PART ONE: ANACHRONISM

LXX: The Arkenstone

I'm going to be honest and tell you that this was not one of my finer moments in life. Now, I'm not going to say that I'm above greed—because we both know that's not true—but, well, I never thought that I'd pick a jewel over Thorin. Never, not in a million years. No jewel could measure up to his majesty.

So what made the Arkenstone so special?

At the time, I was convinced it was magic. Some dark lord must have forged it in a volcano, and it had the power to control the one who possessed it. Looking back on it, however, I don't think the Arkenstone is magic in the way the One Ring is. The Arkenstone doesn't manipulate people to its will or anything like that. Rather, I think, the Arkenstone has a way of bringing things to the surface. Even when I first saw it, a part of me thought that the stone was pretty, and it would be nice to keep such a pretty jewel. But that was all. I had no real intention of keeping the Arkenstone. But then, as I looked into the depths of the white stone that thought increased tenfold. Suddenly, I knew that if I parted with the Arkenstone, my life would never be the same.

"Give me the Arkenstone," said Thorin. He had a hard time taking his gaze away from the stone as well, and even as he spoke to me, he kept glancing down at the jewel in my hands.

"You have all this treasure," I said with a wave at the piles of gold and gemstones that filled the treasure hall. "This rock isn't anything special."

Thorin's eyes narrowed. "You know what it is, Ana."

"I found it first," I said, holding the Arkenstone close to my chest.

"The dwarrows found it in ages long past. It is the kurdul aban." Thorin's voice was low and deadly. Orcrist was strapped to his side, and though he hadn't drawn it, his hand rested on the hilt.

For the first time in a long while, I remembered the difference in our strength. He was a trained warrior who had fought countless orcs and trolls. I was just a small human who relied on a magic rock to save her.

There was a good five feet between Thorin and me. Enough space for me to bolt in the opposite direction if needed. Of course, Thorin ran faster than me, but perhaps I could do it. My grip on the Arkenstone tightened.

"It is an heirloom of my house," said Thorin. "It belongs to the King Under the Mountain."

"Technically, it belongs to Smaug, since he's been King Under this Mountain for the past hundred-and-fifty years."

It was a cruel thing to say, and I should have known better. But right then, I just wanted Thorin to let me have the Arkenstone, and I thought that hurting him with my words would get him to leave. Obviously, that plan didn't work.

Thorin's eyes flashed with rage, and the next thing I knew, he was lunging at me, trying to snatch the jewel from my grasp. I didn't even have time to scream. I stumbled backwards, trying to hold the Arkenstone out of his reach. He slammed into my shoulder, and we both went crashing down.

We hit one of the mountains of gold, causing an avalanche of coins to fall upon us. One struck my temple, and I let out an "ouch!" before Thorin and I rolled down to the hard, stone floor. Pain spasmed through my back. Groaning, I tried to sit upright, but I quickly realized that was impossible.

Let me set the scene: I lay on my back, the rough, stone ground pressed against my aching head and shoulder, while Thorin sat on my legs, leaning forward so that his hands rested on the ground next to my shoulders, ensuring that I had no escape. I, expected him to be furious, his whole body was taut, ready to spring. But when I stared up at his face, rather than angry, he looked stunned.

This was Thorin, I reminded myself. Thorin who'd been with me since the beginning. Thorin who had carried me up trees, who protected me when we were attacked, who had comforted me when I was mourning. We were fighting over a stupid rock.

As he stared down at me, Thorin's expression changed. At first, he'd seemed puzzled, but now, his eyes narrowed, he leaned forward and asked, "You cannot surrender the Arkenstone even to majesty?" A wry smile appeared on his face. Which was very close to mine. And his eyes were still staring. And he was sitting on me.

My brain may have short circuited for a second. I think I said something along the lines of, "You can't use the majesty card against me," but I can't be certain.

