Ah.

Well.

Things come and go, y'guys. Nothing gold can stay.

Two weeks had passed, and Balin was going insane over the wedding plans. "We need you two to be married before the other dwarves arrive!" he reminded Cheyanne and Thorin every day.

Cheyanne had just about had it with the old dwarf. How much planning needed to go into a small wedding that the company was attending, and no one else? The answer was not a lot. But Balin seemed to believe it needed to be the wedding of the ages.

Bilbo disagreed. Her cousin followed Balin around Erebor, tossing in ideas whenever he could get a word in. Balin didn't want his suggestions, however, and Bilbo came complaining to Cheyanne. "He won't listen to me!"

"I know," she responded. "He barely listens to Thorin and me." Bilbo looked glumly down at the floor of the throne room where they were standing, and Cheyanne reached forward to pat him on the shoulder. "Don't be sad, coz."

"Don't be sad?" exclaimed the hobbit. "Planning parties is one of my hobbies, Chey! That's what I do back home; you should know that."

She did. She knew that Bilbo often had a hand in the celebrations the Baggins family put on each year, though they were nowhere close to the ones that The Old Took threw before his death. Cheyanne couldn't remember them too well, but she knew that Gandalf always made an appearance to display his fireworks. Those were what really made the party. The Baggins parties had never had fireworks, even when Cheyanne had begged the wizard to attend them.

"Cheyanne!" It was Balin. Again.

Cheyanne let out a sigh in synch with Bilbo. She gave him a look before she walked past him in the direction the old dwarf's voice had come from. It had echoed up the stairs leading to the throne, and she cautiously worked her way down them, still fearing for her rib.

It had stopped hurting earlier that week, but she was afraid the slightest wrong movement would break it again. That made her take every step, every stair, slower than she would have before the injury. It drove Bilbo insane when he was walking with her, but everyone else was willing to go slow.

Balin was waiting before the archway leading to the main hall of Erebor, tapping his foot against the floor impatiently. He was holding a scroll and a quill in his hands, which were spotted with ink. He'd been busy writing something. He gave her a look as she approached.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

"Spending time with my cousin," Cheyanne replied with a silent sigh of annoyance. "What could you possibly want now, Balin?"

"I need you to go to Dale tomorrow," he answered, scratching something off of the parchment with his quill. "That's an order, by the way. You can take who you like, but you must go."

"What in Nessa's name could be in Dale?" Cheyanne asked him.

"Something that Thorin doesn't want you to know about," Balin answered.

"Oh, so this is Thorin's order, then?"

"Yes, it is." She heard her king's voice come from behind Balin, and she pushed past the dwarf towards his waiting arms. Thorin pulled her closer to him and gazed down at her with laughter in his eyes. "It's important."

"Is it?" He nodded, and she hmphed. "Can I take you with me?"

"No." It was Balin who answered this question. He approached them, and Cheyanne rolled her eyes as he said, "Thorin is the only one whom you cannot bring."

Cheyanne let out a noise of disappointment, and Thorin chuckled, brushing back some of the curls on her forehead. "I would go with you if I could, but Balin is right," he told her.

"Dwalin, then?" she queried after a moment.

"If you like," he replied.

"All right," she sighed unhappily.

"Hey, is there a problem with bringing me?" Dwalin demanded, appearing from down a set of stairs leading to the living quarters. He gave Cheyanne a look as he walked over to them. "Well?"

"Of course not," she laughed. "I just don't want to pull you away from Thorin unless I have to." She stepped out of Thorin's grasp and gazed at them both. "The way you two have been, you would think you're the ones who should be getting married."

"That's disgusting, lass," Dwalin said, wrinkling his noise. "Thorin is my baby cousin." The older dwarf reached over and shook Thorin's shoulder affectionately. "Besides, I could do better."

"Excuse you!" Cheyanne exclaimed. "I'm getting married to him."

"I know," Dwalin responded. "That's why I said I could do better." Cheyanne scoffed in indignation, and Dwalin grinned. "I'm only kidding, lass. You're lovely, and so is Thorin." He grinned at them both. "You're perfect together."

"Thoranne!" someone cheered from a higher level, and everyone in the main hall laughed. Cheyanne looked up and saw Fili peering over the edge of a bannister on a walkway, grinning widely. "Sorry!" he called. "Pretend I'm not here."

He disappeared, and Cheyanne shook her head, turning her eyes back to everyone on the ground level. Balin huffed. "All right, so, Dwalin and Cheyanne will go to Dale tomorrow." They both nodded, and Balin let out a breath of relief. "Very good." Without another word, he turned and walked off.

