Chapter 9 - Fíli
Chapter summary: With Thorin's arrogance and Bilbo's stubbornness, it was inevitable that their tempers would clash eventually. Kíli had been predicting it from the start, gleefully anticipating his uncle getting chewed out by a tiny halfling. When the argument finally happened, however, it was much less amusing and lot more terrifying than either of them had expected.
If somebody had bothered to ask Fíli about his first impression of Erebor, his answer would be: dark. After they had sat terrified in stifling darkness of the tunnel for what felt like forever, they had ventured into the main hall filled with gold. The darkness there wasn't any less dark, just more airy, hinting at the enormity of the cavern around them. The dragon smell was overpowering, driving tears into their eyes, but they soon forgot all about stench and danger when the light of the torches fell onto the enormous piles of gold.
Fíli had never seen so much gold in his life, and he suspected that most of the others hadn't, either. They stopped to gaze in wonder at the seemingly endless mountains of gold and gems and jewellery, and soon they were all crawling around the chamber and stuffing their pockets full of treasure. They would have forgotten about the dragon completely, if it weren't for Bilbo's warning.
They had left the treasure behind with some displeasure, but even Thorin had to admit that it was foolish to linger in such a dangerous place, when they didn't know where the dragon was. For all they knew, Smaug could be lurking around the nearest corner, waiting to ambush them when they walked outside, their eyes blinded by the sudden brightness of daylight. As they passed through the corridors, the torchlight gave them glimpses of the once mighty dwarven kingdom.
What had once been one of the proudest, richest realms in Middle-Earth was now a stuffy tomb, full of mould and dust and old bones. They passed dozens of corpses on the way, lying among the remains of their armour, left behind as silent witnesses to the horrors of the dragon's rampage. The closer they got to the entrance, the more bones they came across, until they had to step carefully to prevent crushing any of the remains. It was a gruesome sight and it sobered them greatly, driving out any mirth they had felt at the sight of the treasure.
Seeing the daylight again had been an enormous relief after the gloom and danger of the mountain. They spent the night on the Ravenhill and in the morning they were overjoyed to learn that the dragon was dead and some of their food supplies were still salvageable.
While the others went back inside the mountain to start working on the defensive wall, Fíli was glad for the chance to leave the dragon stench behind and spend a few days under the open skies. The tales Thorin had told him as a child had always described Erebor in all its splendour - a mighty kingdom gleaming with rivers of gold and mountains of gems. The Erebor they had managed to claim back was a miserable dark hole, a graveyard made of polished stone, and Fíli had very little desire to return inside.
Kíli agreed with him in that aspect. Their initial excitement from finding all sorts of wonderful crafted weapons and musical instruments had long passed and they took their time returning back to the mountain, lingering beside the Running River. They would have stayed there longer if it weren't for the raven who brought them the news of an advancing elvish army. It was with some reluctance that they gathered the supplies and set out on the trek back to the mountain.
They came back to find the wall before the gate already standing, made with speed and skill to withstand even the most determined attack. The only one waiting for them was Bilbo, who quickly ran off to get a few more dwarves that would help him pull Fíli and Kíli with their packages up into safety. The dwarves worked silently, which surprised Fíli a bit and Bilbo looked troubled, but didn't say anything. Once Fíli and Kíli were back in Erebor, the others departed, heading Mahal knows where.
Bilbo took a careful look around before he stepped forward and gave Fíli a hug.
"Thank Valar you're here," he muttered into Fíli's shoulder. Fíli pulled back to be able to see his face, worried by the hobbit's tone.
"What's wrong?" He exchanged a quick look with Kíli, who seemed as baffled as he himself felt. Bilbo just shook his head.
"I'll tell you somewhere else," the hobbit said, stepping towards Kíli, who hugged him with enthusiasm. "Just put the bags in the room to your right, where we keep all our supplies, and I'll explain everything."
