Circumstance

AN: So usually I put these at the end, but this is a pretty important announcement. The reason I have not updated recently is because I got in an accident the day I was supposed to update. Don't worry! I am fine! However, I broke my wrist and got a concussion. Because the broken bone is in my dominant hand it has been extremely difficult to write and especially type. I am trying my best to do what I can, but it is going very slowly. I will try and update as quickly as I can, but it is going to be really hard until I get my cast off. Thank you for your patience! And now, the chapter itself.

Bilbo stared at his hands, or in particular, the objects that he carried in them. In one was a glowing gem, white and pure, yet he knew that it was all corrupting. In the other was a small and plain gold ring, yet he knew it carried great power. Both were objects of chaos, but they calmed him. The ring was muttering, which it had been doing ever since they had all entered the mountain. The Arkenstone simply twinkled. He was getting rid of the gem, ready to use it as a bargaining chip to save his friends. Balin had at least hinted it was a good idea. Besides, he had no other choice. Still, he felt like he was giving himself excuses at every turn. Times had been simpler back in The Shire, and he was not sure he was ready to make deals with elves and solve truces. He sighed.

"Bilbo…" a weak voice came from the corner of the room. Instinctively, the hobbit shoved both items back into his pockets, and turned around. He was in charge of watching Kili, as Oin and Fili were exhausted, and both sleeping in rooms nearby. He had been told they would be there if he needed them. The injured dwarf shifted slightly in the bed, something the burglar had been told he shouldn't do.

"Oh, Kili!" he squeaked. "You're awake. Don't move around so much. I'll go get your brother." Then the prince opened his eyes. He had been looking more and more sick by the hour, but this was the absolute worst that Bilbo had seen him. His overall condition had changed very little: deathly pale, clammy skin, haggard face, and tangled hair. But this was worse, as the hobbit expected to be greeted by the warm and inviting brown eyes of the dwarf, and was met by a different sight. They were unfocused and delirious looking, but worse, had an almost milky sheen.

"No," the dwarf refused in a crackling voice. "Don't do that. Sit down." Kili made a vague gesture to the chair that sat opposite the bed. Every hair on the burglar's body was electrocuted upwards by a terrible feeling he couldn't explain. Alarm bells were ringing out of control within his mind.

"You're looking really sick, I think I should just-" he was trying to reason with the ill, and it was far from working. The prince shook his head, and then stared straight at the hobbit with a look that would have made Thorin proud. Or terrified.

"Give it to me," the patient hissed. Bilbo took a shaky couple of steps forward. The dwarf looked tired and downright mad.

"Pardon?" He was trembling. One hand fell on the pocket that carried the Arkenstone. Had Kili seen him with it? Did he know? Still, the Baggins continued forward.

"Give it to me," the child of Durin begged. "I need it." The hobbit slid into the chair, hoping that being closer to the injured dwarf would somehow make it appear better. He looked even sicker up close.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he tried to explain. Kili clearly did not believe him, his haunting eyes narrowing.

"The object that you have in your coat pocket," the prince demanded, "I have to have it." Bilbo froze. He knew. He'd seen it.

"I don't…" the burglar attempted to convince him. Like his uncle, it was difficult to lie to the dwarf.

"Don't lie to me hobbit," Kili whined, and before the thief could draw back, the dark-haired dwarf grasped onto his forearm. Immediately, the halfling recoiled, but the strong hand of the prince came with him. For someone so weak from sickness, he had strength in his arms. It seemed that both were beginning to panic."I know you have it."

"Please, let go of me," Bilbo tried, tugging at his arm again. The grip stayed strong, and he was unable to get out of the chair without possibly pulling Kili out of the bed, which, as Oin had said, could kill the already dying dwarf.

"If you don't give it to me, then he'll let me die," the prince pleaded. "I swear to you." This was out of his league. He couldn't deal with such a problem. It was possible that the dwarf was simply delirious, but he seemed to know exactly what he was saying. Instead of blood, fear was pulsing through the hobbit's veins. There was only one solution to the problem.

"Your brother. I'm going to get him." The hobbit decided aloud. It was the only thing he could possibly do. Once again, he pulled his arm back from the bed, but the hold on it stayed strong. He could see a muscle in the dwarf's forearm pulse.

