Chapter 21: Dreams of Gold

The fire burned high, a bright flame into the night, and the smell of roasted goat hung deliciously in the air. There was no ale, but that did not diminish the dwarves' joyous mood in the least. Glóin had even tried his hand on an impromptu dragonslayer ballad and all of the company had been glad when Kili had put an end to that, by asking him for some old battle song instead. That had been the start of the singing; the dwarves had a seemingly inexhaustible repertoire of songs, ballads and old battle songs. Bilbo sat on a rock, pleasantly full with roasted goat and enjoyed the many songs. He was glad that he was not at the center of the attention any more, at first Kili and Dwalin had dragged him into the circle with them because he had been the one to recover the Arkenstone, and he had felt all embarrassed between them. He had been relieved when he had managed to slip away a little, much more happy to watch the three fighters being celebrated.

Someone sat down beside him as the last notes of the Ballad of Alberic Stonebow rang out into the night, he looked up and recognized a familiar hat. "Bofur, I would have thought no one could get you away from the singing."

The miner grinned at Bilbo. "I just wanted to have a quiet moment, much like you, Bilbo." He said. "To let it all sink in."

The Hobbit tilted his head to see Bofur's face. "It will take some time to get used to it, I think," he said. "Having a real home, I mean… you did it, Bofur. You got your home back."

"That too," Bofur said softly, his eyes going to the fire, to Kili, who was standing with his brother and Thorin at that moment, dark eyes sparkling in the firelight. So much like his father, and so much not like him. Fili, hugging his brother, his other hand reaching for Thorin's shoulder, including him into the moment of closeness, the golden light between the two darker ones.

"You seem pensive," Bilbo observed. "What else is it you need to get used to? Other than settling down, obviously."

"Being here," Bofur replied, not quite aware he was speaking to Bilbo. "Being here, Bilbo, being part of this…"

"But, you were part of the company from the start," Bilbo pointed out. "Like all the others, like Dwalin and Glóin…"

Bofur shook his head. "Not quite. I am not of Durin's folk, my brother, cousin and I are Blacklock dwarves, born in the Northern Misty Mountains. We fell in with the Erebor dwarves when they crossed Dunland so long ago; they were wandering as were we… they were the first to accept us, in spite of Bifur's injury. Blacklocks don't have much of a good reputation, you know."

"But they accepted you still, didn't they?" Bilbo asked. "They have never treated you differently throughout the whole journey."

"Aye," Bofur smiled lightly. "That's exactly that, Bilbo – they were the first to accept us three, to take us along like we were of Durin's folk as well, even as we were of Var's folk. When Thorin called for the quest and I went to join… I did not expect him to accept us, but he welcomed us as much as any of the others." There was an echo of awe in the miner's voice. "Sometimes on that long journey you just forget by whose side you walk."

"A King you mean?" Bilbo tried to decipher what Bofur was saying.

"That too…" Bofur shook his head. "They travel with us, share the hardships, the dangers, always in the front rank, always taking the risks, and still… they just behave like they were the same as us. And then… you see them do something that should be impossible, come back from being stabbed, fight a dragon… and you suddenly realize that this is Durin's Blood you walk beside."

"Bofur, Bilbo," Kili had left the fire to find them. "Are you all right? You seem so withdrawn…" The dark eyes surveyed them both, warm and concerned. "I have already been telling Óin and Glóin not to overdo it so much… we all did it together, constantly praising the three of us is unfair on all the others, you shouldered the same dangers and hardships."

He meant every word, and Bilbo saw how much they affected Bofur, who already admired Kili's family so much. "No, my Prince," the miner replied. "They ought to praise you three…"

"Mahal's hammer, Bofur!" Kili exclaimed. "You won't go all that formal on me. We all came through too much for that, we are friends, so no more titles." He actually grabbed Bofur's arm, leading him back to the celebrations.

ADL

Thorin woke the next morning well after sunrise, he had been too exhausted to even dream in that night and was surprised he had slept so long. Sleeping beyond sunrise was a luxury he had rarely had in years. The last night had been a wonderful celebration, He had been impatient sometimes, but held back and let the three enjoy that evening and the honest happiness of their comrades, they deserved it. Sometime during the night Fili had sat down beside Thorin, content to watch his brother from afar as he laughed with the others. His company had meant much to Thorin as the night wore on.

Now that the sun was high in the skies, the dwarven leader determined it was time to enter the mountain; the others had already begun to pack up camp. "Kili," he approached his son, who had been exchanging jokes with Glóin, laughing at some peppery comment by the redhead, dismissing him with a gesture.

"Thorin?" Kili turned to him.

"Did you recover the Arkenstone when you returned from the ruins?" Thorin asked, trying not to sound impatient. He had been about to ask for the stone a dozen times the last night, but he had held his tongue every time.

