What's that you say? It's been two years since I've updated? What's that you say? No one is probably all that interested in this fic anymore? Well, here's a new chapter anyway.

To all of you who have been following this fic, I can't apologize enough for the wait. I have no real excuses other than in my absence I at least cleaned up the previous fifteen chapters and replaced them earlier this spring. The first two chapters have also been partially rewritten.

As always, thank you for reading and, of course, feedback is treasured. Hopefully this will be worth the wait.

Dwalin didn't follow Thorin, like I'd thought he would. He waited for me instead, arms crossed, and silent even as I struggled to my feet.

When I closed the distance between us, Dwalin turned and fell into step beside me. I knew it was a conscious effort because his stride was two of mine. But Dwalin didn't leave me behind, keeping pace with me through the corridors, through the treasury, all the way to the front gate.

By the time we reached it, everyone was already there, backs to us, staring out towards Dale.

The sun was lower than I expected, already touching the western horizon. The dwarves had lit two braziers and I could hear Thorin's voice carrying back into the mountain.

By the time we'd reached the others, they'd already begun to disperse. I frowned as Fili pushed past me, eyes downcast and expression troubled. The rest of the dwarves followed close behind.

Everyone but Thorin.

Thorin who stared out at the ruins of Dale for a long moment before turning away, expression dark. Dwalin stepped up to meet him, head bent low, both speaking quietly before Thorin jerked his head, gesturing to join the others.

I couldn't get a read on Dwalin even as our eyes met as he passed. When Thorin did the same a moment later, he didn't even look at me.

I knew I'd be expected to join the others, but I had to see. I moved closer to entrance, hoping to catch a glimpse of what Dwalin had claimed. To find any sign of life. I didn't breathe, not until my eyes caught movement. And then I saw them. The people of Lake-town. Hardly more than ants because of how far away they were but they were there, moving through the ruins.

Alive. They were alive.

But did that mean – did that mean –

Where was Smaug then?

Turning back, I could see the dwarves had begun to shift the remains of the gate, moving the large stones closer to the entrance. What were they doing?

I moved closer, close enough so that when I spoke I knew I'd be heard, "What are we." I paused and then opted for a more honest, "I don't understand."

Some of the others slowed in their motions, glancing up at me. But none of them quite stopped.

"We are securing the mountain, Master Baggins," Thorin called, his voice carrying over us all.

I hurried over to where he had already climbed halfway up the wide staircase that led up to the statue hall. I didn't bother climbing them and came to a stop at the bottom. My neck hurt as I craned it to meet Thorin's eyes. Just behind me to the left, Dwalin, Dori, and Bifur were pushing a huge piece of the gate – three times their size - back towards the entrance.

"From what?" I asked, trying not to let me fear bleed into my voice. From Smaug?

"Thieves." Thorin said, the word such an odd choice I knew I looked as confused as I felt, "Robbers. Those who would take what belongs to us."

I turned to glance back, to the ruins that I could barely see now through the gate from my position. Thieves? Robbers? Neither sounded correct, let alone kind. If the people of Lake-town were in Dale, if they'd chosen to take a day's march for shelter in ruins, there was no way that could be. Desperate, yes, but for gold? What could gold do for them now? Gold couldn't save Lake-town. Couldn't rebuild walls, homes, not on its own. Couldn't bring back the people that'd been swallowed by dragon fire.

"They wouldn't," I said, and I wished I sounded more confident than what came out. I was still reeling. Thorin's accusations were – I just couldn't follow the logic. "They're only trying to survive."

There was no other sound now. The others had stopped, I knew they were watching, listening.

"By taking what is ours," Thorin said, cold and unmoved. "By taking what we have reclaimed. I will not risk grasping, greedy hands on our birthright."

"They wouldn't," I insisted again, this time my voice was stronger, clearer. "They believed in you. In us. You cannot blame them for trying to find safety, for trying to survive."

Survive something that I caused. A calamity that was because of me.

I couldn't get the words out. They felt too choking, clawing at my throat.

"Indeed," Thorin replied, nodding his head in acknowledgement. Hope kindled in my chest. It was put out in an instant when Thorin added, "They have survived dragon fire. They have much to be grateful for. It hardly seems honorable to ask for more."

Thorin turned away. I felt cold. I watched in disbelief, as he climbed the rest of the stairs and moved out of sight. I knew where he was going. There was no doubt.

The sickness had taken ahold. Thorin was changed now. Balin, I was beginning to accept, was right. There wasn't anything we could do.

The others were moving again, much slower than before. I knew I was on my own. The dwarves' loyalty was unflinching, hard as diamonds. There was no breaking it, not even now.

