A/N Hello lovely readers! I think I said a long time ago that I would do a massive edit of this story, which I'm planning to do soon so if you ever go back and read it again if that's your type of thing, hopefully my dumb spelling will soon be fixed! As usual I bullshitted lore up the face so if anything is super wrong I'm so sorry ب_ب
Hope you enjoy!
Bilbo felt the weight of the stone in his hands. The surface was as smooth as any silk he'd ever felt. The Arkenstone was somehow simultaneously cool to the touch and impossibly warm. The light that radiated from inside the stone swam and shimmered before his eyes and it was captivating. He felt like he could have stared into it's depths for a thousand lifetimes and still not have the words to describe what it was about the Arkenstone that made it so beautiful, so powerful.
The hobbit continued to stare, his mouth starting to go dry but the longer he looked, the more absurd his fascination with it seemed to grow. Yes it was wonderful, it was ethereal, it had an unearthly impossibility that made his heart pause but for all its magnificence, it was, in the end, just a stone.
'And so small…' he thought as he held it in his hands, 'is this really it? Is this what Thrór almost died for? What we might die for?'
Then a flash of sky blue flooded his mind, and he felt the cold metal of Thorin's ring against his throat for a split second. Bilbo's hands clenched around the stone as his mouth snapped shut.
'No,' the hobbit thought bitterly, 'it's because of that ring that we might die.'
Thorin would never sacrifice the lives of his nephews or his company for a stone. The dwarf hated Thranduil, hated the elves, but he wouldn't have thrown Bard's offer back in his face if not for the damn ring. Thorin would have listened to reason, listened to him. No matter how much his friend wanted the treasure, Bilbo knew no amount of gold would be worth Fili and Kili's lives. If only there was some way he could get his share out of the mountain to Thranduil, to convince the Elvenking that he should help the dwarves…
Bilbo's eyes focused back on the stone in his hands and realization dawned on him with a sick sense of anticipation and dread. The hobbit couldn't sneak the gold out, but he could carry the Arkenstone…
'No,' Bilbo shook his head, 'I can't, I can't…'
The hobbit heard a crash behind him and jolted back up to his feet. Almost without thinking, Bilbo shoved the stone into his jacket pocket as panic clouded his mind. He had to leave before Thorin found him again and did something worse while the ring's influence poisoned his mind.
Bilbo started to sprint out of the room, his feet pounding across stone and gold until he reached the giant hallway. Each time his feet connected with the ground, his jacket swung and he could feel the Arkenstone hitting his side like some strange second heartbeat.
The hobbit ran and ran, sweat starting to run down his temples and air burning in his lungs but he refused to slow. It felt good, felt alive, and if he concentrated on the next step, and the one after that, he didn't think about Thorin's hands closing around his neck. He didn't think about what it meant to look into someone's eyes and not see them staring back at you. He didn't think about what it meant to love someone so completely and be the one responsible for hurting them.
Bilbo ran until his was well out of the treasure room. He sprinted down the massive hallway, away from Thorin and away from the rest of the company. He just needed time to think, time to turn all of the whirling ideas in his mind into some semblance of coherent thought. The hobbit's foot connected with a piece of rubble and he tripped, crashing to the floor and tumbling over and over until his back smashed into a chunk of the ceiling that had fallen to the floor oh so long ago.
He felt the knees of his pants tear along with the skin underneath. His cheek felt raw as it scraped against the rubble on the ground and all the breath knocked out of his lungs when his back connected with rock. Bilbo lay there stunned for a few moments and suddenly, without the distraction of pumping limbs; everything seemed to collapse around him.
His body hurt, his head hurt, but most of all his heart ached in a way that he'd never felt before. Bilbo clenched his eyes shut as he lay there, refusing to let the tears escape from his eyes. The hobbit let out a small wail as if he could let out some of the desperate sadness that tore into his veins. He felt sick, sick, sick. Bile started to rise in his throat and he heaved but nothing came out.
Bilbo could feel the pulse Arkenstone against his side and reached a shaking hand into his pocket, pulling the stone out. It shimmered innocently in his hand and for a moment Bilbo's misery left him in a flash of hot, seething anger. None of this was fair, none of this was right and why could he do nothing to stop it? Bilbo flung the stone from his grasp and it clattered down the hall until it stopped in a pile of dust, causing a thick cloud to rise and for a brief moment, Bilbo could no longer see the blue-white light pouring out from inside.
The hobbit sat up slowly and leaned his back against the chunk of stone, pulling his legs up to his chest and burying his face in his arms. The anger had left him and now all he felt was sick again. He felt almost separate… not from the horrible thoughts and feelings coursing through his mind, but from reality. Like he was some hapless pawn being pushed around on his mother's old chess board, a giant, invisible hand shoving him towards some horrible end he could see flashing before his eyes but could do nothing to stop its inevitable outcome.
Bilbo had never felt truly powerless before, like his choices and decisions only mattered when they hurt someone, like he was some instrument fate had placed within the company to destroy all Thorin had worked for, but only after the dwarf had opened up enough to trust him, to… to love him.
He was truly a monster now. Worse than any of the awful creatures in his storybooks. At least those monsters' appearances reflected their intentions, their dark, malicious thoughts. There was no guile to those villains, they were evil and looked evil. They didn't make the hero trust them only to wait for their opportunity to sink traitorous claws in deep and tear, to destroy. At least those monsters had the decency to be plain in their desires. He had ingratiated himself within the company, had gotten them all to trust him, gotten Thorin to trust him.
And for what?
So he could give Thorin the tool of his own destruction and say 'oh just don't put it on!' Like Thorin could have resisted the dark intent of the ring, like Thorin was invincible and nothing could hurt them so long as they were in love.
"Stupid," Bilbo hissed through clenched teeth as he tried to ignore the wetness running down his face, "stupid, stupid, stupid!"
How could he have been so naïve? So completely and utterly moronic to think that love was some sort of mystical shield, some sort of unconquerable force of pure happiness that would ensure he and Thorin lived together for the rest of their lives and worry only of what idiotic schemes Fili and Kili were hatching. To think that he had been worrying about whether or not he would miss Bag End only a day ago. It all seemed so small now; so incredibly irrelevant he couldn't help but let out a wild laugh.
He laughed and laughed until he realized that he hadn't been laughing at all.
He had been crying for his friends. He had been crying for Fili and Kili. He had been crying for himself. But most of all, he had been crying for Thorin. For the man he loved, for the man that was gone, nothing but a faint shadow in the back of those blue eyes.
An army was going to march on their walls and the dwarves of the Iron Hills would paint the ground red with their blood. Azog would tear deep, bloody gouges in the land until he came upon Erebor's gates and then they would die screaming.
Thorin would lose Erebor for a second time. Thorin would be torn from his home. He would never see his city restored to its former glory. He would never see his people milling about these halls, alive and well and prospering. He would never grow old. Never see his sister again. Never see Fili become King under the Mountain, a stone crown rested atop his golden head. Never see Kili finally grow out his beard and perhaps start a family of his own if he ever decided to leave his brother's side long enough.
Bilbo looked up to see the light of the Arkenstone glowing from within a pile of dust on the floor.
The thought had filled him with a certain terror earlier, but now it seemed almost… inevitable. The Arkenstone was the only thing in that room he could carry out that would be worth enough to make Thranduil even consider listening to him. It was Erebor's greatest treasure, symbol of the Lonely Mountain, symbol of the line of Durin. He was sure the Elvenking would not be pleased that Thorin himself wouldn't reach out, but perhaps with Legolas there…
He had a chance now to get the elves and men on their side. To make sure they had a chance in the coming battle against Azog. And all he had to do… All he had to do was betray Thorin. All he had to do was take the one thing his friend wanted more than anything and hand it over to his mortal enemy. Bilbo buried his face once more, fighting the urge to be sick again.