They put the food supplies away and followed Bilbo into the mountain. He led them through the entrance hall and up several fights of stairs, towards the living quarters. He walked with the certainty of someone who knew his way around the place, which wasn't very surprising, since he had already spent almost a week living in Erebor. They followed him through a narrow corridor and into nicely-spaced rooms, which might have once served as living quarters for some wealthy merchant's family.
"What happened?" Fíli asked once the door swung shut behind them.
"Everyone's gone mad, that's what happened," Bilbo told them, a hint of desperation in his voice. "They all talk about gold all day long, gold and nothing but gold. At first I thought that it was just your typical dwarvish strangeness, but they have been like that for days now without any signs of anything changing." He sighed unhappily. "They barely talk to me anymore and some of them don't even seem to notice that I am here. When I try to talk to them, they get all absent-minded and start talking about treasure."
He gave them a helpless look.
"I don't know what to do to break them out of it. I have tried everything, but nothing seems to work. They seem to be lost in a world of their own."
"Gold-fever," Fíli muttered. "I was afraid it would happen."
"Can you do something about it?" Bilbo asked. Fíli exchanged a worried look with Kíli.
"We can try," he told Bilbo, "but I can't promise you anything. Gold-fever is a sickness of the heart that cannot be easily cured. We'll speak to the others and see how bad it is. Maybe one of us will be able to come up with something."
Bilbo's expression turned relieved.
"Thank you. I almost thought thatIwas the one who was going mad when they stopped speaking to me." He walked over to the fireplace and stoked the fire, until it was crackling merrily. "You should probably start with Bombur – he's the one who seems the least affected by all this. He spends most of his time sitting in the entrance hall, guarding the food supplies, so he didn't have much contact with the treasure hoard."
"We'll see what we can do," Fíli promised.
"What is this place?" Kíli asked, looking around. Despite the many decades of neglect, these rooms looked almost habitable compared to the rest of the mountain.
"That's where I live for the moment," Bilbo said. "The others are mostly staying in the treasure hall while one of them holds guard at the entrance. I was getting sick of looking at gold and the rooms near the gate are cold, so I settled here. It's not far from the entrance and the bedroom has a fireplace. Nobody seemed to mind me settling here, so I did."
"It's nice," Kíli said. He gave the hobbit a look. "Would you mind terribly if we stayed here with you? The rest of the mountain seems...well...creepy."
"Not at all," Bilbo said. "I was thinking of making some stew for dinner with some of the salted meat we have. Would you like some?"
Their journey had been long and a warm meal was a luxury they hadn't had for more than a week, so they didn't even pretend to consider the offer for the sake of politeness.
"Yes, please," they said together, giving the hobbit identical sunny smiles. Bilbo gave them a small smile in return and went to pick up a bucket.
"I'll go get some water, then. Make yourselves at home."
It took him less than half an hour to put together a dinner for three.
"You really are a wizard," Kíli murmurred blissfully around his piece of pork as he scraped out the last drops of stew from the bowl. "Being able to turn cram into a nice soup has to be a work of magic."
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Bilbo chided him automatically, but he looked quite pleased with the compliment. "This is hardly magic," he said, gesturing to the soup. "A few pieces of pork, a bit of water and cram. If you boil it well enough, you get a nice hearty stew. The cram actually tastes quite well this way."
"It does," Fíli nodded. "It's a good thing we stayed here with you, or we would be forced to chew it dry like the rest."
"I'm glad for the company," Bilbo said, rising from the table to gather the bowls. "You two can take the bed in the bedroom and I will put my bedroll here by the fireplace."
"Or, you could sleep with us," Kíli suggested casually, making Fíli choke on his piece of cram. When Bilbo started sputtering at the suggestion, Kíli rolled his eyes. "Oh, not like that. What I meant was – the bed is big enough for six people, so the three of us should be able to fit on it comfortably." Since Bilbo still looked unconvinced, Kíli pulled out his trump card. "We would all be a lot warmer that way."
