Disclaimer: I still don't own the Hobbit.

Chapter 32: Vilify

"Does it trouble your mind the way you trouble mine?"

—Exile Vilify by The National

Gemma had tried to broach the subject many times, but Thorin was a hair trigger, and, in all honesty, Gemma was afraid. Nevertheless, Bard planned to journey to the mountain to negotiate security for his people, and his arrival drew nearer. She had to convince Thorin to help them; a task she feared was impossible, so consumed was he by the sickness.

She was on her way to find him now. He was lurking in the west wing, which was a bit of a surprise since he rarely left the treasury anymore. She spotted him just as he spotted Bilbo, sitting a little ways away, examining something he held in his palm. "What is that in your hand?!"

"It…it's nothing," Bilbo stammered. No no no no no. Gemma picked up her pace.

"Show me."

Bilbo opened his hand, and Gemma was relieved to see that he did not hold the Arkenstone. Instead, there was a tiny acorn in his palm. Gemma slunk back before she was spotted, not wanting to complicate the situation.

"It's from Beorn's garden. I'm going to plant it in my garden when I go back home, to Bag End," Bilbo smiled softly.

"You've carried it all this way," Thorin remarked softly, and Gemma could scarcely believe it. He seemed to transform before her into the man he once was. Soft voice, slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that meant he was smiling even when his mouth didn't show it.

"It's a poor price to take back to the Shire," Thorin smiled. Gemma felt her eyes water. Perhaps he was having a good day, a lapse in the gold sickness. Maybe he was even fighting it off.

"One day it'll grow, and every time I look at it, I'll remember everything that happened: the good, the bad, and how lucky I am that I made it home."

Teeth, she could see his teeth! Thorin was positively grinning!

"Thorin." It was Dwalin. "Survivors from Lake-town, they've set up camp in Dale. At first it was a few, but more have come streaming in. We think they mean to approach the mountain."

Gemma's heart sank as she watched that rare smile slip from Thorin's face. It had only been a moment, the calm before the storm.

"Call everyone to the gate. Now."

"Thorin," Gemma called, running to catch up with him. "What are you going to do?"

Thorin grasped her hand and squeezed it in a gesture that made Gemma's heart soar despite the situation. "What I have to." She pulled her hand back.

"These people just lost their home. They have nothing. You have to help them. Please mon chéri."

Thorin narrowed his eyes at her as if she had offended him by using the pet name that she knew for a fact the real Thorin liked. Perhaps he thought she was trying to seduce him with it. "I will not. I owe them nothing."

"I never said you did. It's not about any debt, it's about kindness. Thorin…"

They'd arrived at the gate, which the other dwarves had already begun to seal off with rubble. They worked with astounding precision, and soon an impenetrable wall was erected, complete with battlements at the top which linked to the third floor of the grand entrance hall.

"I want this fortress secured by sun up. We have just won the mountain; I will not have it taken again."

"The people of Lake-town have nothing!" Kili approached his uncle fearlessly. "They come to us in need. They've lost everything."

"Do not tell me what they have lost. I know well enough their hardship," He growled, looking out at the fires of the exiled in Dale. "Those who have lived through dragon fire should rejoice. They have much to be grateful for."

That was it. She'd had it. "You fucking hypocritical son of a bitch," she said lowly, but loud enough for everyone to hear. Bilbo shot her a look that was equal parts warning and support. Fili and Kili were watching her closely. The other dwarves seemed a bit affronted, but far from offended, because no matter how loyal they were, they all knew this had gone too far.

Thorin just looked surprised. She didn't really know why. He should be used to her swearing by now. But perhaps he was surprised that anyone would speak this way to him, would go against him so boldly, now that he was king. "What did you say?"

"I said that you," Gemma said, stressing every word, "are an insensitive asshole and a complete and utter hypocrite."

"How dare..."