Thorin would hate him, of that Bilbo was sure. Thorin would spit on him, curse him, despise him, but what choice did he have? Without aid, they would die. It wouldn't matter that Thorin hated him if they were cut down in the battle.
The hobbit gripped his arms so tightly he thought the fabric might tear.
Because even though he knew the alternative was so much worse than hatred, than betraying the man he loved, somehow it did matter. He'd already betrayed Thorin once by giving him that damn ring and now he was considering it a second time. The difference was that this time he knew what he was doing. Bilbo knew he wouldn't be able to try and rationalize away the look of pure loathing he knew would be on Thorin's face once he realized what Bilbo had done.
Even though he knew what he had to do, Bilbo hesitated. Was he strong enough to bear Thorin's hatred? Was he strong enough to sacrifice his own happiness, sacrifice any love Thorin might have for him?
Bilbo thought of Thorin's smile, of his laugh and his kindness. Of his deep and resolute love for his family and his people and his home. He thought of Thorin's face when he had found Frerin. He thought of holding on as tightly as Thorin held onto him. Of the glorious feeling of knowing that the man he loved for the first time since the fall had a bright future in front of him.
And then he knew that it wasn't about strength. The question wasn't if he was strong enough to bear his friend's hatred, but whether he was selfish enough to put his own feelings before Thorin's wellbeing.
Bilbo thought for a moment before raising his head slowly. He still felt a twinge of nausea, the light head and blurred vision of panic, but he… he knew what he had to do. He would take the Arkenstone to Thranduil. He would secure an alliance of men and elves for Thorin, he would make sure that when Azog was upon them and the war horns started to sound, that they would have a fighting chance.
The man he knew was gone from Thorin's body, the ring had twisted his thoughts and poisoned his mind. Bilbo had trusted Thorin with his life and the moment the dwarf's hands had closed around his neck, he knew his friend was gone. He would be strong for Thorin, but not in the way Kili had said. He would be strong enough to take the stone out of these halls, place it in the elf's hands, and face whatever punishment Thorin gave him as penance for giving his friend the ring in the first place.
Because that's what love meant, wasn't it? And in his heart Bilbo Baggins knew it to be true.
The hobbit stood up on shaking legs and walked slowly over to where the Arkenstone lay and gently picked it up. He rubbed off the dust with his sleeve and placed it back into his pocket. Bilbo turned slowly and started to walk down the hall towards the massive doors at its end.
The hobbit's fingers were still curled around the stone as he walked, almost like if he let go then the one thing that might save their lives would disappear. The hallway was completely still as he put one foot in front of the other, the dust muffling his footsteps so he could hear nothing but silence ringing through his ears. It was haunting in the dark and the stillness. It was lonely, achingly lonely as he walked.
It felt like days had passed when he finally saw the doors of Erebor. And they were… shut. Of course they were shut, how could he have forgotten? Thorin had ordered them closed after they had met with Bard and Legolas; a dwarf to each wheel that forced the hulking, stone doors closed. Bilbo felt his stomach sink as he craned his neck to look up; there was no way he could get this open by himself.
"Master Baggins?"
Bilbo clutched at his heart as he spun around in fright to see Fili standing a bit further down the hallway, looking at him curiously.
"What are you doing all the way down here?"
Bilbo tried to steady his breathing but panic seemed to fill his lungs, leaving no room for air. He hadn't planned on running into anyone before he left. The hobbit tried to reply but all he seemed to be able to do was choke on his own tongue.
Fili's look grew steadily more confused as he waited for the hobbit to reply.
"Are you alright, Master Baggins? Kili said you ran off after that letter arrived," the blonde dwarf walked forward to stand in front of him, "we were worried when you didn't come back so we went looking for you."
"I…" Bilbo spoke so quietly he wasn't sure he'd actually said anything out loud, "I'm… fine."
Fili raised a brow, "You don't look fine, my friend…"
Bilbo couldn't meet the dwarf's gaze, his hand clutched tightly on the Arkenstone and mind very unhelpfully blank as he struggled to think of a way out.
Fili's eyes moved from the scrape on the hobbit's cheek to his neck and widened in shock, "what happened?"
The dwarf crouched so he could better examine Bilbo's neck, looking at the bruises that were no doubt starting to form there. "What happened?" Fili hissed angrily, tilting Bilbo's chin.
The hobbit reached up and gripping Fili's wrist gently and pulled it away. The dwarf's eyes searched his face for an answer, staring with such intensity it seemed like he was trying to read Bilbo's mind.
Bilbo was silent for a moment. He wanted to tell Fili everything and for a second the words felt like they might come pouring from his mouth like some uncontrollable stream. But as his gaze locked with Fili's bright blue eyes, so earnestly worried for his friend, for the hobbit that had doomed them all, Bilbo knew he couldn't. He couldn't ask Fili to betray his uncle, betray the man who had become a father to him and his brother.
"Fili…" Bilbo began slowly, "I need to leave."
The dwarf's eyes widened in shock, "What? But before you said –"
"I know what I said before."
Fili's brow furrowed as he started at Bilbo, his face growing dark, "It was Thorin, wasn't it?"
The young dwarf spun on his heel as if he meant to go running down the hall.
"Fili," Bilbo all but yelled as he grabbed onto the dwarf's sleeve and pulled him around. "Fili I need you to –"
"No," Fili spat. "There is something wrong with him! He would never –" the dwarf glanced down to Bilbo's neck, "he would never do that."
Bilbo grabbed Fili's other sleeve and held onto him tightly so the dwarf wouldn't turn away again.
"Fili! Just – just listen to me, please," Bilbo pleaded.
The dwarf stilled, some of the anger on his face slipping away revealing the same helpless sort of confusion Bilbo was feeling in droves.
"I need to go—"
"But why? We – we need you here if something is wrong with Thorin!" Fili looked so young and exposed in that moment Bilbo couldn't help but step forward and place his arms around his friend. The Arkenstone fit between them like some horrible secret and the hobbit prayed Fili wouldn't feel the rock.
"Because I'm going to fix this mess…" Bilbo said with infinitely more confidence than he was feeling at that moment.
Fili gripped back tightly and Bilbo could feel his friend shaking slightly. None of the easy confidence or assured cockiness the hobbit was used to seeing in Fili showed.
"But how? I can help you, I know I can! Just – just tell me what you're planning," Fili said into Bilbo's shoulder.
"Do you trust me?" The hobbit said softly.
There was a pause before Fili stepped back slightly and looked him at him, "of course I do, you know that Master Baggins."
"Then help me get out of here."
"But…" Fili started hesitantly, "can't you just tell me what you're planning?"
"Please, Fili," Bilbo felt guilt pooling in his stomach, "just… just trust me."
The young dwarf stared at him for a long while, his face drawn as if he were debating some internal conflict with himself. The hobbit waited for an answer and prayed that Fili would help him open the door and leave it at that. He would go down to the camp by himself, he would make Thanduil see and then… well, then he would figure out some way to save Thorin.
"What do you need me to do?" Fili's voice had lost its hesitation; the dwarf's face was still tight with worry but Bilbo knew his friend would help without further question.
"Help me open the door," Bilbo walked over to the stone wheel, examining the thick spokes sticking out, "just enough for me to slip out."
The young dwarf nodded slowly as he joined Bilbo by the wheel, "These doors were designed to be able to be closed by just a few if there was an emergency but even so…" Fili eyed the giant stone slabs, "I'm not sure how far we'll get with just the two of us."
The hobbit felt a twinge of worry in his stomach but quickly shoved it aside; he wasn't going to turn back now. He couldn't. "We'll do it."
Fili placed himself between on set of the stone spokes and gave it an experimental push. The wheel let out a small grinding noise but barely budged for all the dwarf pushed.
"Going to need some help here," the dwarf grunted.
"Oh, yes, sorry," Bilbo muttered as he ran to the next set of spokes and positioned himself there.
