AN: Hello! I'm terribly sorry I didn't post last week, it's been a trying time with Writers Block. But here I have returned with a chapter which I hope pleases you. Well...actually...it probably won't please you. I might be lynched for this. I'm scared. But here you go anyways! Enjoy?

OOOOO

Dinner had become a silent affair in the days following Belladonna's death. Without Bilbo there, everyone was sad. Bilbo wasn't necessarily a cheerful little entertainer that made them all roar with laughter. But without him there, especially knowing where he was, it just made everything so gloomy. Knowing that he was curled in on himself in a dark room, not eating and hardly drinking anything, it made them all cringe. They had all grown so attached to him, even if he continued to keep them at arms length. Well most of them.

It was hardest for Dis and Dwalin. Dis felt a maternal need to comfort Bilbo, like he was actually her child. And Dwalin felt a paternal need to protect the Hobbit from his self destructive behavior. Neither of them could act on these impulses though, and it was driving them absolutely mad! They were all worried, but Dis had never been so anxious in her life. And Dwalin had never skipped meals for anything, but every time he thought of Bilbo, his stomach turned and he could not eat.

Their hope that time would help the situation seemed to be failing. It had now been more than a week and Bilbo still would not even pretend that he was recovering from this newest tragedy. None of them knew what to do, because none of them knew how Hobbits mourned or what to do for a mourning Hobbit. All they could do was go on with their daily routine and hope that Bilbo would maybe do something besides sit in silence and cry.

No one was particularly hungry at dinner anymore. They picked at their food, but then inevitably, their thoughts would turn to Bilbo and how he wasn't eating anything. And then food was less appealing. Generally Dis couldn't make it through dinner anymore. She'd get as far as the main course and and then have to excuse herself. Dwalin was lucky if he lasted to dessert. Everyone else forced themselves to stay, picking at the food, but the hall cleared out quickly as soon as possible. And everyone went back to openly worrying about the Hobbit and trying to think of ways to fix it.

Thorin didn't go to his rooms after dinner that night. He went to Dis' chambers, knocking softly.

"Come in." Dis murmured, though she sounded anything but enthusiastic. Thorin gently opened the door, closing it behind him and walking to the couch where Dis was sitting, her feet curled up on the cushion beneath her. She looked small like this. Thorin couldn't remember seeing her this way in years. Not since she was a young Dwarfling, sitting on their fathers lap.

"We need to do something about this. It's effecting us all now." He didn't need to go into detail. The only thing they talked about anymore was Bilbo and his declining situation. And how it was wearing them all down to the stone below their feet.

"What could we do Thorin? He's fading, that's very clear now. Is there anything we can really do to save someone from fading?" She asked, probably not expecting an answer. Thorin was going to give her one anyway.

"We all thought you were fading. After Ronan. You're still here and kicking."

"I had something to live for." Dis deadpanned, looking to the side at the painting of her and her sons.

"So does Bilbo. He has you...and me...he has all of us. We just have to make him see that. Right now he's so caught up in his mourning for him mother that's he's forgotten. We just have to help him remember that just because we're not his blood, doesn't mean we're not his family." Dis nodded slowly, before a fierce determination lit her eyes.

"Of course. How could I let myself loose hope like that? Bilbo needs up now more than ever." She said firmly, standing. "Tomorrow I'll go and read to him. He loves books. And maybe Dwalin can carry him to the garden in the afternoon. I hate having to force him out of his room, but he needs some fresh air. We'll do everything we can to show him that we're here for him." She listed and Thorin smiled.

"He's lucky to have you Dis. He may not know it now, but I know he will someday." He murmured, standing and hugging her. "Tomorrow." He stated.

"Tomorrow." She agreed. As much as she wanted to start helping Bilbo right then, it was late and the Hobbit was probably asleep. He slept a lot lately, but his internal clock seemed to have aligned itself finally with the mountain time. He slept at night and cried in the day. But not for much longer. No, they were going to put a stop to the tears. They were going to make everything better for Bilbo Baggins. There was no doubt in their minds.