"Oh no, don't you even think about finishing that sentence Thorin Oakenshield, not with me. Tell me this: how is what you are saying right now any different than what Thranduil did to you and your people?"

Thorin's face was growing red with anger, the sickness so strong that his eyes seemed out of focus. "That is completely different."

Gemma narrowed her eyes at him and jutted out her chin. "Really? How? I can't think of one significant way that this is different. What if Thranduil had told you his reason for never helping your people? What if he told you, after your home and your whole life were destroyed, that you should be happy because you survive? That you had much to be thankful for? What if he justified his actions like that? Would you have said "You know what Thrandy, old pal, that's a good point well made. You're totally right, we don't need food or shelter"? No, you wouldn't have! Because those are shit justifications!"

"I will not allow these men," he sneered the word with disgust, "to take our birthright."

"They don't want to take it, they just want help! They're not coming to attack, they're coming to negotiate. Although they weren't supposed to come so soon."

"Ha," Thorin spat. "What makes you think I will negotiate with that disgusting Master?" Thorin and Gemma were locked in a stare down that was quite terrifying to the others. Neither one wavered. They barely even blinked.

"The Master is dead. Bard is leading the refugees, he will come to speak with you."

"That insolent bargeman! A commoner, coming to negotiate with a King? I am even less inclined to speak with him."

"You will speak to him," Gemma ground out through clenched teeth.

"What makes you think that?" Thorin growled right back.

"Because you don't want a war. Because we don't have the supplies or manpower to withstand a siege. Because somewhere in your sick head you've still got a shred of sympathy. And, most importantly," Gemma said, voice building until she was yelling, "because I said so!"

Bard was way out of his depth. But hey, they didn't exactly make a guidebook for this sort of thing: How to Lead Your Town When It's Been Wrecked by a Fire-Breathing Dragon, the Middle Earth Best-Seller. He was doing the best he could, but they didn't have enough supplies to last them the week, and with the dwarves alive in the mountain, they had no place for shelter.

He was relying on Gemma now to get them out of this; a woman he barely knew, but somehow he trusted her. She had promised there would be negotiations about aid. "We go our separate ways for a week, gather intelligence, and figure out what's going on, how this'll all go down. Then we'll meet up and discuss our findings. If all goes according to plan, after our meeting Bard will come to the mountain and we will discuss aid for the refugees," she had told him and the two elves when they were making plans.

A week, as it turned out, was much too long to wait, but they would have to hold out until then. Especially now that they knew the dwarves lived, a premature move on the mountain could have a catastrophic outcome. He would follow Gemma's instructions and hope that she had played her part in convincing the dwarves to help.

"Any news from the night watch, Alfrid?" Bard asked the man as he climbed up to the old gate of Dale.

"Huh? Oh, uh no Sire." Bard wished he would stop calling him that. "Nothing at all. Nothing gets past me, Sire." The man had clearly slept through the watch.

This became all the more apparent when Bard stepped through the gate. "Except, apparently," he said in a shocked tone, "an entire legion of elves." The elves parted for him as he made his way through, finally stopping before King Thranduil himself.

"We heard your people were in need," the elf king said in his cold, melodic voice. He gestured to the carts behind him, which were laden with food. Soon elves and men were unloading the carts, his people crying out with joy at their rescue.

"My thanks, Lord Thranduil. You have saved us."

The king lifted his chin airily and said coldly, "Your gratitude is misplaced. I came not on your behalf, but to reclaim something of mine. There are gems in the halls of the mountain that I desire; white gems of pure starlight. I would see them returned."

Not good. "You mean to march upon Erebor? You would start a war for a handful of gems?"

Thranduil scowled. "The heirlooms of my people are not lightly forsaken. Many a war has been fought for less."

Bard had to fix this, or their precarious situation would become infinitely worse. A war between the elves and dwarves could be the catalyst for whatever great evil Gemma believed was at work. "We are allies in this. My people also have a claim to treasure within those halls. Let me ride to the mountain and speak with the Thorin first. Negotiation may prevent bloodshed."

