Disclaimer: I don't own the hobbit.
Kili had been filled with an awful mix of absolute fright and an addicting ecstasy. There might have been laughter, and it might have come from him, when the war was at its worst, orc upon orc charging at him and past him and all around him.
It had been his first war, and he had been as prepared to die as he had been to take down as many enemies with him as he could. But when the enemies kept on falling while he still stood, strong, cutting them down like rye, he had become to believe in his own invincibility.
With his brother by his side they had been gods of war, destructive and to be immortalized into stories told to yet born children. And as the enemies grew less in numbers, he had treated it as a sign of their victory.
That was when the pale orc had come.
He walked with calm through all the fighting and dying, stepping on his own wailing allies that were too wounded to move out of his way. The war seemed to be of little interest to him, his weapon striking only out of necessity. And as Azog's cruel eyes turned to him, the kind of smile on his face that made Kili realise his own naivety, it was clear what his objective was.
To end the line of Durin.
Simple. Precise.
While Kili might have been young, fighting on without the weight of years heavy on his back, he was not ignorant of his own inferiority. War had turned one cut and wound into many, the constant movement forever straining his muscles and as sweat poured down his face, his lack of drinking was as dangerous as stopping to drink would have been.
Lightheaded and more afraid than he had ever been in his life, he turned to look at his brother. Fili, who was nearing the same stage as he, only nodded. And Kili understood.
It was not meant to be their fight. But if it could help Thorin, if only they could even wound the pale orc, then was that not a valiant enough way for them to perish?
Fili had been the first to fall.
Kili couldn't remember much of what had happened just then, but he knew that his best defence had always been the knowledge that his brother was fighting beside him and that at that moment it had been taken away from him.
There must have been physical pain, though he remembered none of it. Kili too was beaten to the ground with a sickening crack, a kick landing on his abdomen even when both of them knew how unlikely it was he would get up ever again from where he lied.
He had sought out Fili's eyes, desperate for his brother's comfort. Fili lied not far from him, his hand stretched out as if he was trying his hardest to reach for him as well.
But try as they might, they were too far apart, too broken to move and in the end all Kili could do was to watch life wane from his brother's eyes.
And it was with that image mind that Kili woke up with a gasp.
Instinctively he reached out to the warmth beside him, closing the gap that had haunted him in his dreams. Without seeing or even breathing in the fading scent that came with life, he could recognise his brother's presence, and when he did open his eyes, he was greeted with the familiar sight of blond beard and hair as he clung to Fili's side.
Fili, though, did not open his eyes to greet him.
'Let him sleep, just a little while more,' thought Kili, still exhausted himself and falling asleep in no time.
Only to wake up later, expectant to find Fili awake but disappointed when he wasn't. So, 'a little bit more,' Kili thought, and kept drifting in and out of sleep until his body refused to anymore, after which he just pretended, lying still with his eyes closed. Waiting.
"I know you are awake," he heard Thorin say as he entered the room. Their uncle had been in earlier that day but had not said anything to him at that time. Maybe he just hadn't noticed until now. Or maybe he too was waiting.
Kili did nothing to allude that he was conscious.
"Kili," Thorin insisted, taking a seat at the edge of the bed and reaching over Fili to run his knuckles on Kili's cheek. "Open your eyes."
"No," Kili mumbled against his brother's shoulder. "Not yet."
Sighing, Thorin drew his hand back. The king himself had been recovering well enough, if only agonisingly slow for someone who had such a role to upkeep. But his nephews, although healing physically, worried him endlessly with their unwillingness to wake up. Seeing Kili lie on the bed like he was conscious of his surroundings had been a great relief indeed. If not for the dwarf himself, then to all those around him.
"Fili will wake in his own time," Thorin tried to promise for the sake of both Kili and himself.
"What if-" Kili's words got caught in his throat, and when he finally opened his eyes to slits, they had a misty look in them. As if the world as it were was not worth looking at with bright eyes. "What if he doesn't wake up?"
"Come now, nephew. I lose faith in many things the moment either of you gives up on the other," Thorin scolded, although his voice remained gentle. "I suggest you get out of that bed and regain your strength so that you can aid your brother when he wakes up."
After a small silence Kili's head jerked just barely, but Thorin took it as a sign of agreement and couldn't help but feel all the more relieved.
Weeks passed by in haste and Thorin's days kept growing longer as they got more filled with politics and general clean-up of their reclaimed home. Word of their victory had long ago been sent to the Blue Mountains and there was much to prepare for their returning kin. Every living quarter inside the mountain had been long neglected; dust having piled on endlessly and the smell of decaying furniture filling almost every room imaginable.