"Ready?" he heard the dwarf's voice from behind him.
The hobbit looked over his shoulder briefly and gave his friend a firm nod, "ready."
As soon as he heard Fili let out a strained grunt Bilbo began to push. As the minutes passed, his toes dug into the rubble strewn across the ground and he felt the prick of sharp rocks digging into his feet. His arms shook with the effort and he bent his head, breathing hard. A groan of stone scraping against stone filled the hobbit's ears as he pushed and pushed and pushed.
"Just a little –" Fili let out a labored breath, "bit—" another grunt, "more—"
Sweat started to drip down his neck and Bilbo's felt his arms give way.
"C'mon, Master Baggins, we're almost there!"
The hobbit twisted so the back of his shoulder was pressed against the spoke and started to push again, his teeth clenched with the effort. He was not going to be stopped here, not by some stupid piece of rock! He had the Arkenstone, he had the one bargaining chip that might make Thranduil listen, that might save all their lives, and he would be damned if the blasted door wasn't going to let him through! Bilbo heard Fili let out a rasping groan of effort and there!
They heard the let out a great creaking noise as the rocks scrapped against each other and fresh, night air poured through the crack. Bilbo slipped down to the ground breathing heavily and looked over to the door. It was barely open, not wide enough for a man to pass through but… Yes, it was just the right size for a hobbit.
Fili was leaning over his knees and wiped a bead of sweat off his brow, "We… we did it?"
Despite the how absurdly wrong his life had been going over the past day or so, Bilbo couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the dwarf's face, "Always the tone of surprise."
The young dwarf stood back up to his full height and shook out his hands, "It is a very large door, Master Baggins."
The hobbit grinned at his friend for a moment, savoring the small flare of happiness in his chest but as soon as the feeling had come, it was gone again. Bilbo scrambled up to his feet, he needed to go now before his resolve wavered. Reaching into the pocket on his trousers, the hobbit pulled out the small dagger Fili had given him before he had gone into Smaug's lair. He wasn't quite sure why, but it seemed important to give it back.
Bilbo held it out in the palm of his hand as he tried to give his friend a strained smile, "Thank you for lending it to me."
Fili eyed the knife for a moment before glancing back up to the hobbit's face with a small frown. "Keep it, Master Baggins."
"No, Fili, I—" Bilbo tried to shove it back into the dwarf's chest, "I can't."
Fili brought a hand up to grip the hobbit's wrist, placing the other under the hand that held the knife before curling Bilbo's fingers so they covered the black hilt. "Keep it for now, Master Baggins. You'll still need to return it," the dwarf gave him a small grin, "and in pristine condition might I add. Just not now."
Bilbo nodded slowly, hoping with all his heart Fili would understand why he needed to do this when the time came. Hoping that maybe, maybe of all of the dwarves in the company, Fili, levelheaded, amiable Fili wouldn't see his actions as a betrayal. Bilbo knew he shouldn't trust this solitary speck of hope, but something inside him just couldn't bear to think of a future where the young dwarf looked at him with anything less than warm friendship.
Fili pulled him into a tight hug, "I know you wouldn't leave unless you had to Master Baggins. You don't need to tell me why."
"I—" Bilbo started but the dwarf interrupted him, "I trust you, Master Baggins. You're my friend and I trust you."
Fili squeezed him tighter, "Just stay safe, alright?"
The hobbit nodded again.
"If you promise to come back in one piece, I'll promise we'll be waiting for you."
Bilbo squeezed back just as tightly and for a moment allowed his mind to go blank except for one single, powerful thought. This was why he was giving the stone up. He was doing it for his friends, so that they would have a home to come back to, so that they would have a life to live.
"I promise."
Maybe they wouldn't want him back after this; maybe they would never want to see him again, but even so, Bilbo would try to keep any promise he made. The hobbit let go and turned to walk out the crack in the door but just as he reached it, Bilbo felt an overwhelming urge to look back one last time.
"Thank you, Fili. I… Well –" Bilbo shook his head trying to think of the right words to say but as with most people in important moments where one wishes to depart on some profound piece of wisdom, the hobbit couldn't think of anything. "… Thank you."
Fili gave him a small smile.
"You stay safe too, okay?" Bilbo's hand clenched unconsciously, "and Kili. Tell him that and the rest of the company too. And…"
'Thorin…' but the name died in his throat. But as the dwarf's face softened, Bilbo knew his friend had understood.
"I will, Master Baggins."
"Promise?" It was only fair after all, that Fili should promise to stay safe if he did.
"Promise."
Bilbo had squeezed out of the crack and into the night air. It was cool and stale with the hint of winter approaching. He could smell a hint of mustiness that meant the leaves were already starting to fall off of their high homes. Though the sun was far past the horizon, outside Erebor seemed so much brighter than inside the mountain. In the sky, the hobbit saw stars for what felt like the first time in ages and on the ground, the lights of a hundred fires glittered between distant tents.
The hobbit started down the winding road that led to the valley at the base of the mountain and towards the remnants of Dale. His eyes were fixed on the large tree-tent and knew that it had to be Thranduil. Bilbo gulped, feeling his nerves begin to fray again, anxiety pooling in his stomach the closer he got to the camps.
Feeling around in his pocket, Bilbo felt the familiar cool metal of his golden ring and slipped it on. He was sure Bard wouldn't harm him, but he wasn't sure where the bowman even was. Legolas, he very much hoped, was with his father. The elf had been the one to write him a letter, urging some form of alliance, so at least… Well, he prayed that there would be at least one of the Woodland folk willing to listen to him.
As the hobbit entered the edge of the camp, he saw that many of the tents and supplies were in a half-finished state of being packed up. 'They're getting ready to leave,' Bilbo's gut clenched. Most of the soldiers, both man and elf, seemed to have retired for the night. Though he did not know the lay of the of camp, the one thing that could be seen from almost every angle was Elvenking's tent, whose branches rose up to the sky before curling back down again, the massive leaves going from a deep green at the top, down to a bright yellow, and a fiery red at the bottom.
Bilbo wound his way around tents and the occasional soldier. The smell of cooking food wafted from some of the nearby fires, but even without a proper meal in many days, the hobbit found whatever was left of his appetite currently overwhelmed by worry. He was sure he was close now; only a few tents lay between him and the giant one. Bilbo felt his heart start to pound, blood rushing in his ears and –
He was on the ground, his mouth full of dirt and feeling slightly dazed.
"Who's there?" A voice hissed above him.
Bilbo looked up as saw a furious expression on the face of the auburn haired elf he'd seen with Legolas. 'Tauriel,' he thought as the elf's pale green eyes scanned the area around her.
The hobbit gulped and tried to shuffle away on his elbows. He knew she couldn't see him, but with the tents all around them, there was little room to maneuver. Tauriel stilled suddenly and Bilbo could've sword he saw her ears twitch. The hobbit couldn't help but hold his breath, trying not to make a sound. Then the elf closed her eyes and neither of them made a sound until Bilbo felt his lungs start to burn. He clenched his eyes shut trying to hold it in but felt some of the air escape him involuntarily.
Tauriel's eyes snapped open and her hand shot forward like a snake striking its prey. Though she had grabbed blindly, the elf caught the edge of his coat in her fist and yanked him up as if he weighed nothing.
"Who are you?" Tauriel hissed again, "or rather, what are you?"
Bilbo grabbed her wrist and tried to struggle free but the elf's grip was like a vice, strong and unyielding.
"Undo this spell," Tauriel reached up and grasped one of the curved handles strapped to her back, "and I may let you live."
While Bilbo was furiously trying to think of a way out when he saw her draw the blade, sharp and shining in the moonlight. Tauriel brought the knife down slowly, "my patience is wearing thin…"
The hobbit stopped struggling and let go of her arm. He didn't really have much choice but hoped that the elf might recognize him and allowing him to speak to her king. Bilbo slipped his hand into his pocket and pushed the ring off of his finger.