"You would try to reason with the dwarf?"

Bard thought of Gemma, of the likelihood that her predictions were true. It was too high to ignore. "To avoid war, yes."

Thranduil looked suspicious, but finally nodded his consent. "What makes you believe Thorin Oakenshield will be willing to speak with you?"

Bard wrung his hands and looked towards the Lonely Mountain. "I've got a contact on the inside who assured me he would." Although she wouldn't be happy at all that he was coming a few days in advanced. He had no choice now. They would have to hope for the best.

Yes, Bard was well and truly out of his depth.

The tension between Gemma and Thorin was palpable. Their shouting had reached a breaking point and now uncomfortable silence had descended upon the vast hall, which no one dared to break. Gemma breathed deeply, clenching and unclenching her fists as she tried to calm down.

Minutes passed, and finally Bofur broke the silence by shouting from his perch at the top of the repaired gate, "There are riders at the bottom of the mountain. They're coming up."

Fuck, now? She'd told Bard not to come until after they met up again. If she'd had a chance, she would have been able to tell him that things were so much worse than she'd thought, and that she needed more time to get through to Thorin before there could be any hope of successful talks. Well, she'd give it one last shot.

"How many?" she asked, hoping there would be few, lest Thorin be spooked into believing it was an attack.

"There are… Thorin, there's a whole legion of… elves. An army of elves are coming."

Gemma rushed after Thorin, who was running to join Bofur at the top of the gate. That was not the answer she'd been hoping for. Where had the elves come from?

"Thorin…"

He turned to her with a fearsome glint in his eyes. "They threaten our kingdom. They attempt to strong-arm us. You expect me to reason with them?"

She couldn't lose her temper, she reminded herself. It would only make things worse. She took Thorin's hand in her own, flinching at the look of suspicion in his eyes. That hurt more than she was willing to admit. "Not with the elves, no." She pointed out into the distance, to the white horse that was making its way up the mountain side, alone. Its rider was indistinguishable at that distance, but she knew it was Bard. "With him. He comes to you alone, in peace. His people are homeless. Hopeless. Please, show him the compassion that I know you have. Just speak with him, that's all I'm asking."

Thorin let go of her hand and said nothing, but his shoulders sagged slightly and Gemma was pretty sure she'd gotten through to him. They watched as Bard drew closer and closer.

"Hail Thorin, son of Thrain," The man shouted up to them when he arrived at the foot of the gate. We are glad to find you alive beyond hope."

"Why have you come to the gates of the Mountain King armed for war?" Thorin called back.

It wasn't the best response, but at least he was responding.

"Why does the King Under the Mountain fence himself in, like a robber in his hole?" Bard replied testily. Gemma stepped closer to the edge, so that Bard would be able to see her clearly, and tried to silently convey to him that this was not the best course. She made a slashing motion at her throat, trying to tell him to knock it off, without Thorin or the others noticing her actions.

"Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed!"

Bard's eyes connected with hers briefly, and he gave the slightest nod, acknowledging her warning. "We have not come to rob you, but to seek settlement. Will you not speak with me?"

Thorin looked at Bard, then, to her surprise, at Gemma. She bit her lip and looked at him pleadingly. Her turned back to Bard and nodded once. Then he made his way down to the lower parts of the gate. It took Gemma a moment to recover from her surprise before she stumbled after him. She hadn't expected to get through to him. After all, she'd been trying to do so all week, with minimal success. This new Thorin was so stubborn that he made the old Thorin seem positively compliant.

The dwarves had built the wall that spanned the destroyed gate with masterful skill, allowing for periodic openings through which they could see the outside. Thorin approached one of these slowly, glowering at the man who appeared on the other side. Gemma stood back, so that she could just see through to the other side.

"I am listening," he said quietly. It only scared Gemma more. She could handle angry, she could handle yelling, but this cool and dangerous tone was something entirely different.