"Oh, that thing." Kili fished the stone from the pocket of his coat and dropped it into Thorin's hand without ceremony. "It got a bit dirty when Smaug had to drool on it."

"You should show a little more respect, Kili," Thorin reminded him. "This is the King's jewel; it is the heart of the Mountain, the crown jewel of…"

"It is a pretty important jewel then," Kili said lightheartedly. "And outside from luring dragons into traps still useless. It is powerful but the way it was cut is… ornate only." He pointed to the bloody bundle he had brought back from the battlefield. "That's what I call treasure." He pulled the leathers of the pack aside to allow Thorin a peek on four glistening white fangs and several huge dark claws.

He had brought back the fangs and claws of Smaug, it was a spellsmith's ransom, Thorin would admit, but he would never trade these bloody things for the Arkenstone, no matter what power they held. Still, he was proud of Kili, he would rekindle the fame of Durin's house as great arcane crafters and once he would see what he could do when he was not limited to working with steel he would appreciate the treasure more. "I will be very curious what you make of those," Thorin said. "Just see they are cleaned properly before they begin to stink."

Walking down the long tunnel into the mountain Thorin was glad to have Dwalin by his side again, his friend would remember just like he did what it had been like to walk through these halls. They had finally come home. They followed the same path Bilbo had taken, towards the main gate at first, because it would be the best way to access the heart of the city. Thorin's heart clenched when they came to the gate with the many dead, the remains lying everywhere. How many had fallen that day? He knew the estimated headcount from Balin, but the brutal number had never felt more real than in this moment as he stood among the remains of all those the dragon had killed and eaten. "When… when the mountain is properly secured we will place their remains in a large crypt in the deeps," Thorin said, his voice rough. "They will always rest near the heart of their homeland."

"The siege doors are down proper, they were brought down in the right sequence," Dwalin studied the heavy stone barrier. "Small wonder the dragon did not get out this way."

"I found the body of a warrior up on the ledge," Bilbo told him. "I think he is the one who did it. The dragon did not find his… remains."

Dwalin looked at the Halfling with a strange expression. "Show me," he said curtly, gesturing for Balin to join with them.

Bilbo led them up the narrow stairwell and to the ledge with the levers. Nothing had changed since he had been up here, the warrior still sat in his place, the black axe on his knees. "I had thought of bringing the axe out with me," Bilbo admitted. "But you said to not take anything, and I doubt I could have even carried it."

"You did right, laddie. The weapon should be buried with Daroin." Balin said, having climbed the stairs after them. Both brothers stood silently beside the dead warrior.

"Daroin… he is your brother?!" Suddenly Bilbo understood the sad expression in both their eyes, they had not just lost their brother the day the mountain fell, he had sacrificed himself to allow the others to flee by staying behind and closing the siege doors. "I am so sorry," Bilbo felt he could not find words to express his sympathies for the two brothers, what must it be for them to come back here and find their brother in the place he had died in all alone?

"It is all right, Bilbo," Balin told him gently. "Daroin died fulfilling his duty to his king; to his people… he died proudly."

"I can't even begin to imagine how this must feel for you…" Bilbo whispered, remembering Thorin telling him how Daroin had tracked him and Dwalin down out on the hillside bringing Thorin back to his grandfather like an unruly whelp. It conjured the image of a tall dwarven warrior like Dwalin in Bilbo's mind, but with some of Balin's kinder face.

"Daroin's and Dwalin's lives were given to their respective Kings, little one," Balin replied. "Had Daroin lived he would be buried by King Thrór's side at the shores of Mirrormere. To bemoan such a fate is to belittle their choices."

"Dwalin…" Thorin had come up the stairs, but seeing them stand there, he cut back on what he had wanted to say. He too recognized the dead fighter. "Take all the time you need," he said, ready to leave again.

Dwalin had moved from his spot already to join Thorin, but the dwarven King turned around to clasp his upper arm. "Take all the time you need, my friend," Thorin repeated softly. "We will see him buried as he should have been, later."

But Dwalin shook his head. "There is no time needed, Thorin, I said my goodbyes long ago. Daroin is with Mahal, and he'd have my hide if he found me tarrying on my own duty."

To his surprise Thorin looked down, the long tresses of his hair obscuring his face. "Oh Dwalin," Thorin whispered. "Your family gave so much, Daroin, the rest of your family, Marthaswintha…" He looked up again, intense blue eyes meeting Dwalin's darker gaze. "Stay, if not for Daroin, for Balin's sake. Your family deserves at least this little consideration." The dwarf king gave Dwalin a quick nod and went down the stairs again, leaving the warrior and his brother to mourn their fallen sibling.

