Author's Note: I have returned! I want to sincerely apologize for such a long wait, I couldn't believe that it's been two and a half months since the last chapter. A lot of personal crap has happened since then that has caused my writer's block that I won't bore you all with but now I'm back!
I hope that you'll enjoy this chapter, it's almost 1500 words longer than my usual length partly as an apology for the long wait between this chapter and the last and also because I just couldn't seem to stop. Please let me know what you all think about this chapter especially my characterization of everyone, as I'm so nervous about them. And hopefully you will all like my version of the acorn scene as it was particularly difficult for me. I'd love any feedback.
And lastly thank you all so much for your reviews, follows, and favorites. I treasure all of them.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except Laura.
I woke up very cold.
I was no longer surprised by it. My nightmares had made their rounds again and like the previous night the eye of fire made its appearance again. I was shaking, which wasn't unusual, but the icy feeling in my fingers was. My feet were hurting again, aching really, and not just from the burns. I curled in on myself beneath my cloak that Bifur had offered to me again and stared at the wall. I could see my breath, a soft cloud forming with every exhale.
Winter was upon us.
It took me longer than usual to gather my strength – and really, to brace myself for having to leave my bedroll and cloak behind – but I was able to sit up and bring my knees up to my chest, letting my cloak fall away. I shifted a bit to let the soles of my feet rest on the cold stone and was unable to stop a hiss of relief. I took a few deep breaths, waited for my breathing to return to normal, and glanced around the watchtower.
The others were scattered, in pairs and trios, all fast asleep and curled up together. In an attempt to shake off my nightmares, I began to count them absently until I reached ten. Huh. There were three missing.
I pushed myself to my feet and took a few fumbling steps towards the doorway, breathing in deeply the cold air once I made it outside. The sun was half-risen over the horizon and the sky above us was slowly changing from black to blues, oranges, pinks, and golds. Circling the watchtower were bats, no, birds dark even against the last of the night sky.
I looked to my right and saw Ori and Oin at the wall, backs to me and looking out towards what was left of Lake-town. I couldn't bring myself to join them. But that made twelve, which meant there was only one dwarf left accounted for.
My stomach turned uneasily. I glanced over my shoulder back towards the watchtower's entrance before, unbidden, my eyes slowly moved to the staircase. I slowly made my way towards the stairs that lead to the landing of the watchtower, dread washing over me. Once I was there my suspicions were confirmed.
Thorin was exactly where I'd last seen him, still staring at the gate of Erebor.
Well, shit.
I stayed where I was for a long time watching Thorin, long enough for the sun to rise almost completely and for the sounds of voices and groans to begin to drift from the watchtower. I glanced over my shoulder towards the watchtower and when no one emerged I took the plunge and moved to join Thorin.
Even when our relationship was at its most contentious in the beginning, Thorin never truly ignored me. His eyes were always roaming over the Company, assessing and thoughtful, and that included me and even Gandalf. I hadn't decided if it was some sort of dwarven etiquette or just Thorin's nature, but every time I'd come near him, he acknowledged me.
This time, though, it was like I was wearing my ring. I wasn't even there.
"Thorin?" I asked, strangely hesitant. I'd thought we both gotten past our awkwardness together but now I was backsliding. Even after a night's sleep Smaug's words lingered.
To his credit, Thorin turned to me immediately. But it didn't help much. If anything, it made my concern grow. It was only for a moment but as our eyes met there was a wildness to Thorin's that I hadn't ever seen.
"Good morning," I said cautiously, unsure of what kind of response I would receive.
Thorin stared at me and then after a long awkward pause he settled on a nod and a greeting of, "Master Baggins."
That was all he offered though, and soon he was turned back to Erebor.
I didn't. I couldn't tear my eyes from Thorin. He looked – different. Worse than I could remember, worse even than he had after the warg used him as a chew toy. Thorin's complexion was almost paper-white, contrasting starkly with his dark hair and beard and making the dark circles under his eyes even more apparent.
Sick. Thorin looked sick.
"Thorin," I said slowly, unable to help myself. It felt like an eternity for Thorin's attention to shift back to me. Once I had it, though, I knew I had to ask, "Are you alright?"
Thorin frowned but not as if he was angry. More like he was confused. Somehow that made it seem even worse.
"Yes," Thorin finally said. But that was all.
After waiting as patiently as I could, I pressed on, though much more carefully, "Did you sleep?"
"Sleep?" Thorin asked finally, causing me to settle on that, yeah, this was worse than anger.
I nodded, grateful that Thorin was still looking at me, that I'd managed to keep his attention.
Thorin's expression twisted complicatedly and it was hard for me to pin down exactly was it was. His eyes shifted away, as if he was nervous. The silence between us continued to stretch with no answer. This, too, was very unlike Thorin. Any question I'd ever asked him had always gotten a response, one that was measured and honest. Sometimes too honest.
This was the opposite, I was realizing. Whatever Thorin was going to say, it wasn't going to be truthful.
But why, I wondered as dread was starting to creep up my spine in earnest. The answer was there, glaringly obvious, the words still echoing. I hated even considering it.
There was the sound of footsteps behind us on the stairs, that were louder than a drum in the tense quiet between us. I turned to find Dwalin. Thorin, I noticed, didn't bother.
"Master Baggins," Dwalin said evenly, his eyes moving slowly between the two of us, "Oin insists you two have business."
Uh-oh.
My alarm must've shown on my face because Dwalin offered me a consolatory pat on the shoulder as I passed. Halfway up the stairs I turned back to look. Dwalin and Thorin were speaking again. It should've felt commonplace. The two of them were together as often as Fili and Kili were. But Thorin wasn't looking at Dwalin. His head was turned away in the direction of the front gate.
I swallowed, uneasiness settling over me as I cleared the last of the stairs. Though, it was quickly set aside by Oin who marched straight up to me and said half-bellowing, "Were my instruction not clear enough for you?"
I opened my mouth to apologize but the quelling look Oin shot me warned me to drop it. Instead, I let Oin shepherd me to the same bench as the night before. Neither of us spoke as Oin took his time in giving my feet a fresh application of ointment and rewrapping them carefully with new rolls of linen.
"Tonight, Master Baggins," Oin told me ominously and I heard it for the threat it was. I had no doubt Oin wouldn't hesitate to scold me in front of the others and I didn't need the dogpile that would surely follow.
"Yes," I agreed faintly, and that seemed to satisfy Oin who had already packed away his things. With one last look, Oin turned away, nodding to Fili and Kili who moved in to replace him.
"Good morning," I said as the two of them came to a stop before me. I moved to get to my feet but was halted by Kili, pushing me gently back down.
"Breakfast," Kili said firmly. There was a flatness to his eyes, one that was mirrored in Fili's too. I wondered if they'd been assigned watch. If they'd had to see the burning of Lake-town slowly go out. There was smoke still, over the horizon.