But everyone found their morals high, because Erebor was their home, and to see it back in its former glory they were willing to work till their muscles ached, even if it was only from cleaning.
Some of Dain's folk remained as well, excited to be part of rebuilding the kingdom while others left back to where they would always feel more at home. This suited Thorin just fine, for he could definitely use every extra pair of hands willing to help yet couldn't say if his kingdom could afford such a growth in population, especially during the winter season when food was scarce.
Besides, he couldn't say he liked the moments they stopped him in whatever it was he was doing and smothered him with praise. They would forever be amazed how the Company's foolhardy quest had turned into stories of impossible victories, how they had defied Smaug of all beings and finally with the miraculous survival of the royal family.
And every time they spoke of how sure they had been of their passing, Thorin thought how the only miracle had been a strong enough heart to cling to the bonds that came with friendship even though the other party had been foolish enough to poison it with his words and actions.
No, he didn't like to be reminded of Bilbo Baggins, though it was not like he could ever forget in the first place. Before Smaug had come, he remembered watching his grandfather fall into lunacy, standing there surrounded by all things shiny. His father too, whatever had become of him in the hands of orcs, had most likely lost his mind at the end of it. Proud as he was of his heritage, that was the one matter he had promised himself to break the tradition of.
But the same blood circled in his veins, undeniably. For where had his sanity been when the thought of strangling the hobbit with his bare hands had filled him so violently that he might as well have done it? What had made him forget his ever-growing debt to Bilbo Baggins, starting with their lives and ending with their home?
It was shameful for a dwarf to owe a debt, firstly because their stubbornness kept them from asking for help in the first place, and secondly, because being unable to repay one deemed them a failure in many fields.
And Thorin, even with a mountain filled with treasure, had next to nothing to offer their burglar in order to make amends.
"Bilbo?" Gloin asked much in the same manner the rest of the company had when Thorin inquired whether or not anyone had seen the hobbit. "Been so busy as of late, can't really say that I have spared much thought for our burglar at all. Don't even know if he's alive."
"He is," Thorin said voice harsh. "It is only hard to get a hold of him. If anyone is to see a glimpse of him I expect word of it to come straight to me."
Gloin took a moment to stare at him, his probable smile hidden beneath his beard.
"Aye, my lord. Though a hobbit that wants to go unnoticed is not an easy thing to find, I've learned. One that has the power of invisibility in his pocket I imagine to be even less so."
That was exactly what Thorin feared perhaps even more than an impossible due. He feared that Bilbo would simply slip away, unseen and out of his reach without a word.
"Don't you worry, your majesty. Our burglar did not abandon us even during the darkest hour. I'm certain you'll find him when he is ready to be found."
Thorin nodded silently. He hoped Gloin's words would prove true one of the days to come.
It was quite by chance that Bilbo learned of the younger prince's awakening. He had been on his way to the treasury, dodging dwarves busying about here and there when his ears had picked up a piece of a conversation. Three dwarves from the Iron Hills had been gossiping about the news of Thorin's and his nephew's recovery, and to Bilbo great relief, they had mentioned that Kili was now able to stand on his own two feet once again.
After being almost caught by the king himself, Bilbo hadn't dared to approach the room where the royal family had taken residence in. He should have been safe, for it had been in the middle of the night and he had been as silent as ever as well as invisible to the eyes, but somehow Thorin had been able to tell he was there. He wouldn't risk being caught twice.
Still.
Though he now knew of Kili's recovery, he also knew of dwarven stupidity. They were generally a stubborn bunch, foolishly dismissing their needed time to recover in order to avoid being seen as weak. He only needed to observe one King Under the Mountain to know that to be true. Thorin still walked with a slight limp, one that would have healed nicely had he spent a week more in bed like a good patient. Bilbo had also witnessed many dwarves with reopened wounds, gotten purely by not being careful of them while moving rocks and other rubble around the mountain.
And they laughed about it too! The more they neglected their wounds the nastier the scarring would be, and they treated it like something to take pride in.
'Fools,' thought Bilbo. 'It is a miracle they prosper as a race.'
That being the reason he was willing to take a risk and was on his way to see how Kili was faring. If the young prince was like the rest of his kind, then Bilbo would have to force him back into a sleep by slipping Kili some of the herbs he had insisted Thranduil give him. Kili's wounds had been some of the worst the battle had caused, and Bilbo wasn't going to watch the dwarf get killed by his own stupidity after all the trouble the elves had gone through to heal him.
Knowing Thorin spent his days in various parts of the mountain other than the room where he slept in, Bilbo dared to approach the room. The door of it was slightly ajar, not enough for him to slip inside without making the gap only the tiniest bit wider, but with enough luck he would avoid any creaking sounds from escaping it even if he moved it however much was necessary.