ADL

Thorin walked through the great throne hall of Erebor alone, how long had it been that he had been standing here? Could it really be all that long lifetime ago? Now that he was here, the years wandering the world seemed like a bad dream, a nightmare, or a story someone had told him by the firelight during a hunting trip. Now that he walked the gold-strewn halls of the mountain Thorin felt he had truly come home. This was his place…

As he walked he noticed the amount of treasure piled up throughout the halls. He had been acquainted with the wealth of the mountain but this was more than he remembered. Could his dream have been true? That the treasure under the mountain was much larger than he had ever known? Without thinking his feet carried him to the main treasury, the door was still open like the day he had rescued his grandfather from that room, but several more doors had been smashed by the dragon and the overflowing riches of the mountain flowed through the rooms.

Reverently Thorin knelt and touched the gold with his fingerstips, feeling a seeping warmth spread through him.

"Well done, my boy." Thrór stood a few paces away, smiling at him. Thorin blinked in surprise, was he dreaming again? It could not be, he was still in the treasury.

"No, you are not dreaming." Thrór actually laughed. "Do not fear… you are home and you will not allow anyone to steal from us again."

Thorin rubbed his eyes, as he looked around the room, piled with gold. Maybe he had been dreaming, but this… this was his grandfather's legacy to him, the greatest treasure in all Middle Earth.

"Thorin!" He heard Bofur's voice call out for him. Hastily he got up and hurried out to the hallway again. "What is it, Bofur, is something amiss?" He asked.

"Bifur called me, Thorin. He is out with hour horses still and he reported a rider approaching the mountain. Alone, it seems."

Thorin tensed, there always would be thieves wanting to steal the gold, to loot the treasure under the Mountain. "I will go up to him and see who the rider is," he decided. "Find Dwalin and tell him to prepare for trouble."

Having hastened up the long tunnel to the secret door, Thorin's breath was flying when he arrived at their former camp. He did not need to converse with Bifur to see what the other dwarf had called him for. The rider was close enough to be recognizable already. Lachanar. A small part of Thorin was glad that the former Captain General of Mirkwood had survived, he had after all stood by Thorin and aided in his escape, but that did not make up for his betrayal of their friendship in the first place. "What brings you here, Lachanar? If your king has messages for me, you can take them right back to him." He grumbled.

"He is no longer my King, or you can consider me an oathbreaker, whatever suits you better." Lachanar dismounted his tired horse. "I came to warn you, Thorin. Thranduil blames you not only for the death of the guards in the palace but also for the death of his tree… he is mobilizing the army. By the time I had left they were calling up the full host. He wants revenge and he will come here."

Thorin frowned, he was not sure what he should think, Lachanar's newfound allegiance to him came at the price of breaking his oath which made him even less trustworthy. On the other hand, the warning came handy, and Lachanar would know a lot about the enemy's strength and disposition. But he still could not be trusted. "So you came to warn me," Thorin drawled. "And I will need to know more soon. But I cannot trust you, Lachanar. Not with the legacy of my people freshly reclaimed. Bifur! Escort him down to the mountain and put him into a cell, we will need to learn all he knows."

ADL

Another flock of geese strayed across the cold skies and Bard's eyes mapped their path. They too flew close to the mountain. It was the third flight of them the archer had watched and he began to wonder. During the previous night he had seen fiery light rise from afar, it had shone from the heights of Dale during the evening to go out, with a fierce crash that had shaken the grounds of the land. The Earth itself hat trembled. Ever since the Captain of the Town Guard had been watching the signs, wondering what had transpired. Maybe once the Elves who had shown up on their doorstep had left he would ride North to ascertain what had happened.

"Bard!" Egil came rushing towards him. "The Master has sent for you."

"If he now wants my advice on how to deal with Elves, I have no idea." Bard said, striding towards the town hall.

"I don't think so," Egil said ominously. "He is in there with several Elves already. He might want to remind them that we have an army too… better to bring the fierce Captain into those negotiations."

It was very possible. Bard had often slightly tipped the balance of negotiations through his presence; many people believed the army of Esgaroth much stronger and fiercer than it usually was. Bard straightened up, striding into the hall, purposefully pushing past the guards. "Master, you called for me." He spoke clearly, putting the warrior, the Captain into the foreground of his being.

The Master sat on his chair, with only a few councilors present, to his side stood several elves, with whom he had been conversing. "Bard, it is good you came so quickly," the Master greeted, then turning to the Elf. "Your Highness this is Bard of Dale, the Captain of our warriors."

Bard realized that the pale elf standing between the warriors must be their King, he bowed as was proper, but his eyes did not leave the Master. The old man returned his attention quickly to him. "Bard, I need you to muster all our fighters, every warrior we have and maybe a few volunteers that are willing."