Bilbo turned to look at Fíli, waiting for his opinion.
"You know that Thorin won't like this," Fíli warned his brother. Kíli waved his concern away with a careless hand.
"Thorin is mad as a hatter right now, so he has no right to criticise anything. I'll deal with his tantrum when he wakes up, if necessary."
"Will he wake up?" Bilbo spoke up tentatively.
"He should," Fíli said. He tried to give the hobbit a reassuring smile, but didn't think it looked very convincing. "The gold-fever usually passes within days or weeks, so most of them should snap out of it soon, but there have been a few cases where it never passed."
"Thrór?" Bilbo guessed with a grimace. Fíli nodded grimly.
"Thorin has always feared that he would end up like him one day." He sighed. "And now he has, Mahal help him."
Bilbo shot a curious look between the two of them.
"This will sound terribly rude when I say it and you have to pardon me for asking it, but why aren't you two...?" he trailed off, probably not sure how to end the sentence without sounding horribly insulting.
Kíli raised an eyebrow.
"Going crazy, too? Cuckoo? Barking mad?" He smiled in amusement when Bilbo blushed. "We haven't spent much time in the tresure room and we've been away for a few days, which helped clear our heads a lot. Besides, we're both young and neither of us cares about gold all that much. If we take care to avoid the treasure room, we should be fine."
Bilbo nodded, accepting the explanation.
The three of them prepared for bed, crawling under the dusty furs with a sigh of bliss. The fire in the hearth had died down to flickering embers and the room filled with a pleasant semi-darkness. The dwarves had put Bilbo in the middle, each one of them lying on one side of the bed facing the hobbit, a good foot of space between them. Bilbo lay stiffly on his back at first, obviously uncomfortable, but once he convinced himself that nobody was going to do anything indecent to him, he slowly relaxed, rolling on his side towards Kíli.
Fíli was well on his way towards falling asleep, when he heard a quiet whisper.
"Promise me you won't go mad, too."
"We won't," Kíli murmurred sleepily. "I promise."
°O°O°O°
Fíli and Kíli's attempts to make the Companions return to sanity had been all completely unsuccessful. They had tried everything – talking, jokes, insults, pranks – but nothing seemed to work. They had even made Glóin trip and fall flat on his face during one of their more desperate attempts, but instead of getting mad and ripping them a new one as they had expected, the red-haired dwarf simply got up and continued on his way, muttering under his breath about carats and gold prices.
Bilbo had been right - the others were living in a world of their own and unless one wanted to discuss the treasure, they were blind and deaf to everything around them. Thorin had recognized Fíli and Kíli at first when they had come into the hall, urging them to come closer and look at the tresure with him, but soon he had forgotten all about them as he returned back to his search for the Arkenstone.
The arrival of the army from Lake-town only made everything ten times worse.
While before the fever had been more or less harmless, causing the dwarves to putter around the treasure room and spend whole days digging through piles of coins and old junk, now they had a new gleam in their eye that Fíli found a bit frightening. They had all taken to singing war songs and sitting around the entrance hall, sharpening the old blades that they had found in the dragon hoard.
He and Kíli soon started to avoid the other companions altogether and instead began exploring the upper levels of the living quarters, which had remained mostly untouched by the dragon's rampage. Bilbo followed them around most of the time, still looking unhappy about the general situation, though his mood improved a little when he discovered the collection of books in the royal quarters (unfortunately for him, the doors to the library had been sealed against the fire and were still impassable).
The negotiations slowly deteriorated, with Thorin even going as far as to try to shoot the elvish messenger with an arrow, and yet nobody besides the three of them seemed disturbed by it - all the others were too busy with rolling around in gold and singing old songs to pay any attention to the events outside. Thorin eventually ordered everyone to search for the Arkenstone and his spirits lifted - he started walking around the mountain with a small golden crown on his head, singing about the treasure and Erebor's old glory, his sonorous voice filling the empty halls with melody.