Gemma saw Bard swallow nervously before he said "On behalf of the people of Lake-town, I would ask that you honour your pledge. A share of the treasure so that they may rebuild their lives."

"I will not treat with any man while an armed host lies at my door," Thorin countered evenly.

This would not end well, Gemma could already tell. Bile rose in her throat and she felt like she was going to be sick.

"That armed host will attack Erebor should we fail to come to terms." Gemma closed her eyes. There it was. Things would only go downhill from here.

"Your threats do not sway me," Thorin said in that terrifyingly calm voice. It was like waiting for a volcano to erupt.

"What of your conscience?" Bard entreated. "Does it not tell you our cause is just?" Gemma looked at Thorin, searching for any reaction, any sign of hesitance. She found none, and it made her want to cry. "My people gave you help," Bard continued, "and in return you brought upon them ruin and death."

"When did the men of Lake-town come to our aid, but for the promise of rich reward?" His voice began to grow louder and faster. There was a pain in the back of Gemma's neck, the kind that came only in times of great stress.

"A bargain was struck!"

"Your bargain! What choice did we have but to barter our birthright for blankets and food?! To ransom our future in exchange for our freedom?! You call that a fair trade?"

As their voices continued their crescendo, Gemma closed her eyes and pressed her fingers into her throbbing temple. She felt Bilbo at her side, touching her arm to silently ask if she was alright. She opened her eyes and looked at him sadly.

"Tell me, Bard the dragon slayer," Thorin spat, "why should I honour such terms?"

Bard braced his hands against the stone wall and quietly said, "Because you gave us your word. Does that mean nothing?" Thorin stared at him for a moment, before moving away from the hole to rest his back against the wall. He said nothing, just looked at the Company watching him.

"Where is the Lady LaRoche?" Bard called after the long silence. "She told me you would say this, but she told me she would convince you otherwise. Where is she so that I might speak with her? Has she not told you of the suffering she saw in Lake-town? The suffering she endured?! And what of your nephews? What do they say?"

Gemma wanted to talk to Bard, but Thorin had fixed her with a gaze so intense that she was rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but stare back at him. The nausea had increased, and she wanted to pinch herself to check if she was dreaming. For the past week there had been this uneasy feeling of teetering on the edge of a great precipice, but she just couldn't believe that now was when they would finally fall over it.

"Be gone! Ere our arrows fly!" Thorin boomed. Bard hit his fist against the wall in frustration, before backing away and mounting his horse, heading to the city. Gemma breathed heavily and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples once more.

Bilbo broke the silence. "What are you doing?!" Oh, her brave little hobbit. Had there ever been someone so humbly courageous? "You cannot go to war!"

"This does not concern you," Thorin said without looking at him. The dwarf king had retrieved a raven, and whispered into its ear before sending it to flight.

"Excuse me, but just in case you haven't noticed there's an army of elves out there." Gemma almost laughed in spite of it all. Little Bilbo was sassing Thorin Oakenshield. She certainly had been a bad influence on him. "Not to mention several hundred angry fishermen. We are, in fact, outnumbered."

"Not for much longer," Thorin replied cryptically.

"Wha… what does that mean?" Bilbo furrowed his brow and glanced at Gemma, but she said nothing, just shook her head slightly as she watched.

"It means, Master Baggins, that we have reclaimed Erebor. Now we defend it."

"Please stop," Gemma whispered, but it was loud enough that everyone heard and fell silent, watching her. She ran a hand through her hair shakily. "I just… it wasn't supposed to be like this. This wasn't supposed to happen. It can't."

"What do you mean lass?" Balin said, because Thorin was just looking at her silently.

Gemma took a deep breath, and when she spoke again her voice was steady. "I mean that we can't go to war."

"What would you have me do? Give up the treasure to the Lake men?" Thorin asked angrily.