Peering from the gap Bilbo could see Fili still lying on the bed, his eyes still closed. Kili sat on a stool beside the bed, his back turned to the door. It was good then, to see that Kili's unwillingness to leave his brother's side was keeping him from pushing himself physically. There was really no need for him to go inside, but the urge to offer Kili some company overcame him no matter how unnoticed it would go.
As silently as he could, Bilbo crept inside. Though luck seemed to abandon him the moment the door let out the tiniest creak when he pushed past it, making Kili turn around slowly to stare in the direction of the noise. His heart thumping away in his ears, Bilbo drew into one of the corners of the room as he silently watched Kili rise from his seat and approach the door.
Without seemingly sparing much thought about what had caused the door to move, Kili closed it shut, effectively capturing Bilbo inside. The hobbit didn't worry much, though. Someone else was bound to enter the room sooner or later, and once the door was opened again, he could exit unnoticed.
His plans of eventual escape weren't long lived, however, when Kili failed to return to his seat, instead stopping to stand in the middle of the room. The young dwarf looked at the air around him, expression unreadable, before he almost stopped Bilbo's heart by turning his gaze to the corner where he stood.
With only a couple of long strides, Kili was almost upon him, and while Bilbo did his best to move out of the way, he soon found two arms wrapped around his torso and his back against Kili's chest as the prince captured a bundle of wiggling air.
"You must be Mister Baggins," Kili said smirking, lifting his captive so that Bilbo could not feel the ground beneath his feet anymore.
"Can you please put me down, Kili?" Bilbo asked, whispering as if that would prevent him from getting into any more trouble than he was already in.
"I think not," answered the dwarf, carrying him over to the stool and sitting down on it with Bilbo awkwardly on his lap. "Word is that you are awfully hard to get a hold of, Master Hobbit. I'd risk losing you again were I to let go now."
"How you found me in the first place is a mystery to me," Bilbo muttered while yielding to his captor's hold. Struggling would do neither of them any good, anyway. Not with Bilbo being already found out and Kili being wounded.
"We spent so much time travelling together that we have grown to recognise your presence," Kili said shrugging it off as if it made sense.
"I see," Bilbo said even though he didn't. "Anyway, I am glad to see you recovering well enough. How is Fili?"
"How does he look to you?" Kili said as an answer, any amount of cheerfulness disappearing from his voice.
"I want to say that he looks well, but he's slept for so long that I cannot help but worry."
"Then that makes two of us."
Kili's arms tightened around him and the dwarf rested his forehead against the nape of Bilbo's neck. Bilbo supposed it was Kili's way of finding comfort wherever he could, and Bilbo himself found some in it as well. It had been such a long time since he had had any physical contact with anyone at all.
Closing his eyes Bilbo let out a long sigh, relishing the warmth which the hug spread in him. This was where a hobbit's values lied, not in riches and scars of war, but in comfort and joys of being able to share life with those important to oneself.
"What do you intend to do with me?" Bilbo asked after having taken enough advantage of his situation.
"What do you mean?" Kili mumbled sounding so very tired.
"You captured me." Though still invisible, Bilbo threw a look over his shoulder as he stated the obvious. "Do you mean to keep me a prisoner?"
It made a small smile grow on Kili's face, a sparkle of his old mirth returning for just a moment. "I wonder, Master Baggins. What ever shall I do with you? Got any requests?"
"If you are willing to hear my counsel, then I must plead you to keep me a secret," Bilbo said. His intention was to jest but the honesty in his voice turned his suggestion into a serious request.
"Why?" Questioned Kili, the lack of wonderment in his voice making Bilbo think that the prince had already made his own guesses as to why. After all, he too had been at the gates when Bilbo's betrayal had come to their knowledge. Kili had seen the way his uncle had reacted and had heard the words he had said to the hobbit.
"To avoid trouble," Bilbo found himself explaining despite that. "I only wish to see you all get well, nothing more. After your brother is out of that bed I will be on my way home, I promise."
"What a noble heart you possess," Kili smiled with a little tease.
"It is just a hobbit's heart, one that likes to sit beside sickbeds and hold another's hand when the times are tough. Especially if the other is someone it holds close."
"And dare I ask what you think of our dwarven hearts?" Kili asked, well aware that their behaviour often left a bad impression on folk not bothering to take a deeper look. "Or do you suspect us to have none at all?"
The hobbit hummed a bit, accepting the blackish sense of humour and acknowledging that Kili must have been after some sort of consolation. "Even the foul have hearts," he said with the kind of optimism that had always been in conflict with the suspicious nature of hobbits. More than often this had proved to be wrong, but it didn't waver their belief in it. "And yours, I have learned, are loyal to a fault."