Fíli privately thought Thorin that was being awfully melodramatic about the whole Lake-men situation - a few piles of gold could have easily solved the problem, especially since the Lake-men had no idea how much gold there really was (and Thorin would barely know the difference if a few hundred coins got donated) - but his uncle remained stubbornly opposed to the idea, refusing to budge.
"I wish mum was here," Kíli said quietly one night after they had gone to bed. Bilbo was already dozing between them, worn out from his evening watch. "She wouldn't stand for any of this."
Fíli sighed.
"No, she wouldn't. She would probably punch Thorin if she could see what he is doing these days."
"It would serve him right," Kíli muttered. "He's acting like an idiot."
"It's too bad we can't do anything about this," Fíli said. "If only there was some way to either wake up Thorin from his reverie, or make the Lake-men go away."
"We've already tried everything," Kíli pointed out gloomily. "It's no use." He fell silent for a moment, staring moodily at the ceiling. When he spoke again, there was a note of wistfulness in his voice that Fíli had never heard from him before.
"Why are we still here, Fíli? What are we doing here? We have already helped Thorin get back the mountain. What else is there for us to do? Thorin might be happy here, because he's blinded by madness and nostalgia, but I don't like it here. It's not a home, it's a creepy old crypt." He gave Fíli a pleading look. "I want to go home, Fíli."
In the low light from the fireplace Kíli looked impossibly young and deeply unhappy. Before Fíli could decide how to answer him, Bilbo stirred a bit.
"Come here," he murmurred, drawing the younger dwarf into a sleepy embrace. Kíli went gladly, burrying his face in Bilbo's chest and wrapping his arms around the hobbit's back.
"I want to go home," he murmurred into Bilbo's shirt.
"So do I, Kíli. So do I," Bilbo replied, running a gentle hand over Kíli's hair. Kíli made a choking sound that sounded a bit like a sob and burrowed closer, melting under the hobbit's comforting hand. The two soon fell asleep, still holding each other while Fíli lay awake, watching them.
He and Kíli hadn't shared a bed since they were children, but in the oppressive atmosphere of the mountain they both welcomed the closeness. It was the only source of comfort they had in this cold place, so far from home. Here, in their little cocoon of warmth and peace, they could almost pretend that everything was fine and Thorin wasn't losing his mind for a few pieces of gold. Almost.
Gold fever was a dangerous thing even for regular dwarfs, but leading the hand of a king, it could cause catastrophic damage. Moria hadn't been the first kingdom to fall because of a king's greed, nor the last. It had been this madness that had driven Thrór to make that desperate attempt to reclaim the halls of Khazad-dûm in a battle that had wiped out a good third of their populace. The same sickness that had then caused Thráin to lose his mind and abandon his people in a time of their greatest need, leaving his young son to take care of an entire nation of starving people.
And now it seemed that it was Thorin's turn to fall. Fíli could only hope that when he did, they wouldn't fall with him.
°O°O°O°
The longer the siege lasted, the worse everything got.
Both the hobbit and Fíli tried to speak to Thorin several times about the situation, trying to make him see reason about the request of the Lake-men, but the dwarf's head was full of thoughts of gold and the Arkenstone and he paid him little mind. After his fifth unsuccessful attempt to draw Thorin's attention Bilbo threw up his hands in frustration and stormed off, disappearing for a whole afternoon.
Bilbo's mood grew gloomier with each passing day and he started speaking to them less and less, keeping to himself. He could often be seen sitting on the wall at the gate, gazing into the west with a wistful expression on his face. Sometimes he even ventured into the treasure hall where he watched from afar as Thorin reveled in his gold, lost to the world.
What a contrast it made to the days on the dragon's doorstep, where Thorin could barely keep his eyes off the hobbit! Fíli remembered how when Bilbo brought back the first loot from the dragon's treasure, Thorin had promised him mountains of gold and treasure, nearly asking for his hand in his excitement over Bilbo's success. Even when they had first entered the mountain, Thorin had still hovered around Bilbo, dressing the hobbit in mithril and trying to shower him with the most precious crafts to be found in the hoard despite the Bilbo's apparent disinterest in the riches.