When I turned, I found Kili.

Kili, who looked like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Or hearing.

For one terrifying moment, Kili stepped towards me, mouth open with a question at the ready. I could feel anxiety bubbling low in my chest. Balin and I were very much on the same page about Thorin. I suspected, though I didn't think he'd ever say so, Dwalin had an inkling too.

But Kili? It felt wrong somehow, that he'd picked up on it now. Like the world was really shifting. Like Thorin's sickness was something that was becoming more than a problem. Like it had the potential to become a disaster.

"Kili," Dwalin called out suddenly, startling us both. Kili broke first, turning to look over his shoulder, "come on lad, give us a hand."

Kili, who I'd come to learn never refused the chance to lend a hand to anyone, did what he was told. But I didn't miss the searching look he gave me over his shoulder before joining the others.

"And you," Oin said, already at my side with a hand between my shoulder blades, steering me away. "Absolutely not."

I opened my mouth to argue on instinct, even as we started up the stairs. Oin either didn't notice or didn't care. It was a toss-up. "You've been on your feet plenty, Master Baggins. You wouldn't want to compromise my hard work, would you?"

I would not. Both because Oin was genuinely concerned and because I knew he'd sunk a great deal of time and supplies into my recovery. There was no way I'd cross him now. I'd done it plenty already and he deserved a break.

By the time Oin was finished wrapping my feet for the evening, he'd come to the conclusion that I wouldn't need it any more. He also- and he made sure to say so while looking me directly in the eye- told me that, to be sure, I'd need to stay off my feet the rest of the night and sleep.

I wanted to protest. This time I almost did. It wasn't fair, for the others to work through the night, shifting rubble, building an entire gate, while I did nothing. But Oin, even more so than usual, looked unyielding. And I knew it wasn't a battle I'd win.

So, instead, I nodded, thanked Oin, and let him supervise my hobble over to my designated bedroll. It was only after I pulled my red cloak over me and curled up, that Oin was satisfied enough to leave.

But I didn't fall asleep. Maybe it was because I knew what awaited me, in my dreams. Maybe it was because of the way I could so very clearly see Thorin, barely a speck on the other side of the treasury, searching. I knew he wouldn't be sleeping either.

Eventually, after my eyes began to burn from starting out over the gold, after my head started to pound, I gave in.

And sure enough, fire and darkness greeted me like an old friend.

When I woke the next morning, the dwarves had all returned to the treasury. By the time I'd gotten my shaking under control and the shadows and flames finally faded, I'd counted eleven of them out on the gold. I wondered if they'd slept. If they'd even had breakfast. If they'd been allowed.

I hated that I even had to wonder.

When I made it out onto the gold to help look- or rather, shuffle aimlessly with my head down – the first dwarf I found was Bofur. He, as usual, looked pleased to see me and it made something in me unwind a bit when he continued to show no resentment or annoyance that I hadn't helped in rebuilding the gate. Instead, Bofur was happy to fill me in. The dwarves had finished the gate- no longer a gate but a wall with a rampart along the top, which Bofur sounded quite proud of – hours ago and had only just woken themselves. When Bofur mentioned that breakfast had already been doled out, with a rather pointed suggestion that I get my share, I promised I would.

It was nice to have a companion as I searched, though it did mean I had to dial up my show of searching. Bofur had a great deal to say, always barely above a whisper, about the more unique pieces we came across, commenting on the technique, on the metal work, on the gem-craft as he called it.

Bofur fell silent as we crested our second hill and it took me a moment to figure out why. I turned to ask but Bofur's back was to me, his head ducked down as if suddenly possessed to feverishly search. It was only when I did a second scan that I saw the reason for it.

Thorin.

Down by one of the many staircases, just beneath one of the walkways, he was shifting, head jerking back and forth, hands cupped behind his back. Suddenly, Thorin stopped, going so still that I couldn't decide if he looked more predator or more prey. Against every bit of common sense I had, my stomach lurched painfully. Had I been wrong? Had Thorin found the real Arkenstone?

I didn't realize I was leaning a little too far to try and see when I lost my footing. I jerked back instantly, instinct taking over and my leg shot out for a split second before my large hobbit foot came own and found a precarious hold in the gold. The smaller, looser pieces, coins, gems, scattered and it felt so loud, too loud.

Thorin turned at once and I felt my stomach flip again. Not out of fear, exactly. More uncertainty. I didn't understand Thorin now. I'd gotten too comfortable with how he'd been before Erebor. The two versions of him weren't lining up anymore, the few moments where they did- like in the courtyard – felt small and fleeting.

