Chapter summary:
Wherein we take two steps forward and one step back.
Warning for a little unpleasantness, but nothing graphic.
Bilbo wandered through the great hall in a daze as the excited dwarves ran about, shouting to each other about the gold and jewels and other magnificent treasures beneath their feet. Now that Smaug was dead, Bilbo was able to view the vast hoard of treasure with wide eyes, and it was quite beyond his wildest dreams. A thirteenth share of it was his, and yet even a fraction of that amount would be more gold than all the Shire could ever use in a dozen lifetimes. How he should get it home, he had no idea, and what he should do with it when he got it there, he could not begin to imagine. As has been noted, he was quite a well-to-do hobbit and he had never wanted for anything at all; he had not come on this adventure for the gold he might receive at the end of it, but for what he might learn and see along the way.
In front of him was a great mound of treasure — one of many such mounds in the room and made entirely of jewels. Bilbo took it in his head to climb it like a mountain and survey the room from the top. Carefully he picked his way up; it was not easy, for the jewels and gems beneath his feet shifted with every step he took, but Bilbo was a hobbit, and hobbit feet are tough and good at gripping stones and twigs and also, it turned out, jewels and gems. Slowly, slowly, he climbed to the top, while the dwarves scurried about below still shouting to each other in their great excitement.
At the top, he stopped and stooped down, drawn to something at his feet. He was quite so high up the mound of treasure that the dwarves could not have seen what drew his interest even had they been looking. But they were not looking at him at all, for they were too excited by all the treasure to pay any attention to their burglar. This was unfortunate, as it might well have saved a lot of bother and heartache later had they realized that Bilbo had just stumbled across the Arkenstone! For indeed, as he climbed, a pale white light shone before him, and as he came near, he saw it was tinged with a flickering sparkle of many colors shimmering at the surface. At last he looked down upon it, and he caught his breath, for the great jewel shown before his feet of its own inner light, like ten thousand sparks of white radiance shot with glints of the rainbow.
He knew at once it was the Arkenstone, for surely there could not be two such gems, even in so marvelous a hoard, even in all the world. And though this was the jewel Thorin sought most out of all the gold and gems and treasure, still Bilbo's arm went towards it quite outside of his own volition, drawn by its enchantment, and he lifted it up and put in his deepest pocket. "Now I am a burglar indeed," thought he. "But I suppose I must tell the dwarves about it — some time." But he did not think that time was just yet; if he had been less bewitched, he might have grown suspicious of himself, for his desire to keep the gem hidden was akin to his desire to keep secret the marvelous ring he had stolen in the caverns beneath Goblin-Town, and that he knew was magic. But objects of power have their own minds and can cloud the thoughts of even the gentlest, most honest folk. So bespelled was he that by the time he had climbed back down the mountain of treasure to the floor where the dwarves still ran about, Bilbo had nearly forgotten about the jewel that was tucked away in his coat, and every time his thoughts strayed to it, another thought would quickly come to take its place.
"It is incredible, is it not?" Kili said, picking his way carefully through the piles of gold coins scattered about. There would be no sneaking up on anyone until the treasure was dealt with, for it lay glittering all across the floor like confetti, and there was no way to walk without kicking some to the left or right. "It is even more beautiful than Balin's tales made it seem." Yet he alone among the dwarves had not picked up a single coin, nor touched a single golden cup or harp, nor reached for even one jewel-encrusted weapon or piece of mail.
"That it is," Bilbo agreed, "though I confess right now I would trade much of it away for a good hot bath and a cup of tea, with perhaps a biscuit or two and some jam." They had been eating well enough since they left Lake-Town, but much of what they had been eating was cram, and though it was hearty and filling, it had not much taste.
Kili gifted him with one of his rare, small smiles. "You hobbits are a very practical sort of people," he said. "Gold is all well and good when it can be traded for something useful, but otherwise it has little to recommend it but its beauty. I would not mind a bath myself." And indeed, he was quite filthy, and his fine traveling clothes were stained and scorched, for even Elvish leather could not withstand the lick of dragon fire.
"I suppose we shall be able to attend to such things when they have gotten over the thrill of taking account of their treasure."
Kili raised an eyebrow. "If you think they shall ever get over it, you have learned very little of dwarves in all this time."
"But you do not seem particularly impressed," Bilbo said, "not even by the weapons."
"I find a well-carved bow to be more practical than one studded with gems," Kili said with a shrug, and indeed, his marvelous bow was slung securely across his back, and Bilbo did not imagine Kili would ever find another to be its equal, no matter how bejeweled. "In any event, none of this accrues to me. If the armory is intact, perhaps I shall ask Thorin for a sword. I have only ever been permitted a dagger. But he would consider it now, I think."