"You!" Tauriel yanked him up further, knife to his throat now.
"Easy, easy!" Bilbo gasped, his feet dangling in the air, "I just want to—"
"I don't care what you want," Tauriel growled, "you will tell me why you're here."
"I – I need to speak with Thranduil –" Bilbo spluttered.
"King Thranduil," the elf corrected, acid dripping from her voice, "and just why should I bother him with the incessant squeaking of a dwarvish pet?"
The hobbit felt a spark of anger; he was here trying to help the elves! And he did not squeak!
"Because," he glowered at her, "I have come to offer an alliance."
"An alliance?" Tauriel scoffed, rolling her eyes, "do you seriously expect me to believe that? Your leader offered us a sword, not his hand."
"Just –" Bilbo felt frustration starting to build, "Just let me talk to him! Please!"
"Oh, you'll talk," the elf's face fell into a wicked smirk, "whether you wish it or no."
Tauriel grabbed him by the back of his coat and started to pull him unceremoniously towards the massive tent. Bilbo stumbled as he tried to keep from falling forward while keeping pace with her long strides.
"I can walk by myself," Bilbo glowered at the elf as he tried to pull away. Tauriel simply pulled him harder with an unimpressed glare, her auburn hair swishing behind her back.
As they reached the tent, Tauriel snapped something at the two guards in their fluid tongue and they swiftly stepped aside. There was a flurry of movement as the elf pushed aside a curtain of leaves and Bilbo felt himself being thrown towards the ground and all he saw for several seconds was the plush carpet his face was pressed against. The hobbit blinked several times, feeling utterly disoriented in the low light of the tent.
"And what have I told you about barging in here unannounced, Tauriel?"
Bilbo pushed himself up slowly and raised his eyes to the opposite side of the tent. Lounging casually on a long wooden chair covered with cushions was the most beautiful being the hobbit had ever seen in his entire life. The elf looked like Legolas but where he was somehow softer, this elf was like shard of ice, his voice like silver on the wind.
"But I –" Tauriel flushed, "I caught him sneaking, Aran! He could have been spying on us or—"
The elf waved his hand dismissively and stood up in a single fluid motion. The same white-blonde hair of his son flowed around his body, but where Legolas had cut it mid-chest, Thranduil's was long enough to touch his waist. Bilbo saw the elf's bright blue eyes flick down to him as a lazy dark brow rose almost infinitesimally.
"What do we have here…" Thranduil stepped forward though his footsteps made no noise, "a halfling, so far away from home."
Bilbo scrambled to his feet, something about this elf made him want to sit up straighter, smooth out his clothes, and do some manner of courtly bow. The elf was a few feet from him now, the silver of his robes shimmering like frost on a winter's morning.
"This one," Tauriel spoke up again, the flush finally starting to recede from her cheeks, "says he wants an alliance."
Thranduil's gaze rested on him and after a few moments Bilbo realized that the elf wasn't blinking. It was… unsettling. He felt as if he the elf could see through him, like all his secrets and his soul lay open and bare for the king to examine at his leisure.
"He's with the dwarves, Aran," Tauriel said with no small measure of disgust in her words, "he was with them when we went to treat—"
There was the sound of hurried footsteps outside and the curtain of leaves being pushed open again. "Ada," came a familiar voice from behind him, "there's word of an intruder—"
The hobbit spun around and saw Legolas standing in the doorway. The elf's face went from concerned to shocked in a heartbeat, "Bilbo?"
"So this," Thraduil spoke again, his voice sounding slightly more interested now, "is who you helped in the dungeons."
Bilbo's eyes widened as he glanced back towards the Elvenking, "how did you…"
Thranduil stared at him again, "though you may have found my gaurds less than competent, halfling, I assure you nothing happens in my realm without my knowledge."
"Then why would you…" Bilbo felt his face scrunch in confusion.
"My intention was never to detain your company permanently," the Elvenking gave a small shrug, "and I find it difficult to deny my son."
Legolas stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Bilbo's shoulder before going to his father's side. "When I found your group," the prince started in his calm voice, "we were on patrol. There had been a string of… incidents in our forest, little one. There has been a malevolent power spreading from the fortress of Dol Goldur poisons our wood."
"I could not take the chance that your company might harm our people, so I brought them to my father for questioning,"
"The dwarves were kept in their cells," Thranduil turned back to his chair and motioned for them to follow with a wave of his hand, "because they refused to be honest with me. I would not risk the safety of my people further when there are daily attacks by orcs and spiders."
"That isn't…" Bilbo looked between Legolas and Thranduil, "you had Thorin beaten! Don't pretend—" He remembered healing Thorin's back, remembered how his friend had barely been able to move.
"Thorin Oakenshield is a fool," the Elvenking narrowed his eyes slightly, something glinted in them that made Bilbo stand on edge but not enough to quell the sudden and indignant fury that welled up within him. He was not about to let the elf that had – had left Thorin's people to die talk about his friend like that! Like Thorin was some petulant child holding onto a petty grudge. He knew the pain his friend had suffered, he'd seen the need for bloody revenge almost overcome Thorin. That was real, how Thorin felt was real and Bilbo felt all his frustration, all his sadness, all his helplessness bubble up until it exploded out of him.
"You were the one that let his people die!" Bilbo shouted, his fist clenching as he took a step closer, "you were the one that let Erebor burn!" The hobbit felt Tauriel's fist close on his coat again and start to drag him back but he ignored her. He ignored the sad look on Legolas's face and he ignored the feeling that deep down, he knew he had no right to be angry at Thranduil, that he had no part in this conflict, that he had only ever heard half the story.
"Don't you dare," Bilbo raised a shaking fist, "say that he is a fool! Thorin has been – has been hurt by the elves more than you could ever possibly understand! So don't just sit there and –"
"You presume too much," Thranduil rose from his chair, his face as still and hard as stone.
"Oh I presume, do I?" Bilbo let out a dark laugh, feeling that for the first time in days he had an outlet for every single horrible thing that had gone wrong in his life since he'd given the ring to Thorin.
The Elvenking's eyes flashed dangerously, the light in the room flickered, and suddenly Bilbo felt incredibally small. Thranduil looked instantly old, like the power of thousands of long years on this earth pulsed beneath his fair skin.
"The dwarves betrayed my people long before Thorin Oakenshield's imagined slight," his voice was as cold as ice, "but you must already know all about that, don't you."
"I –" the hobbit spluttered, not sure of what to say. Legolas placed a hand on his father's arm and opened his mouth but Thranduil raised a hand to silence his son.
"You must already know of Thingol, great king of my people and my friend," the Elvenking continued, "of how he invited the dwarves into his realm, into his home so that they might work together on the greatest treasure of this world, a single piece of craftsmanship to unite our two peoples."
Bilbo tried to take a step back but Tauriel's hand held him firm.
"You must know of how when Thingol went to place our gem on the dwarvish necklace, they were so overcome with greed that they slew him so they might take it for themselves."
"We had been allies, halfling, but it was the dwarves that drew first blood, that betrayed our trust," Thranduil's voice was deathly quiet now.
"But I did not keep this grudge close to my heart, I did not refuse Erebor their alliance when their kingdom came to be."
"And yet you say that I betrayed them? That I was the one to let the mountain burn?" Thranduil gave him a sharp, frozen smile, "For all Thorin Oakenshield's experience with dragons, he apparently still cannot tell the difference between a drake and an elf. I destroyed nothing, I burned nothing."
A frigid silence filled the tent.
"Have you fought in battle, halfling?"
"No…" Bilbo whispered, wanting more than anything to avert his eyes.
"Have you felt the taste of blood in your mouth? Have you cut through so much flesh and bone that you no longer feel disgust? Seen so much death that the only thing you feel or want to feel ever again is numb? Have you seen your comrades, your friends, your father slaughtered around you by foes that know nothing of mercy?"