"Master Baggins," Thorin called, and he sounded like he was in a better mood. His voice warm, like it'd been at the Carrock. It was a horrible feeling, thinking it wasn't a good thing. I resisted the urge to clutch at my coat pocket, at the Arkenstone. "Come see what I have found."

I couldn't resist. I scaled down the gold awkwardly to where Thorin was. When I'd managed to reach him, our eyes met. Thorin was smiling, in a way that set me on edge. It wasn't the sort of smile I was used to seeing on Thorin's face- however rarely- genuine and warm. Instead, there was an underlying thread of satisfaction, almost smugness, like when you held something high above someone else's head that they could never reach.

Thorin turned away, bent low over something, then turned back to me, hand extended. In his hand was a pool of white gems, that shined brightly, almost like stars, even against the gold around us. After a beat, Thorin moved his hand closer, in a much clearer offer. I reached out, plucking a long strand of the white gems from his palm, letting them fall into little swoops between my splayed fingers. They were even more star-like up close. Brighter, whiter, than diamonds, but with the same faceted edges. It was easy to imagine them up against the night sky.

When I met Thorin's eyes, he was still smiling. Then he said, low and conspiratorially, "These are the White Gems of Lasgalen." And then suddenly, the smugness in his smile turned into something sharper, something almost cruel. "I know an elf lord who will pay a pretty price for these."

Elf lord. I only knew of two. And we had left on good terms with the first, which only left the second.

Thorin only made a half-turn, back towards a small dark wood box that was overflowing with the same gems was resting. With a carelessness that shocked me despite Thorin's change, he threw the remaining gems back into the box, scattering many of them among the treasure below it.

Without another glance at me or at the gems, Thorin moved away, as if he had forgotten I was there, scouring the gold beneath his feet ceaselessly.

I let him go, unsure, before turning back to the gems. They were Lasgalen whatever that meant. But they were important to Thranduil. Which meant they were important enough to keep track of. I glanced around making note of the several gold busts and a vase full of what looked like diamonds and silver, that were nearby before moving away.

I just made it to the nearest staircase, ready to abandon the search and wander the halls of Erebor for the day when I heard shouting. It was Bifur, standing on one of the walkways and shouting in dwarvish. I watched as Bifur gestured wildly at the whole treasury before making motions in the direction of the front gate. Or, the front wall now.

The others moved at once, shouting back at Bifur who'd already disappeared in the direction he'd come. Heart skittering, I climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time before making my way up the remaining stairs and down the corridors that I knew would take me to the gate. When it came into view, I nearly ran into Ori, and together we filed behind the others.

Fili, Kili, Dwalin, Oin, Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur were already standing atop the newly built rampart, staring out towards Dale. I came to a stop beside Fili, who shot me an unreadable look, before I was brushed aside by Thorin. I did my best not to jump. I had no idea he'd been so close behind me.

The others weren't far behind either, and one by one we stood at the wall of the rampart and took in the ruins of Dale. I saw them almost immediately, their golden armor gleaming starkly against the stone of Dale.

"Elves," Fili breathed out next to me, and I didn't need to meet his eyes, though I did anyway, to know he was saying it for my benefit.

Elves.

I could feel my stomach twist nervously. Thranduil.

Of course. I should've seen it coming. The situation we'd found ourselves in couldn't help but keep getting worse.

But, why? What had caused him to come, to bring an army? Was it a change of heart? Or was it – no. I thought back to the treasury, to the starlit gems. No, surely not.

A flash of movement caught my eye, a small figure was moving towards us pulling me out of my thoughts. As they got closer, I could see they were on horseback, quickly closing the distance between them and us. There was only one which meant that they were probably a messenger, not a soldier.

Maybe we could come to an understanding.

It didn't take long for the messenger to reach us, but it felt like an eternity. None of dwarves spoke and I could feel suspicion radiating from Thorin, even with Fili and Kili between us. Finally, the messenger reached us and brought his horse to a halt beneath the gate. And then I realized that it was no messenger at all.

It was Bard.

He had lived.

I let out a gasp before I could stop myself. Fili's hand immediately grasped my elbow and squeezed gently, out of reassurance or warning I didn't know.

There was a long tense moment before anyone spoke.

"Hail, Thorin, son of Thrain!" Bard called out to us, breaking the silence, echoing, ""The dragon is dead!"

I sucked in a surprised breath, and Fili's hand was back on my shoulder, warm and heavy.

Below us, Bard declared, "Slain by my bow and a black arrow handed down from Girion. With the beast gone, I would see all of our people prosper!"

Smaug was dead. We were safe. No more dragon fire, no more fear, no more looming death. Bard had done it.