Did something happen between them in that tunnel? Fíli wondered. A promise, or maybe something more? The hobbit had blushed an awful lot when they had finally climbed out of the mountain and Thorin had had a strange proprietary gleam in his eye that hadn't been there before. How ironic would it be if Thorin had finally managed to muster his courage, only to mess up everything right after by going crazy?
Whatever he and Bilbo might have once had was now lost, swept away by lust for gold - and there was nothing Fíli could do about it. He could only hope that this whole mess would be over soon, for better or for worse.
After the message came about Dáin's approaching army, Bilbo became restless, pacing around the entrance hall in agitation. Finally, when he was unable to bear the oppressive gloom any longer, he walked out of the gate to get some air. When Fíli went after him less than ten minutes later, he found him standing alone by the wall, his small silhouette framed by the light of the setting sun. The hobbit was staring into the valley at the rows of tents, looking deeply unhappy. Fíli came to stand beside him.
"You're troubled."
"I don't like this," Bilbo said. "Sitting barricaded inside like thieves." He shook his head in exasperation. "Why can't we just give the men some coins and let them go in peace? I don't understand why Thorin is making all this fuss about a bit of gold, especially since there is so much of it lying inside the mountain."
Fíli sighed.
"I don't understand it, either, but uncle has always been rather irrational when it comes to elves."
They stood in silence for a moment, looking at the sea of tents in the valley beneath them. From this high up the camp looked like an anthill, bustling with life as small figures in armour walked busily among the tents. There were several hundred of them, armed for war. If they clashed with the dwarves from the Iron Hills, it would be a disaster.
But what could be done to prevent bloodshed when Thorin refused to listen?
"I cannot let them all die, Fíli." Bilbo said quietly, voicing Fíli's thoughts. "I cannot let your kin and the elves massacre each other just because Thorin is too proud to part with a bit of gold."
"I know." Fíli turned his head to look at him. "Do you have a plan? I tried to come up with something, but didn't manage to find anything that would work. Uncle is deaf to both pleas and arguments with the Arkenstone clouding his brain."
"The Arkenstone." Bilbo sighed, shooting a quick look around to make sure they were alone. He lowered his voice into a whisper. "I have a plan that will force Thorin to give up a portion of the gold, but it will make him terribly mad at me. It is very likely that he will hate me forever for it." He gave Fíli a side glance. "I think you know what I'm talking about."
Fíli nodded.
"I've had my suspicions, but I wasn't sure if you really have it in your possession."
"I found it right at the beginning." Bilbo's gaze fell to his clasped hands. "I meant to give it back, but when Thorin started acting so terribly, I decided to hide it instead and use it as the last hope to convince him. It seems that time has come." He turned to face Fíli fully. "Are you going to stop me, now that you know?"
It must have taken Bilbo a great deal of courage to admit to stealing the Arkenstone, especially since he knew how close Fíli was to Thorin. It had been a gamble to put his trust in Fíli, knowing that the dwarf could easily take the stone away from him. Fíli felt deeply honoured at Bilbo's trust.
"No," Fíli shook his head. "I'm not blind to my Uncle's madness. He has passed beyond reason. It's sad that it has come to this, but I can see the necessity." He laid his hands on Bilbo's shoulders, looking him firmly in the eyes. "You have my full support. Kíli's too. No matter what happens, no matter what terrible words Thorin says to you when he finds out about what you did, Kíli and I will always be your friends."
He reached into his shirt and drew out a small silver pendant inlaid with sapphires. Taking Bilbo's hand, he gently laid the jewel on Bilbo's palm.
"We had planned to give this to you later, for a completely different occasion, but since things have gone so bad and it's possible that I may never get to speak to you again, I'd like you to have this now."