"You're going to stay right here until I tell you otherwise," Kili said through gritted teeth." Now hand it over. Please." Bilbo took a deep breath. After all, what could a sick dwarf possibly do with the stone? The worst he could do would be to give it Thorin, but it was more likely that he would hand if over to Fili. And after all, that couldn't be too bad. The heir had been showing increasing rebellion towards the king, and he would do what was best for his uncle. The hobbit closed his eyes for a moment, before digging into his pocket, and pulled out the shining white gem. When he opened his eyes, the dark-haired prince was staring at it with a mixture of anger, frustration, and confusion. He seemed almost childlike, as if he was a very young mind speaking through an older body. The dwarf finally looked up at his protector. "Do you think I'm stupid?" he asked, dead serious.

"I don't understand," Bilbo stuttered. "This is the Arkenstone." Kili glared, and a sudden exasperated look washed over his face.

"What am I going to do with a rock? How is a rock going to help me?" the dwarf spat, as if the gem placed in front of him was an insult. The hobbit was at an utter loss. If the prince wasn't talking about the stone, then what could he possibly want?

"It's what I had in my pocket," the burglar reasoned. The sick dwarf dragged the fingers of his free hand over his own face.

"I'm not an idiot," the child of Durin reminded the thief, "though you clearly take me for one. The ring, Master Baggins. I know that you have it." Bilbo's fingers dipped into his jacket, and his skin barely brushed against the cool metal. The words of the golden piece were getting louder, and he had to try increasingly hard to ignore them.

"Ring?" the halfling muttered, and made an innocent face. It didn't fool the prince. He caught the lie in the air like it was a ball.

"Don't play stupid," Kili requested. "I need your ring, Bilbo." The dwarf's edged tone and wild eyes were making the thief shake again, and this time there was no yanking back his limb and running from the room.

"I'm going to call for your brother now," the hobbit informed in a wavering voice. The reaction was as if he had struck the dwarf across the face. The elven-raised creature tightened his fingers, and bugged his eyes. It was shock. Once again, he could only see someone very young inside of the prince's face. It was bizarre and unnerving, and made rejecting him all the more difficult.

"Please, don't," the dwarf groveled. "I need it."

"I don't understand why," Bilbo reasoned, playing with the ring between his fingers.

"You don't need to understand!" Kili shouted "Just give it to me!" The hobbit flinched. It wasn't right. It never would be. He could never give the dwarf the tiny circle of cold.

"I can't do that." The prince slumped back on his pillows, and stared at the ceiling for a moment, his eyelids drooping.

"If you had the chance to save the life," the injured dwarf whispered, "would you take it?" The burglar took the chance he was given. He yanked his arm out of the hard grip, and stumbled a few feet back. He gripped his own hand with trembling fingers.

"Master Fili! Your brother needs you!" He called out into the darkness, stomping his foot loudly so it echoed throughout the hallway. Within a minute the hobbit could hear fumbling in the next room, followed quickly by heavy footsteps. The heir of Thorin's title burst into the room, his gold hair flying, dark circles under his eyes, and fur robe haphazardly thrown on. Bilbo swallowed. Kili was dangling on the precipice of consciousness.

"What's going on? Is he okay?" the brother asked, his face creased with worry. He dashed to the bedside, leaving the halfling to edge back towards the door. He wanted to leave. Run. Get away. Complete the task he had set out for himself earlier in the evening.

"He was just being…unintelligible," the hobbit lied. "I couldn't tell what he was trying to say." As if on cue, Kili groaned. His sibling put a hand on the patient's forehead.

"Shhh," he comforted, before turning to Bilbo. "You said you were going to the elves at some time?" The worry and responsibility within the elder of Thorin's nephew was evident as the sides of his mouth twitched.

"I did," the burglar confirmed, as his anxiety slowly began to seep out from his skin. "I was hoping to slip away and go tonight, to see if the red haired captain is there. I'm sure she can help." Fili appeared to share the relief.

"If you can do that, I will be forever grateful to you."

"I'll see what I can make happen. I don't know how the elves will react."

"I'll remember that you tried, Master Baggins. Now, go quickly. Time is not on our side."

~:~

"Please!" Bilbo begged to the towering elvish guards. "I have to speak with King Thranduil." The night had fully enveloped the elven camp making the usually statuesque beings look like gargoyles as they stood watch to keep intruders out. The hobbit had always heard stories of the happy and joyful elves, ones who sang and danced, and were beings of light and the stars. He had met some in Rivendell, but even the most serious of Elrond's folk looked giddy compared to this lot. He balled his hands into fists.