Set the board. Finally, I'd done something right.

Thorin was unimpressed if his response was anything to go by, "Slain a dragon? Then why do you come to the gates of the King under the Mountain with an elven army for war?"

Oh for-

"Why do you fence yourself in like a robber in his hole?" Bard shot back and oh my God could neither of them try to be even a little diplomatic? "I am not here to quarrel with you but to parley. Will you speak with me?"

There was a wild moment where I thought Thorin was going to tell Bard exactly where he could stick his parley. With the way he had been acting since we had reclaimed Erebor, it wouldn't have surprised me.

I was glad to be proven wrong when Thorin gave Bard a curt nod and moved to the stairs. Hope began to kindle in my chest as I watched Thorin descend the stairs slowly. Maybe we could really come to an agreement.

We all watched as Bard dismounted and moved slowly across the bridge to join Thorin at the wall. Before I fully registered what I was doing, I found myself moving towards the stairs. I wasn't the only one, because Fili and Bofur were close behind me with the others following.

Below us I could hear Thorin saying flatly, "I am listening."

Not a strong start. But not a terrible one either.

"On behalf of the people of Lake-town I ask that you honor your pledge." Bard stated bluntly, "A bargain was struck: a share of the treasure so that they might rebuild their lives. I seek only what my people are owed."

I moved away from the gate, away from Thorin in the hope that my very obvious eavesdropping wouldn't worsen their discussion. A moment later, Fili and Kili joined me, pressing me between them as the others followed after.

"Owed?" Thorin asked slowly. I recognized that tone, I realized sickeningly. I'd heard it before. It was the quiet that came before the thunder. Before Thorin had unleashed his fury on Thranduil, back in Mirkwood.

This time, I knew, would be worse. Thorin was already a storm himself, the sickness sparking a maelstrom of something dark in him. When it broke out it would be roaring.

"We gave you help." Bard said, sounding almost desperate. "And in recompense all you have thus far offered is fire and sorrow."

"Help? We found no help from your people!" Thorin suddenly shouted. And there it was. I felt my eyes shut tight of their own accord. "You call it help when we were to be locked away, only gaining our freedom after bartering away our birthright for blankets and food? Your people offered nothing until they had the promise of what they wanted."

I could feel my stomach twist. Thorin wasn't completely wrong, but the people of Lake-town didn't deserve to be punished because of the Master's greed.

"Why," Thorin wanted to know, voice savage and raw, "Should I honor such terms?"

Bard was quiet for a long moment and then he said softly, "Because you gave us your word."

"There is no promise to be kept to thieves and cravens." Thorin declared, voice cold and unwavering as he turned away from the window. "You will find no friendship here, now begone!"

There was a long moment where not a sound was made and then Bard, anger and fear threaded into every word, shouted, "We are owed, Thorin! If we do not come to terms, there will be war. Is that what you want?"

War. There would be a war. I stared at Thorin, my mind spiraling. War over gold?

No. No.

"Begone!" Thorin snarled through the gate, unfazed. "Ere our arrows fly!"

No. I couldn't let this happen. Surely this wouldn't happen.

I watched as Thorin collapsed against the gate, looking like he had just run a marathon. I could hear the pounding of horse hooves. Bard had given up.

I focused on my breathing. On keeping my tears at bay. On what I could say, because I had to say something.

War.

Thorin didn't make eye contact with any of us as he pushed off the gate, and I think that it was out of guilt. Thorin pushing past us all to move back into the mountain a moment later, only strengthened my suspicion. I knew where he was headed. I think we all did, at this point. Back to looking for the Arkenstone. Like what he had done was nothing. Like declaring war was nothing.

My feet were moving even as I was still solidifying my offer to Thorin in my mind. I plucked carefully at my memory, pulling out what I hoped were accurate pieces, promises. I hoped that they wouldn't mean nothing now.

"Thorin," I called, picking up my pace to catch up to him. "Thorin, wait!"

"Master Baggins," Thorin said evenly as he came to a stop. He didn't turn to look at me.

I had to be brave. I had to try. For Thorin, even if he wouldn't appreciate it now. For the dwarves. For Bard. For Lake-town. I had to try.

"Bard is right," I said and I was proud that I stood my ground when Thorin finally turned to look at me, eyes burning, "A bargain was struck."

Thorin turned fully now. I knew the others were listening, too. I didn't know if that was the right thing to do, now that I thought over it more. Maybe I would've had a better chance if we were alone.

"A bargain," Thorin repeated slowly, though the fury that had crested with Bard wasn't back, "Can you say that truly? When it was made at our darkest hour? When there was no other recourse?"