"What is it?" Bilbo inspected the delicate jewel with awe.
"It was our grandmother's." When Bilbo started to give it back, Fíli caught his hand gently, curling his fingers around the hobbit's smaller ones. "Please, take it. It would mean a lot to us both if you wore it. Take it and remember us. If everything turns out well in the end, you can return it later, if you wish."
Bilbo gave him a long, searching look, before he lowered his eyes, accepting the gift.
"Very well, I will wear it. I really hope our predictions are wrong." Bilbo put the chain around his neck, the silver shining on his chest for a moment before he hid it under the mithril coat. After he made sure that the pendant was hidden, the hobbit took a step forward and put his arms around Fíli in a hug, clinging to him with no small amount of desperation.
"Thank you."
Fíli hugged back, feeling a little terrified at the thought that he might never see Bilbo again. What if Thorin banished him? What if Dáin's dwarves fought the elves anyway and Bilbo got caught in the fray?
He put his chin on top of the hobbit's curls, closing his eyes, and let himself pretend, if only for a minute, that everything would be all right.
°O°O°O°
With Thorin's arrogance and Bilbo's stubbornness, it was inevitable that their tempers would clash eventually. Kíli had been predicting it from the start, gleefully anticipating his uncle getting chewed out by a tiny halfling. When the argument finally happened, however, it was much less amusing and lot more terrifying than either of them had expected.
The allied host came to the gate once more, headed by Bard and Thranduil, who were flanked by an old man carrying a wooden box. Fíli thought the figure looked rather familiar, and breathed a small sigh of relief when he recognized the nose under the man's hood.
Gandalf had come back, thank Mahal. The wizard wouldn't let anything terrible happen to them.
However, not even a wizard could prevent Thorin's temper from boiling over when he saw the gem lying in the casket at the hands of his enemy.
"How came you by the Arkenstone?" Thorin shouted, his expression thunderous.
"I gave it to them." Bilbo stepped forward, looking terrified and defiant at the same time.
Thorin took a step toward him, his hands making an aborted movement like he wanted to strangle him, but stopped himself at the last moment. Instead he balled them into fists at his sides, shaking with rage.
"How dare you steal the Arkenstone from me and give it to our enemies? Especially since you know how much the stone means to me."
Bilbo raised his chin and stood his ground.
"You said that we could choose our portion of the treasure. I chose mine and used it as I saw fit. I would have given the stone back, but you were being unreasonable, refusing to pay the lake-men their reparations."
"So this is how you repay my generosity?" Thorin's voice turned sharp, all his attention focused on the hobbit now. "With betrayal? I would have given you all the treasure you wished for, had you only asked."
Fíli had the uncomfortable impression that the argument was quickly turning from simple war reparations into something far more personal. If Thorin had been in his right mind, he would be horrified to discuss such a private matter in front of an audience.
Bilbo looked unmoved.
"I have asked you repeatedly to consider Bard's request. You refused. Fíli and Kíli asked you as well, trying to make you see reason. Did you listen to any of us?" Bilbo's voice got progressively louder, his frustration with Thorin's obstinate refusal to give the men their due overriding his sense of propriety.
"There is nothing to consider. I do not barter with someone who comes armed to my gates."
Bilbo's patience run out and he snapped.
"Do you care so little for your friends and family that you would rather let them starve to death than give the men a bit of your gold to rebuild their city? You claim to be a king, yet what sort of king are you when you refuse to be fair? When you deny help to those in need? When you don't repay kindness of those who had been kind to you?"
Fíli could hear the dwarfs behind him shuffling uncomfortably, but didn't turn to look at their expression. His gaze was fixed on Bilbo, who stood proud and defiant in front of Thorin, his anger and self-righteousness overcoming any fear he might have felt.
Thorin looked positively murderous.
"How dare you speak to me such?" he roared. "How dare you insult me, you miserable thief?" He stepped forward and grasped Bilbo by the front of his jacket, shaking him. "I should throw you from the wall for what you've done."