"Can I not?" He wouldn't stop smiling at me. I didn't know that smile. It was teasing and dangerous. I'd never seen it before, but I was fairly certain that nothing good could come of it. Especially when he said, "My majesty compels you to hand over the Arkenstone."

I would've handed it over; I'd never had much resistance to Thorin's majesty. My grip on the Arkenstone started to loosen. But then I made the mistake of glancing down, and once again the dancing light inside the stone captured my attention.

"No." My voice came out a dry rasp.

Thorin blinked. In an instant, the teasing light disappeared from his eyes, and finally he looked away from me. His shoulders slumped, he leaned back, removing his hands from the floor, and I might have been fooled into thinking he was too exhausted to fight for the Arkenstone, but then, I saw something akin to anger in the set of his jaw. He remained sitting on my legs as he asked, "Why must you be so stubborn?"

"I don't know," I said honestly.

At his sides, Thorin's hands curled into fists. "I have led my people on a hopeless quest. Our own kin doubted us and believed they would never lay eyes us again. But despite these doubts, we have reached the Lonely Mountain We have tricked the dragon into leaving these halls unattended, his treasure hoard at our mercy. The Company now explores the riches, taking their shares before the dragon returns. But the gold, the jewels, the armor, the weapons—they are nothing to me. All I desire is that jewel clutched in your hands. It is the symbol of my lineage, proof that I am the son of Thráin and the grandson of Thrór. They may not have survived to see our people return to the mountain, but I will hold that stone in their names."

"I…I can't," I whispered. I didn't fully understand why I couldn't, but my heart wanted the Arkenstone, and I knew—I just knew—that if I let go of the stone, I would never be whole again.

And then Thorin yanked the Arkenstone out of my hands.

"No!"

I slapped his hand, trying to get the jewel back, and Thorin dropped the Arkenstone. It landed with a clang on the floor of the hall, and we watched in mute horror as the rock rolled behind a golden chest and out of sight.

Thorin tried to get up, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the ground.

"I found it first!" I cried.

"The Arkenstone is mine!"

And there we were: Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, and Ana, the Skipper, in the middle of the treasury hall of the Lonely Mountain, surrounded by Smaug's mighty, golden hoard, fighting like five-year-old children. Well, I did most of the fighting. If Thorin had actually fought, he would've beaten me easily. Instead, he told me how stubborn I was being and how the Arkenstone was his, while I continued to hit him on the shoulder with both fists.

I don't know how long this went on for, but I'll spare you the details. The fight came to an end when Thorin suddenly caught hold of my right wrist. We stood face to face, scowling at one another.

"What is it?" I asked.

Thorin didn't seem capable of forming words right then. His gaze was on me, but I don't think he actually saw me. I could see the shadows under his eyes, dark and filled with regret.

Slowly, it dawned on me what exactly had just happened. I'd hit Thorin repeatedly, and he'd said I had the arrogance of an elf. All over a rock.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. What else do you do after a fight? It was a good thing Thorin was holding onto me, because I would've collapsed to the floor, trembling with laughter.

"What the hell?" I asked. "What was that? And did you really say, 'My majesty compels you to hand over the Arkenstone'? What the hell?"

The corner of Thorin's mouth twitched slightly, and I thought he was going to smile. But then, the scowl returned with a vengeance. With a heavy sigh, he released my wrist and sat down on the floor in the shadow of a mountain of treasure. I'd never before seen a dwarf look so unhappy surrounded by gold, and certainly not a dwarf who had just reclaimed his homeland. But there Thorin was, rubbing his face with his hands and sighing yet again. He looked little like the haughty dwarf who had entered Bag End and ruined the party. Now, dressed in the worn tunic and woolen coat of Laketown, his head bent in defeat, his gaze downcast, Thorin was almost unrecognizable.

I had no idea what to do. There were so many things that could be upsetting him. Was it about how we'd dropped the Arkenstone? Was it about how I'd fought with him? Was it about threat of Smaug's return? I didn't know, but I felt like I had to say something.