Thorin kissed Dis on her cheek and left his sister to get some rest. Back in his own chambers, he couldn't resist peeking in at the sleeping Hobbit. The only thing he could see was the wild mess of golden curls peeking out from beneath a big thick fur. It brought a small smile to his face before the sadness weighed the smile back down again.

Sometimes he forgot just how young Bilbo was. Only two years past his coming of age, still just a child, by Dwarven standards. He was far too young to be fading away. He still had so much life to live, and Thorin was going to try his very hardest to get him to continue living. He...cared about Bilbo. So much. And he wanted the Hobbit to live. He wanted Bilbo to be happy. He would be happy. Thorin would do anything to make Bilbo happy.

He remained for another few moments before creeping out of the room and closing the door softly behind him. Everything would be better in the morning. He would make sure of it.

OOOOO

Bilbo couldn't feel anything. Even his soul wrenching agony had ebbed away. He had been crying for days now, omitting food and rest and conversation with anyone who came to see him. All of the company tried to get him to talk, but none of them were successful. He would simply remain curled up on his side, weeping steadily. But now he had no more tears. They had been purged from his body for the time being, it appeared. Now there was only a deep numbness.

His eyes traced the veins in his arms as he sat numbly. He had been thinking about it for days. The way his veins were so close beneath his skin. All he had to do was open them up. Let them run dry. And then he would be gone. He would be with his mother, far away from this damn mountain. He would miss the Dwarves. But they were not his family, they were hardly even his friends. His family was dead. The only reason he was living...was dead. He did not want to spend the rest of his life in this mountain, never able to leave. He didn't want that, and he was not going to tolerate it anymore.

He had slipped the quill out of Ori's pocket, when the Dwarf had brought him food. He had wiped all the ink off of the tip, making sure it was clean. If by some chance he did survive this, which he desperately hoped he didn't, he did not want to suffer through an infection. Bilbo also pulled the thick white feather out of the metal base. He didn't want to get blood on Ori's beautiful feather.

It was night. The Dwarves should all be asleep. And if they were still awake, they would not be coming to his chambers anytime soon. He felt safe in the knowledge that by the time they did come to check on him, it would be too late. He knew it took hours to bleed out in some cases, but it would be more than a few hours before anyone came to look for him. He dug the sharp point of the quill into his arm and pressed down until skin broke and blood bubbled up. And then he dragged the tip, as deep as he could.

A line of red appeared on his arm as his skin ripped and separated. Bilbo pulled the quill head all the way from his wrist to the inside of his elbow. And then he did it again. It went deeper this time, he could see that. But his previous numbness was combining with shock and he could only feel a pinch and the uncomfortable feeling of pulling as he moved. The line was jagged and bleeding profusely, so he gasped in a breath and turned to his other arm. It was easier this time, because he was already starting to loose consciousness from the shock. He dug as deep as he could and made one line, all the way up again, before he shuddered and fell to his side. Darkness slowly crept up to him as he watched his blood lazily pool around his arms.

A small smile appeared on his face. Because none of this mattered anymore. It was over now, and he had never been happier. Not since Bungo was alive. Father. How he missed his father. He was taken away too soon, before Bilbo was even of age, and that had been the beginning of Belladonna's end. The beginning of Bilbo's end as well. They would all be together now. Bilbo, Belladonna, and Bungo. He wasn't sure where they would be, or how, but they would be. They had to be. Otherwise everything he had ever done, every life he had ended and every gold coin he had stolen, it was all for nothing. But, in the end, none of the stuff he'd done in his life mattered. Not when he was slowly fading away, eager for the darkness rushing to meet him.

OOOOO

Thorin wasn't sure what woke him at first. He was a light sleeper, admittedly, but he had been in the midst of a very good dream where Bilbo actually smiled again. Where his laugh could be heard echoing around Erebor as he wrapped his arms around the Dwarf King. And then he was awake, sitting up in a panic. He just sat there for a moment before a strange voice whispered in his head.