I opened my mouth to try and explain that I wasn't hungry, even as Kili pressed a waterskin into one hand, Fili dropping a hardtack into the other.
Kili gestured at me encouragingly while Fili told me, "Don't bother. We know you didn't eat last night."
My eyes shot to Oin, the most likely perpetrator, as my mouth clicked shut. Then I let my eyes trail over Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, who'd been the ones to try and feed me last night. It was honestly a toss-up. I couldn't rule out any of them for tattling.
"Please, Bilbo," Kili said, looking almost worried. Guilt wormed its way deep in my chest as I glanced between them. Neither of them said anything else, but still watched me expectantly.
I nodded, finally, which satisfied them both, though not enough to trust me. They settled in, one on each side, squeezing me between them on the bench. It was pleasant in a way, two lines of heat on either side doing more for me than my bedroll had the night before.
I took my first bite and tried not to wince. It tasted like sawdust, though I knew it was probably just as good as the ones Beorn had given us. Better even, since this one was still tacky with honey. But I still had to use the water to wash it down. It was a slow process but one Kili and Fili didn't seem to mind. They waited until I had finished the last bite and took a final last swig from the waterskin before accepting it back.
Fili and Kili didn't move but didn't speak either. I watched absently as Fili fiddled with the cap of the waterskin. Kili's eyes remained fixed on the ground. I couldn't blame either of them. They were doing miles better than I was, but I knew they'd been just as horrified as I was the night before.
After a few minutes of debating internally, I asked quietly, "Are you alright?"
I made sure to turn and meet Kili's eyes, which had skittered up to meet mine, before turning to do the same to Fili, who was already looking at me. I wasn't sure if either was going to answer. They were both quiet for a long stretch. Fili was frowning, fingers still capping and uncapping the waterskin. Kili's were wound tight in the folds of his coat.
I was only able to feel Fili inhale, shockingly shaky, before Dwalin appeared at the top of the stairs, drawing everyone's attention. The others, who had been slowly filtering out of the watchtower, all gathered around. Fili and Kili remained with me on the bench.
Dwalin, in the heaviest tone I'd heard yet from him, explained that Thorin had decided that we would be returning to the mountain. Now.
No one said a word. Not even Balin. This wasn't unusual, per say. The dwarves hadn't ever questioned Thorin, had always followed his word, even when there was room for doubt. We had stayed at the ruined farmhouse, against Gandalf's wishes. We had followed Thorin further into the mountains when Gandalf had failed to show.
And the dwarves did so again. Everyone moved to gather their weapons, their packs, preparing to move out. But unlike before, there was no talking. No words of agreement. Balin looked stunned, hurrying up to Dwalin, already speaking in a hushed tone. Nori and Dori were exchanging identical looks, both frowning. Oin was actually shaking his head.
Fili and Kili were silent up until I pushed to my feet, after which they both sprang into action.
"We'll help you," Kili said immediately before I could even get anything out. When I shot him an exasperated look, Kili pretended not to notice.
"You've both been very kind," I told them both as gently as I could, "I wouldn't have made it up here without you. But I can manage myself today, I promise."
Fili was frowning again, this time the lines of it cutting far deeper into his face, making him look much older. Much more like Thorin, actually. Kili was frowning too, a determined set to his jaw.
This wasn't boding well. And the fact that my mood was low wasn't a good enough reason to send them away, I knew. Everyone's mood was low. Telling them to join Thorin was on the tip of my tongue. But there was the very real possibility that Thorin wasn't himself. Could I put that on Fili and Kili's shoulders too?
"Don't fret," Nori said from behind Fili, making me jump. Fili and Kili stepped back, letting Nori join us. "My brothers and I'll look after our hobbit today."
Not exactly what I had in mind. I opened my mouth to protest, but Fili cut me off with such a look of exasperation that it was almost insulting, "Oin said you shouldn't be on your feet."
I resisted the urge to glare mutinously at Oin. I couldn't help but feel betrayed.
"Huh," Nori said, mock-thoughtful. I felt my teeth clench. "Well, then, looks like it's settled."
Fili and Kili both looked instantly mollified. I was finding I was the opposite. I knew they were being kind, being good friends, all of them. I knew it wasn't meant as a slight. I knew they were right. I even knew I was being irrational.
But that didn't stop the sharp cut of annoyance.
Fili and Kili were staring at me now. Then, Fili said simply, "Bilbo."
If Nori noticed, he was unfazed. He laid a hand on my shoulder, grip firm but not overly tight, and began to steer me to where Dori and Ori were standing a few yards away. I heard behind me Fili and Kili call out goodbyes and saw in my peripheral Nori raise his other hand in a wave.
My annoyance, which was beginning to boil well and truly now, was swept away completely when Nori leaned in close and said, "Don't be so cross, eh? Our company isn't so bad now, is it?"
I let out a sigh, deflating. "No, no. Of course not, Nori. I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry for," Nori told me amicably, as we came to a stop before Dori and Ori. Dori was fussing over Ori's mittens now. "Shall we then?"
When Dori turned to us, he seemed to almost approve of Nori. Dori moved to eyed me critically while Ori offered me a shy smile, before declaring, "Looks like you have some sense after all."
I frowned at him just as Nori said, "Not his. We have our princes to thank for this."
"Is that so," Dori replied, not quite impressed but not unhappy either. "Well, that's something I never thought I'd hear. Ah, well, come along Master Baggins."
I gave Dori a nod of consent, allowing him to hoist me over his shoulder easily to settle me across his back. Once we were both situated, we began our descent.
Our journey wasn't unpleasant, truth be told. Dori, Nori, and Ori were all excellent traveling companions though I didn't think for one second it was intentional. After all, they didn't engage me in conversation, not really, and whether it was because they thought I should focus my attention on healing or because they just simply forgot I was there, I didn't know. But they made up for it in spades by giving me bickering that ranged from mostly good-natured to something straight out of my favorite reality shows. Even Ori joined in, switching between one brother's side and the other. It may have been in dwarvish, but that made it even better. I busied myself with imagining what exactly they were saying.
Well, for most of the way. By the time we had reached the gate I was grateful for the reprieve. Their newest argument had turned vicious – so much so that even Ori was very obviously staying out of it which meant it was bad – and the moment Dori settled me on my feet I backed away to a safe distance. None of them noticed. Dori was still turned to Nori, snarling out something cutting enough that Ori raised his hands placatingly between the two of them.
"Lucky indeed," Bofur said innocently, coming up next to me. I turned, eyeing him curiously. Bofur continued, "That's an old argument, that one. Bombur's lost count of how many times he's had to hear it. Somehow they always ended up near the back with him."
My face twisted in genuine sympathy which made Bofur grin.