I crossed my arms over my chest and said, "Magic rocks are the absolute worst."

Thorin didn't hear me, or if he did, he ignored me. He remained with his shoulders slumped forward and his gaze fixed on the floor. I'd never seen Thorin so miserable before. Angry? Yes. Sad? Yes. Happy? Yes. Frustrated with my stupidity? Yes. But I'd never seen him look so thoroughly upset. I didn't think a fight with me was enough to make him this miserable—we fought all the time! Though maybe not with fists… No, it didn't make sense. He'd just reclaimed the Lonely Mountain. He should be overjoyed. He was home.

"Thorin?" I said his name in a small voice, softer than I'd intended. "What's wrong?"

For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to answer. Then, his gaze still fixed on the floor, his voice rough, he said, "They warned me. Gandalf, my sister…" He took a deep breath. "I watched my father and my grandfather fall prey to the lure of this mountain's gold. They were consumed by it. When we still dwelled in these halls, my grandfather could not bear to be parted for the Arkenstone. He spoke of it with reverence, and at times, I thought he loved the jewel more than his people. After Smaug drove us out, my father…he spoke incessantly about the heart that lay beneath the mountain." Thorin shook his head. "I saw them, and I thought that their weakness would not be mine. I was stronger than them both. I would be the one to reclaim our homeland, and I would be the one to resist the beauty of the Arkenstone. What a fool I am. Even knowing…even being warned…I cannot prevent the inevitable. I even fought with you." He lifted his gaze from the floor and met my gaze. Even if he didn't say it exactly, I could see the desperate apology in his eyes.

"No worries," I said quickly. "I can be very annoying—or so I've been told by a couple elves." I laughed nervously, and when Thorin didn't react, my smile faded. I wasn't used to Thorin like this.

"No one expects you to be untouchable." I lowered myself to the ground until Thorin and I sat side by side. "Everyone is allowed their moments of weakness. Moments of selfishness, moments of self-doubt, moments of complaining, moments of frustration, moments of cruelty even. No one can be perfect all the time, and honestly, I get annoyed with people who are perfect most of the time—who gave them the right to be so much better than the rest of us?" I rolled my eyes before remembering that I was supposed to be giving a pep talk. "The important thing, I think, is that we do the right thing in the end."

Thorin scoffed. "It is easier to say, 'the right thing,' than to do it."

"Well, yeah," I said. "Don't I know it. Even harder when you don't even know what 'the right thing' is."

Thorin stared at me for a moment before saying, "It is even more difficult when you know what you must do."

"Do you?" I asked.

"Where is the Arkenstone?" asked Thorin. He got to his feet, shifting a couple of golden coins in the process. They fell onto the stone floor, clanging against each other. The sound echoed through the hall, and I glanced about, wondering if Smaug had returned yet. He would've burned us alive already if he had.

"I'll go check," I said. I bounced to my feet and bounded down the pathway towards the chest that the Arkenstone had rolled behind.

Thorin wasn't back to normal yet—he still had a haunted expression on his face—but if he wanted to change the subject, I wasn't going to force the issue. After all, I sucked at comforting people. That was Bofur, Bilbo, or even Gandalf's job. I was just there for the comedic relief.

As I searched for the Arkenstone, treasure filled my sight. Hundreds of gold coins, check. Fancy gold chest, check. Glistening emerald, check. Impractical but ornate chalice, check. Sparking diamond, check. Dagger decorated with rubies, check. Shimmering Arkenstone…nowhere to be seen.

Oh shit.

"What is it?" asked Thorin.

My heart skipped a beat when I heard his voice. He was walking closer, his footsteps heavy on the stone floor.

"Uh…" I couldn't form words.

Thorin came to a halt beside me. "Ana…where is the Arkenstone?"