'Bilbo' it said. Just that one name. But it was enough that he jumped out of bed, wrapped a robe around himself, and charged out of his room. He had never doubted his inner voice before. Supposedly it was a gift from Mahal himself, and it helped keep Thorin in line. If it said that something was wrong with Bilbo, then he believed it. It had never lied to him before. He crossed the sitting room to Bilbo's door and he knocked loudly. His gut twisted when there was no reply. He knocked even louder, again to no reply. It wasn't that unusual, in the days after his mothers death, for Bilbo to ignore someone at his door. But Thorin felt impossibly worried.

He opened the door slowly, light from the torches in the sitting room creeping into the antechamber. Bilbo wasn't on his bed. Neither was he in his chair at his desk. He was curled up on the rug in the very middle of the room. Thorin sighed, feeling relieved that at least Bilbo was there and in one piece. He opened the door wider to spread the light and walked inside. He would rouse Bilbo, check and make sure nothing was wrong, and then apologize for waking him and go back to sleep. But every single inch of his being froze as he saw the blood. There was so much of it, soaking into the rug and dribbling further onto the floor. And it was coming from his Hobbit.

"Bilbo!" He yelled, practically sliding across the floor to get to the Hobbit. He cradled Bilbo's head in his lap as he searched for the source of the blood. He didn't have to look for long. The Hobbit's arms were a mess of torn flesh and blood and a foot away from his body was a crimson quill tip that looked more like an orc blade to Thorin's eyes. "No! No no no no! Bilbo!" Thorin cried, not entirely sure what to do. He had gone into battle, he had seen men die, he had helped keep men stay alive, hundreds of times. But for some reason, all he could do was look down at his Hobbit in horror and chant little no's and pleases.

"Thorin? What's wrong? We heard you down the hall!" Kili asked, appearing in the doorway of the antechamber. He caught sight of the bloody and lifeless Hobbit in his uncle's lap and his face drained of color. Fili joined his brother in the door way, and didn't even get a word in before Kili was shouting nonsensically and calling for help.

"Please Bilbo. Don't be dead. Please." Thorin murmured, pressing his lips to his Hobbit's forehead. There was still a little warmth to his skin, but it was fading fast. Bilbo looked more like a corpse than the lively little Hobbit they knew, and it made Thorin want to be sick. Oin was suddenly kneeling next to him, stony faced as he assessed his patients wounds.

"Thorin we need to get him to the infirmary immediately. I need to stitch his wounds closed or he'll be dead in an hour." The healer commanded. Thorin seemed to snap out of his little horrified trance then and he hardened his face before picking the Halfling up and cradling him to his body. He jerked his head, telling Oin to go first, and followed the surprisingly fast old healer. They were followed the entire way by Dis, Fili, Kili, Dwalin, Balin, Bofur, and Ori who had all been roused by the shouting. "Set him down. I need hot water and bandages." Oin demanded, as he searched for a special needle and thread. They were very specific, very clean and thin, items that would make the job easier.

"Put pressure on the wounds." He heard Balin instructing someone, most likely Thorin, as he searched. When he finally returned with what he needed, he had to push Dwalin out of the way of Bilbo's right arm. Thorin was applying pressure to the other one, and that was good. These wounds were not only long, but deep. Oin would have to stitch the muscle and the skin and it would take some time for each arm. He only hoped that Bilbo would survive on the blood he still had.

"What are his chances?" Thorin asked, as if he could heard what Oin was thinking. The healer didn't look up from his stitching, but sighed heavily.

"If he survives the night, the odds are in his favor. But there's too much to take into consideration at the moment."

"What is there to consider? When his wounds are stitched, what else could kill him?" Thorin demanded. Oin could tell his King was on edge, so he tried to phrase it delicately.

"He is already in shock, and if that doesn't kill him, he may get an infection. And he's lost a lot of blood. What did he use to make the wounds? Did you see it?" Oin asked, glancing very briefly at Thorin.