"Where is there fault in it?"
"You almost died." Running his invisible hand on Kili's scarred arm, Bilbo wondered how all the damage would affect the rest of the prince's life. The way his fingers were still under heavy bandaging couldn't be but ill news for his skills in archery.
"I must confess to you," Kili said while sighing in content of having Bilbo worry over him. "There is this unfair thought that sometimes visits me during the darkest hour. That is was both you and uncle Thorin that put Fili on that bed."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that even though I shouldn't think so, it was because of uncle that Fili almost died, while I have every reason to believe that it is because of you that he lived."
"Why are you saying this?" Bilbo was starting to feel a tad uncomfortable by the confession. To a dwarf kin was everything, and he did not want to be the cause of any tension between such strong bonds.
"To tell you that my loyalty is yours, however faulty it is."
At that Bilbo had to wriggle on Kili's lap enough to be able to see his face though the other couldn't see his. The honesty in those dark eyes held the same promise as his words, the exact kind that Bilbo wished to stay well away from. This was a family drama waiting to happen, and he would be the cause of it.
Then again, Thorin could not dislike him any more than he already did, and even if he could, Bilbo couldn't bring himself to feel any sorrier for their circumstances than he already did.
Daring to feel a bit hopeful as well as guilty of exploiting the benefits, Bilbo asked, "So I can walk out of this room without you alarming anyone of it?"
"Yes," Kili agreed, smiling at air.
"Well," said Bilbo with a breath of relief. "I am as pleased to hear that as I am surprised of how well-spoken you can be."
His words made a laugh bubble from the dwarf's belly, true and a bit surprising, as if Kili had promised himself not let it happen until certain conditions were met. "Don't insult me, burglar. Us royals are taught to speak properly whether we like it or not."
"I am guessing you did not like it much," Bilbo teased, much preferring Kili's rollicking way of talking.
"Well guessed," grinned the other.
"Well then. Please release your hold on me, if you would. I think I should leave before someone walks into this room."
"Only if you promise to come and sit at Fili's sickbed and hold my hand," said Kili while already letting the hobbit go.
"I promise," Bilbo smiled, getting one in return before he made his exit.
"You seem to be in high spirits today, thief," Smaug said glumly upon his arrival. Bilbo wondered how the dragon could tell, considering it had never even seen the hobbit. But then, Smaug had said he could feel his air, and he did indeed feel an air of positivity surrounding him.
"Kili is nearing a full recovery," he explained, knowing the dragon wouldn't take his news joyfully but feeling the need to share and talk about it with someone, anyone. Happy news were meant to be shared as much as bad ones.
"You expect me to distinguish them from one another by just the mention of their names?" Came a snort, one that seemed to have only the purpose to exaggerate how beneath it the beast thought the dwarves to be.
Bilbo ignored the dragon's jibes altogether, keeping to his good mood and making it sound like they were having two different discussions. The reason they were conversing in the first place was just to keep each other company, nothing else. So quite cheerfully Bilbo could say, "Kili is Thorin's younger nephew."
Smaug huffed out a breath, apparently disappointed for not having its malice plague its companion.
"I was so glad to see him well," Bilbo continued, a smile spreading on his face as he remembered their moment of shared comfort. "Now if only his brother would follow suit I could be on my way home."
"Home?" Asked Smaug sounding so surprised that it left no room for ill tones.
"Home," Bilbo confirmed, thinking of Bag End with a dull homesickness.
"Where is this home of yours?"
"Far, far away," sighed the hobbit, feeling weary even thinking about the time it'd take him to travel back.
"And you will leave as soon as the last of the dwarves makes his recovery?" Smaug asked, unable to see Bilbo's nod of an answer but knowing it had been given. "You will just go and leave me here?"
Surprised as he was by the question, the words were already out of Bilbo's mouth before he had the chance to fully think them through. "What else is there to do?"
"Did you not promise your supposed friends to rid their mountain of me?" The questions continued and Bilbo could not say he felt comfortable hearing them.
"I promised them no such thing," he said. "I was hired to a burglar. To steal treasure."
"So you feel at ease with yourself, then," the dragon pressed on, "leaving their enemy alive underneath their home?"
Bilbo had been more at ease while not thinking about it. He looked at Smaug, lying on the cavern floor decorated with its own dried blood. A black arrow jutted out of its chest where Bilbo had spotted a weakness in its armour. It must have just barely missed its heart, so dangerously close to the beating organ that Smaug must have literally been just inches away from death.