"N-no…" but he wasn't sure any noise came out.
"Then you know nothing of me," Thranduil's ancient eyes bore through him.
"I have seen more than enough bloodshed in my life, halfling. I had no desire to place my people in the dragon's path when nothing would have been achieved but more death. I regret what happened to Thrór's kin, but I am a king, halfling, and my duty is to my own people."
Bilbo wanted to shrink away, wanted to back out of the tent and run away. Away from that unblinking blue gaze, away from feeling horribly exposed and sad and wrong.
"Then…" the hobbit started, his voice shaking like a leaf in the wind, "then why are you here?"
Thranduil considered him for a moment before sliding back down into his chair, "Beucase my son has a softer heart than I."
"Ada…" Legolas looked at his father, concern turning his mouth into a slight frown.
"I grow tired of trying to justify myself, speak of your purpose, halfling, or leave now," the Elvenking's face betrayed nothing but Bilbo couldn't help but think there was a weariness in his eyes.
"I…" the hobbit began but he couldn't seem to find the words anymore.
"Go on, little one," Legolas gave him a small smile. Well, at least he had one ally here. He just wished Bard was in the tent with them as well.
"I've come to – to make an alliance. For the battle," Bilbo started to ring his hands nervously, feeling hopelessly out of depth.
"You're here on behalf of Thorin Oakenshield?" Legolas looked surprised but hopeful that his letter had perhaps forced the dwarf to reconsider.
"Not… not exactly…" Bilbo's glance shifted between the two elves.
"You are not here on his behalf, but you wish us to make an alliance with him? You can see why I might find that insulting," Thranduil's eyes narrowed slightly.
Bilbo started to feel panicked, this was… this was not going how he wanted, "Legolas said you needed a token of friendship before you would help."
Thranduil glanced at his son before shifting his eyes back to the hobbit, "you are grossly simplifying matters but yes, I require something slightly more substantial than his scorn."
Bilbo closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. 'No turning back now…' The hobbit reached into his pocket and pulled out the shining blue stone from its depths. Bilbo held it out slowly and opened his eyes.
"That is the Arkenstone," Thranduil looked… well, shocked he supposed was the best way to describe the elf's face, though on anyone else it might have looked blank.
"Thorin Oakenshield would never give up the Mountain's Heart willingly," the elf considered him for a moment before his eyes fell back to his palm.
"He didn't give it up," Bilbo spoke quietly.
"You stole it?" Legolas sounded surprised.
"I took it as the share of the treasure owed me," the hobbit tried to sound like it was simply a matter of convenience rather than show the guilt he felt gnawing at his mind.
"And you would give it to me freely?" The Elvenking sat forward now.
"In exchange for an alliance with Erebor," Bilbo forced his voice to sound firm, "and aid in the coming battle."
Thranduil blinked once.
"I know this battle is for Erebor," Bilbo pushed forward, feeling like the elf was finally listening to him, "but where do you think Azog will go once he claims the mountain? Your forest is right there," the hobbit pointed to where Mirkwood's borders began at the edge of the valley, "war is upon your people whether you choose to fight now or later."
"All I ask," Bilbo stepped forward, a look of fierce determination on his face, "is that you make your stand here and now rather than later. If we all work together, there will be fewer causalities for everyone involved."
"Even if you have no love for the dwarves or Thorin," Bilbo stared right back into those light blue eyes, "I know you have love for your people, King Thranduil, for their sake we all need to work together."
"And if all that takes is me giving up my share of the treasure," the hobbit clenched his fist around the stone, "then I will do so gladly."
The Elvenking stared at him for what felt like a lifetime, his head tilted slightly and Bilbo felt once again like all his heart was exposed for Thranduil to peruse at his leisure. "If you give me that stone, Bilbo Baggins, you relinquish far more than your share of the treasure."
The hobbit's heart clenched painfully as he thought of Thorin, "I know."
"He will despise you for this."
Bilbo clenched his eyes shut for a moment. He thought of Thorin laughing and smiling, he thought of Thorin's arms around him and he thought of love. The hobbit looked up with a sad smile on his face.
"I know."
"You have a true heart, halfling," Thranduil reached up a long-fingered hand and Bilbo stepped forward. He took one last look at the Arkenstone before dropping it into the elf's hand and stepping back again.
"The alliance is yours, Bilbo Baggins, the Elves of the Great Forest will fight for Erebor."
Legolas let out a little sigh of relief and smiled at Bilbo before glancing up at the auburn-haired elf, "Tauriel, go find Bard. We have much to speak of."
"Of course," she gave a little bow before swiftly departing the tent.
"We must send word to the mountain, Ada," Legolas turned to his father, "I fear Daín will not listen without Thorin Oakenshield."
Thranduil nodded in agreement as Tauriel reappeared with Bard on her heels. The bowman looked like he had just been woken from sleep but his green eyes were as sharp as ever.
"What's going on at this time of –" Bard's eyes locked on to Bilbo's, "Mister Baggins? What are you doing here?"
"The halfling sought an alliance with us on behalf of Erebor," the Elvenking held up the Arkenstone, "and we have come to an agreement."
Bard looked from the stone to Bilbo and nodded slowly, "so I take it we're making our stand here?"
Legolas walked over to where Bard was standing and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "yes, my friend, should we succeed you have your family's home again."
The bowman glanced at Legolas and his face split into a smile that was somehow still it's usual grim but also… softer. "I don't want to fight at all but if we can do it with the dwarves instead of against them, I suppose our chances can only go up."
Bard looked down at the hobbit, "I should thank you, Mister Baggins, I didn't think we'd gotten through to Thorin but I hoped you might be able to talk some sense into him."
Bilbo shifted his gaze uncomfortably and he suddenly felt weary. He had stolen the Arkenstone, snuck out of Erebor, secured the alliance and now… He had no idea what to do. Where should he go? He couldn't get back into Erebor. He knew a total of two people out of the army of men and elves. He didn't belong here and Bilbo wasn't sure he would ever belong in Erebor again.
"You look tired, little one," Legolas had crouched down, looking at him with concern.
"I…" the hobbit feel his usual compulsion to assure everyone that he was fine and that nothing was wrong but suddenly he wasn't sure he could say another word without weary tears coming down his face.
"You can rest in my tent," Bard's face almost perfectly matched the elf's, "if we have a war to plan, I'm sure I won't need it again tonight."
Bilbo nodded and tried to smile at them but his face refused to change.
"Follow me," Tauriel jerked her head toward the entrance of the tent and started to walk out, not waiting to see if the hobbit followed.
Bilbo scrambled after the elf without a glance back and then he was out in the night air again. He followed Tauriel past several tents before they reached a modest white canvas structure with the black arrow flag fluttering from the top. The elf paused outside the tent flap and just as Bilbo was going to pass her, a hand shot out and caught his arm.
The hobbit glanced up at her with tired curiosity.
"I apologize for grabbing you earlier," Tauriel said gruffly.
"Grab is a rather gentle word, don't you think? 'Manhandled' is the one I believe you're looking for," Bilbo just wanted to go to bed and forget for a few hours what the future might have in store for Thorin and his friends.
"I did not—" Tauriel took a deep breath in to calm herself, "Fine. I apologize for manhandling you, halfling."
Bilbo stared at her for a moment, "uh… Thanks, I suppose."
A flash of frustration crossed her face as if she always had trouble saying sorry and this most recent attempt was not showing any signs of improvement. "You are…" she began again, looking as though choosing her words carefully was costing her a great deal of effort, "you are brave. And a good friend, even if the dwarves don't understand."
The hobbit shook his head with a bitter smile on his face, "it's a shame they won't see it that way."
"Then they are fools!" Tauriel growled forcefully, "they are lucky to have such a friend!"