"It was a quill tip." Thorin muttered, and Ori turned white from where he was standing with Fili and Kili. He had wondered what had happened to his quill, but he had never thought...why would Bilbo do that? It must have hurt him so bad!

"Was it clean?" Oin demanded. Thorin couldn't remember if it was clean or not, it had been absolutely covered in blood. The silver metal had barely shone through the thick crimson layered on it. "Balin, can you retrieve the quill tip?" Oin asked when Thorin said nothing. Balin nodded and rushed away, Ori following him. He was quite close to tears, and he had to know if it was indeed his quill, if it was his fault that Bilbo might die.

"H-He's not gonna die is he?" Kili asked, with a light hiccup. Fili was holding himself together pretty well, all things considered, but Kili was not doing as well.

"I don't know lad." Oin said honestly. The room fell silent then. The only sound was that of Kili's soft sobbing and Oin working. After a frighteningly long time, Oin switched places with Thorin and began on the other arm. Thorin gently cleaned the blood from Bilbo's arm with the warm water that had been brought. He would wait for Oin to bandage it, he didn't want to mess it up. Thorin clutched Bilbo's cold, small hand in his own large warm one and didn't say a word. He stared at his Hobbit's face and pleaded with Mahal, with Yavanna, with all of the Valar. He pleaded that they would not take Bilbo from him. Not when Thorin finally understood.

He loved Bilbo. He had been so confused for so long about the feelings that Bilbo brought to him, but it all made sense now. It all clicked in his mind and he was having a very hard time not crying himself. The gods couldn't take Bilbo, not when Thorin had finally found the one he loved. He would help Bilbo. He would make him happy again. But first Bilbo had to live.

Balin returned with the bloody quill tip wrapped in a cloth and set it to the side until Oin could look at it later. They all waited with baited breath for Oin to finish his stitching. When he did, he did not relax. He applied a generous amount of Elvish ointment to the wounds and then wrapped them tightly in clean white bandages. Thorin had made a face at the ointment, but it really was the best chance they had for staving off infection and healing the wound. Finally, Oin sat back, exhausted and hopeful, and the others crowded around the unconscious Bilbo.

"Do you think it was because of his mother?" Kili asked when the silence got too suffocating.

"It would appear so." Balin sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "Family ties run even deeper in Hobbits than in Dwarves, if you could believe it. He lost his father years ago, and now his mother. He is trapped in a foreign kingdom, and he believes he has no purpose to his life. Honestly, I am not surprised our Bilbo turned to this." The old, wise Dwarf explained. Thorin growled, and it was such an animalistic sound that it shocked them all.

"He is not going to die." Thorin vowed, and no one had the strength to argue. "He is going to live, and he is going to be happy." Thorin continued, gingerly brushing hair from Bilbo's face. Balin exchanged glances with his brother, who looked heavy with the weight of the situation.

"Aye lad." Balin murmured, because Thorin needed some sort of comfort at the moment. It had been obvious to them all for quite some time that Thorin was in love with Bilbo. Of course the stupid Dwarf King had fervently refused to accept that, but it appeared he no longer doubted his feelings. Which only made this harder.

"He likely won't wake for quite some time." Oin murmured, mostly to Thorin but everyone was listening.

"I am staying here and if you try to remove me I will have you thrown out of this kingdom." Thorin growled, and Oin could only nod sadly. Dis, who had been so very still and silent the entire time, finally moved. She came to stand on the other side of Bilbo and she ran her fingers through his tangled curls. Bilbo looked so young, so very small and pale. He looked like he was already dead. And if she was being truthful to herself, Dis admitted silently that Bilbo had died a long time ago. Slowly, and painfully, starting with the death of his father and building with each corpse he created. Now that Belladonna was gone, so was Bilbo.

But she couldn't tell Thorin that. She didn't even want to think about it herself. They would try, try everything they possibly could, to help Bilbo. But if he was already dead inside, there wasn't going to be much they could do. As much as that hurt for Dis to think about, it was only the truth.