Bard frowned. "For what reason?" he asked. "The scouts have not reported anything unduly restless in Wilderland and the rumors of Orcs crossing the wilds have yet to be confirmed."

"We will march on Erebor with the Elves, Bard." The Master exclaimed. "And we will need any fighter we can contribute for this. These Dwarves… they will be dealt with."

So the Elves and the Master too assumed the Dragon was dead and that the Mountain was ripe for the taking. Bard's heart sank, knowing that the Master always had loved money much and the hoard of the Mountain was legendary. "Master, why would we betray King Thorin and his people?" he asked. "They have done us no harm; they were our allies in the past."

"This self –styled King is not worthy of our consideration," the Master snapped. "And it is not your place to question, Bard. I have made my decision."

"Master of Lake-Town," The Elf King's musical voice interrupted the man's rant. "Your Captain is an honorable man, and raises reasonable questions that speak much in his favor. Would you allow me to speak to him?"

The Master heaved a sigh. "Very well, your Highness. But do not overtax yourself…"

The Elf shot him a glance that told quite clearly that he did not wish such intrusions on his personal matters, before Thranduil turned to Bard. "Walk with me," he invited the Captain. Bard had no choice but to follow the Elf outside. "I know this must seem rude to you," The elven king continued as they walked towards the waterside. "But I feel much better to speak out in the open. And I wish to apologize for putting you into such a situation. I had hoped to explain before you were ordered to marshal your army."

Bard inclined his head politely. "That was hardly your fault, your Highness." He replied. "But I still stand by what I said. King Thorin and his people have done us no harm and were great allies in the past. Turning on them would be wrong."

They had reached the waterside and stood alone on the pier overlooking the lake. "Your family was close to King Thrór's I recall," Thranduil said. "And you believe Thorin to be like his noble ancestors of course. It pains me to destroy such firm friendship." His deep blue eyes met Bard's misty green gaze. "Thorin and his companions murdered dozens of Elves in Mirkwood and nearly killed one of my most trusted friends. They are criminals and murderers, Bard, who grievously harmed my people, and as King it is my duty to see justice done."

"You will forgive me if I say that there will be two sides to that story." Bard pointed out, the dwarves had not said much but mentioned captivity in Mirkwood.

The elf sighed. "I would ask you to believe my word… but how could you?" he said softly. "The day the dragon came I did not just leave the dwarves to contend with the horror they had created but I also left your people to burn."

Bard arched an eyebrow. "That is ancient history, King of the Woodland Realm, but I do not make a habit of judging people without hearing their side of the story."

"But it is part of your distrust for me," Thranduil observed. "Your people had to flee their burning city and to survive in this unforgiving land all alone…"

"If you regret it so much… there must be more to it," Bard found himself saying, he had always heard people out, and the Elf deserved that as much as anyone else.

"When the dragon came… I froze," Thranduil said softly. "I saw that mighty fire drake in the skies and fear took me," he looked at Bard. "I am not a warrior such as yourself, Bard. You would have stood and fought, no matter the odds, my Captain-General would have fought… but I… I was not prepared for that. I froze and all I wanted to do was protect my people from that horror scorching your city."

There was a strange vulnerability in the Elven King in this moment, and Bard wondered if he should be here at all. At least not without some good protectors. "It is perfectly natural, Thranduil," he said, using the name in that moment, speaking to the person, not the King. "We all have fears, we all have moments when we are so afraid we want to run and hide… that is how we survive. Warriors get trained to ignore all those reflexes that would save them… but it should never be expected from others."

"You are a very generous man, Bard of Dale," Thranduil said with a small smile. "I will not pressure you, for I could not expect you to follow me into any fight… but I wish very much I had you by my side when confronting Thorin. He is… a warrior through and through, hardened and cruel."

Bard bowed his head and looked down on the dark water, a part in him wanted to tell the elf he'd protect him, there was no need for such a graceful being like Thranduil to go to battle, when there were men like Bard who had been trained for the deathly game all their lives. But another, greater part, remembered his talk with Thorin and while the dwarf certainly was a prideful and stubborn man, he also was proud and honorable… he could not be a murderer. "If I send one of my people up to the Mountain to parley, see if there is a way to resolve this without further bloodshed, would you agree?" he asked eventually.

"I would fear for the life of the messenger," Thranduil said. "Thorin… he is beyond reason." He lightly touched Bard's shoulder with his hand. "Think about it, Bard. I will ask the Master to give you time to think this through. No one should be forced into a battle he does not wish to fight." With that he turned away and left to return to the Hall.