Bilbo didn't feel any better, but he could appreciate what she was trying to do, "thank you, really, it means…" It didn't mean much, not when he knew the man he loved was likely to want his head removed from his body,"…something," he finished lamely, hoping that he didn't offend her.
Tauriel nodded and Bilbo saw something in her eyes, the same kind he had seen in Ori. The look of someone who had fought all their life against what others expected of them, who wanted the respect and admiration of their peers but for whatever reason, they had to fight every single day for it.
"Good night, halfling," Tauriel said with a small wave as she walked away, "rest well."
Bilbo opened the flap of the tent, spotted a makeshift cot with blankets piled on it. The hobbit walked over and collapsed in a mess of tired limbs, sleep washing over him in a matter of seconds.
There was no light around him. Bilbo walked down endless hallways, his hand brushing the side of the stone passage. He felt his feet turn around a curve and suddenly he recognized where he was. The darkness faded and he felt a hand on his shoulder. Spinning around, Bilbo saw Thorin looking at him with a pleasant grin on his face.
"What are you doing up so late?" Thorin pulled his arm until the hobbit stumbled into his chest.
"I was just…" Bilbo trailed off, what was he doing here? He couldn't… He couldn't remember…
"Mmm," the dwarf hummed low in his throat and put his arms around Bilbo, "you weren't planning on distracting me from my kingly duties were you?"
The hobbit looked up and saw an unfamiliar stone crown on Thorin's head, "your… duties?" His mind felt sluggish as he tried to think.
The dwarf lowered his face to rest in the curve of Bilbo's neck and he could feel his friend's mouth melt into a grin, "yes, my duties. You have no idea how many scrolls I have to go through every day."
Lips moved against his skin.
"And I find it so—"
The barest hint of teeth on his neck.
"dreadfully—"
Bilbo let out a small gasp as Thorin lightly bit down.
"boring."
The hobbit felt heat start to flood his body as his hands came up to grip at Thorin's back. "Boring?"
The dwarf licked a stripe up his neck and he started to nip lightly at Bilbo's jaw.
"Yes, so very, very, boring,"
"Well, I wouldn't want my king—" the hobbit's breath quickened as he felt his heart started to pound delightfully fast, "to be bored."
"Of course you wouldn't," Thorin raised his face to grin at him, eyes dark and excited, "that's why you're here, isn't it? To rescue me from boredom?"
Bilbo nodded as he brought his hands up to tangle in the dwarf's inky black hair. The hobbit tilted his head so Thorin had a better angle of his neck and grinned back wickedly, "Are you going just stand there and gawk? Or do I have to do all the work."
The dwarf let out a little groan as he reached down and grabbed under Bilbo's legs, hoisting him up and walking back until the hobbit felt his back hit the stone wall. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you?"
Bilbo ground his hips down lightly, "I could hazard a guess."
Thorin growled and pressed his mouth forward. The hobbit let out a little chuckle but Thorin shoved his tongue in further, drowning out the sound until his body was taut with longing. He could feel the dwarf's warm body pressing into him, he could feel the dwarf's hands digging into the bottom of his thighs. He could feel Thorin's tongue mapping the inside of his mouth with practiced familiarity.
Thorin kissed with the same intensity he applied to every aspect of his life. He was passionate and he demanded just as much passion back. He was thorough and claiming, kissing hard enough to bruise.
Bilbo closed his eyes and felt the heat wash through his limbs. He dug his hands into Thorin's hair and pulled until he could see the dwarf's face. The hobbit searched his friend's eyes and knew that for all the years he might live, there was no one else on this earth that could ever make him feel this way again.
"I love you, Thorin."
"Do you?" the dwarf murmured as he gently placed Bilbo back down on the ground. His hands came up to rest of either side of the hobbit's face and held him as he rested his forehead against Bilbo's.
The hobbit pressed his face up and placed a gentle kiss on Thorin's mouth, "I do."
He felt Thorin's hands move down his face to cup the bottom of his cheeks, "do you?"
Bilbo kissed the dwarf again, "I do."
Hands moved down to the sides of his neck, "do you?"
Before Bilbo could answer, Thorin's hands started to squeeze. "Thorin, what –" Bilbo choked out.
The grip grew tighter and tighter as he saw Thorin's eyes bleed black, his face twisting into a deep, furious rage. "You did this, Bilbo. This is your fault!" The dwarf growled, his fingernails starting to tear into Bilbo's flesh.
"Thorin—" Air was leaving his lungs, his vision was starting to fade, he was – he was dying.
"Your fault," Thorin snarled and blood started to pour from his mouth and eyes.
"Your fault, your fault, your fault!" The dwarf chanted like some hideous mantra, the words sounded wet and thick with red, red, red.
"N- no!" Bilbo choked, tears pricking at his eyes, "no, I—I didn't…"
Something was shaking him. "—ilbo! Bilbo wake up!"
"No!" he groaned out, trying to claw away at the hands on his neck, "I didn't mean for this…"
"Bilbo Baggins! Wake –" a hard shake, "up!"
The hobbit shot up as his eyes flew open. He was choking, he couldn't breath, he was dying! But as he felt his neck there were no hands there. He blinked and realized that he was in a cot, sweaty blankets pooled around him and a very perplexed looking Tauriel staring at him.
"You were shouting, halfling. Are you well?"
Bilbo clutched at his heart, trying to calm the rapid beating. It was only a dream. Only a dream. Thorin wasn't here, wasn't trying to kill him. He took a deep, shaking breath.
"I- I'm fine…" The hobbit managed to mutter, trying to calm the crashing, terrible thoughts that haunted his mind.
Tauriel blinked at him suspiciously, clearly not believing a word the hobbit said. "You have slept for a long while, halfling, the dwarves of the Iron Hills arrived this morning and we are on our way to treat with Thorin Oakenshield –"
"What?" Bilbo yelped as he scrambled out of the pile of blankets. They were meeting with Thorin and no one had gotten him! "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"The human and Prince Legolas insisted that it would be better for you to not be present," Tauriel stood up and crossed her arms, "I told them you wouldn't care what was better for you and would want to go."
His feet touched the cool floor of the tent and the hobbit tried his best to straighten out his crumpled, burned clothes, "How long ago did they leave? Can we catch up?"
The elf nodded briskly, "that's why I snuck away to fetch you. If we make haste, we won't be too late."
"Why are you helping me?" Bilbo looked up the elf earnestly. He wasn't going to complain, but she hadn't seemed overly fond of him or the dwarves.
"Bard and the prince have good hearts. They only want to spare you," she flipped a section of red hair over her leather-clad shoulder, "but they underestimate your strength, halfling."
The hobbit's gaze turned curious, "and you don't?"
Tauriel shrugged, "there are many kinds of strength. And I know that look," she raised a brow slightly, "matters of the heart are best not left to fester."
The elf spun on her heel and started to make her way out of the tent, "follow me, halfling. And keep up."
Bilbo had to run to keep up with her long strides but he found it was better to concentrate on maintaining his pace rather than his destination. Though the camp had seemed almost deserted and half-packed last night, in the daylight the atmosphere couldn't have been more different. Soliders were no getting ready to leave this time; they were getting ready to fight.
Shouting and loud voices rang around him. Elves and men bustled through the narrow pathways between the rows of tents. The elves and many of the men seemed to recognize Tauriel and moved out of her way with little bows or waves of greeting. If he had been walking alone, Bilbo was sure he would have been trampled several times over, but he found that as long as he stuck close to the elf's legs, he was only jostled a few times.
Tauriel led them to a circular opening in the field where dozens of horses were tethered to poles stuck periodically in the ground. The elf walked over to a steel gray mare with white speckles dotting her side. Whispering gently in her own tongue, she patted the horse lightly on it's nose before vaulting into the saddle in a single fluid motion. Bilbo eyed the horse warily. The mare was about twice as big as Mertyl had been and had none of the gentle calm of his pony.