"Well…"

"You," Thorin jabbed a finger at her, "will not manipulate me into this. You are in league with the dragon slayer. I heard him say it. You are trying to destroy us from within!"

Gemma choked in shock and thinly veiled grief at his words. But soon it dispersed into a far stronger emotion. Fury. "How… how dare you?! After all this. I came back for you! You gave Bard your word, just as you gave me your word when you said you would not fall to the gold sickness! But look at you now. Thorin Oakenshield: I don't know who that is anymore. You promised me you would fight it!"

"And you promised you would be beside me when I did!" Thorin shouted at her. "But you were not! You left me!"

His words stung beyond belief, because they were exactly what that small part of her mind had been telling her all along. If she hadn't left, would things be different now? Would she have been able to prevent Thorin's sickness if she had been by his side? Oh God, it really was her fault, and now she had nothing. She'd lost Thorin, and with him the rest of the Company, who would surely remain loyal to Thorin. She had no home, nowhere to go in this new world, and no way to prevent the coming horrors. Her morals were, perhaps, the only thing she still possessed, and even they would be on shaky ground if she allowed Thorin to start a war.

Gemma stepped back, paused, and then said, "I can't be here. While you pick your fights and start your wars, far worse things are stirring. I will not be a part of your madness, I will not condone it. I came back for you, all of you, because this is my family. That world that I came from is no longer my home. I belong here, in Middle Earth, with this Company. But, I can't be here, not now."

Thorin grabbed her arm roughly. "You will not leave."

Gemma twisted from his grasp. "Who are you to tell me what to do?"

"I am the King!" he growled at her.

"But you're not my king!" She retorted. "And quite frankly, I don't think you're fit to be king of anybody. Look at you! With your treasure and your throne, you aren't half the king you were when you were a homeless blacksmith, just working to support your people. You were selfless, and humbled, and brave. Now... I don't know who you are, but you're not Thorin Oakenshield anymore. Not my Thorin. And I just can't stand watching you become this... this villain. I won't be part of it. I'm not spending another day in this goddamn mountain."

Thorin looked livid as Gemma stepped away from him. "I will not allow you to leave." He turned his back on her and said to Dwalin, "Lock her up in one of the rooms in the west wing. Do not let her go." Then he breezed out of the room without as much as a glance her way, heading, of course, for the treasure chamber.

Gemma should have been able to scream numerous obscenities at him. It was what the bastard deserved. But she was just too shocked to even speak. Lock her up? Had he actually just told her friends to lock her up as a prisoner? This was a whole new level if low, one she didn't think even Thorin, steeped in sickness as he was, could reach. That nauseous feeling was back again.

The dwarves would obey him, she knew, and she couldn't blame them. They were so loyal to him, even when he was like this. So she wasn't at all surprised when Dwalin and Dori began to approach her, wearing expressions of resigned determination. In fact, she was almost flattered that they thought it was necessary for the two strongest dwarves present to detain her. Clearly they thought she would protest, and thought quite highly of her ability to fend them off. She supposed that they weren't wrong to, with what she was about to do.

Her nausea had grown and there was a pounding in her head like the beat of a drum. She couldn't take much more of all this. There was no way she was going to let Thorin keep her prisoner, which unfortunately meant she would have to go through the rest of the Company in order to escape.

So, with few choices left to her, Gemma did the only thing she could think of. She took her gun out of her belt and pointed it at the people whom she had just claimed as her family.

"I'm leaving. Now."

AN:

I know. I'm evil for leaving it like that. Please leave all your death threats in the form of a review ;)

But seriously, I'd love to know what you think, because things are really starting to happen now. Shit is going down, and I'd love to hear your reactions and predictions. Just write me about anything, and never feel embarrassed or like you're bothering me, because really, there is nothing I love more than hearing from you guys. Your reviews make me so happy, and I'm so thankful that you guys stuck with me after that long break.

To my Canadian readers, enjoy Canada Day tomorrow! To everyone else, have a great week. See you soon!