Together, we joined Bombur at the back of the Company, each of us falling silent as we stepped through the ruined gate of the mountain. It looked even worse in daylight: the smashed gate and overturned pillars that I had stumbled over the night before were huge and eerie in the midmorning light. Rubble was everywhere both inside the threshold of the gate and outside of it and we were all cautious as we moved over it, careful not to lose our footing.
Once we were all deep inside the entrance hall at the foot of the stairs that would lead to the statue-room, we all came to a stop, crowding together as Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin moved away, their heads bowed and voices low.
I did my best not to eavesdrop but I couldn't help but watch their faces as they spoke. Thorin was frowning, deep lines cutting through his forehead, his eyes shifting like when I had spoken with him earlier that morning. Dwalin had a similar expression, scowling deeply, but unlike Thorin his eyes were locked onto a single point: Thorin's face. And Balin was looking concerned, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth downturned. They didn't speak for long and the conversation was ended by what looked like a sharp order from Thorin, who turned away from the other two, his expression going dark again. Unlike before, this one seemed to linger.
My stomach turned unpleasantly, and then again when Balin moved to join us and said, voice heavy, "Thorin has decided that we must begin searching for the Arkenstone at once."
Around me, the dwarves exchanged several looks ranging from disbelief, to confusion, to frustration. My anxiety was back, simmering beneath my skin. I was shocked out of it when, this time, the others pushed back.
"But we have so few supplies," Dori said crossly. Maybe he was still angry from his fight with Nori, causing him to loosen his tongue. "Surely it would be best to gather what little we can? Winter is close at hand."
"Yes," Balin agreed gravely, "That is why Thorin has agreed to allow-" Allow? What? "-two of us to search the mountain for provisions. Bedding, blankets, whatever we might find that can be of use. Gloin, Bombur, might we leave this to you?"
"Of course," Bombur said in his soft voice. Gloin nodded.
"Very good," Balin said somberly. "Bring what you can to the treasury."
"The treasury?" Gloin repeated, looking confused. "Surely there are better rooms in the mountain."
Balin smiled but there was nothing happy about it. "Thorin would have us devote our efforts to finding the Arkenstone. No time, no energy, should be wasted."
I could understand it, logically. Smaug would be back at any moment. It was a miracle it hadn't returned even now. If we wanted to keep the mountain, we needed the dwarven armies.
The Arkenstone felt heavy in my coat pocket. I could give it back now. I should give it back now. But Thorin's face, pale and drawn and pinched came to the forefront of my mind. Smaug's words were back, echoing like it was here in the hall with us.
It will be your fault. You, who pushes him into madness.
My eyes flickered over Bofur's face, who looked baffled, as I turned my attention to where I had last saw Thorin.
He was gone.
It has already begun.
This felt like a colossal mistake. But what else was new?
The treasury seemed even bigger than I remembered. Perhaps it was because Smaug was missing from it now. Perhaps it was because Thorin's most pressing order of business was to find the Arkenstone.
There were no arguments this time, though the others seemed more uneasy than ever. I couldn't blame them. Smaug still lingered, the smell of it strong though at least no longer so suffocating. And, when I found myself stepping out onto the gold behind Balin, it was cold.
So, when only a few moments in, Balin had cleared his throat, gestured for Ori, Nori, Bofur, and me to come close and asked if any of us were willing to keep watch at the gate, I didn't hesitate. I'd never volunteered so quickly, or with so much enthusiasm, for anything in my entire life.
That was how I found myself perched on a large piece of rubble just outside the gate, face turned towards the sky and began to plan.
I would have to avoid Thorin, there was no getting around it. I had to keep the Arkenstone as far from him as possible. I knew that Thorin was changing, that Smaug wasn't just toying with me. I'd heard it before, though it took me far longer than I liked to recall it.
Elrond and Gandalf had spoken of Thorin. Of his father – no, grandfather. They'd been concerned even then, half a world away. Madness, they'd called it. The same word that Smaug had used.
It felt impossible at the time, I remember that clearly. But now, knowing that Thorin's tenacity had turned to the Arkenstone with an almost feverish intensity, it felt much more real. Much more true.
I could only hope that keeping the Arkenstone away would be enough to stave it off. But even that felt unlikely. And I felt lost. More lost than I had when Gandalf had pushed me out the door at Bag End, and I never thought that was possible. I had felt, well, not confident, exactly, but more sure-footed the longer we'd traveled together. I'd thought I had a handle on things.
All of that had slipped away in a day.
To my surprise, it wasn't until the sun was setting in earnest that I saw anyone else. Nori came out, wearing new clothes that were much more dwarvish, only to shoo me back into the mountain for dinner, claiming he would take watch.
When I returned to the treasury, I found that torches and metal firepits- braziers, I learned later- had been scattered across the gold, casting the entire room into a warm glow. The shadows that ate up the ceiling were gone, revealing great balconies and carved arches into the stone. Most of the others were still out, dark figures against the shimmer of the gold. I joined them, feeling very fake, and took to searching too or at least trying to look like it. Mostly I spent my time eyeing the more unusual pieces of treasure, using it as cover to keep an eye on the others. I'd just finished counting, reaching twelve, when I realized I was missing one.
I didn't have to guess to know which one it was. I abandoned my act of searching, glancing up at the walkways, even up to the balconies that I could see.
And there Thorin was. A figure dressed all in black now, a new cloak making him look larger even from a distance. Thorin looked regal, with his dark clothes and hair striking against the torch behind him. Kingly even without a crown.
But also almost, well, sinister.
I didn't know what to do, was the worst part. And it grew even more painful as I spent a few more hours pretending to search, unable to come up with even the beginnings of a plan.
When Oin approached me- also now in new clothes- with the promise of new foot-wrappings, I didn't protest. Nor did I say a peep when he pushed me to a bedroll on a landing that was serving as our makeshift camp.
Instead, I settled in, the last thing I could see before I closed my eyes was Thorin still on that balcony.
When I woke the next morning, shaking and exhausted and struggled to sit up, my eyes flew to the balcony. Thorin was still there. But this time, so was Balin, his white hair and beard obvious even from a distance.
I tried to take comfort in it as I disentangled myself from my bedroll. I was touched to find my red cloak had found its way back to me in the night and I knew who I could thank for that.
It took longer than I'd liked, making my way across the gold. And it was worrying, when I figured out that the others had been searching through the night.
Bifur didn't seem particularly bothered when I reached him, though he was never really bothered by anything. I envied him for that. Bifur turned to me the moment I scaled the treasure mound he was working through and when I softly offered my thanks for his thoughtfulness he patted my shoulder amiably.
We turned together as a loud call echoed over the gold and for a heart-stopping moment, I thought that Smaug had finally returned. Bifur took one glance at my face, shook his head, and made the sign for meal. I felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut, the tension left my body so quickly. Bifur actually chuckled as we made our way back out over the gold. I tried to give him a quelling look but he only shook his head, laughing again.