"You have no business here." The taller and darker haired of the pair announced. "Leave before we have to drag you out." Now that the shock of his eerie encounter with the newly recovered prince had past, he was beginning to feel the reckless and adventurous side of himself seeping back through the cracks. If the guards didn't let him in, he would put the ring on and run right past. The looks on their faces…

"You don't understand! It's urgent." The burglar reasoned. He had also heard that the elves were fair and justice seeking creatures. Once again he prayed for the arrival of Elrond to get him away from the biased folk of Mirkwood.
"I don't care about the condition of your supposed business. You have no authority to-" Just as the guard began to launch into some sort of reprimanding speech, he was interrupted by a large black shadow that slipped out from behind one of the nearby tents. When it stepped into the light and spoke, it was in a friendly and inviting voice that the hobbit recognized, a voice that sent relief flooding through him just as the adrenaline had been.

"Master Baggins?" A small lantern that the man carried, lighting his tired but determined face, assisted the dim guise of the moon up.

"Bard!" the halfling greeted, deflating. The bowman stared at the smaller creature for a moment. His mouth hung open slightly and he shook his head ever so subtly.

"What on earth are you doing here?" the dragon slayer asked. It was as if he didn't expect the hobbit to make it past the dragon, which Bilbo normally would have not found insulting. However, after almost a year of adventuring, hiking, and near-death experiences, including saving the life of his company more than a couple of times, he felt he deserved more credit than he was given in such parts.

"I need to speak with you and the king of Mirkwood," the shire dweller demanded in his best authoritarian tone. "It's important," he added after a slight pause. Bard considered it but for a second.

"Then you will have our counsel," the man granted. The guards didn't respond, still holding their spears and shields in a military fashion. "Well?" the new human leader asked expectantly. The guards shared a look. "Let him in." With the final command, the two elves stepped to the side, allowing the hobbit to formally enter the city of Dale. He muttered a quick "thank you," and bowed his head.

"What is going on within the mountain?" Bard asked. The man had changed since that chilly morning in Laketown. The cold and frosty tone he had with the Company was gone, replaced with what Bilbo would almost call nostalgia. It was as if two friends were catching up over early morning tea. The thought, of course, led the thief to begin thinking of the old pleasantries of home that he enjoyed. He was only brought back to attention when the bargeman began listing off the chaos that had been occurring in the past days. "First we are told there will be no reward for the death of Smaug, then that Kili is dead. Thranduil tells me he spoke to his nephew yesterday, and that they will challenge Thorin when the sun rises tomorrow."

"I may have answers to your questions, bargeman," the hobbit admitted, "but they will take time to explain." Bard shrugged, leading the Company member towards the largest tent of the group, where it was pitched, nestled in the heart of the elvish forces.

"I can afford to spare some of mine if you can yours," the man offered.

"I am afraid that I may have to abridge my story, slightly. The events within Erebor need to be tended to as soon as possible." Bilbo could feel his palms sweating slightly. He was beginning to get nervous. What if Thranduil didn't take the offer but took the Arkenstone by force? What if the king thought that he was a spy and imprisoned him, or worse? What if they decided to use the hobbit's life as a bargaining chip instead of the gem? Bard, however, seemed relatively calm.

"I understand," he spoke after a spell, and then added, "but know that Thranduil may not." Of course Thranduil won't, the thief thought to himself. He never wants to simplify things; he likes complicating them. Instead, however, Bilbo simply said, "Trust me. He will."

"How do you know?" The bowman doubted as they drew closer to the tent of the king.

"Because his nephew's life could be at risk," he explained reluctantly. The sentence caught on the chill in the air and seemed to freeze and stay there, before Bard's words melted it away.

"I heard that Kili looked sick. What's going on?" At the mention of his comrade's illness, the man seemed to loose his controlling persona, showing the attitude that Bilbo usually acquainted with how the archer behaved around his children. As far as the hobbit understood, Kili and Bard had an argument just before leaving: the bowman upset that his friend lied about Thorin's purpose in Laketown, and the dwarf aggravated at the entire situation. Yet, if there was anything that the shireling had learned on the quest was that the longer a friendship lasted, the harder it was to completely destroy. He had known most of the Company members for almost a year, and he was already far more attached to all of them, then he would ever admit. The burglar wanted to tell the bargeman that the dwarven prince would be alright, that they had found the problem, isolated it, and just needed a little bit of help to complete the healing process. He could sugar coat it and make it sound under control, but that wouldn't be right.