When he was gone, Cheyanne fell backwards into Thorin's arms. "Nessa, does he need to take a break."

"Yes he does," Thorin agreed. "He's driving everyone mad, and I believe he's driving himself mad as well." He rotated her around so that she was facing him. "Has he spoken to you about-" She cut him off with a nod.

"The Seven Blessings." Thorin confirmed her words with a nod of his own, and she looked down at the floor. "Yes, he spoke to me about them. I think it's a lovely idea." She lifted her shoulders and dropped them. "I just have to learn Khuzdul."

"Cheyanne, if you don't think you'll be able to do it, then…"

"No, its fine," she said quickly, raising her head again. She gave Thorin a small grin. "I'll figure it out." He didn't look convinced, and so she rose up on her toes and gave him a kiss. Pulling away, she forced another grin. "I will."

"I know you will," he said after gazing at her for a long moment.

"All right, can we stop this now?" Dwalin queried, cutting into their hold. He pushed Thorin backwards away from Cheyanne, glancing over his shoulder at her as he did so. "Gandalf wanted to speak with you. I forgot to tell you before."

She furrowed her brow. "Speak with me about what?"

"I don't know," he responded. "He didn't say."

Cheyanne frowned. "I better go look for him, then." Dwalin nodded, and Thorin watched her as he pulled the king away from her. Cheyanne gave him a small curtsey as he walked away, which brought a smile to Thorin's lips.

Cheyanne waited for them to disappear up a set a stairs before she turned herself and looked around the main hall. "Gandalf?" she asked aloud when she felt a gaze on her back.

She turned when she heard footsteps and saw the wizard appear from down hall. She waited for him to reach her, and Gandalf gazed down at her. "I wanted to speak with you about Bilbo," he said after a moment.

Immediately, Cheyanne frowned again. "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing at all," Gandalf responded. "Which makes me worry. I feel as though he should be thinking about returning to the Shire, and yet he hasn't said anything to me about it."

"Maybe he doesn't want to go back," Cheyanne said quickly, beginning to turn her back to him. The wizard took her wrist before she could, and Cheyanne bowed her head. "I don't want him to leave, Gandalf."

"I know you love him, Cheyanne," Gandalf said quietly, "but Bilbo's place is in Bag End, in the Shire." Cheyanne lifted her head, tears stinging her eyes. "You know it's true."

"Gandalf, please," Cheyanne whispered. "Don't take him away from me yet." She looked up at him, trying to hold back tears. "I need him."

"Do you?" Gandalf asked her gently. Cheyanne started to nod, but hesitated. What was the wizard trying to tell her? That needing Bilbo was a sign she shouldn't stay in Erebor? But… She needed Thorin, too.

Maybe it was more of a question about who she needed more.

Cheyanne didn't want to think about it right now. She wanted to be happy; she was getting married soon. There was no reason for her to be second-guessing her decision. So she pulled her wrist from Gandalf's hand and shook her head. "We can talk about this after the wedding. Unless Bilbo brings it up himself, I don't want to hear about it. Do you understand me?"

Gandalf stared at her for a long moment. "Yes," he said at last. "But Cheyanne, he will have to go home soon. He cannot stay here forever." The wizard turned and walked away from her, and Cheyanne watched him go before she let out a sad sigh and sat down where she stood, putting her chin in her hand.

She didn't want Bilbo to leave. He was her cousin, her best friend. She wanted him to stay with her, because if he left, it would be a long time before she would be able to go see him in the Shire. And she didn't want to wake up every morning and not have Bilbo around.

And yet… She knew Gandalf was right, in a way. Bilbo did belong in the Shire. The whole adventure had had him wishing for his fireplace and his armchair. Erebor wasn't his home, Bag End was. And it was horrible to think Bilbo should stay in Erebor just for her when there was so much he was missing back in the Shire.

Besides, if she needed Bilbo around so badly that she was willing to keep him from his home, perhaps she should just forget all about Erebor and Thorin and the company and go with him. She was a hobbit; the Shire was technically her home, too.

Right?

She lifted her head and gazed around the hall. The green marble glinted in the fire from the torches lining the walls, and silence echoed around her. She liked it here, could see herself staying her forever and a day. Erebor was her home, not the Shire. She knew that now, perhaps had known it from the moment she walked the halls once Smaug was no longer a threat.

The only problem was Bilbo. He wasn't in the picture her mind formed of her life with Thorin in Erebor. He simply couldn't stay with her in the dwarven kingdom within the Lonely Mountain. He needed to go home.