Balin was waiting for all of us at the landing, ushering us over to Bombur for breakfast. Everyone was awake now, gathered around and waiting for their turn. As I moved to wait behind Kili and Dwalin, movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention.
Thorin had come to join us, stepping out of the shadows on the walkway above. Balin's expression was of abject relief when he caught sight of him too. He wasted no time to meet Thorin as he came down the last step. They spoke quietly in dwarvish until, very suddenly and while Balin was midsentence, Thorin stepped around Balin, moved past the rest of us with not so much as a glance, and descended the steps out into the treasure. I watched for perhaps longer than I should have, as Thorin moved out over the gold, searching, back bent, his new dark cloak draped over him.
I felt sick, all thoughts of breakfast forgotten. I turned away quickly, back to the others and found myself meeting Fili's eyes. It was like looking in a mirror, I supposed. Fili's eyes were just as wide as mine were, something like fear in them, his face slack and stunned.
I had to get out of here, away from Thorin. I had to keep the Arkenstone away.
Balin's face was kind when I approached him a few minutes later. Though, I didn't miss the stricken expression that it had replaced. When I offered to take watch again at the front gate, Balin seemed relieved again and I wasn't sure why. He even thanked me. That made me sick too.
Gloin and Dori were also relieved when I went out to find them at the gate but this time I knew the reason. They both barely paused to bid me farewell before they disappeared back into the mountain but I didn't mind.
I found myself settled on the same large piece of rubble- a boulder really- eyes already staring unfocused out into the grey sky, ready to wait out the day again. I tried very hard not to think about why Smaug had yet to return. Or that it would return. It had promised after all. And so far, it had yet to be wrong.
But this time, I wasn't alone. As soon as I was settled, someone else sat down next to me, our shoulders bumping. I knew they'd felt me jump even as I turned to look at them. For the second time that day Fili's eyes met mine.
"Fili," I said, unable to stop myself, surprised.
"Bilbo," Fili said blandly in reply.
Fili said nothing else, instead turning his attention towards the valley that stretched between the mountain and the ruins of Dale. I took the opportunity to observe. Fili and Kili were alike in so many ways and not just because they were young. But they were also very different and sometimes those differences felt more stark than their similarities. Fili was sharp-eyed, assessing, in a way Kili often didn't bother with, but in a way that struck me as far more like Thorin. Fili was measured, too, like Thorin, when there wasn't an opportunity for mischief. More likely to be lost in his thoughts.
Like today. It was obvious even to me. Fili's eyes were far away, unfocused. There was a small wrinkle between his brows and his lips were pressed firmly together. I wondered if Fili missed his knives. His fingers twitched every so often as if grasping for one.
Fili appeared content to not speak together and I turned my attention out into the valley too. I didn't mind it, truthfully. In fact, the longer we sat together, the more I found comfort in it. Comfort that I had someone with me.
It was past midday by the time anything changed. And it was Fili who finally broke our silence and said quietly, slowly, almost like it was a secret, "It's different than I imagined it."
It occurred to me, as I processed Fili's words, that perhaps Fili felt the same way. That maybe he found the same comfort in me as I did him. It was a strange concept. I was hardly steadfast, like Thorin or Dwalin, or wise, like Balin, or even lighthearted like Kili. I was just – lost. Out of place. Scared.
"What is?" I asked, careful to keep my voice just as quiet.
"Erebor," Fili said softly. There was an emotion- emotions- thread through the word that I couldn't figure out. "Even in our cradles Kili and I were told stories of this place. By our mother. By Thorin. These halls are ours. This mountain. This is our birthright, our home."
I watched as several different emotions flicker across Fili's face quickly, one after the other. Wistfulness. Frustration. Disappointment.
"But I cannot see it," Fili said quietly, almost like a confession. "All I can see is,"
Fili didn't say anything more, not even after several long moments. My own mind was working. I wondered if Smaug haunted Fili, too. If Lake-town, burning so brightly it had hurt to look at against the black water, was seared into his memory like it was mine.
Fili was refusing to meet my eyes I knew that much.
Before I could think it through, I slid my arm beneath Fili's, linking them together and pressed my shoulder against his, with perhaps more of my weight than I should have, with a sigh. Doubt roared up immediately when I felt Fili tense against me. But then, just as quickly, it was washed away as I felt Fili press his shoulder back, his weight settling against me, too.
And that was how we stayed, leaned against each other, silent as we kept watch over the desolation.
Hours later, though long before the sun had begun to set, thanks to our silence, we heard footsteps well before whoever it was stepped out into the light. Fili and I turned to look together, our arms finally unlinking.
Bombur was more hurried than usual as he closed the distance between us, which made both Fili and I slide off the rubble to meet him. Even Bombur's words were quick, though his voice remained soft, when he informed us that Thorin had requested my presence in the throne room immediately.
"I," I started, then stopped, unsure and uneasy. Instinctually I turned to Fili who was frowning again, even as his eyes met mine. When he offered nothing, I turned back to Bombur, "Thank you, Bombur."
I was halfway to the gate when I remembered to look back and offer a wave. Bombur returned it. Fili didn't.
It was halfway up the great staircase that I realized I had no idea where the throne room was. I hadn't come across it on either of my two ventures into the mountain. So, even as my stomach turned at the idea of keeping Thorin waiting, I returned to the treasury, stopping at the landing that made up our makeshift camp. The others were out in the gold again, black shapes against its soft glow. The braziers that had been lit overnight were still burning, casting long shadows up the pillars and walls.
One of the black shapes called my name, sudden and echoing in the cavernous room. The rest of the shapes paused, as if to turn and look, as one of the shapes moved quickly in my direction. It was only when I watched them crest the last gold hill and slide back down it that I realized it was Bofur.
I shifted nervously as he climbed the last of the steps. There was something in the lines of Bofur's face that I didn't like. Worry, maybe. Or nervousness.
When he reached me, Bofur asked quickly, "Bombur not find you?"
"He did," I assured Bofur just as quickly, "It's just that I don't know where to go."
Bofur pulled an exasperated expression and muttered something in dwarvish, probably about Bombur. Then he slung an arm around my shoulders and together we climbed up the staircase to the walkway, "Come on, then. Best not keep him waiting. Thorin was cross enough when he couldn't find you himself."
My stomach did a flip as we passed through one of the shadowy archways and down a dark corridor. "I'm sorry," I told him, dread now pooling cold in my chest. There was only one reason I could think of Thorin demanding my presence for. The Arkenstone.
But how did he know?
"Upset himself more than us, truth be told," Bofur said as we took another corner.
Neither of spoke again as we crossed the canyon-hall and went down a few more corridors before we were suddenly in another great hall. There were dwarven soldiers carved into the walls, great pillars covered in the geometric patterns I had come to understand were a dwarvish trademark, and a shallow staircase, with maybe only a dozen or two steps that spanned the width of the room. Above them, I could see a wash of warm, if pale, light from what must have been the sun.