Now it could do nothing but lie in hiding, afraid to move lest the arrow sank in deeper and unable to do anything to remove it itself.
"There's nothing I can do," Bilbo said quickly, turning to face away.
"There is everything you can do," Smaug countered. "I am not lying here waiting for my body give in to eternal sleep. I am an immortal, see, so instead I wait for my sanity to leave me and make taking my own life an appealing thought."
"What are you saying?" Bilbo asked, his voice small and throat hurting as he swallowed thickly.
"You are not a cruel creature," said the dragon as if it pained it to say such a supposed compliment. "And loathe as I do to admit it, I would not mind if my existence was put to an end by the hands of someone as cunning as yourself."
"I can't do that!" Bilbo protested, horrified by the very idea. "I can't- You cannot ask that of me."
"You would rather have me as a nagging thought at the edges of your mind?" Dragging its tail lazily back and forth on the floor, Smaug looked towards the general direction Bilbo was hiding in. "You could not bear the uncertainty of whether or not of your former companions survived. Do you think you will have peace knowing you left me here to suffer for an eternity?"
"You are evil." It was the truth, but not an argument. Any reason he could use against Smaug's were lost in the weakness of Bilbo's voice.
"But you are not."
And Bilbo knew he had lost. He took off his ring, breathing with relief as his surroundings returned into the shapes and shades they was supposed to be, as opposed to the moving edges and shadows of a world into which no one else could see.
Still keeping his distance, he stepped into the line of sight of Smaug's. Giving a small bow more to mock the drake than anything, he said, "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."
Smaug took its time to study his figure now that it was finally able to see him, and snorted after a while.
"Aren't you an odd little creature?"
Ignoring the comment, Bilbo shifted his weight between his two legs nervously. "What would you have me do?"
"Come claim your victory," said Smaug with enviable calm. "Aid this arrow to pierce my heart."
"I've kept my distance for a reason. Do not think I'll so blindly trust you to not kill me the moment I approach."
Smaug laughed at that, the motion of it waving on its chest and moving the arrow's head stuck on its flesh. It resulted in some sort of mixture of a reflexive mirth that couldn't be stopped by will and excruciating yowls of pain until the dragon managed to calm down again, breathing heavily like a dying animal. It was a dreadful thing to watch.
"Harming you would work against my own interests," it finally said.
"And how am I to know that your interest is not to have your final revenge against me after which you would feel content enough to take your own life?" Bilbo asked doubtfully.
"Do not mock me!" Roared Smaug "Who has ever heard of a dragon ending its own days? That is a stupidity reserved for humans!"
"I meant no offence," Bilbo tried to amend timidly, which was ridiculous, really. He was only trying to assure his own safety, after all.
"I have lost many things, Bilbo Baggins," the dragon said after having calmed down from his fit of rage. "My hoard, my fire, my pride. There is nothing left to blind me from keeping this one promise I make to you: No harm will come to you."
It was not much, just words and blind leap of trust, all working against his better judgement. But Bilbo found himself nearing Smaug despite doubting in his heart that he'd see the daylight and green fields of the Shire ever again.
Keeping to its promise, Smaug did not move an inch when Bilbo came to stand next to it, even though being blind to the hobbit's doings. It let its head rest against the ground, eyes closed and breathing steadily. Hesitating, Bilbo considered the arrow which was way out of his reach lest he climbed up the dragon's front leg.
"You don't mind, do you?" He asked uncertainly while placing both of his palms against the dragon's scales, surprised by the warmth of them.
"Do what you must," Smaug answered, its voice low and uncaring.
So Bilbo climbed until he could reach the arrow. Upon closer look, it vibrated a bit as Smaug's heart kept beating near it. It was not an inviting sight, but having ended up this deep into a promise he had not even made, there was nothing else to it than to take a firm hold of the arrow shaft. Bilbo took a deep, deep breath, closing his eyes and opening them again.
'Great courage is not defined by knowing when to take a life," Gandalf's voice suddenly echoed in his head. 'But when to spare one.'
Bilbo's brow creased and his hands trembled. And then he yanked as hard as he could, the arrow head fighting against muscle tissue, tearing it apart on its way out. Blood followed it as did Smaug's screams which were so loud that they must have carried all the way to Mirkwood.
The dragon's body flailed uncontrollably, sending Bilbo flying through the air. And just before hitting the cavern wall and losing consciousness, Bilbo had the time to think what a fool he had been.
To Be Continued...
A/N: Humm, this story might progress in a confusing order, I've noticed. But worry not! Questions like where is Gandalf and how Smaug got under the mountain will be answered in later chapters. Yep-yep.
Please feel free to comment and criticize! :D