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

"It's around here somewhere," I said, waving a hand at the piles of gemstones. "When we dropped it, it rolled across the floor behind this chest. You saw it. It should be right here…somewhere…" I dropped down to all fours and started digging through the piles of rubies and diamonds. "It's got to be…."

Behind me, Thorin was very still.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. He was going to kill me.

"You…" Thorin paused and took a deep breath before asking, "You lost the Arkenstone?"

"No," I said, tossing a silver chalice over my shoulder. "Misplaced. Misplaced it. It's around here somewhere."

"You lost the heirloom of my household."

I stopped rummaging through some gold coins and turned to glower at Thorin. "We misplaced it. You contributed in the whole Losing-The-Heirloom business just as much as I did. Now get down here and start looking for the frigging Arkenstone with me!"

It was nice to see that Thorin was back to his haughty self. His gave me a venomous glare that plainly said he would murder me if I ever claimed he contributed to losing his household jewel again. However, he did start digging through some chainmail for the Arkenstone.

I don't know how long we searched, but we definitely rummaged through mountains of gold and jewels longer than a reasonable person would've. I mean, we both saw the Arkenstone disappear behind the chest. It was obvious where it should've been when we went to look for it, but Thorin and I were stubborn, and neither of us could admit that we'd lost the all-important Arkenstone, the symbol of the King Under the Mountain, because we'd been bickering like children.

We wandered across the hall, getting further and further away from the spot where the Arkenstone should have been. It was only when I'd gotten sick of seeing coins stamped with King Thráin's image that I sat back and said, "It's gone, Thorin."

Thorin looked at the diamond encrusted plate he was holding and sighed. "I know."

"Where did it go?" I asked, collapsing onto a pile of coins.

Thorin glanced over at me as if weighing something in his mind. Then, he said, "Someone must have taken it."

"What?"

"The Arkenstone cannot walk on its own," said Thorin.

"I mean, it is a magic rock," I said. "Magic artifacts have been known to do some strange things."

"That they do," agreed Thorin. "But do not judge the Arkenstone by the same standards that you judge the Senturiel."

"Nothing good comes of magic rocks," I muttered.

Thorin managed a small smile. He set the plate down and moved to sit beside me. "We lost the Arkenstone."

"No one has to know," I said quickly. "I won't tell if you won't."

At this, Thorin laughed aloud. The deep sound filled the hall, and I found myself smiling; finally, the shadow had disappeared from his eyes.

"Did you forget that it was you who advised me about 'the right thing'?" Thorin asked.

"I—"

My words were cut short by the sound of Thorin's name echoing through the treasure hall. Thorin frowned and looked over his shoulder before saying, "We are here."

Ori and Nori rounded the corner and appeared before us, huffing and puffing as if out of breath. I saw Nori's eyes stray to pile of gemstones at my feet, and I couldn't help but wonder how many little trinkets we would find in the pockets of Nori's patched coat.

"Ana," said Ori, bowing his head in greeting.

"Pleasure as always," added Nori. "When did you arrive at the mountain? We have not seen you yet."

I glanced at Thorin, wondering if he wanted us to tell them about the Arkenstone. He shook his head. It was the slightest movement and, if I wasn't expecting it, I would have missed it entirely.

"Just a couple minutes ago," I said, getting to my feet and stretching. "Thorin and I were just admiring all the gold."

"Have you found the Arkenstone?" asked Nori, his eyes bright with excitement.

Thorin took his time answering. He got to his feet and brushed off his tunic. "No. But we do not know if Smaug ever discovered the jewel's presence."

"What would he do with it?" I asked.

"Dragons often use their treasure as armor," said Nori cheerfully. "If Smaug did discover the Arkenstone, it may be embedded between his scales."

I shuddered at the image of trying to pry the shimmering Arkenstone out of Smaug's chest while he was sleeping. Yeah… I was very glad to know that Thorin and I had lost the Arkenstone, and wherever it was, it wasn't in Smaug's clutches.

"Any sightings of Smaug?" asked Thorin.