I halted as a shout, sudden and loud as thunder, carried its way through the hall. I recognized it instantly, it was the same shout, well shouts, I'd heard in Thranduil's throne room. The same fury. I didn't realize that I had stopped until Bofur did the same next to me.
Thorin.
Bofur looked as stunned as I felt, even in the low light from ahead. His eyes were wide, the reflectiveness of them making it even more exaggerated.
"Thank you, Bofur," I told him quietly.
Bofur seemed to waver for a moment, his face was twisted into an unfamiliar look of uncertainty. I hoped I was able to hide my own. I wasn't sure that I was successful but, either way, Bofur gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze and an encouraging smile before he disappeared back down the corridor.
I steeled myself, taking a few deep breaths, before climbing the stairs towards the light. The archway was so tall it must've been able to reach several stories, and it opened out into another floating walkway.
The throne room was massive, as large as the treasury. There were more huge dwarven soldier statues, at least a dozen on each side, flanking the room and even more pillars. Above them were windows, some with glass others without. The light streaming through drew my eyes to the throne. A raised dais, like Thranduil's, but dead-center and carved from the very mountain itself, from a massive stalactite that reached down, like an upside-down mountain, with veins of gold. The window behind it, just as large and wide as the throne's landing, made them glitter even in the weak light.
There were three figures in the room. I knew which was Thorin immediately. He looked so dark even in the light, his black cloak making his silhouette even more striking. He didn't need to be up on the dais for me to know it was him.
Balin and Dwalin were below him, their backs to me, standing at the junction of the walkway and the throne.
The walkway. It was covered in rubble and eroded in a way the rest hadn't. It made me anxious to cross it, even more anxious when Thorin's head shifted and I knew he'd spotted me. Balin and Dwalin turned too, after a few more steps. None of them spoke until I reached them, and even then, it was only Balin offering a relieved, "Ah, Bilbo."
"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting," I said quietly, focusing more on keeping my voice from shaking than to be heard. It didn't matter much. The room was so large an empty even my little voice echoed.
I risked a glance up at Thorin, ready to see the thunderous expression to match his shouting, and was taken aback to find that he looked just as relieved as Balin did. There was no anger, no burning fury. If Bofur hadn't been with me I would've wondered if I'd heard it at all.
"Bilbo," Balin said again, this time almost soothing. But he wasn't looking at me when I tore my eyes from Thorin's to glance over at him. Balin's gaze was fixed on Thorin, "Has seen the Arkenstone himself. Do you doubt his claim?"
"No," Thorin finally growled, after what felt like an eternity. But he didn't sound angry, not quite. More impatient. As if he couldn't believe we were having this conversation.
"We would all see it returned," Balin said carefully. Dwalin's eyes were fixed on Thorin.
Thorin's eyes were sharp as they roamed over Balin, his brows knitted tightly. Then he was shaking his head and turning away to move across the dais to the other side. His steps looked uneven. Almost stumbles.
Balin turned to Dwalin. They both looked lost. More lost than we'd been in the forest, even at our lowest. I was realizing that I wasn't alone in feeling that this shift in Thorin was uncharted waters. It wasn't nearly as comforting as I'd hoped.
"There's a lot of it," I found myself saying before I even really thought through my words.
As one, all three turned to look at me. Thorin moved so quickly, I almost flinched. He was suddenly at the edge of the dais, looming over us all. I tried hard not to feel small, with the dais adding to Thorin's already substantial height over me. Thorin's eyes were burning, the blue so bright even in the weak light as they roamed over me, searching.
I swallowed, my throat clicking as regret was already seeping in. God, why did I even say anything?
"Of treasure," I clarified after a moment of debating whether it was worth the risk of continuing. "And we haven't been here long."
Thorin, shockingly, accepted my words in stride. The anger, the impatience I was expecting was still absent. He was nodding. His brows were unfurrowing, though slowly, and his eyes were no longer roaming over me but met my gaze squarely.
I heard more than saw Balin shift next to me. When I turned to meet his eyes, I knew it was relief that I saw in them.
"Bilbo is right." Balin said, "The treasure of Erebor is greater than any of us remember. Have patience."
Just as quickly, Thorin's expression turned stormy again.
"It must be found," Thorin said, turning his back to us completely, head tilted up towards an empty impression in the stone above the throne's seat. There was an undercurrent of desperation in his words that I didn't like. After another beat, Thorin added, slow and emphatic, like he had said it before, "It is the King's Jewel."
None of us answered him. Then, between one blink and the next, Thorin was turned back around, his eyes back on mine.
After another beat, during which I resisted the instinct to look away, Thorin said, slowly, carefully, "You understand, do you not?"
Balin and Dwalin were both turned to me now. I couldn't look back. My attention was fully on Thorin, even as my thoughts raced. How could I understand? What could I understand? I was no prince, I was only dragged from my home for a matter of months, and it wasn't because it was taken from me. It was because I was taken from it. What could Thorin possibly-
I don't know how it came to my mind. Maybe it was the feverishness of Thorin's eyes, his paleness, his desperation simmering below the surface, that echoed somewhere deep in me. Maybe it was the sudden weight of it in my coat's pocket, heavier than the Arkenstone that was tucked next to it.
My ring.
Did he mean my ring? But how? How could Thorin even fathom that it was comparable? That it was something understandable, something I'd empathize with him over? That I'd want for him too?
I felt sick. Too hot and too cold. My heart was pounding, loud and deafening in my ears. My mind was spinning now, like a top. I knew something must have shown on my face because Balin inhaled sharply. They were all waiting for me to answer.
I wanted to shake Thorin. I wanted to pull the Arkenstone free and throw it over the edge of the walkway down into the abyss, the way I hadn't had the strength to do with my ring back in Lake-town.
I wanted Gandalf.
But what I wanted didn't matter. And I found myself saying finally, faintly, so faint that it was barely above a whisper, "Of course I do."
Thorin's expression turned to abject relief the moment my words came out. The lines of his face faded a little, and I didn't think it was a trick of the light. His eyes lost a bit of their manic glow. I wasn't sure why, or how.
"Good," Thorin said, his voice almost warm before his eyes turned to Balin and then Dwalin. Quick as lightning again, his mood changed, his voice dropping into an impatient growl, "See that it is found."
Balin lowered his head in deference. Dwalin nodded, but both went unseen. Thorin was already walking away, disappearing behind the throne. His footsteps echoed through the throne room until, finally, they disappeared.
I followed behind Balin and Dwalin as we too left the throne room. None of us spoke and when we reached the great hall, Balin turned away to the left and Dwalin continued down the stairs.
Paralyzed by indecision, I glanced between the two of them. When Balin disappeared down a long corridor and Dwalin turned down the same one that Bofur and I had come from, I knew I was losing my chance.