"I should certainly hope so," Bilbo said. "You are a dragon-slayer! They shall record your name in the history books."
Kili's eyes darkened. "I do not think so, Mr. Baggins. Nothing has changed."
"Oh, I think you shall find that they have," Bilbo said, and he smiled so brightly Kili could do nothing but smile shyly back.
Over the course of the coming days it was clear that things had changed, and if not enough for Bilbo's liking, it was still better than it had been, for Ori and his brothers were now Kili's great friends, any reservations they might ever have held about him seemingly entirely forgotten, and not the slightest chill in their manner towards him. So when the time came for meals, the brothers Ri would wait until Kili was served and happily sit with him, chatting of this and that, and begging him again to tell the story of how he shot the dragon. This Kili did with some reluctance, for he was still very uncomfortable conversing with dwarves other than Thorin and Fili, but Ori in particular would not suffer anything but a detailed, embellished recitation, and Kili soon learned that the only way to satisfy him was to tell it.
And Fili! Bilbo was quite pleased with him, indeed. In the beginning of their quest, Bilbo had harbored some rather disapproving thoughts about Fili, thinking him immature and selfish. Later, he had realized that Fili was not particularly immature but simply still young by dwarvish standards, and he was certainly not selfish; Bilbo's negative opinion of him had been largely based on his own distaste for the laws of khazd khuv. But Bilbo now came to see that it had hardly been fair to expect Fili to somehow see the truth (or at least the truth as Bilbo saw it) of everything he had been raised to believe; why, Kili himself had seen nothing wrong about it!
Fili was now very warm and friendly to Kili, and he was very complimentary of Kili's skill with a bow. But best of all to Bilbo's mind at least was that when Thorin granted Kili a sword from the armory, Fili made sure to practice sparring with him. He was a patient and careful instructor. "I'm much nicer than Dwalin," he said with a grin, as he knocked Kili to the ground again. "At least you shall have no bruises."
Bilbo wished Fili hadn't mentioned Dwalin, for the older dwarf was still quite uncomfortable around Kili, but Kili himself did not seem to mind; he simply pulled himself up from the ground and brushed the dust off and raised his sword again, as patient and willing a student as Fili was a teacher.
"No," Fili said, looking at him with no little exasperation. "Right hand above the left; do you want to slice your own foot off?"
"You would like that," Kili said, "since it might give you a fair chance to beat me in a race."
"Ha," Fili said. "That was just the once." But then his eyes narrowed and his face dipped into a frown. "No, I do not believe that every time you lost to me in a contest was false."
"Not every time," Kili said, and quite devilishly too, in Bilbo's opinion.
Fili scowled but could not hold it for long; he broke into laughter and raised his sword. "You are getting quite bold, Dragon Slayer," he said, "but you shall not be so insolent when you are lying in the dust at my feet!" He attacked again with wild enthusiasm, and Kili met his attack with equal zeal, the sound of steel meeting steel ringing loudly in the morning air.
Bilbo wandered away quite content, for though he had no hopes that Fili would suddenly embrace Kili as his brother — or at least, such hopes as he had he kept well hidden — he nonetheless thought that any softening at all on Fili's part could only be good for Kili, for of all the dwarves Fili was the one who spent the most time with Kili, outside of Thorin, and Fili was the future king of Erebor besides.
Not all was perfect in the mountain, of course. Bilbo had overheard Bofur whispering to Bombur that surely disaster was going to strike soon to pay for the good fortune Kili had in bringing down Smaug with but a single arrow, and the Ur cousins still kept a careful distance most times. And Thorin spent his days searching with increasing desperation for the Arkenstone, but of course he could not find it, for it was tucked away in Bilbo's pillow, and certainly none would think to look there. Soon Thorin had not a kind word to say to anyone, not even Fili; Bilbo stayed well out of his way for as many hours of the day as he could, for he was always afraid that Thorin might read his expression and guess he had the jewel himself.
On top of all that, of course they were still stuck in the mountain, and though there was water aplenty there was nothing to eat but what they had brought with them, and mostly what remained of those stores was cram. Under better circumstances, perhaps they would have sent someone back to Lake-Town to gather more supplies, but they had received word by raven that the Master had convinced the men of the town that they were owed a share of the spoils for having helped the dwarves in their hour of need, and now they were approaching with a large force. An allied force of Silvan elves approached as well, for Mirkwood and Lake-Town had been trading partners for many years and Thranduil too wanted a share of the mountain's treasure.