ADL

"You can pour all a pleasure houses' perfumes on it, if a contract stinks it stinks; no matter how often the other side takes a bath." Hagil's voice was gruff and direct, the old mercenary stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest on the north pier of the city, facing Bard. "And I tell you, I'd not touch an Oathbreaker's contract for all the gold in the treasury of Minas Tirith."

"Not that they have that much in the way of money, anyway." Aiken added, the younger fighter sat on one of the pollards of the pier and had listened to all Bard had to say quietly so far. The Captain had sought council with them, feeling that the two men who had fought for so many different masters might be able to help clear away his own doubts. "But Bard, I do agree with Hagil, these Elves claim that they are hunting a dozen murderers – and they bring all their army for that? It's a full three banners camped out on the shore, and that's a careful estimate."

"I wish I knew more," Bard replied. "Thranduil claimed the dwarves murdered many of his people along with one of his councilors, and he is not entirely lying."

"If I have to break out of a dungeon, I will leave a trail of bodies behind, that's part of the deal." Aiken said. "Bard, I know Dwalin. He is hard as nails, he is uncompromising and he is fierce… but he is a man of honor. He is no murderer."

"Do we have any option to stay out of this?" Hagil asked. "Tell the elves politely to leave our city and good luck with their undertaking?"

"No, the Master is already committed," Bard made a fist, nearly hitting the wooden wall of the warehouse beside the pier. "He only sees the gold. Once Thorin is dead, the way to the gold lies open for those who can claim it. Hagil… Thorin was a friend of my family, my grandfather spoke of him with such reverence… I can't betray him. It would be wrong, and dishonorable, and… I can't." He knew that his words made little sense; he spoke what was in his heart, raw and unpolished as that was.

"Then don't," Aiken said directly. "I won't either. I will be off today, once this is settled. Dwalin deserves advance warning of what's coming."

So there would be Dale's people on both sides of the conflict…. Bard closed his eyes. "If we do not follow the Master, our people may lose their right to live here, Aiken."

"And that makes it still not right," Hagil looked at Bard, his eyes holding a strange expression. His hand had closed around a small item that he wore on a leather band around his neck, usually the ancient gold clasp was hidden under his armor, but now it was in his hand, as if it reminded him of something. "Bard… I have fought for foreigners all my life, for fools and tyrants, for a few heroes and dreamers too… and I know that no outside force, no 'I have to do this because…' can make a cause right or better. If you fight for the wrong side, you always come out dirty, and sometimes with things you will never be able to forgive yourself."

It was maybe the first time the old mercenary had allowed Bard to look behind the stern mask he wore, to see the scars, the disappointments and the cruelties he had seen and lived through. "If… if I were to do this right, Hagil, I will need each and every one of our people." Bard said, feeling a great weight settling upon him.

Aiken jumped off the pollard, coming to stand beside Hagil, the two warriors exchanged only a glance, it was all it took. "And we will stand with you, my Lord."

ADL

Kili strode into the main throne hall of Erebor fuming, his temper barely held in check, the young dwarven warrior only stopped once, to address three people he saw. "Glóin, Óin, Bombur, leave us, please, I have a matter to discuss with His Highness." The three left at once, seeing that there was a storm brewing up inside Durin's House.

Thorin had been standing close to the old throne, now piled with treasure and gold encrusted armor pieces. "What brings you here, Kili?" he asked, not turning around, his eyes on the Arkenstone in his hands.

"To ask you when you took an extended leave from your senses." Kili said directly. "Throwing Lachanar into a cell was not exactly smart, forbidding Balin to send for whatever aid we can hope for is stupid and now wanting the treasure moved into the hidden chambers… Uncle, are you insane?"

Thorin whipped around, Kili's words easily riling his temper. "There is no aid we can count on, Kili and I will not demean myself and beg for it. And Lachanar can't be trusted; he needs to stay in that cell. We do not have enough men to guard the treasure as it is."

"To guard this junk?" Kili actually kicked against several gold vessels, spilling their content, mostly coins and jewels all over the floor. "We did not come here for all the treasure; we came here to give our people a home and a future. And now we can make use of the treasure to ensure this home will be here for them. Offer Thranduil enough gold to roll in, it may soothe his bruised ego and offer weregild for the families of the elves we killed during our escape…"

"No!" Thorin shouted. "I will not give one silver penny to those traitors. And you will stop questioning my wisdom. We will stand through this without giving up the hoard."

Angrily Kili picked up one of the gold vessels and flung it across the room with all his strength. "I do not care about the gold – I would prefer a pile of solid black steel over all this gold. It is useless, it is dark… and it is not worth one life given in its defense. Father… you must hear me. This is not right, and you know it. You are lusting after the gold like…"

"Lusting am I?" Thorin snapped, his rage rising but he held it in. "Kili… I know you do not value gold, for you do not know it. You learned your craft with steel and copper, and you learned it beautifully… but imagine what you could do with these? You will come to love the gold, Kili, when you give it a chance."