I let my instincts take over and found myself turning to the corridor that Balin had gone. I was relieved to find that Balin hadn't moved terribly fast, and by the time I'd rounded a corner he was disappearing around the next. We did this twice times until we reached one long wide corridor that would branch off every few feet, on one side with more corridors and the others with balconies that overlooked another cavernous hall. At the end was sunlight again, far weaker than what the throne room had, but clear enough that I could that it was Balin's destination.
As I closed the distance, Balin disappeared again around what looked like a bookshelf. When I stepped through the threshold, I saw that was precisely what it was. A library, with several levels and staircases that lead up to each carved out from the mountain's rock. Some of the bookshelves had toppled, others were half-collapsed. In every one there were shelves and shelves of books and scrolls. On the tables, when I turned the corner, were piles of more books, of old paper, of quills covered in dust. As if its last visitors had just up and left in a hurry. And they must have, I realized.
Balin, when I found him around a corner, was curled over one of the lower bookshelves, his back to me. Even in the low light I could see his shoulders shaking.
"Balin?" I asked before I could think better of it.
Balin flinched in surprise which I felt terrible for. My hobbit-magic had protected me for so long I didn't even consider that it had a downside. Balin turned to me, visibly pulling himself together even as he said, "Bilbo. What is it, lad?"
I knew that there was a real risk to bringing my fear to light. Not just admitting it was true, but the potential answer I would get. The others had followed Thorin through every danger, had heeded his every word. I could be stumbling into something I didn't grasp about the dwarves, something I wouldn't be able to counter. My words came out stuttering, haltingly, "There's something wrong, isn't there?"
Balin didn't answer me, which I took as a bad sign. But I had to try. After a long moment I added, "With Thorin?"
Balin watched me, almost appraisingly. And, to my surprise, he looked like he approved of whatever he was seeing and said simply, "Dragon sickness."
Dragon sickness. Smaug was back in the forefront of my mind, its words returning to echo in my ears. Its prophecy.
"It sent his grandfather mad," Balin continued, and I didn't need to ask to know who he was referring to. And I didn't need to ask what Balin meant by it. It was clear every time I'd seen Thorin since Smaug had taken flight, it was clear in his words, in his actions.
Balin was watching me even closer now, and I knew it was because of my lack of surprise. I couldn't blame him.
I thought of Gandalf and Elrond's conversation. But I couldn't bring myself to tell Balin about it. It felt too much like twisting the proverbial knife. Gandalf had been a friend not just to me but to the dwarves. Elrond had helped, too, as much as he could. To confirm that they'd doubted the dwarves – doubted Thorin – even back then would be – well. It hurt to think about. It'd hurt even more to say it out loud.
So, I brought up what had been haunting me instead.
"Smaug," I said slowly, and it still seemed to startle Balin. "It spoke to me, the second time I went in."
Balin's face was pale now, and I had to get the words out, "It said it was his greatest desire, that it would consume him." I paused and said more than asked, "Thorin hasn't eaten," Balin shook his head. I asked, even though I knew the answer, "He hasn't slept."
Balin shook his head again. It wasn't any sort of consolation that Balin looked as close to tears as I felt.
"A clever and malicious thing," Balin said after a long moment. His voice was shaking too, "but not one to weave falsities, not when the truth is far more cutting. Thorin's grandfather succumbed to it as well, long before Smaug. And now it has laid its claim on Thorin. The wyrm's magic may have quickened it, but I fear it has always been there. Waiting."
"What can we do?" I asked desperation making my voice reedy. When Balin didn't answer right away, I pressed, "Balin?"
"It is a fierce and jealous love," Balin said, sounding exhausted, sounding heartbroken. It made my own heart ache. "I fear that there is nothing that may stave it now."
A fierce and jealous love. There was no doubt now, that Thorin really had been referring to my ring, back in the throne room. Though, it didn't feel like love to me. It felt closer to obsession. But, perhaps, that was the point. Everything became muddled when it felt like a need.
It wasn't comforting exactly, to know that I'd made the right decision to keep the Arkenstone from Thorin. But it did steel my resolve. Just in case though, I found myself asking, "The Arkenstone?"
Balin looked surprised, but it was quickly overtaken by something like sorrow. Something like fear.
"The Arkenstone," Balin said slowly, "is the summit of Erebor's wealth. It bestows power on the one that bears it." I watched as Balin stared unseeingly; his eyes lost. Then, they sharpened, turning back to me. "I do not know where it rests, nor why we have yet to find it, Bilbo. But, perhaps, it is boon."
I frowned, confused. A boon?
Balin was careful to meet my eyes, very much like when my dad had something very important, something heavy, to tell me. I found myself leaning forward, to listen close just as I would with my dad, "Perhaps it is best that it remains lost. For Thorin. For us all."
Well. That was as close as a stamp of approval as I was going to get. I just hoped that Balin wouldn't be too disappointed when he found out I was the reason.
I knew I already was.
There wasn't much to say after that, for either of us.
I offered, haltingly, to return to the treasury together. There was a softness in Balin's gaze, and he did seem to consider it. But then he said he'd prefer to stay a bit longer. I understood. There was something about being alone with your thoughts, to work over everything in your mind that was calming. I couldn't fault Balin for wanting what I'd often done throughout our journey.
"Bilbo," Balin said just before I rounded the corner of a tall shelf to make my way out of the library.
When I turned back, Balin was studying me again, this time with less worry and far more measured. There was something he wanted to say, I was sure of it. Balin was very much like Gandalf. Neither said anything they didn't need to. But whatever it was, Balin kept it to himself. I could see it the moment he gave up on it. Balin lifted a hand in goodbye instead, and I returned it automatically.
The walk back to the treasury felt far too long and far too short for my liking. All I could think of was Thorin. Of what Balin said. Of the Arkenstone.
I had to keep it away from Thorin. There was no other option. But where? Keeping it on me felt more like a ticking timebomb than a safe hiding place. But where in the mountain could it go? The treasury was being searched, high and low, and I had no doubt there'd be second, third, and fourth sweeps if there hadn't been already. Could I find somewhere in the mountain? An abandoned room? An inconspicuous pile of rubble? Even though I'd seriously contemplated it back in the throne room, throwing it over own of the walkways into the black below was more reckless than I should be.
I didn't know. And that only made the whole thing worse.
When I made it to the treasury, the others were still out on the gold, dark against its warm glow. There were three of them on the landing, sleeping now that their shifts were over, and it looked like Bombur and Fili were still at the gate.
I didn't want to search. I didn't want to go back to the gate.
I did an absent double-take to the balcony where Thorin had previously taken up watching us and was unsurprised to find him already there. Thorin was a dark silhouette again, just as striking as he'd been in the throne room. He was leaning over the railing this time, as if something had caught his eye.
I knew I should go down to help. I knew what little goodwill Thorin had shown me that day would go out the window if he saw me slip away. But I couldn't go back down there. It reminded me too much of Smaug. Too much of the secret I was keeping now.