Ori shook his head. "Balin only sees smoke over Laketown."

"Laketown?" I asked. "Smaug is attacking Laketown?"

Thorin nodded grimly, while Nori and Ori exchanged nervous glances. Ori looked down at his feet, shuffling nervously.

"Nori, Ori!" Thorin snapped their names, and the two dwarrows immediately looked at their king. Thorin nodded. "Tell the Company to assemble in the armory."

Nori and Ori bowed and the hurried away.

I waited until they were out of sight and their footsteps had faded into silence. Then, I turned to Thorin, my eyes narrowed, and asked, "Why is Smaug attacking Laketown?"

Thorin glanced at me but couldn't hold my gaze. He looked away, up at the arching ceiling, and said, "When Bilbo snuck into the halls of the Lonely Mountain, he conversed with the dragon. Smaug mistook Bilbo for a man of Laketown. Believing a Laketown man invaded his mountain and stole a golden cup from him, Smaug has decided to take his revenge on the city. That is why you find the treasure of Smaug unguarded."

I stared. Right then there were no words. No words for my shock that Thorin—majestic as he is—would leave Laketown to its fate. No words for my sorrow that the fate of Laketown. No words my disappointment in Thorin. I didn't think he would abandon even elves to such a fate.

"How could you…" I stopped and took a breath. "How…can you hide in here and watch at Smaug sets fire to their home. You know…their home…"

"They will have the Dale returned," said Thorin through gritted teeth. "We have set a trap for Smaug. When he returns, he will never leave this mountain again. And the people of Laketown will be able to return to the city of Dale."

"Laketown is their home," I said. "They've never been to the city of Dale."

Thorin looked at me then. His gaze sharp and filled with resolve. "You told me to do 'the right thing', Ana."

"How is letting Laketown burn 'the right thing'?"

Silence was my only response. Thorin started walking down the path, winding around the piles of gold, towards the exit. I scurried after him, almost tripping on a fallen chalice.

"Thorin!" I cried. "You can't— How is letting Laketown burn 'the right thing'? Tell me! Thorin!"

He kept his back firmly to me as he walked.

"I expected more of you. You're wearing the clothes Laketown gave you, and yet you're going to let Laketown burn? You are the King Under the Mountain—aren't you supposed to protect the people of these lands? Just because you're a dwarf doesn't mean you can't protect humans too!"

"Enough!"

Thorin stopped so suddenly that I ran into him. My nose slammed against his shoulder, and I stumbled backwards, holding a hand to the ridge of nose and glaring at him.

"It is my decision, Ana," said Thorin.

"You're not my king," I snapped. "I don't have to listen to your commands."

Thorin didn't even flinch. He simply gave me one long, hard stare before turning around and continuing on his way to the armory.

I wanted to say more, but I knew there would be no convincing him. He liked to call me stubborn, but in reality, he was the stubborn one. "The right thing"? Thorin knew this wasn't "the right thing". And yet, he was still stubbornly refusing to aid the people of Laketown. He was going to let Smaug burn the people who had helped him and their home into the waters of the lake. The stupid idiot.

I followed Thorin through the halls of the Lonely Mountain, scowling at his back. Thorin pretended I didn't exist. I was so angry that I couldn't even admire the strong structures of the dwarven kingdom. I barely saw the carved pillars, arched ceilings, or the stone statues of the sons of Durin. My frustration with Thorin spread to all things dwarven. It wasn't until we arrived that the armory, and I saw the Company that my anger faded a little.