Privately, Bilbo thought the men and even Thranduil might have a legitimate claim to some of the treasure that still littered the floors within the mountain, for surely not all of Smaug's great fortune had come from the dwarves. But there was no telling that to Thorin! Infuriatingly, most of the rest of the dwarves seemed to be in agreement too, although Bombur cared more for food than treasure and Fili was mostly indifferent to it, but for the many knives and swords he had collected, each finer and sharper than the last.
The dwarves had sent a raven to Thorin's cousin Dáin, the lord of the Iron Hills, but whether Dáin would arrive before the men and elves was yet to be seen. In the meantime, the dwarves occupied themselves fortifying the mountain from enemy attack; all but Thorin, who spent his days searching with increasing desperation for the Arkenstone.
Each night saw them all a little grumpier and dirtier and smellier; Bilbo's dreams now alternated between warm baths and full meals — even on one memorable occasion, both at the same time! Thorin was the grumpiest of them all. To Bilbo, he was becoming quite irrational in his quest. "It is but a single jewel," he said one day to Fili and Kili, as they labored strengthening the main gates.
Fili straightened, hands pressing to the small of his back with a grimace. "It is the most important jewel to Thorin," he said, "and he is our king."
Kili was silent, and his face gave away nothing, but he let drop the boulder he was hefting with uncharacteristic force; it landed heavily against the stone wall, shaking loose pebbles and dirt. Fili shot him a sharp glance, his own expression less perfectly composed and discomfited. "I'm sure we shall find it soon enough," he said, "with so many hours of the day spent in the looking."
Kili looked away, frowning, and Bilbo felt quite guilty, for he of course could have ended the hunt any time he chose, and in fact many times he had come close to handing over the jewel. But some strange force compelled him to keep it hidden; every time he reached to remove it from his pillow, a little voice in his head cried out that he should keep it, and he would find he had stepped away from his bed entirely, the Arkenstone still hidden away. He did not often think how peculiar this behavior was on his part, but when he did, he remembered the stories Ori had told him of how the Arkenstone had driven Thrór mad, and Bilbo decided that he was in no rush to see the same fate befall Thorin, and that is why he kept the stone for himself.
By the time they had been in the Mountain for nearly a fortnight, the strain was wearing on all of them; Bilbo was hard-pressed to recall the happiness of those first few moments after Smaug was slain. The dwarves were all drawn and weary, their eyes hard and cold, but none so hard and cold as Thorin's. Even Fili's perpetual optimism seemed dimmed, and when he sparred with Kili he fought hard and without mercy.
"Perhaps you could be a little gentler with him," Bilbo suggested, very tentatively, after one particularly difficult session had left Kili nursing an ugly bruise on his jaw and a gash in his arm. "He has not had the same training as you." Nor would Kili ever dare strike a blow with any real force against Fili, Bilbo thought, which put Fili at a very unfair advantage, and Bilbo was rather distressed that Fili didn't seem to realize it.
"An enemy will not be gentle with him," Fili said harshly, and he stalked away without another word, still clutching his sword. "He will need to be better prepared for battle, if he is to survive."
Oh, how Bilbo wished they had never come to the mountain at all! For all the good cheer they had was lost, and now Bilbo's hope was nearly lost too, and he could not see what to do about it.
In due course the armies of Lake-Town and Mirkwood arrived, and they were large and well-armed, and Bilbo grew increasingly fearful of war, which he had never seen nor had any wish to ever see in his lifetime! But Thorin was no more of a mind than ever to negotiate with the men and elves and would admit to no legitimacy in their claims; he refused to surrender even a single piece of gold under threat of force, and no words of counsel would sway him from this course.
Bilbo's sleep that night was poor and restless, and the next morning he could not drag himself up from his bedroll until the sun was nearly at its highest point in the sky. He washed and ate a very unsatisfying meal of cram, then stumbled wearily out to the main chamber, where the dwarves would often gather in the morning to sift through the still massive piles of the dragon's hoard, sorting the gold from the silver and the coins from the jewelry from the weaponry. It was dull and tedious work, and they were all tired of it, though Bilbo was the most tired of it at all, for he knew they would not find what they sought no matter how long they looked, and he had not the dwarves' deep interest in the treasure.
Several of the dwarves were already there, though they did not appear to be working but for Fili, who was sorting coins with grim determination. "Good morning," Bilbo said, though there was nothing particularly good about it and it was hardly still morning. When he received no reply, not even a grunt or a nod, he repeated it more loudly, "Good morning!" For the niceties must be observed, no matter how foul the mood.