Instead, I let my feet carry me, less of a hobble but still gingerly, across the walkway to the other side and through the archway. The corridor was long and branching, and had a shallow set of stairs that led up into a wide room.
It was where Bombur must have set up shop for our meals, I could see at once. A great fireplace, carved into the walls, still had its embers glowing. There were the plates and bowls that we'd been given from Lake-town. They, along with our supplies, were neatly arranged on a long stone table. There were cobwebs everywhere else, and a thick coating of dusk, but the sun shone through the same shafts that must've been used in the cavern-halls I'd found, making the room seem brighter. More lived in than the rest of the mountain. The stairs that led up and out of the room were even more brightly lit and I knew at once it led to the outside.
I didn't hesitate to follow them and was rewarded. A wave of warmth washed over me when the sun hit my face. I took a few more steps forward and found myself in a courtyard. It was almost like a canyon, the walls were so tall it was like standing directly below a spotlight, the last of the day's sunlight funneling through the high opening. There were pillars and arches and low walls that lined what looked like cobblestone paths around the perimeter, that opened in the middle of each side to intersect in the center where stone benches were situated symmetrically across from one another and all directly in the sunbeam. It looked nothing at all like Rivendell but if felt almost identical. The way the dwarves had taken so much care, paid attention to such detail in all their architecture, while still respecting the medium that was the very mountain felt just the same. It felt right.
The sunlight felt right too. I knew I'd only been gone from the gate for a matter of hours but I had missed it dearly. Perhaps it was my time in the dungeons, locked away in the dark, that amplified my longing. Perhaps it was simply a hobbit instinct that had bled into me after all this time.
I had only just made my way to the very center of the courtyard when I heard them. Footsteps, echoing through the corridor I'd come through. And they were getting closer. It was the mountain's emptiness that sharpened my hearing, I knew. With the absence of every noise, when one came in earshot it was impossible to miss.
The footsteps were fast, I was realizing. Almost a run.
And then out from the shadows, Thorin appeared, his arm was up and shielding his face, as if the sunlight was too much. Like it hurt. I wondered if it was a dwarf thing, the sudden change in the light level made it difficult to adjust. I didn't remember back at the Misty Mountains, when we had all spilled out of the goblin tunnels, that any of the dwarves seemed bothered. It had been sunset then. We weren't that far off from one now.
I didn't want to follow that train of thought. I didn't want it to be true. That, perhaps, it was a symptom. A symptom of- of-
Thorin's arm was lowering and when our eyes met, he came to a sudden stop. We both stared. I didn't know which of us looked more stunned.
Yes, I did, I corrected myself immediately. It was absolutely Thorin. There was more to his expression than surprise. There was a desperation there too, and it felt familiar. Thorin was searching for something in me, stepping closer, but I couldn't put my finger on what.
After a long moment, Thorin joined me in the center of the courtyard. His steps were halting, like he was trying not to move too suddenly. I didn't think he even realized he was doing it. His eyes had yet to leave my face. I resisted the urge to reach up and cling to the Arkenstone. I'd failed so quickly in keeping it away from Thorin.
I didn't know what to do. I didn't know why Thorin had followed me, why he wasn't angry that I was so obviously avoiding the treasury. There was no fury in his eyes, no lurking shadows. There was only confusion.
So, I settled on saying only, "Thorin?"
Like always, Thorin answered me. His voice was low, though, and there was a thread of uncertainty as he said, "Bilbo."
"Is everything alright?" I asked carefully, unsure of what kind of response I'd receive. Given how much Thorin had changed in so little time, I couldn't begin to guess anymore.
This time, Thorin didn't answer. His eyes were shifting again, avoiding meeting mine, before they came to rest on the stone underneath our feet. He looked lost in thought, and I knew given enough time he'd reply.
A few moments later, I was vindicated, though the only thing Thorin offered was, "Yes."
A lie, I knew it immediately. Dishonesty didn't come naturally to Thorin. Not even with his – while he was – sick.
I tried another route, keeping my voice low and calm and my eyes fixed on Thorin's face as I asked, "Are you alright?"
I half-expected another lie. Thorin had done so before, at the watchtower. His expression, while not quite the same, was lending credence to that theory. But there was something else, too. Uncertainty, which I couldn't ever remember seeing in Thorin. And fear, now that I was looking closer even as Thorin glanced away, gaze skittering. Real fear.
I could feel fear growing in me as well, cold and creeping. I didn't know what caused Thorin to chase me – really there was no better word for it – and I didn't know what to make of it. I didn't know what Thorin made of it.
The silence between us was growing heavier the longer Thorin went without answering, his eyes still unwilling to meet mine. My feet were starting to hurt, or rather, starting to hurt more. Before I could think better of it, I turned to the closest bench and did my best not to limp as I moved towards it.
It was with a sigh that I eased off my feet and settle onto the cold stone. They'd been aching all day, and now that I'd taken my weight off them, it was growing. I had overdone it today. I hoped Oin wouldn't notice – oh, who was I kidding? I'd have to hope that Oin wouldn't scold me too much.
I was surprised when a heartbeat later I heard and felt more than saw Thorin join me. By the time I'd settled completely, Thorin had too. We were pressed up against each other, despite the length of the bench was enough for at least three more people. It was an echo of how Fili and Kili would sit with me. Like personal space wasn't even considered. Like they knew already I wouldn't mind. They were right then, and Thorin was right now. It was comforting, the long line of warmth against my side. I resisted the urge to lean too heavily against Thorin. It would be easy to give in, to let him keep me propped up.
Turning my head, I found Thorin already staring back. But the wildness, the unease, that seemed to cling to Thorin since Smaug had left was nowhere to be found. Thorin looked tired. Tired in a way that I didn't think was because of his illness.
We stared at each other for longer than was probably polite, under any other circumstances. I had no idea what Thorin was thinking. But I knew whatever it was, was still there, something heavy pulling down the lines of his shoulders, the corners of his mouth.
It couldn't stay inside. Especially not now, with Thorin's sickness. With our luck, the sickness may even be making it worse.
"I'd be glad to listen," I said quietly in the little space between us. My words were an echo of what my grandma would tell me after a particularly rough day of school, or after one of the rare fights Hayley and I would get into. It had been soothing then, sitting with her at her kitchen table, a bowl of vanilla ice cream for each of us. That was always her remedy and it always worked.
But I didn't have a kitchen table. Or ice cream to offer. Just me.
To be honest, I didn't think it was enough. And that belief only solidified the longer Thorin went without answering. His eyes were glittering in the low light, the sun growing weaker as night closed in.
"I," Thorin started haltingly. I almost wished he hadn't. It was so unlike Thorin that it even that one word made my stomach twist. Thorin continued, though just as hesitantly, "I believed I caught a glimpse of." He paused again and then more forcefully he said, "It was nothing."