"Are you sure…"
Tauriel glared at him before slipping almost halfway off the horse and reaching out her arm, "if we walk, we'll be too late. Grab on or go back, halfling, the choice is yours."
The hobbit took a deep breath and grabbed onto her arm. She gave a great yank, righting herself in the saddle and settling Bilbo onto the hard leather in front of her. The hobbit took one look at the now distant ground and tightened his grip on the edge of the saddle until his knuckles were parchment white.
Tauriel placed and arm on either side, grabbing the reigns and wheeling the mare around. "Don't do anything stupid like sliding off."
Bilbo twisted his neck so he could glare at her, "Well it's not exactly as if I would be trying to slip, would I? Sometimes these things just happen!"
"I won't let you fall," Tauriel's voice was dry as she kicked the mare into a canter. They pushed their way out to the edge of the camp. As soon as hooves stepped onto the road to Erebor, the elf urged the horse into a gallop, "hold on!"
The hobbit clung onto the saddle for dear life. Though he was finding the experience of riding atop a full sized horse to be not only severely overrated, but also extremely uncomfortable; Bilbo couldn't tear his eyes away from the distant figures that stood outside Erebor's great doors.
Where Thranduil and Bard's forces had grouped on the left side of the road on the side of the valley that bordered the great forest, Dáin's army of dwarves had settled on the right, their black tents mottled the grass like many small mountains had sprouted out of the earth.
Three flags fluttered from just outside the great green doors. Thranduil's green and silver tree, Bard's white with a black arrow, and what Bilbo could only assume was Dáin's black with twin crossed red axes.
The horse's hooves beat a steady rhythm into the ground, going faster than he had gone in his life, but Bilbo still feared that they might be too late. For what, he did not know. His deed was done, the elves and men were willing to fight in defense of Erebor, and all they needed now was to convince Thorin to tell Dáin that they needed to fight together. What he would do here, Bilbo hadn't even the faintest notion. All he knew was that he needed to talk to Thorin, at least try to get that blasted ring of his hand.
As they galloped up the curved path, Bilbo could see that Thranduil himself had chosen to meet with the dwarves. Legolas stood next to his father and Bard next to him with a tall, cloaked figure looming slightly behind them. Thorin, he saw, faced them with crossed arms Fili and Kili on one side, Dwalin and Balin on the other, but the rest of the dwarves expect for one unfamiliar face were absent.
Tauriel wheeled the horse off the path to where a few others were grazing absently on the yellowing grass. She pulled the reigns until the mare slowed to a stop and swung herself off the saddle. The elf pulled Bilbo down without ceremony, hooking her hands under his arms and lifting him like a child. On any other day, the hobbit might have made a comment or glared but his heart was beating too face, panic clouding his mind too much for anything but the now familiar sick sensation to flood his stomach.
Thorin was right here, right now and he couldn't do this. He couldn't do this. Bilbo felt his breath quicken, his limbs refusing to move. Tauriel looked down at him, her face softening slightly.
The hobbit forced his gaze from his partial view of Thorin up to her face. Strong? How could he be strong now? What strength was there in knowing you did the right thing if everyone you loved, every one of your friends hated you for it?
A hand reached down and squeezed his shoulder. "Strength, halfling." Tauriel moved so she stood next to him, "I will not leave your side."
Bilbo nodded and took a step forward. It wasn't so hard, really. Once he put that first foot forward. He knew that was a lie, but somehow it made him feel slightly better to repeat it in his head anyway. As they approached to group, Bilbo realized he had no idea where to stand. He wanted to go to Thorin's side, to show him that he still… still supported him no matter what, that everything he did, he did to keep the dwarf safe, but once Thranduil revealed he had the Arkenstone, the hobbit wasn't sure that would be at all wise or safe, not with the ring on Thorin's hand.
Bilbo and Tauriel stopped next to the tall, cloaked stranger, just behind Bard and Legolas. He was sure Thorin had seem them arrive, but the dwarf refused to turn his furious glare away from the Elvenking's face. Thranduil, for his part, looked back with an almost cool indifference.
Dáin, Bilbo saw, had the look of Durin about him. Dark hair hung in a heavy braid behind his back. The dwarf's beard was large, two smaller braids hanging from his chin that rested atop the black mass with beads of iron glinting in the afternoon sunlight. His eyes were a darker blue than Thorin's but their noses were so similar, the hobbit might have mistaken the two for brothers.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fili and Kili's eyes widen in surprised confusion. He wanted to wave or gesture or something, but in that moment, Bilbo Baggins had never felt so horribly out of depth in his life.
"I thought I made myself clear the last time," Thorin snarled with malice, "there will be no alliance and certainly no gold.
Dáin eyed his kin, his mouth set in a thin line. "I will stand with you cousin, you know that, but if what the elf says is true, a host of orcs will be at our doorstep on the morrow."
"And we will meet them," Thorin hissed, tearing his eyes off of Thranduil, "alone."
"Thorin," Dáin's voice was calm but firm, "our family knows the taste of Azog's fury better than most. He killed your grandfather –"
"You think I have forgotten?" Thorin rounded on his cousin.
"And he killed my father," Dáin spoke louder, "I would not think you so ready to face him again without aid…"
"Ready or not, they," Thorin let out a cold laugh, "are not here to offer aid. Not without a price. Not without my treasure."
"On the contrary," Thraduil's voice rose up, "we have already come to an agreement."
"What?" Thorin spat, "how—"
"The orcs are upon you, Aulë's Children," the Elvenking tilted his head, eyes never blinking, "we will fight with you in defense of Erebor and our own lands. Neither my people, nor the men of the lake, wish to see your forces slaughtered," Thranduil turned his gaze to Dáin, "if you will honor this alliance, we may yet find victory."
Thorin took a step forward, his fists clenched tightly, "And why would you help us now? Surely you would see Erebor burn a second time," the dwarf's face twisted into a horrible smile.
"Uncle –" Fili spoke up but he was quickly silenced with a venomous look.
"You are a fool, Thorin Oakenshield," Thranduil's voice was like shards of ice, "grief and hatred have twisted your memories if you believe that is truly what happened."
The dwarf bristled and his stance shifted from angry to aggressive, "a fool? A fool?"
"Yes," the Elvenking reached a pale hand into one of his silver sleeves, "you should be thankful not all of your friends are so full of bitterness and greed that they would rather meet the sword than ask an elf for help."
'Oh no,' Bilbo felt his vision starting to swim, 'oh no, no, no.'
This was it, this was the moment he had been dreading. Part of him wanted to run away or shout at the elf not to reveal what he had given away. He wanted to disappear, he wanted to fade away into the shadows, he would rather not be at all than watch Thorin's face as the dwarf realized what he'd done. He'd rather face a hundred thousand orcs with his bare hands than be the one to shatter Thorin's trust in people for a second time, to prove the dwarf right. That love was just another knife with a prettier sheath waiting to sink into his back.
"What?" Thorin's face was dark now, his eyes cold and distant and so very, horribly empty.
Thranduil pulled out his hand, the Arkenstone resting on his palm, "a token of trust between our people."
Thorin let out a snarl that tore into Bilbo's heart. It sounded like a thousand deaths, like sorrow and misery and betrayal, it sounded like whatever part of the man he loved left inside Thorin had been shattered into jagged pieces then swallowed whole by an angry mouth, dripping red with the blood of every hurt, every wrong done to the dwarf in his life.
Bilbo was rooted to the spot, he couldn't breath, couldn't move, couldn't speak.
Thorin's eyes shifted slowly from the stone held in Thranduil's hand to the hobbit. When the dwarf's black eyes met his, Bilbo felt like he sharp claws buried deep into his chest, pulling and tearing and ripping.
There was no love there, there was no warmth, no affection. All Bilbo saw was rage. White hot and blinding, infinitely worse than Smaug's fire.
"You!" Thorin shouted, pulling Orcrist from the sheath on his back. The dwarf moved forward with such speed, all Legolas or Bard or anyone could do was be pushed aside.