"I do not want to love it, Thorin." Kili crossed his arms in front of his chest. "It is still a lesser metal, from which neither tool nor weapon can be made. And we did not come here for the gold. At least let Lachanar go, he proved his friendship to you when he came to warn us. They should not find him here, after we all are dead."

"Friend? Do not dare to call any elf my friend," Thorin spat. "They only want to steal our treasure, and betray us."

Kili's eyes had darkened to an unreadable expression; pain had vanished from them, retreating behind a façade. "I have to say, you make a splendid figure as King under the Mountain, father, right up there with Thrór who went mad. But you forget that I was the one who killed the dragon. You may dismiss the others; you may even dismiss Balin who really deserves better than that! But you won't dismiss me and my words. I am Prince of the Mountain and the Dragonslayer… and I have a say in this." The young dwarf stood firmly, his eyes fixed on the King, not wavering under Thorin's intense glare.

"Are you?" Thorin asked. "That can be remedied." He drew Orcrist, the blade heavy in his hand. "Fili was always my heir of choice, had Dis only held her tongue." He advanced, attacking Kili.

The younger dwarf retreated a few steps and drew his own blade, falling into battle stance. "Then name him your heir," he snapped. "I never wanted to be the Prince of the Mountain. It was you who dredged up the past, who had to change it all."

They swords clashed, Thorin having the longer reach and greater experience quickly pushing Kili into the defensive. "You were the dragonkiller… but you have done your task," Thorin growled, attacking all the more fiercely. "And you do not value the gift our ancestors left us."

Their fighting continued in earnest, Kili switching gears to a quick footed, agile fighting style that forced Thorin to chase after him, the uneven grounds strewn with treasures made their fight a hazardous undertaking, both slipped several times, but came up quickly enough to fight on. "Listen to yourself, father," Kili tried to reason with Thorin. "Something is wrong here. The treasure is touched by the Bane, like all our family ever possessed. Can't you feel it? It is evil."

"You lie!" Thorin advanced swifter, forcing Kili to parry a storm of attacks; the dwarven king was a sword fighter of years of experience, while Kili was still more of an archer. The young Prince stood no chance against his enraged father. Thorin finally disarmed him near the doors of the halls, Kili's sword flew through air and cluttering down on the stone floor outside the hall. "And so it ends," Thorin spat. "Maybe your mother can comfort you in the dark deeps…"

"No!" A shout rose from outside the hall as someone came racing towards them. With one heavy impact Kili was pushed out of the way and Orcist impaled itself in Fili's chest instead.

To his horror Thorin saw Fili sink to the ground, Orcist buried in his chest, blood was already pooling under the dwarf's body. "Fili…." Thorin's voice broke, when what he had done came crashing down on him.

"Get away from him!" Kili snapped, kneeling down beside his brother. "Get Óin! Quickly!" He called out loud, knowing that others would be in the hallways outside.

"It is far too late for that," Boromir had entered the hall only moments after Fili when he had seen the dwarf sprint towards his brother. "Kili… that wound… he does not have long."

Kili's eyes filled with tears, as he tried to console Fili, who clasped his hand. "Thorin…" Fili whispered softly.

"Even now he is calling for you," Kili growled, fierce anger directed at his father. "And you murdered him."

Thorin knelt down beside Fili, pain and self-loathing so clearly etched on his face that even Kili did not manage to send him away again. The young dwarf looked up to Boromir. "You said I used a spell to save you back… in that other life. Do you know which?"

"I do, but… Kili… I cannot work it, I never had the arcane talent, it is rare even among the descendants of Numenór." Boromir wished he had the penchant of his own father for the forbidden arts, it was the first time ever that he wished he had even tried to learn them, instead of calling them old rubbish. "And you…"

"Dwarves can't work spells, I know that." Kili said. "We can wield them into metal and stone, inscribe them into horn and bone but… we can't make them work out of ourselves, that is a gift only the Firstborn have." His voice was dejected and pained. "I wish…"

"What if you took me?" Thorin asked in a low broken voice. "Took my power to sustain whatever magic it is that can save Fili?"

"I hardly know the spell," Boromir said "but I doubt it will work like that."

"Show me," Kili commanded, some measure of control returning to him. In this moment again Boromir saw Kili Ravenswing push past the young Prince, and he would not give up until there were no options left to try.

The Gondorian closed his eyes, remembering, pushing the memory into the bond with all his might, hoping Kili would be able to see the runes in the sword hilt, the spell they used to save Faramir.

"Amazing…" Kili whispered. "Whoever taught me that… he must have been a Master of the Art…" he checked his own admiration at once. "We can't use the dragon's teeth, they are still raw, untamed. I can't tap into them like that."