Unlike Thorin, the rest of the Company seemed elated to be in the Lonely Mountain. From what I could gather from the conversations, the other dwarrows had spent the last few hours choosing their shares of the treasure. Fíli and Kíli argued over who should get a golden sword they'd found (Fíli pulled the "I'm the elder" card and Kíli was not happy about it). Óin and Glóin were trying to decide which set of jewelry their mother would prefer (you can imagine the "your mother" jokes that went on in this conversation). Bilbo inspected a white shirt (trust Bilbo to find the only non-gold item in the Lonely Mountain). Bombur had found a dinner set with plates that would hold Bombur-sized portions (he showed the plates to anyone who would listen). Bifur and Bofur were fawning over a set of rare, sparkling gemstones (Bifur nodding along to whatever Bofur said). Dori, Nori, and Ori were sitting next to identical piles of gold (discussing in undertones the possibility of having to dig through dragon dung for the Arkenstone). Dwalin proudly showed me a silver and gold laced beard comb. Only Balin was absent, since he was on watch duty, keeping an eye out for Smaug's return to the mountain.

"It's beautiful," I told Dwalin. "You will have the finest beard for miles."

He smiled proudly and stroked his dark beard.

"Have you chosen any part of your share yet, Ana?" asked Fíli.

"My share?" I repeated.

"Yes!" Kíli nodded along with his brother. "You were as much as part of this journey as any one of us."

I blinked. I might even have started to tear up. But then, I made the mistake of looking over at Thorin. As soon as we'd entered the armory, he'd moved to the far side of room, trying to put some distance between us, and I'd been doing my best to ignore him. Now, when our eyes met, I felt all the anger come rushing back. I scowled and turned away.

"Ana?" asked Bofur. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing." The word came out harsher than I'd intended. I took a deep breath and tried again, "Sorry, I'm a bit tired. Thank you. I never expected to receive a share. I always thought I'd steal a little trinket and leave it at that." I didn't add that the trinket I'd wanted had been the Arkenstone.

"What is this?" asked Bilbo.

We all turned to see him holding up the white shirt. On closer inspection, I realized that it wasn't a normal shirt like I'd initially thought but rather a shirt of shimmering white chainmail. The mail was smooth and moved like soft fabric. Only now did it hit me what Bilbo was holding. I'd encountered this shirt once before…in its future. This must be the very shirt that saved Frodo from the cave troll when I traveled with the Fellowship. If I remembered correctly, Gandalf had even said the shirt had been a gift from Thorin.

Sure enough, Thorin said, "It is mithril."

"Mithril." Bilbo stumbled over the word, testing it out.

"It is a type of metal that the dwarves discovered," said Thorin with a faint smile. "It is as soft and as light as a feather, and as hard as dragon scales. You will find no finer armor anywhere. It is yours, Bilbo."

"Mine?" Bilbo seemed terrified at the concept.

"It is a gift of gratitude," said Thorin. "For all your help. We would not have made it to the end without you."

Bilbo blinked and then looked down at the white chainmail. At first, it looked as though he might reject the gift, saying it was too majestic for someone like him. But then, Bilbo bowed his head and said, "Thank you."

I smiled. Bilbo had come a long way from the uncertain hobbit in Bag End. I wondered if I saw myself now and then… Had I come a long way too? I mean, I still screamed whenever there was danger, and it's not like I'd become some sort of badass warrior, but maybe, hopefully, I'd changed a little.

"Ana."

The sound of my name startled me. I found Thorin standing beside me, his right hand extended. My eyes narrowed at the sight of him (I didn't want to talk to him right then), but then my gaze drifted downwards, and I saw that there was something in my hand. It was a golden necklace with a locket, crisscrossed with gaps that revealed a white gemstone inside.

"A gift," said Thorin.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Thorin was doing many not-Thorin-like things today.

"I would wager he chose it at random," whispered Dori.

Nori nodded. "It does not appear very expensive."

That sounded more Thorin-like. My eyes narrowed, and I folded my arms across my chest. "I don't want something you chose randomly."

"I did not choose carelessly." Thorin shot a sharp look in Dori and Nori's direction, and the two dwarrows hurried away. The rest of the Company followed suit, hurrying back to their treasures. However, the dwarrows continued glancing at us, probably wondering if I was going to take the necklace or not. Thorin ignored them and said, "This is yours."