"Come on boys. We should be in bed." Dis whispered, glancing up at her sons. They looked like they wanted to argue, but they also looked so exhausted. Not only physically, but now emotionally as well. This whole situation had drained them all. Dis gripped Thorin's shoulder as she passed, a silent support for her brother. He nodded stiffly and Dis let go, walking over to her sons and wrapping her arms around their shoulders instead.

"Is he going to be okay?" Kili whispered as they started walking away.

"Oin is the best healer in Erebor, if-"

"I didn't mean Bilbo this time." Kili interrupted her gently, casting a look back as his uncle. Dis sighed and squeezed his shoulder.

"I hope so Kili. But I do not know."

Thorin kissed Bilbo's forehead, hands still wrapped around Bilbo's small cold hand. He would be okay. As long as Bilbo as still alive, he would be okay. And he would do everything he could to make Bilbo okay as well.

OOOOO

Smaug couldn't put his finger on what exactly was wrong. His link he used to keep tabs on Bilbo was...gone. It had been perfectly fine for the last few weeks. There was an overabundance of sadness in recent days, but nothing Smaug couldn't handle. The silence through the link was more worrying than the sadness that had been pouring through recently. Had something happened to his thief?

He glanced up from the book in his hands. The dark library around him was still and silent, which only magnified the silence in his head. He wasn't supposed to be here, but there were hardly any places he was supposed to be these days. He had research to do, and whether or not he was meant to be allowed in someplace was not going to stop him. Still, the silence was...perhaps unnerving in some small way.

With a shrug, he tore the page he was looking at from the book and tucked it into his coat pocket. He was not incredibly worried about Bilbo, but maybe he would squeeze in a visit just to check on the Hobbit. He was almost done with his plans, and then he would not need such trivial methods like venom tracing to keep track of the Halfling. He would not need to disguise himself in order to approach the thief.

As he was walking out of the library there was a yell in Sindarin, which he easily recognized as, 'Halt!' With a smirk he turned to find an Elf, bow raised and pointed at him, and a fierce look on his...delicate face. Elves were so pretty. Smaug hated them.

"What is your business here?" The Elf demanded. Smaug gave him the most patronizing look he could, and the Elf flinched for a moment before scowling. "I will call the guard if you do not state your purpose and your name." The Dragon let out a low rumbling laugh, idly moving closer to the young Elf. Probably new as a guard, to be assigned to the library. "Stop this instant and answer!" The Elf was clearly afraid now, his knuckles turning white as he clutched his bow.

"Oh how precious." Smaug drawled condescendingly.

"W-Who are you?" The Elf tried to growl, but after the stutter it sounded more realistic...that is it sounded weak. The Dragon purred and quirked his head to the side. He picked up a book at random, thankfully with a hard cover, and weighed it in his hands.

"Smaug." He smirked. Quickly, too quickly for the young guard, he threw the book with deadly accuracy. The sharp edge of the hard cover met with the young Elf's throat and the bow and arrow was dropped as he stumbled back, gasping. A moment later he found himself on the floor, two pale hands wrapped around his throat. Smaug grinned, enjoying the fear that dilated the boy's eyes as he applied more and more pressure to the fragile neck beneath his hands.

After a few moments of gasping and struggling, the Elf began to loose consciousness. With one last sneer, Smaug moved one hand to the lads face and wrenched it to the side, snapping the Elf's neck. Oh it felt so good to kill again. Especially up close like this! The mass destruction he dealt in his wyrm form was satisfying, but no where near as satisfying as this. Watching the light fade from eyes was his favorite experience.

Smaug stood, straightened his clothes, and with one final look around the room, he turned and left. This time undisturbed.

OOOOO

AN: So. I'm sorry. But not really. In any case, this is totally not the worst of it so...yeah. Still not sorry. Please feel free to leave a comment or question or death threat. Thanks for reading!