"So… it would work with another artifact?" Boromir asked, a tiny spark of hope rising in him. But Kili had always said the spell was inscribed on the dragon sword.

"Usually it would not," Kili said honestly. "But… with enough strength from an artifact and our bond… Boromir, I would have to touch the spell as it is inscribed on you, because you used it before, fuelled by the strength of an artifact, it just might work."

Thorin had held Fili's hand, not even having the words to beg his forgiveness, what he had done could not be forgiven and he knew that. He would never forgive himself for killing his Fili. "An artifact?" he asked his voice still low. With his free hand he took the Arkenstone that he still carried with him, the jewels' light shone coolly in the hall. In this moment he did not feel any lure or call from the stone, he would give it up; he would give up all the hoard if it only could undo what had happened, if it could save Fili. "Could the stone… could it be enough?"

Kili touched the stone with his fingertips, willing his mind to be still. "It is powerful… and dark… oh so dark… like the night of the deeps. But… maybe." He looked at Boromir. "I have no idea if I can control this. It might kill all three of us."

Boromir nudged Thorin to make room, so Fili's head would rest in Thorin's lap, while he knelt on the other side of the dying dwarf. "Then we go all three, we are brothers." He said, unafraid. He knew this was it, Kili had rejected the curse and if he was to judge the look in Thorin's haunted eyes the dwarven King was breaking free as well.

Kili gently touched Fili's hair. "Fili… we need you to focus. Once we remove the blade it will get very cold, but you need to stay with us."

He saw Fili's weak nod, his brother had not the strength to speak, or whisper. Looking up he met Boromir's eyes. "Do it." Boromir pulled Orcrist out of the wound, and the blood began to flow. Kili placed the Arkenstone right above the wound, his hand on it, Boromir's above, with their other hand they held Fili's, forming a circle. Kili closed his eyes focusing on the bond, he had to reach for the spell, for the runes through Boromir, who had aided working this spell already once and he had to tap into the jewel, which was the hardest part, the stone was dark, so seductively dark, the whispers spreading through Kili like tendrils when he found the well inside the stone, linking it with his own well of power. He ignored the promises the stone whispered to him.

Do not speak of hope forlorn

though night may cloud your eyes,

From darkness rises a new morn'

and so the darkness dies.

He had to push the words out, struggling to gain a hold on the powerful runes in Boromir's mind. It was like fighting in the quicksand, like being drowned by something dark and powerful. Boromir's voice echoed the words steadily, he felt his friend's strength of will aiding him, how Boromir managed to relinquish control so much, allowing him to touch this memory he did not know.

Don't fear the long dark night ahead,

when dusk begins to rise,

you fought, you stood and you have bled,

and so the darkness dies.

The spell began to take hold, nearly crushing Kili, drawing every little droplet out of his own well of power, and then some more, the power of the Arkenstone began to flow into it and he had to fight to keep control of the blue dancing rune band in his mind.

Raise your eyes towards the stars

before the darkness flies,

they call you home from all the wars

and so the darkness dies.

Pain soared through them they all three felt the stab of the blade impaling them, the wound bleeding out, the life was yanked from them and into the stone, spreading through Fili like a wave, even as the pain was nearly unbearable. And then the darkness engulfed them, a cool endless blackness stretching all around them. Fili's and Kili's hands touched, and for one moment Boromir saw them differently, much like he had seen them long ago, when the older Kili and his brother's spirit had stood in the same place. A spark rose out of the darkness, the fire of a mighty forge, the heat as intense as the cold before. And there was a light, a bright brilliant light rising from the flames, engulfing them.

Kili gasped, as he was suddenly back in his body, more weary and exhausted than ever before in his entire life. He felt Boromir's hand tighten above his and then let go. Kili did the same. There was nothing left of the wound, it was entirely gone and the Arkenstone too had evaporated.

ADL

It was that evening that the people of Dale assembled in an empty warehouse at the outer pier of Esgaroth. They were a diverse group, craftpeople, traders, warriors and mercenaries, men and women, old people and youngsters. All those who would still heed Bard's call, some had not come, having chosen to no longer regard Girion's blood as their leader. Others were here that had no blood ties to Dale, like Egil. In the light of the torches Bard saw faces he knew, people from families he encountered daily and others who had chosen to travel afar and were only here for the winter. His people. Seeing all of them assembled brought fresh doubts to him. Could he even consider doing this? It would burn all bridges behind them.

"Bard," Asbiorn was the one who spoke up. "You called us here and it can only be about one thing: The Master planning to march on Erebor."