Bilbo saw the fist closing on the front of his shirt before he felt his body being yanked forward, before he felt the cold steel pressing to his throat.
"You betrayed me!" Thorin pressed the blade harder into his throat, a trickle of blood sliding down it's curved edge, "you knew what the Arkenstone meant to me and you –" the dwarf was incoherent with rage, "you just gave it to the elvish scum!"
There was shouting behind them, telling Thorin to let go.
"Enough!" he bellowed, "or I will cut the traitor's throat!"
Bilbo felt the blade sink in deeper but felt none of what he knew should have been stinging pain at the contact.
The hobbit could almost see three bows drawn and pointed at Thorin. Bard, Legolas and Tauriel were all ready to let loose a shaft at the blink of an eye but their hands stilled at the dwarf's words. The rest of the dwarves had drawn as well, all looking glancing between the elves and Thorin and Bilbo, clearly not at all sure who they should be fighting.
Nothing else mattered but Thorin, but the dwarf he loved and the dwarf that was currently threatening to kill him. He knew he had to be strong. He had to be strong, strong, strong… But as he looked into Thorin's eyes and saw nothing but the shattered remnants of his own betrayal, Bilbo felt a hideous ache fill his heart and he was sure that nothing else could have been so terribly unbearable. Any strength he might have mustered was gone, a mocking shadow of determination flickered in his mind and then died. He closed his eyes and tried to picture Thorin's smile one last time but it was gone.
"Why?" Thorin howled, shaking the hobbit, forcing the blade deeper into his neck.
How could he answer? How could he possibly make this right? He wanted to say that if he could have done it all again, he would have made the same choice. That no matter what he would have given up the Arkenstone to save all their lives, but now… Now that he knew what it cost, now that he knew the price and tasted broken, bitter love on his tongue, he wasn't sure he could even think the words.
"Because…" Bilbo rasped, the cut slicing deeper as his throat moved, "I love you."
It was true. It was the truest thing Bilbo had spoken or would ever speak again. He did what he did for love and it was love that had torn out his heart with a bloody fist. And what was worse, what so much worse, was that in the end, it made not difference at all.
Thorin laughed. It was bitter, it was horrible, it was like knives burying deep in Bilbo's ears.
"How dare you," the dwarf snarled, "you are a liar and a thief and a traitor."
Thorin pulled his sword back an inch and suddenly a wooden staff swung out of nowhere, knocking hard against the dwarf and forcing him stumble back, Bilbo crumpling to the ground.
The cloaked stranger pulled back his hood and Gandalf glared at Thorin through narrowed eyes, the end of his staff resting between Bilbo and the dwarf.
"Stand back, Thorin," Gandalf spoke in his gruff voice.
The wizard'd blue eyes flicked to Thorin's hand where Thrór's ring glittered and he let out a weary sigh, "I see not even Bilbo could stay your hand. I had thought you stronger than this."
"I am strong!" the dwarf shouted with fury, "I am stronger than my grandfather and my father and I will restore Erebor to its former glory! I will do it! Me, me!"
"Gandalf," Bilbo's voice was worn and broken as he pleaded, "take it off him, please Gandalf, please!"
Old eyes turned to him and the hobbit saw sadness and remorse there, "I cannot, Bilbo, the ring can only be removed by its wearer."
Thorin's breathing was labored as he seethed, "The ring is mine, the Arkenstone is mine, and I will not give either of them over to traitors and oath-breakers!"
Thranduil looked down at Thorin with tedious dislike, "I will return the stone to you if you swear to give Bard and my people the payment needed to rebuild. I will return the stone to you if your people," the Elvenking looked over to Dáin, whose face was a mixture of confusion and shock at what had just happened, "honor our alliance."
Thorin's eyes rested on the Arkenstone and a dark greed washed over his face, "and why should I believe you? Why should I trust your word?"
Thranduil smiled at him, though the hobbit could have sworn he felt the air around them grow suddenly chill, "you have little choice in the matter, Thorin Oakenshield, I ask out of respect for the halfling and the future of our alliance."
Thorin glared back at him and for a several silent, very tense moments, nothing happened. The dwarf let out a growl and shoved his sword back into the scabbard. "Thorin," Dáin finally spoke, "we need help."
"Fine," the dwarf growled, "fine, but know," he raised a shaking finger to point at the Elvenking, "that I will not suffer betrayal a second time."
Thorin turned his gazed to rest where Bilbo still sat on the ground where the dwarf had shoved him down.
"You are no longer welcome in Erebor, traitor," Thorin spat at him, hitting Bilbo on the cheek, "the line of Durin will forever curse the name of Baggins as a liar and a thief."
"And if I ever see you in my lands again," Thorin turned to walk back to the doors Erebor before stopping to glare over his shoulder one last time, "I will kill you."
"Uncle," Fili and Kili let out strangled cries.
"You can't!" Kili stepped forward, his hands clenched as he glanced between the hobbit and Thorin.
Fili grabbed his brother's shoulder and pulled him back, placing himself between Kili and Thorin. "You don't mean that," Fili said desperately.
"I do not have time for traitors," Thorin stormed past his nephews, ignoring their words, "we have a war to fight."
Fili and Kili stood stalk still, their eyes wide and helpless. They looked towards Bilbo as if for some direction, some hint of what to do but the hobbit couldn't help them any more than he could help himself.
"Fili, Kili! Now!" Thorin yelled over his shoulder, "or do wish to stay in the company of oath-breakers?"
The young brothers looked at him, brown and blue eyes full of confusion and the inevitable sadness he had grown to know so well.
"Go," Bilbo whispered, his voice was quiet but they seemed to hear him, "he needs you."
They remained still for a moment before Fili nodded once and pulled his brother around and they ran after Thorin.
The hobbit reached up a shaky hand to wipe the spit from his face and felt a firm hand rest on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Gandalf staring at him with that sad look on his face and for a moment Bilbo felt a surge of anger.
"Don't touch me," he knocked the wizard's hand away.
"I am sorry Bilbo," Gandalf's words were tired.
"Why did you give me that ring?" Bilbo rounded on the old man, "do you have any idea what it's done to him? Do you have any idea?"
The wizard crouched low and pulled Bilbo into his arms though the hobbit tried to fight his way free.
"Why, Gandalf?" he beat his fist against the wizard's chest, "why, why, why?" He hit until the anger was gone and nothing but that horrible ache was back where his heart should have been.
"Because the dwarven rings have been touched by a dark power, Bilbo," he spoke softly, "if it had remained in my possession, I would have been drawn too greatly to its power and through me…" Gandalf trailed off but his meaning was clear.
"But why?" Bilbo said, a dry sob wracking his chest, "why would you give it to me?"
"You are strong," Gandalf stood up, pulling Bilbo to his feet, "stronger than you know. I had hoped Thorin would heed my words, that he would guard the ring from others and that you would be his strength to resist its influence."
Bilbo let out a bitter laugh. Gandalf was wrong. So very, very wrong. He wasn't strong or good enough for Thorin. The dwarf had needed him and he had just thrown some evil gem into his hands and left him to ruin.
"I am truly sorry, Bilbo," the wizard squeezed his shoulder, "I never intended for this…"
"I know."
Bilbo felt tired. He was weary and he hurt. He wanted to claw at his chest and tear it open if only to let this – this feeling pour out of him. He waited, almost wished, that numbness would take the place of this ache; he wanted to curl into a tight ball, go to sleep and wake up in his bed, back in Bag End, back in his home, and realize this was all some terrible nightmare.
But he knew… he knew that even if Thorin despised him, even if the dwarf never wanted to see him ever again, his home wasn't in the Shire anymore. It was at Thorin's side, at the one place he couldn't be. He couldn't leave, he couldn't stay. Bilbo was lost and alone and he had no idea what he was going to do.