The Master, I wanted to point out. That was the Master's fault, not the people of Lake-town. He was the one to make it a spectacle. To cut down Bard with unkind words. To withhold any promise until he heard what he wanted.

"A bargain," I insisted instead. I had to stay focused. I couldn't let this conversation veer in a direction I couldn't pull us back from, "nonetheless. You mentioned payment, before I entered the mountain. Am I still owed?"

"Yes," Thorin agreed quickly, readily, so much so that it took me aback. Thorin looked just as taken aback as I felt, as he continued, "Your contract stands, Master Baggins, by my honor. For your service, for your bravery, you are owed no less than one-fourteenth of the treasure."

I felt suddenly struck dumb. One-fourteenth. One fourteenth of a veritable sea of treasure.

Was this what winning the lottery felt like, I wondered numbly. Overwhelming. Uncomprehensible. Heavy.

One-fourteenth.

Gold would be more than enough, I wouldn't need any of the rest of it. Well, maybe a few gemstones, a few pieces of jewelry. But the rest? The golden swords, chalices, statues, candlesticks, pieces of real art, I'd be happy to leave them for the others. I could even take the risk and try to stake a claim on the Lasgalen Gems, if it meant keeping Thranduil at bay.

"Then," I said finally, realizing I'd gone quiet for a beat too long, "I'd like to offer it. To the people of Lake-town. Surely, that'd be satisfactory? For everyone?"

Behind me I heard the others speaking, hushed. I couldn't make out the words but I knew I'd surprised them. I'd surprised Thorin too. Whatever lingered of the anger Bard had sparked was gone now. Thorin's eyes were very blue, his face slack, mouth parted.

It was Thorin's turn to take a beat too long to reply and when he did it was so soft, so uncertain, that it made my heart ache, "You would give up your share?"

"Yes," I said immediately. I didn't even need to think about it. I couldn't take it with me. Bilbo, with his well-furnished, richly decorated, beautiful, cozy home, wouldn't mind either, I didn't think.

There was a long silence in which it felt like we all held our breath as Thorin considered it. I knew the moment he decided, when his expression turned stormy, his eyes flinty and cold. It felt like a fall, like the one I took in the goblin tunnels. My stomach was lurching and there was nothing to grab onto.

"And you think that the men of the lake," Thorin finally hissed, words dripping with a poison I didn't know could come from him. My hands were shaking now. I couldn't look away, "deserve your kindness? That they will stop once they get their hands on what you have earned?"

I swallowed, and it hurt. I answered honestly, "I don't believe that of them. My share will suffice, I know they will agree."

"No," Thorin said, so abruptly, so forcefully, I almost took a step back.

"There are conditions then," I asked flatly, resisting the urge to step back, to admit defeat. Though I was wary, now. This felt too close to a fight, to an argument. I knew we were on the precipice of one. I didn't know what it would become, with Thorin's sickness in play. I added, just to be clear, "in my contract."

Thorin said nothing, his face tight, his jaw clenched. I knew at once that there weren't any. And I knew Thorin wouldn't try to lie about it. He also wouldn't admit it.

I was proven right when Thorin decided on a different, ludicrous, avenue, voice low, "As your king, I will not allow them to take what is ours. They will have nothing from us."

You are not my king, I wanted to say. Not even before you became this.

"Please," I said instead. I was unable to stop my voice from cracking.

For a strange, surreal, moment, I thought Thorin would actually concede. There was an openness to his expression as Thorin seemed to realize he'd disappointed me. He did look truly sorry.

But just as quickly as it appeared, the look vanished.

"We will not speak of this again," Thorin said, finality heavy in his voice. It was over.

I watched, heart heavy, as Thorin climbed the grand staircase and disappeared from view. No, I suspected we wouldn't.

I couldn't bear to turn around and face the others, couldn't bear the idea that I'd disappoint them – or worse that they agreed with Thorin. I couldn't bear the thought of going back to the treasury. Not even the little courtyard I'd found could offer me solace.

I wanted to go home. I wanted to go home.

My feet carried me away before I could fully comprehend what I was doing. I only really noticed it when I felt the eyes of the others fall away, when I moved out of view. I was halfway up an old, enclosed staircase and found that it led to one of the old ramparts, that had been there when the gate still existed. I followed it until it ended, and debated looking out towards Dale. I wanted to make sure Bard had made it back safely but I didn't want to see him go.

War.

"Bilbo," Kili said behind me, making me jump as I shot out an arm to steady myself against the rampart.

I took one deep breath, then another, and rallied. I turned to look at Kili. He wasn't terribly close, a few pillars away, half shadowed by the sheltering overhang above the rampart.

