Inside Erebor, Thórin was sitting all alone on his throne when Dwálin approaches him.

"Since when do we forsake our own people?" Dwálin asked furiously. "Thórin, they are dying out there."

Thórin didn't seem to care about what Dwálin was saying about his cousin's forces been overwhelmed. He was quiet for a moment until he decided to think of something. "There are halls beneath halls within this mountain - places we can fortify." He whispered to himself as Dwálin looks disappointed and angry. "Shore up, make safe. Yes… yes - that is it. We must move the gold further underground - to safety!" He begins to walk away.

"Did you not hear me?" Dwálin angrily called out to him. "Dáin is surrounded! They're being slaughtered, Thórin."

"Many die in war." Thórin answered, something that Dwálin like to hear. "Life is cheap. But a treasure such as this cannot be counted in lives lost. It is worth all the blood we can spend!"

"You sit here in these vast halls, with a crown upon your head, and yet you are lesser now than you have ever been." Dwálin said, sounding a bit upset on what Thórin was actling like.

"Do not speak to me as if I was some lowly dwarf lord…" Thórin paused and felt clearly mentally affected by the sickness. "As-As if I were still... Thórin... Oakenshield." He starts to feel a bit upset on what he was saying. "I AM YOUR KING!" He roared as he pulls out his sword. However, he is so unbalanced that he almost falls over.

"You were always my king." Dwálin said solemnly. "You used to know that once." He bows his head in sorrow. "You cannot see that you have become."

"Go." Thórin ordered his friend. "Get out... before I kill you."

After looking at each other for a while, Dwálin turns and leaves.

Thórin walks through the hall alone, the place where he and his companions tried to drown Smaug. The entire floor is covered in gold a few feet deep. While walking, Thórin continued to hallucinate from the sickness that continued to infect him, but that was when he heard many of the words that he spoke or were spoken to him earlier in the past. Thórin started to cry from all the voices in his head, but just as the voices suddenly stop, Thórin looks down and sees a shadowy shape of Smaug sliding beneath the gold.

Thórin screamed as the gold beneath him turns into a sinkhole and he begins drowning, surrounded by gold. He screams as he tries to escape, but keeps getting pulled down. As he disappears beneath the gold, Thórin wakes up and realized where he was. He stands up and yanks off his crown and throws it to the floor. He has finally comes back to his senses.

Just inside the gates of Erebor, the dwarves of Erebor, including the members of Thórin's company, were desolately sitting hearing the cries of battle outside, and were unable to help their kin. Then, they rise as they see Thórin approaching from further in the mountain, sword drawn. He is no longer dressed in his royal robes and arbor, but in a simple leather outfit.

Kíli rises and angrily walks over to his uncle. "I will not hide behind a wall of stone, while others fight our battles for us!" He shouted at him and hsakes his head. "It is not in my blood, Thórin."

Kíli and Thórin stop in front of each other.

"No, it is not." Thórin whispered to him. "We are sons of Durin. And Durin's folk do not flee from a fight."

Thórin lays his hand on Kíli s shoulder, smiling. Kíli smiles back at him through his tears. After they touch their foreheads to each other, Kíli turns to the rest of the dwarves.

"I have no right to ask this of any of you; but will you follow me one last time?" Thórin asked his own dwarven army.

All the dwarves of Erebor rise and raise their weapons, ready to follow their king and friend again.