Nothing. Oh, please. There had been something every since we stepped foot in Erebor. A something that'd been growing steadily in the days since.
I couldn't say that, though. Not even if Thorin wasn't sick. But I didn't know what to say. So instead, I tentatively reached across my lap and laid my hand over Thorin's wrist. Thorin's eyes widened. I wondered immediately if I'd made a mistake. But Thorin didn't pulled away. And I had to try. I bumped my shoulder gently to his – though honestly it was more his upper arm than his shoulder – and waited, keeping my expression open, my eyes on his.
Against all odds it worked. Though, once I heard what Thorin had to say, I almost wished it hadn't.
"I saw a woman," Thorin's voice was low, his eyes squeezed shut as he took a deep shuddering breath.
Real fear enveloped me. It was almost like being back in the treasury with Smaug. I had stumbled across something large, dangerous, impossible.
But it was possible, was my next thought. It had happened before, hadn't it? That was why Thorin's expression when he stepped out into the light was so familiar. I knew that look. It was the same one Thorin gave me on the mountainside, before Azog and his orcs had closed in on us, before I was pulled away.
He had seen me.
"A woman," I breathed out before I could stop myself. I sounded stunned even to my own ears.
Thorin's expression was turning desperate, and I felt an echo of my own desperation rise up to meet it. His eyes were growing wild again, like a cornered animal.
"It was nothing," Thorin insisted, voice gravelly and uneven. I didn't know if his words were directed at me or at himself. "It was not there. It was a trick of my mind."
I shook my head and Thorin's expression grew even more wild. "I believe you."
Whatever Thorin expected, it was very obviously not that. Thorin froze, his face looked to be carved out of stone. I could feel where we were pressed together that he had stopped breathing.
"I do," I insisted, as firmly as I could with my own mind still processing. Thorin had seen me. Again.
Thorin let out a long shaky breath even before I'd finished getting out my words. It was several more long moments before Thorin whispered, looking much more calm but undeniably lost, "How could it be?"
My heart ached. I could understand the feeling. I'd felt lost ever since I'd woken up in Bag End. I felt just as lost now, knowing that what had happened in the Misty Mountains wasn't a one-off. Gandalf had said it was because Thorin had been near-death. What did that mean about Thorin's sickness? Two wasn't a pattern but it was certainly hard not to see it that way.
I believed Thorin, of course I did. I couldn't not. He was seeing me for what I was. The real me. There was no doubt in my mind. Though it was clear to see that there was a great deal of it in Thorin. I wondered if he had realized - if it was even possible for him to realize – that he'd changed. That there was something wrong.
This was no hallucination. This was no trick of the mind. This was not a symptom, not in the way most might think it was, the way Thorin could even be thinking it was. So, I had to try and explain. To fix this.
"You told me once there's great magic in the world," I said haltingly, unsure. "Do you remember?"
Thorin turned back to me, eyes wide. His gaze was as intense as it always was, his eyes sharp and focused in a way they'd rarely been since he'd gotten sick. After a beat, Thorin nodded.
"You were right," I told him, and there was a confidence in my words that I rarely had. I thought back to Rivendell. To Thranduil's Halls. To seeing Erebor on the lake. Even to the treasure and the Arkenstone. That had been magic, I knew in my heart. I'd seen it. I'd felt it. "I think this might be the same."
In fact, I knew it was.
"A wizard could tell you more than I," I said, unable to stop myself. It felt like a risk, teasing Thorin. But I couldn't resist echoing his words from the dungeons, "But I think wizards are proof enough, don't you? They're difficult to understand," the corners of Thorin's mouth turned up at this and when I nudged him gently, they turned up even more, "but that doesn't mean they're malicious. It's just not for us to know."
"And you are content with that?" Thorin asked me, there was teasing in his voice now too. I tried not to revel in it too much, tried not to scare it away. This was the Thorin I knew. The Thorin who was my friend. There was no trace of the shadow of the dragon sickness. There was only Thorin.
I shot Thorin a tired look. I couldn't help it. And to my shock, Thorin was smiling, really and truly. "I've learned to be, yes."
And wasn't that a shock of its own?
Thorin was nodding again, but this time it was far more thoughtful, more measured. I knew, no matter how badly the dragon sickness had seeped into him, that Thorin had heard what I said, had listened. I knew he'd consider it seriously. It would have to be enough for now.
"It's very beautiful," I said, both to break the silence between us and to try and keep us both from brooding over how Thorin had seen me or, rather, had seen the real me. That was a problem for Gandalf to solve. We had enough on our plate.
When Thorin turned to look at me again, I elaborated, "Erebor."
I'd surprised Thorin again, I could see that much. His eyes were wide once more. The lines on his face from both his sickness and his worry were vanishing. There was something warm in his expression, something close to pleased, close to pride.
"Yes," Thorin breathed out, low and wondering and awestruck as he looked out over the courtyard.
I sighed, unable to stop myself. It was a relief, despite how complicated things had gotten so quickly. We were finally here, in Erebor. We'd reached the end of our quest. I was surprised by the absence of jealousy. And the absence of the anxiety that'd been my constant companion since stepping foot inside the mountain. Instead, all I felt was something sparking and warm. I was glad for Thorin. I was glad for all of them. In that moment together, it was easy to forget what lingered in Erebor. In Thorin.
My fingers squeezed Thorin's wrist gently, and I wasn't sure he'd be able to feel it through his thick coat. Just in case, I made sure to let my affection, my honestly, bleed into my next words, "I'm glad you're home."
"I," Thorin replied, just as warm, just as honest, so much so that it made me shiver, "am glad you are here with us."
I didn't know what to say to that. Though, that on its own wasn't unusual. Even after all these months the dwarves' earnestness, their unwillingness to shy away from openness, from expressing their regard, still caught me off guard.
And I didn't get a chance to decide. Thorin heard them the moment I did, and our eyes tore away from one another to turn towards the corridor we had both come out of.
Footsteps. Footsteps, echoing, their pace rhythmic, not quite as fast as Thorin's had been, but purposeful.
Thorin's face was already changing. His eyes had gone cold again. There was as stiffness to his shoulders that made me think that it was caused by pain, not confidence or pride.
Please, I wanted to beg. Please, Thorin, stay.
Dwalin stepped into the light. His eyes were sharp, expression troubled. I didn't miss the way his eyes roamed from Thorin to me and then back again. Beneath my fingers, Thorin pulled away.
"Thorin," Dwalin finally said, even and low. "Survivors from Lake-town. They're pouring into Dale."
Thorin's face darkened even as he stood. He said nothing to me, nothing to Dwalin either as he passed. He didn't even turn to see if we were following. As if it didn't matter. Maybe it didn't anymore.
I'd failed. Again. And this time, I didn't think I'd get another chance.
Thorin was too far gone now.