"You think I want a gift from you right now?" I asked.

Thorin slowly lowered his hand, his fingers closing around the locket so that only the golden chain was visible. "Trust me, Ana. This is my home."

I wanted to trust him. I had always trusted him. But he had watched Laketown burn without lifting so much as a finger. Was this even the same Thorin that I knew? But he was looking at me with such sincerity that I could not refuse. I held out my right hand and muttered, "If your majesty compels me to."

A small smile flickered across Thorin's face, and he handed me the locket. Aware that the rest of the Company were watching us curiously, I slipped the chain over my head and smiled. "How do I look? I'm not really a jewelry person—what with all the Skipping, you know—but I guess I could make this work—"

"Smaug!" Balin's voice cut through the armory. He appeared in the stone doorway, gasping for breath. "Thorin, Smaug…"

The Company and I stared at Balin. Fíli and Kíli frowned at one another, and Fili lifted the golden sword he held as if it would protect him for the fires of Smaug.

"What of the dragon?" asked Thorin.

"Smaug has perished," said Balin.

Before he could say more, the other dwarves gasped, and Óin cried, "Perished? How?"

"I do not know rightly how," said Balin. "But I saw the dragon fall from the sky into the dark waters of the lake. I waited, but the dragon did not return to the surface."

A cheer rose up amongst the dwarves.

"The mountain is ours!" cried Glóin.

"Smaug is dead!" Bofur looked as though he might cry.

The dwarrows danced about, shouting and celebrating. Bombur hugged Bifur and Bofur, while Glóin and Óin sung a verse about the gold of the Lonely Mountain. The Company's merriment was infectious, and I found myself laughing along with them—that was, until, I saw Thorin's face. He jaw was set in his usual grim expression and he was staring at Balin, who was still trying to get his breath back.

"That is not all," said Thorin.

The other dwarves fell silent, and finally, Balin could continue. "I saw the people of Laketown, in boats, reach the shores of the lakes. Their home is ash, and they have nowhere to rest. I do not know what they plan, but I believe they will make for the mountain, believing the treasure of Smaug now lies unguarded."

Whispers passed amongst the dwarrows at this news.

"They will be in for a rough surprise when they learn that the treasures of Durin's folk are not for the taking," growled Dwalin.

"We did promise the people of Laketown their share," said Kíli. Fíli and Bifur nodded in agreement.

"They have lost their home," said Bofur, "and vanquished the dragon. Where else should they go but to this mountain?"

The dwarrows looked to Thorin, waiting to see what their king would say.

"Word of Smaug's defeat will spread swiftly through the lands," said Thorin. "Many will come crawling out of their holes, seeking the treasure of Durin's folk. We fought and survived the journey so far, but we alone cannot hold these halls for long. We must call for reinforcements. We must send word to Dáin."

"We cannot share the treasure?" asked Bilbo. "The people of Laketown deserve a share at least. They did slay the dragon so that you may now rest at ease beneath the mountain."

"It is not theirs," said Thorin. "I am grateful to them for slaying Smaug, but this treasure is ours. It belonged to our ancestors, forged by their efforts and crafts. Our people were chased from these halls centuries ago. They fled with fire and claws behind them. Aft long last, we have reclaimed our home—and no one shall take this mountain from us."

I could feel the cold chain of the necklace against my skin. Thorin had asked me to trust him… But why must he make himself so difficult to trust?

On the other hand, the dwarrows cheered. Their king had spoken. He had led them to the mountain, and he had given them hope when they thought they would never see their home again; they would not doubt him now. When Thorin demanded that a barricade be made at the front doors, the dwarves sprang into action, grabbing armor and weapons on their way. They would defend their treasure to the very last dwarf.

I watched silently, reminding myself that trust meant not pointing out that 'home' was different from 'treasure'. I looked across the armory and saw that only Bilbo did not seem convinced by Thorin's words.

Note:

kurdul aban = the heart of stone