"Kili," I answered him carefully, pleased that my voice had gone back to normal. "What can I do for you?"

Kili took my answer as an invitation and moved closer. Once he was out in the light with me, I could see how uncertain he truly looked. When Kili reached me, his hand was extended in my direction, perhaps not even realizing he was doing so, before it fell away back to his side.

"Are you alright, Bilbo?" Kili asked me, concern now joining his uncertainty.

"Yes," I said automatically. "Yes, of course I am. Are you?"

Kili nodded, eyes not on me but off to the side, out over the rampart. I wondered if he was watching Bard, if he had the strength I didn't.

"I," Kili started, sounding as uncertain as he looked. Kili didn't let that stop him, though, as he said, "I thought that was very noble of you, Bilbo. Your offer."

I bit my tongue, unsure of what to say. Noble was kind, far too kind, for what I'd done. I'd done it out of fear, not chivalry. Though I'd like to think that I'd eventually offer my share anyway. One-fourteenth was – indescribable. Immeasurable. Too much.

"What did Gandalf say?" Kili asked, uncertainty overtaken by curiosity. When I turned to look, Kili's face matched his tone, open and attentive. I didn't answer right away and Kili shrugged, as if sheepish, and added even as he watched me closely, "You were surprised. About your share."

Home. That I could go home, was what came to mind instantly. But I realized, thinking it over now, that wasn't quite true. Gandalf hadn't known what would happen when this was over. And, despite his slyness in leaving out a few – major – key details, I knew he'd have told me if he'd known for sure.

"Nothing," I said finally, because it was the truth, and Kili looked surprised, then, very tired.

"You should not have had to offer at all," Kili said slowly, eyes trailing out back over the rampart, into the valley. To Dale. "Uncle-"

Kili stopped, frozen. I knew I looked similar. For Kili to mention Thorin, to imply what I'd wondered if any of them had noticed, felt terrible. It made it more real.

Kili's eyes were back on me and I knew I had to make a choice. To send Kili back into the dark or to be honest.

It wasn't much of a choice. Kili deserved honesty. Kili and Fili had been good friends, a steady presence for me even in the beginning when all I had was Gandalf. The least I could do was return the favor.

I nodded. Kili stepped forward, a stricken look passing over his face before something close to eagerness replaced it.

"You've seen it too, haven't you? I knew it! Fili and I both thought you had. Thorin has," Kili paused, searching for the right word which made me realize just how seriously he was taking this before continuing, "changed. Something in him has changed."

I'd made my choice. It'd be unkind, deceptive, to change my mind. So, I admitted, "I think so."

Something seemed to settle in Kili and it didn't look pleasant. His eyes turned contemplative and his voice was small when he said, "You're the first to say it, Bilbo. We, Fili and I, have asked Balin and Dwalin both. Balin told Fili not to worry. Dwalin wouldn't hear of it when I went to him."

Neither surprised me. Balin and Dwalin had watched Fili and Kili grow up, had, by what Thorin had told me in the dungeons, some hand in their childhood, as family. Fili and Kili were young, to Balin and Dwalin especially. I didn't doubt they trusted them. I didn't think it was that at all. They were trying to protect them.

"Speaking of it can make it feel more real," I said, hoping to give Kili some comfort. His eyes were back on me, wide and sad.

Kili nodded, eyes drifting again, though they came back to me quickly when he asked, "What do we do?"

Wasn't that the question?

I had an idea, carefully pulling together, becoming something solid, something workable. I was already mapping out in my mind the steps I'd need to take, but I'd only ever considered them as something to take alone.

I stared back at Kili, thinking. Kili stared back. Could I bring Kili and Fili into it? Was it worth the risk?

No, I decided immediately. Fili and Kili were too important, to me. To Thorin. To put them in proverbial crossfire, when I had no way to predict what the outcome would be, I couldn't. For all their bravery, all their loyalty, if there was any possibility of Thorin turning any ire, any blame, on them – no. No. I couldn't let that happen.

"I'm not sure yet," I said slowly, and it was the truth, at least. "But I won't let it come to – come to-"

"War," Kili finished for me, barely above a whisper. There was something broken in his voice as he said, "With people who have nothing. Who have lost everything."

"Yes," I breathed out. I thought of the people of Lake-town. Of their homes. Of their hope when they figured out who we were, why we were there. I thought of the fire that followed.

"You've done so much for us, Bilbo." Kili said, resolve creeping more steadily into each word as they came out, "You'll let Fili and I do the same for you, won't you? You'll let us know what we can do to help."