It was Bilbo, or where she belonged. She couldn't have both. And if she couldn't have both, there was no reason to keep Bilbo from where he belonged.

Cheyanne let out a breath. She would tell him, she decided. He deserved to go home, and it was her job to tell him that he needed to.

"Cheyanne, what are you doing on the floor?" Bilbo had appeared from the throne hall, and he was giving her a funny look. "Are you all right?"

She swallowed back her tears and nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. I just…" She let out a breath and stood, walking over to him. She held out her hand, and Bilbo lifted an eyebrow. "Walk with me outside?"

Bilbo gazed at her. "Chey?"

"Please."

Bilbo silently took her hand, and she led him towards the doors of Erebor. The Iron Hills dwarves that Dain had left for Thorin until the dwarves of Erebor returned pulled them open. Cheyanne pulled Bilbo outside. It was chilly, since it was winter, and there was a thin layer of snow on the ground.

She led him away from the main doors and towards the edge of the walkway before them, gazing out towards Dale. "Bilbo," she began quietly, afraid to say it. "I-I think..." She trailed off, unable to continue because the tears had returned. Two trailed down her cheeks and dripped off of her chin to the stone below.

Bilbo worriedly hurried in front of her and took her face in his hands. "Cheyanne, what's wrong?" he asked. "Why are you crying?"

Cheyanne sucked back more tears before they decided to all rain out. She let out a shuddering breath. "It's time for you to go home, Bilbo."

The hobbit gaped at her. "What?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I - What?"

"You don't… You belong in the Shire," Cheyanne said, forcing herself to sound firm. "You need to go home."

"B-But I thought… I was going to stay. For the wedding. I would have gone home after," Bilbo said quickly.

"Bilbo, you know the longer you stay here the harder it's going to be for you to leave."

"Not if the Shire is where I'm supposed to be!" Bilbo exclaimed. She started to shake her head, and he took her chin in his hand, lifting her head so that she was staring into his eyes. "Are you telling me you don't want me here?" he asked her in shock.

"Of course not!" Cheyanne shouted. She could feel more tears coming to her eyes, and she squeezed them shut, telling them to go away. "This is the last thing I want to be doing, but… You have to go, Bilbo. You can't… I can't keep you here anymore."

"You're not," the hobbit swore, "and I know you don't actually think that."

"Yes, I do," Cheyanne replied. She pulled away from him and crossed her arms over her chest, turning away. "I see now that I'm… I'm making you stay with me. I haven't given you the opporotunity to leave, and you won't until I tell you to go. I know you, Bilbo."

She heard him take in a deep breath. She wondered if he was trying to hold back tears, too. Silently, he joined her near the edge of the walkway. His eyes were downcast, and he was shaking slightly. "At least let me stay until the wedding is over," he said quietly.

"No," Cheyanne whispered. "I won't do this to you anymore. It's time for you to go back to the life you had before all of this happened, Bilbo. The journey is over."

"So what?" he asked, his voice hardening. "You expect me to return to the Shire and forget everything that happened?"

"That's the last thing I want you to do, Bilbo."

"So why are you making me go back?"

Cheyanne looked down at the ground. "I don't want to lose you, Bilbo," she began quietly. "I love you, coz, but I can't… I can't keep you from your home anymore. This journey has turned you into a different hobbit than the one I first met in Bag End, and I don't want it to change you any more than it already has." She lifted her eyes again and looked at Bilbo. He met her gaze, and she let out a sob. "Please, don't look at me like that. This is already hard enough."

The hobbit bowed his head for a long moment. Cheyanne forced herself to watch him, even though doing so made her throat burn with tears. At last, he looked up and met her eyes again. "All right," he managed. "I'll go."

Without another word, he turned and walked away towards Erebor, leaving Cheyanne alone on the walkway. As soon as he was gone, she began to cry openly, her sobs seeming to echo off of the giant stone statues of dwarves guarding the doors of the mountain kingdom.

She cried alone for what felt like a long time, but what couldn't have been more than a few minutes. When there were no tears left to come, she stood and stared out over the valley, cheeks cold from the wind and water mixture, her eyes burning.

That's when she felt strong arms wrap around her, and a familiar scent of pipe-weed filled her nose. She closed her eyes and sank back against Thorin, shaking. "It's all right," he whispered to her soothingly.

"No," she murmured. "It's not."

Like Bilbo. Bilbo is gold, and he can't stay.

Stay gold, Bilbo-Boy.