"That's the problem," the thief shared, "We don't quite know." The guards outside the elven king's tent stepped aside after a quick wave of Bard's hand, and the man spread the flap of the fabric open, allowing Bilbo to enter.

The king stood in one corner of the room, his leafy crown almost touching the top of the tent where the thick and luxurious material sagged ever so slightly. He was wearing quite different garbs than what the hobbit had originally seen him in, trading out the showy and metallic clothes for a more practical, yet still royalty displaying wardrobe. The robes were the ice blue of the elf's eyes and made of a studier material. Around his waist the monarch wore a belt and on it a sheath and mighty sword. The weapon was longer than the halfling himself. For the first time since he had met the elf, the Baggins was struck with the extraordinary realization that Thrandruil was not simply a patronizing, manipulative, back-stabber as he had originally thought. No, Thranduil was a patronizing, manipulative, back-stabber that controlled not only his own sword and wealth, but also an entire army. The hobbit gulped, and his eyes traveled from the elf to the person he was talking to. He felt his heart skip a beat.

"Gandalf!" the Company member squealed, recognizing the gray robes, hat, and familiar old pipe of the wizard. Gandalf turned and upon glimpsing the hobbit, sent his eyebrows jumping into the expanse of his hat rim.

"Bilbo Baggins," the wizard commented in his usual way. There was something about the way the magician said his name that always made the burglar smile. "I see you made it after all." The second half of the statement could have gone without saying, but Bilbo was too full of excitement to dwell on it for too long.

"It's so good to see you again. Things have really run amuck since you left," the hobbit admitted anxiously. His eyes kept flitting towards Thranduil, who was watching the conversation with what could only be described as malicious intent. The adventurer aggressively tried to ignore the royal, and focused on Gandalf. Bard crossed from behind the halfling and over to the other side of the tent, where he poured a glass of water into a small metal cup.

"It appears so," the wizard observed, looking around the tent. His eyes lingered on the elven king.

"Where did you go?" Bilbo rushed, as it was the first and most obvious question to come to mind. The others included: What had taken him such a long time to get back? Why had he not come to see the Company and instead taken counsel from the Mirkwood elves? Did he know about Kili? Did he care? Gandalf opened his mouth to answer at least one of the questions, but was cut off by a loud cough from the towering royalty.

"If we could please turn our discussion back to the matter at hand," Thranduil pointed out with a smooth and insincere smile. "The halfling has a bargain, I presume." Any possibility of catching up was most definitely gone as the three sets of eyes turned to stare at Bilbo. The excitement of seeing an old friend and escaping the chokehold of Thorin had disappeared along with any kind of lightheartedness. The hobbit swallowed nervously, before digging a hand into one pocket, and pulling out the great white gem. There was a collective intake of breath around the tent, though Bard seemed to be the only one genuinely surprised by the presence of the Arkenstone.

"I happen to be in possession of this," the burglar announced, and upon receiving a stern look from Gandalf quickly added, "I took it as the share of treasure I was promised. Now, I hate this situation just as much as you do, and for a very different reason. While Thorin's decisions have been impaired his choices are not only affecting your people. Kili is extremely ill." Thranduil closed his eyes for a brief spell, as if he were composing himself. It was the bowman who asked the question clearly on everyone's mind.

"What's wrong with him?" Bard inquired.

"We don't quite know, but…" Bilbo stuffed his hand into the pocket also containing the ring, and drew out his fingers with two folded sheets of paper clasped within them. "Ori, under Gloin's instruction, drew and described the wound and the subsequent complication we found within it." He held out the parchment, which was almost immediately snatched by the elven king. "He's in incredible pain," the hobbit continued, "and our healer tells us that we cannot move him, for fear that the shard will be moved and tear something within his body that can't be fixed." Thranduil blanched as he looked at the diagram. Bard stood at the elf's shoulder, getting rare glimpses of it whenever the king adjusted his posture. The wizard was reading the description that Ori had written, his eyebrows drawn together and mouth forming a hard line. He was visibly distressed,

"This is something I haven't heard of or seen for a long time." The guide muttered under his breath. Bilbo perked up, as did the ruler.

"So you know what it is?" Thranduil spoke in a demanding tone. It did not seem to perturb or rush the wizard in the slightest. Gandalf stayed staring at the description, reading over lines several times. The king passed him the diagram, and the magician nodded slowly.

"Long ago, I saw wounds such as these," he confirmed. "And if this is what I think it to be, then I think I know more of your nephew's past then you do." The sound of thumbs on the paper could be heard above all any other noise. Quiet filled the royal tent.

