's the plan?" demanded Dwalin, the moment that the doors closed behind them.

"I – I have to get to the treasury," Bombur gasped, but Thorin shook his head.

"You cannot pay that ransom, Bombur, it-"

"That is my son!" Bombur cried, his voice a broken wail. "I do not care how much it is, or if I have to sell my soul to Saruman to get him back, that is my son-"

"It is not about the gold," said Thorin, grabbing Bombur's shoulders and forcing his friend to meet his eyes. "Listen to me – if it were simply a matter of gold, I would empty the treasury in a heartbeat, and you know that. You do, Bombur. I would give all I had to get them home, safe, and I would not hesitate, but that is not all that is at stake. It is not all that the wizard would gain. He cannot claim governance over Erebor, and he cannot claim lordship over you. That would put everyone in this mountain at risk, including your children. I am sorry, but I cannot let you do that. I am so sorry."

Bombur moaned, swaying on the spot, and for a moment Thorin feared that they would both fall. But Dwalin was there, and he helped Thorin lower Bombur slowly to the ground.

"But we're gonna do something, right?" said Nori, his whole-body twitching and trembling as though he had consumed far too many of Radagast's mushrooms. "We're going, we're going to get to Isengard and tear it down and bring them home and-"

"I don't know," said Thorin, as calmly as he could. "If we can launch a rescue of course we will, but I do not know if anyone could leave the mountain without it being suicide-"

"You think I care whether or not it's a suicide mission?" hissed Nori, his eyes wild as a warg's.

"I think you should. You won't do Nelly any good dead," insisted Thorin. "We just need to think – we need to buy some time…"

"How?" demanded Bombur weakly. "What're we going to do? Oh, Bróin, what have you done?"

A hand rested on Bombur's shoulder, and for a moment Thorin was shocked to see that it was Bard. He had completely forgotten that the king of men was there, but there he was, and he wore an expression so grave that Thorin would have thought it was his own children who had been declared captive.

He said nothing, but he pressed his hand to his chest, and then held it out towards Thorin, palm first. It was a gesture so simple and clear that it broke what little control Thorin had left to stop the tears burning in his eyes.

If there was anything that he could do to help, Bard would do it.

One of the Night Guards approached them with the small box that Mauhúr had sent up, and he bowed low before Thorin.

"Forgive me, your majesty, but I think you should see this." He held out the box, and with a knot of trepidation in his heart, Thorin peered inside.

A tear wove down around the crook of his nose. Inside the box were a handful of loose beads – familiar beads, a familiar necklace in the shape of a flower, and a severed auburn braid held together with a bead bearing Bombur's sigil.

It was real, then.

Nelly and Bróin had been captured.

He took the box and offered it to Bombur, but when his fingers touched the braid, the large dwarf gave a howl and began to sob, letting the box fall to the floor beneath him. Quick as a diving magpie, Nori snatched Nelly's necklace and clenched it tight within his fist, turning away from them all.

"You've made up your mind, then, Thorin?" he muttered, his tone so dark it sent a chill down Thorin's spine.

Closing his eyes, Thorin bowed his head. "The duty of care to the people sheltering here has made my decision for me, in regards to what we tell the scum outside. That is not to say I will not sanction a rescue, and I will not abandon Nelly and Bróin to this fate. Never."

"You consider sanctioning it," said Nori, and he turned with fire in his eyes and venom in his voice, "because by midnight tomorrow I will leave this mountain, with your permission or not, with your help or not. And if I die two feet from the gates, so be it."

There I leave you for today! Please do let me know what you think of this chapter, your feedback means the world to me, and I really, deeply appreciate it.

Until next time, take care of yourself :)