Fili looked up at that and nodded, but his eyes were hard, and he returned to sorting with angry vigor, tossing the coins and jewels away as if they were pebbles, not the most precious of metals and gems.
Bilbo frowned. The atmosphere in the room was dark and heavy. Bofur and Bombur sat far across the room, heads bent together, and they were speaking in low, urgent whispers. All three Ri brothers were there as well; Ori looked distraught, and Dori and Nori looked not very much happier.
"What is it?" Bilbo asked. "What has happened?"
No one answered, but the set to Fili's mouth grew tighter.
Bilbo grew increasingly apprehensive that something terrible had befallen them while he slept. "What is it? Something is wrong, and it will not get any better by being kept secret."
"It is Thorin," Ori finally said. "He still cannot find the Arkenstone."
Bilbo barely refrained from groaning. "It is probably gone for good," he said crossly. "Perhaps Smaug ate it. There are a thousand other stones here for Thorin. If he would settle for one of those, we should all be much happier."
"He will never settle for another," Ori said. "And early this morning he concluded that it was bad luck keeping him from finding it."
"And so it may be," Bilbo said. "Though there are mountains of gold here yet to be searched, so perhaps time is all it will take."
"No," Ori said. "Mr. Baggins, Thorin now believes it is bad luck that he cannot find the Arkenstone."
Bilbo felt suddenly very queasy. He looked around the room again. There were Oín and Gloín and Bifur, huddled in a circle, Oín looking especially somber and grim, and clutching uneasily at the bag wherein he kept his medical supplies; and there was Dwalin, leaning against a wall, arms crossed, looking uncomfortable yet fierce and foreboding; Balin was sitting on the ground next to him, head back against the wall and his eyes closed. And that just left–
"Where is Kili?" Bilbo's voice sounded very small and quiet to his own ears.
Fili threw some coins across the room. They scattered and ricocheted like fireworks. "He is with Thorin."
Bilbo swallowed hard, a bitter taste filling his mouth. "Thorin is not — he would not — "
"Kili is khazd khuv," Fili said darkly. "He bears the blame for bad luck."
Ori cursed. Ori. Then he said, quite distressed, "It's just a stupid old superstition! You're not meant to take it seriously!"
Bilbo agreed with this sentiment wholeheartedly, though he was rather surprised to hear Ori say it out loud. The other dwarves shifted uneasily, and Nori pulled at the hem of Ori's coat, glancing nervously at Dwalin and Balin.
"He can't," Biblo said, feeling sick and numb. "He mustn't. We cannot permit it. None of this is Kili's fault!"
Fili answered, voice thick and dull, "Thorin is Kili's shemor. To mete out punishment is his right, and his responsibility." But then he thrust his arms through the pile of treasure in front of him, sweeping it away like a sandcastle, and he cursed more fluently and quite a bit more foully than Ori had. He was so very angry, Bilbo shrank back a bit from his fury. "It is but a single stone. We could look here for years and never find it. Failure to find one jewel in all of this is not bad luck. It is just failure." He sighed then, and dropped to his knees in the gold, head bowed. "Before now, Thorin has always known the difference."
At that moment, Thorin stalked into the room from a small hallway, close to where Dwalin had been perched — standing guard, Bilbo realized suddenly, in case any of the dwarves had taken it into their heads to interfere with whatever punishment Thorin had seen fit to administer. "Oín," he said curtly. "He requires some assistance."
Oín had already darted into the hallway, bag in hand, with Ori close on his heels. Fili rose to his feet and looked as if he were going to follow them, but Thorin summoned him with a brusque, "Fili. Attend me."
Fili actually hesitated, glancing towards the hallway, but Thorin growled, "Fili," and Fili had no choice but to follow, though his eyes were dark and shadowed, and his expression stormy.
Bilbo waited but a moment before he too entered the small hallway, feeling sick with horror and guilt, for he had been keeping the Arkenstone to himself for all this time; and he had seen Thorin's slow, steady descent into madness, yet it had never occurred to him to worry about the scapegoat on whom Thorin's rage would most likely fall. And that too of course was strange, when so often he worried so deeply about so many things, and yet for all this time he had not worried about the potentially disastrous and very likely outcome of his stubborn and most uncharacteristic deceit. It was with a heavy heart and a peculiar sense of unease that he approached the room at the end of the hall, the Arkenstone weighing on his mind all the while.