I nodded, my stomach turning over as I lied, "Yes, of course."

Kili's careful answering smile made me feel like a dagger had gone straight through my heart.

I only hoped that Kili, Fili, the others, Thorin, would forgive me when the time came.

Kili was reluctant to leave me. But I knew he'd want to go to Fili, at the very least, to tell him of our conversation. I hoped that it'd bring them both a little comfort, a little hope. He only left when I promised I'd be right behind, that I'd wanted to stay out in the sun a bit longer.

When I returned to the treasury and found it empty for the first time since we'd all come back to the mountain after Smaug's flight, I didn't worry. It was a boon, really, one that I wasn't going to look too closely at. Where the others were, didn't matter. It only mattered that they were gone- from both the treasury and Bombur's makeshift kitchen when I checked - at least for now. And it meant I could work without worrying about the others spotting me whether it was Thorin -with his raging paranoia - or Nori - with his sharp eyes that missed nothing.

My only concern was that the others could be back at any time. I had to move quickly.

It was strange being in the treasury alone. It made the whole room feel empty somehow, without anyone else there. The gold was cold and there was something missing from it, something that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

But gold was exactly what I needed.

First I found a chest, one that even I could carry easily, which took more time than I wanted. Most of the chests were either too large, had no lid, or was already filled with treasure too heavy, or too numerous to move.

But eventually I found one, probably the size of a shopping basket. It was too large for me to carry as a hobbit but it was easy enough to drag it around behind me thanks to the handles it had on each side. And that was exactly what I did. I moved as quickly as I could across the treasure, trying my best not to cause another gold avalanche. Mostly, I tried to pick out treasure that was inconspicuous- as much as it was even possible- like gold coins, cut gemstones, and a handful of more intricate pieces like a few rings, necklaces, and a hair comb. I was careful not to get too caught up in picking out trinkets, my eyes constantly skittering up towards the walkways, wary of any sign of movement.

But there was no one.

Once I had filled my chest two-thirds full- and feeling grateful that it wasn't too heavy for me to move- I made an arduous journey over three large mounds of treasure, one arm pulling my chest behind me while the other was stretched out for balance. And then I saw a familiar gold bust of what must have been a dwarven lord or hero of old and the vase that I'd seen earlier that day.

I was immediately thankful that I'd logged them into my memory and a bit shocked that it was actually coming in handy. The elves' arrival complicated things, undoubtedly, but perhaps this would smooth the way a bit.

They were precisely where I'd last seen them, the White Gems of Lasgalen. I was pleased to find the box closed easily and took a few risky minutes to scour the gold around it for any more loose gems, like the ones that'd gone flying when Thorin had tossed them carelessly away. Once I was satisfied, I shut and latched the box before adding it to my chest before closing it too.

Hopefully it would be enough.

Next came storage. I glanced around the treasury once more to be sure that no one was coming before I began to move. Seeing no one, I began the exhausting task of dragging the chest slowly up the nearest staircase, wincing as it 'thunked' loudly against every step, and up towards a familiar corridor.

It was a relief reaching the courtyard, both because it was my finish line but also because it was perfectly shadowed as the sun was sinking lower. My arm was tired from dragging the chest behind. Night would be here sooner than I'd like and when it passed and morning came-

No. There would be no war, I told myself. I could fix this. Bard was a good man and he didn't want this war any more than I did. His words, his sincerity, his frustration when he hit the wall known as Thorin made that very clear. He would hear me out and, if I was very lucky, he would convince Thranduil to do the same.

I came to a stop beside one of the many pillars that flanked the courtyard, that created a walkway around the perimeter. It was the perfect one, I thought, angled enough away from the corridor that Thorin and I'd taken to get here, to obscure whatever was behind it perfectly from view from the doorway. It was still a risk, I knew. It could still be seen from the center of the courtyard I was almost sure. The shadows, for all that they seemed perfectly dark to me, would do little against the dwarves' night vision. But the only one who had ever came this far into the mountain was Thorin, from what I'd seen so far, and he wasn't likely to come back, not with the Arkenstone still missing.

I would have to go back, before I tried to leave. The others would come looking for me if I didn't.

But for now, well. I tilted my head up, neck cricking. The opening above the courtyard was so high up it felt like a painting, the white clouds against the blue sky that was already fading to a deeper blue. There was something mesmerizing about watching them pass by. About the sky's color darkening.

"Master Baggins," Thorin said, his voice low and carrying through the empty courtyard.

I moved so quickly that a bolt of pain shot up my neck as I realigned it. I turned, and there Thorin was, face obscured by shadows of the doorway. His eyes were gleaming in the low light.