"Really?"

"I can't be sure," Gandalf mumbled slowly, "but an encounter with an old acquaintance of mine in my recent ventures is beginning to make more sense than it originally did. I would have to look further into this before giving a sure answer, however." Thranduil sighed, rolling his clear eyes.

"This is the way with wizards," he complained. "Always so cryptic, never actually helpful." Bilbo stayed silent on the topic for his own safety, and desperately tried to swerve the conversation back to the one he had originally planned to bring forward.

"I was hoping that we could make a deal, one that has our mutual interests at hand: those of the Company, those of the Mirkwood elves, and those of the Laketown men." It appeared that the tactic worked, as both Gandalf and Thranduil folded their parchment and set it on the small strategy table behind them, turning their attention back towards the real issue.

"So what do you propose, hobbit?" The king sounded completely bored, but the halfling refused to let it bother him.

"I give you the Arkenstone, as a piece that can be used to bargain for your deserved share of the mountain's treasure. Thorin wants it more than anything else; he will do anything to get it back. You will use it to get the money your people need." The burglar nodded to Bard, who returned the gesture. "In addition, your gems will be returned." Bilbo bowed his head to Thranduil. "And in return, we will allow one of your elves to come into the mountain and look at Kili, possibly heal him. However, you have to give your word that if he recovers, then the decision he makes as to his fate is his own." Everyone in the room considered this for a moment. The hobbit had thought it out well, and made sure that there was something that satisfied all parties, and left little to nothing to object to.

"It seems reasonable enough," Bard agreed, and looked to the elf for confirmation.

"I will allow it, halfling," Thranduil said coolly, "but if the mad King Under the Mountain does not accept the peace offering, then we will still attack." This was the only downside, and one that the halfling had to risk.

"I understand." Bilbo held out the Arkenstone, which was quickly removed from his grasp by the pale-haired elf.

"I will send a guard to look for Tauriel. She will accompany you back into the halls." For brief moment, it seemed as though the deal was finished, and would go over smoothly. That was, until, a sore subject was inadvertently brought to light.

"What of your son? I would imagine he would be the one to enter the kingdom and assist them," commented Gandalf. Thranduil tightened.

"Legolas has been sent on an expedition to Gundabad. He is not here." The hobbit knew very little of the aggressive prince, yet found himself oddly drawn to the argument as Bard joined in, the bargeman clearly outraged.

"You sent him on a trip that could have easily been accomplished by any other elf in your command?" the man accused. "You were getting rid of him." The information didn't seem to bother the king, who continued to dodge the questions entirely.

"And what concern is that of yours?" Bard's eyes bugged out of their sockets.

"That you are sending away great assets because of your own personal reasons. It is a real concern of mine."

"It was not I who made such a situation personal," the elf counted cryptically. The man was becoming more exasperated by the second. Bilbo could sense an explosion of anger seeping to the surface of the pair's otherwise calm personas.

"Then why did you send your son to scout out Gundabad?" Bard spat.

"Because he was a danger to the person we were trying to retrieve," Thranduil admitted in an altogether far too easy tone. "I needed him out of the camp, and busy with his own task. There is no fault in that."

"Why would Legolas be a danger to Kili?" Bilbo budged in, trying to get his head around the situation.

"Understandably," Bard explained in a mocking voice, "the prince did not enjoy having his father abandon all interactions with him to favor a lost dwarf child." It was clear that the verbal blows were starting to become personal, yet Thranduil barely bothered to answer the accusations.

"I didn't cause his jealousy."

"Really? Then who did?"

"Circumstance." At the ruler's words, the bowman threw his hands into the air, before he broke into a long and furious sentence.

"I doubt simply that could drive a well-raised elven prince to break a child's arm like it was-"

"I will send for Tauriel, and she will accompany the halfling back to the mountain." The king snapped, and his voice rose ever so slightly to the point of complete and utter intimidation. All the muscles in Bilbo's neck contracted, and he waited for someone to object, to give Thranduil a reason to behead them.

No one spoke.

AN (Again): Thank you, thank you, and thank you for continuing to read and support this story! I am trying my best to get up updates at the best speed with my injury. To be notified when I do actually update this story, make sure to follow. If you really enjoyed it, then I recommend that you add it to your favorite's list to share this work with other readers. And finally, I love getting any and all feedback so make sure that you write down your critiques, predictions, and comments in a review. Until next time…