The chamber was small and dim, lit only with a single torch. Kili was sitting on the floor; and though he sat huddled in on himself, pale and wan, bare to the waist with his knees drawn up to chest, still all his limbs were intact and he was conscious and talking to Oín. Bilbo drew in a great breath then, feeling a deep relief, for he had feared how far Thorin's madness might have pushed him, and in what condition they might find the young dwarf.
Oín was peering at Kili's jaw, poking at his cheek none too gently, and he straightened up with a grunt. "Not broken, Mahal be praised," he said gruffly. "Though you'll sport a nasty bruise for a few days." He rustled in his bag and pulled out some sort of leaf. "Chew on this if you can, laddie. It will help with the pain."
Kili nodded and wiped his hands across his face roughly, smearing away dirt and blood and tears, before taking the leaf. But his jaw was bruised and swollen; he shook his head and winced, and worried the leaf between his fingers but did not put it in his mouth.
Ori piped up from he stood off to the side, picking nervously at his sleeve. "I'll make some feverfew tea. I'm sure we have some of that left. That will help, and there will be no need for Kili to chew anything." He darted back out of the hallway, calling for Dori and Bofur, as Oín turned his attention to Kili's back.
"And you, Mr. Baggins," Kili called out, in a voice thick and clogged. "What shall you do?"
"Well, anything I can do to help, of course," said Bilbo.
"Perhaps," Kili said, "you might share some of your cake with me."
Bilbo blinked, brow creased. "I would, of course, had we any left."
"Or you might call me Master Dwarf," Kili said, "as if I had any right to such a title. Or perhaps you will spend your nights talking to me of change."
Bilbo took a step back, for Kili's voice was suddenly cold and brittle, and the anger within it could not be misread. "I am sorry," he said quietly, "if anything I have done or said has caused you distress." This was quite possibly the most ludicrous statement he could have made under the circumstances, with Oín fussing and clucking over wounds on Kili's back that Bilbo couldn't see but knew were there, and the blame squarely at Bilbo's feet even if no one knew but he himself, but it was too late now, for the words were said and there was no taking them back.
"Please do not concern yourself with my feelings, Mr. Baggins," Kili said icily. Then he hissed as Oín poked at a sensitive spot on his back.
Oín tutted at him and pulled some salve out of his bag. "I don't think any of them will scar, but you'll be uncomfortable for a bit as they heal."
"Good," Kili muttered. He shifted restlessly under Oín's probing fingers. "Do you think it was enough?"
Oín sighed. "I've told you before not to ask me that, laddie. I've no mind for magics."
"But don't you think it has to be?" Kili asked. "He's never — this has to be enough, doesn't it?" He hissed again.
"Easy," Oín said. "I'm just about done." Ori came back into the hall then, and he held an incongruously delicate teacup gently in his hands, steam furling gently towards the ceiling. "Ah," Oín said, "did you find feverfew root then?"
"Yes, plenty," Ori said. "Dori has nearly a full pouch."
"Good." Oín nodded, and Ori handed the cup to Kili. "Drink up, laddie, as much as you can stomach. And then chew the yuko leaf, if your jaw will tolerate it."
Kili sipped at the tea and made a face. "Thank you, Mr. Oín. Mister Ori." It was then that he looked across the room and saw that Bilbo was still there. It seemed it was not a happy realization, for he frowned quite fiercely. His face was still smeared and filthy, and his hair was loose and wild around his face; truthfully, Bilbo thought he looked a bit feral. Bilbo took a step back, quite outside of his own volition, for the way Kili was glaring at him was frightening indeed.
"Perhaps," Kili said, in words that were tightly clipped and unbearably precise, "since you are such an expert burglar, Mr. Baggins, you might go and help my uncle find what it is he seeks. I am in very good hands here. You need not trouble yourself to stay."
Ori looked at Bilbo, and he looked very deeply uncomfortable, but he did not move from Kili's side, nor did he come to Bilbo's defense. And Oín too looked uneasy as he bustled about, rummaging in his medical bag and muttering rather loudly about herbs and salves and bandages, and he would not look at Bilbo. Bilbo himself had nothing to say that would not make matters worse, and so he just bowed, very awkwardly, and scuttled from the room as quickly as he could.
I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It had to happen, but honestly, I don't like it any more than you do. Things will get better eventually, I promise.
I'm also sorry it's been two weeks since an update. I honestly thought it had been a week, which just shows you how crazy my life and work have been.
This chapter has been giving me fits since I wrote the first draft. That dratted Arkenstone has been a thorn in my side from the beginning. I blame it all on Tolkien. So thank you to all who take the time to drop me a little note of encouragement. When I'm struggling it is a huge help!
And extra thanks to sapphiremusings for helping me figure out where to end this one.