Fíli heard several gasps from the dwarfs around him and from the corner of his eye he saw Kíli start forward to help the hobbit, but Dwalin caught him by the arm, shaking his head. This matter was strictly between Thorin and Bilbo and they had no right to interfere.
With more courage than Fíli felt at that moment, Bilbo raised his head and looked Thorin straight in the eye.
"Is this how you are going to rule Erebor? Get rid of those who do not agree with you? I am not one of your subjects, Thorin Oakenshield, and you are not my King. I can speak to you however I wish. Right now, your madness is making you behave like a tyrant and I want nothing more to do with you."
Thorin let out an inarticulate scream of fury and raised Bilbo into the air over the edge of the wall, the hobbit's weight no match for his strength. Beneath them several of the elves cried in alarm and crowded closer to the wall, prepared to catch the hobbit if he fell. Fíli realized he was holding his breath.
Amazingly enough, Bilbo looked completely calm. His anger had left, leaving him looking resigned. His voice was quiet when he spoke, but still carried easily over the silent crowd.
"Are you going to kill me, Thorin?"
They stayed like that for a moment longer, poised on an edge of a knife. Myriad different emotions ran over Thorin's face before he settled on contempt. Finally, slowly, he returned the hobbit back on the wall, setting him down with more force than necessary.
"Go now and never come back. I never wish to see your face again, traitor."
"Will you give the men their share of the gold?" Bilbo was unyielding.
"YES!" Thorin barked. "Now get down from the wall or I throw you down."
"As you wish." Bilbo gave him a mocking bow. "My service for you is over, though I have received little gratitude for all I have done for you. You can keep your treasure."
With one last disdainful look at the hobbit Thorin turned on his heel and stormed off into the mountain. The assembly at the wall let out a collective breath of relief when he disappeared from sight. Gandalf stepped forward, pulling back his hood.
"Well," he said, "that went as badly as it could have. I am afraid that Thorin's mind has been fully ensnared by the gold-fever."
Bilbo sighed, reaching for his backpack.
"It was worth a try." With Thorin out of sight, Bilbo had deflated, the argument leaving him looking tired and sad. He paused at the edge of the wall, looking back at the Company.
"I am really sorry we have to part like this, my friends. I hope we can all meet again, under happier circumstances." He gave them a small sad smile and climbed down with some help from the elves.
The dwarfs remained on the wall, watching Bilbo's silver-clad figure grow smaller in the distance, until it vanished completely.
Bilbo Baggins had passed out of their reach and there was nothing more they could do for him. Now they could only wait, and pray for hope.
To be continued...
A/N: This chapter is the reason why I wrote this fic. The Arkenstone scene simply begged to be written with a slightly slashy undertone and with a Bilbo who doesn't squeak and cower in the face of Thorin's wrath. I thought it would be interesting to add a bit more subtext to the scene beyond just "Bilbo stole a piece of rock". I'm not normally a fan of boasting, but I have to say that I'm really proud of this chapter. The anger was hard to write, but so, so worth it. Now I can only hope that the rest of the fic measures up to this.
Before someone asks – all interactions between Bilbo, Fíli and Kíli in this chapter are purely platonic. It could be really easy to turn this into a F/B/K slash, since those three adore each other, but I thought it would be a lot better to have Bilbo as a comforting figure for two homesick young dwarves instead.
In the book we don't see the dwarves again until the battle next day, so the next chapter will deal with the ensuing fallout within the company. Needless to say, nobody is happy with Thorin. The next chapter should be posted on Tuesday, December 17. Feedback is welcome as always :)
P.S.: I finally saw the second movie and while I liked it well enough (except for the horribly tacked-on romance subplot), I thought that it's missing a heart a bit. I didn't feel any closer to any of the dwarves at the end than I had when the first movie ended. Even Bard and Tauriel are better fleshed out than most of the Company, which is a shame :/