So the news was already out in the city. "Yes, that is why I asked you here." Bard said, stepping up on an empty crate, so all could see and hear him. "For four generations we have lived in this city, repaying her hospitality by defending her. Now her Master wishes to go to war – to murder – our old ally and friend Thorin of the Lonely Mountain, and he demands we march with him. It is a line I cannot cross, and if it were only myself I would ride North and fight alongside King Thorin. But I am not only one man, and my actions would have repercussions for all of you. That is why you are here today, to make a decision."

He could see surprise and awe in their faces, there were whispers and glances exchanged between them, but he could sense a greater understanding between them. They had already spoken of this before coming here. There was a bit of shuffling as three people stepped forward, the people of Dale had always send three speakers to their King when they had things to address. Asbiorn the Blacksmith, Isleif, the Pewterer and Asa the Healer stepped forward, Asa standing between the two men. "My Lord," she began speaking, clearly so that all could hear her. "The people of Dale may be a nation of refugees and wanderers, but the people of Dale were always a nation of honor. And so, with a heavy heart, we say that we will leave this city."

"The people of Dale never forsook their alliances," Isleif went on. "And we will stand by them today, as we have always done. We will follow your North."

"And we will fight." Asbiorn finished the verdict. The blacksmith took the blade he had brought with him, a greatsword, handing it to Bard hilt first. "We will follow you to battle."

Bard's throat tightened as he took the blade, he knew they had always looked to him as a leader, but the trust and loyalty he saw in them tonight was something beyond what he had ever believed possible, or reasonable. "I do not have words to say what I am feeling tonight," he said honestly. "But I doubt that even the greatest kings of old had a prouder or more honorable people to stand with them."

ADL

Fili, Kili and Boromir held each other in a hug, unable to speak or express what had just happened, they all three sensed the bond now extending to Fili as well. Thorin had let go of Fili the moment it was over and was about to leave the hall without disturbing them, but Fili noticed it. "Thorin… wait." The blond dwarf called out, not wanting Thorin to go like that.

"Fili," Thorin's voice was rough with emotion. "Please… let me go. There is nothing I can say…" He could not ask for forgiveness, because what he had done was simply unforgiveable. Thorin loathed his own weakness, he had seen his grandfather fall to the curse and Thrain fall to madness… and he had still let the gold take him, accounting the value of the accursed treasure above the true treasure of his heart.

Fili scrambled to his feet, quickly squeezing the shoulder of his brother and Boromir, knowing they would understand and hurried after Thorin. Grasping his arm he held him back. "Please… don't go," he said. "Whatever we can do to make this right again…"

"Whatever you can do…?" Thorin gently clasped Fili's shoulders. "Fili… it was I who failed you, who betrayed you. You were always there for me, you kept me sane when everything was nothing but darkness and a life in the lone lands… and I… I failed you."

"You stumbled," Fili said gently. "But you did not fall and you made up for it. You gave Kili the stone to save me."

"The stone… it was not worth your life, nothing here is." Thorin said fiercely. "I was so blind… I did not see the true treasure I had, and stared at the gold."

Fili extended a hand, asking Kili to join them. With the fierce anger Kili still held he may have refused but it took no more than glance from Fili to change that. He rose and walked over, grasping Fili's hand, clutching Thorin's shoulder with the other. "Fili is right, like always," he said. "You fought the bane, Thorin… and you beat it in the end." He knew what Boromir had told him about the curse and he could feel that it was broken; with the Arkenstone willingly given up to be destroyed, the last hold of the curse had been crushed, for Thorin had found it in himself to reject the curse.

"You are more than I deserve," Thorin whispered. "How can you even stand being close to me after… after I nearly killed you." He meant both; he had meant to kill Kili and his blade had struck down his brother instead.

Both brothers pulled him into a fierce embrace. "Because you deserve being forgiven," Fili said. "and because we belong together. We are nothing without the others."

"Because you are our father," Kili's voice too was hoarse now. "The only one we ever had."

Thorin's fierce hug drew the boys close, holding onto them for dear life.

With a smile Boromir watched the three, having retreated to the exit of the hall to give them some space. He could not even fathom how strong Fili was, how he could forgive such an act. To this very day Boromir had never forgiven Denethor for what he had done to Faramir. But he knew now that these three were stronger than that, they had the power to overcome even such a grievous moment. And he too felt something else, a darkness lifting from the place never to return. The last vestiges of the curse, Arwen had said, now that the ring had left the house. And all three of them had freed themselves of the curse. No longer would it haunt Durin's Line. It was a victory he could not share with anyone, but it was not necessary. Seeing the two brothers and Thorin, still holding onto each other, finally free of the nightmares that had plagued their line since they took up the first of the seven, was more than enough.

Author's Notes

Harrylee94 was her marvelous self again, helping and inspiring me. I suggest you check out her profile for her own amazing stories :D