"Thorin," I answered and we both moved towards each other. Thorin's footsteps were loud, with the clink of metal joining them.

Thorin's cloak was missing, I could see at once. Instead, he was dressed in armor, real armor, that shined gold and I didn't think it was just because of the light.

Armor. Which meant –

"I have something for you," Thorin said once we were close enough. His voice was even softer now, almost gravelly. "You're going to need this."

I looked down to Thorin's hands, which were moving in my direction. He was holding something, something that was loose, like fabric, falling over his hands and wrists. It shimmered even in the low light. Thorin's hands shifted again, and he stretched it out to show me.

My stomach was beginning to turn into knots. It looked like chainmail.

"What is it?" I asked instead of taking it. I hoped that I was wrong.

"A vest of silver steel," Thorin explained slowly. I was very much not wrong. This was armor too. "It was called mithril by my forebears."

I didn't want it. It was beautiful, certainly, and I was touched, in a way, knowing that Thorin had very obviously chosen it for me. And chosen to deliver it personally.

I wondered if it was an apology of sorts. For our disagreement after Bard had come. I didn't know if it was enough, that I wanted to accept it.

There was a beat of silence between us before I offered, "It's lovely."

Thorin looked almost amused by my compliment. "It is valued for more than just its beauty. No blade can pierce it. It will serve you well."

Serve me well.

"I," I started but I didn't even know what to say. I didn't want it. I didn't want it because that would mean – would mean-

"Please, Master Baggins," Thorin insisted, voice low and soft again. My heart hurt. "It is a gift. A token of our friendship."

Our friendship. Our friendship, our relationship really, felt more fractured now that it ever had. I wondered if Thorin thought so too. If he even noticed.

I let Thorin push the silver- mithril- shirt into my hands. It was very thin, much more than I expected. It felt almost like water, smooth and cool to the touch. And it wasn't just mail, the collar had been woven just as you would with cloth, into an intricate looping pattern. The sleeves ended just at the elbow.

It was a work of art, all on its own.

"Thank you, Thorin," I said quietly, finding that I didn't have the strength to argue over this.

Thorin looked pleased, and not like he did in the treasury, when he'd shown me the gems. It was instead a mirror of the expression that he'd worn when he'd named Sting, when I'd accepted it. And again, when I'd finally gotten him out of his dungeon cell.

It hurt to look at. But I couldn't look away.

It was Thorin who looked away first, eyes shifting to somewhere over my shoulder.

Oh, no, I thought. Thorin was looking now in the direction of the chest. Where we were standing, I was almost certain that he'd be able to spot it.

Thorin's expression grew more troubled, but not quite as stormy as I was used to when his sickness crept closer to the surface. I waited, unable to do much but keep my breathing steady, until his eyes met mine again.

Thorin looked worried. Afraid almost. Like something was haunting him.

I stared, unable to stop myself. Had Thorin come to some sort of realization? Did he see something in himself, that finally gave him cause to consider that the mountain, the gold, was affecting him? Was he actually- subconsciously even- grappling with the dragon sickness?

I didn't know. I didn't want to hope. But I had to try.

"I'd be glad to listen," I said carefully, keeping my voice low, "if you'd like."

Abject relief flooded Thorin's face and I was immediately glad that I offered. It was even more promising when Thorin took me by the arm gently, guiding me to the same bench from the day before.

I tried to temper my excitement. I resisted the urge to run and call for Balin, to tell him that there was finally a breakthrough. I tried to stay very calm.

All of that was washed away, icy and cold, in the very next breath when Thorin said simply, "The Arkenstone."

I knew I looked stricken. I couldn't gather the strength to mask it. But, somehow, it seemed to comfort Thorin, or maybe galvanize him, because the next thing he said was, "It has not gone unfound. I feel it in my heart."

There was no way it was a coincidence, as Thorin raised a hand and pressed it over his chest. Over the very same place the Arkenstone rested against mine.

Thorin's eyes were bright now that we were more directly beneath the opening to the sky above us, his voice dropping to a dark timber, almost shaking, as he said, "One of them has it. One of them is false."

Well, I thought even as sickening guilt started to bloom low in my belly, he was right about that. But he couldn't be more wrong about the culprit.

"I don't believe that," I found my voice was strong, firm, unyielding. Thorin actually seemed startled by it. I was too, a little. I sounded more like Thorin than like myself.

"I have been too blind," Thorin said, though he didn't sound quite as confident as before. "My own kin. My loyalty misplaced. When my back was turned-"

Not quite. Thorin hadn't even been in the mountain at the time.

"It's only been a few days," I said, unwilling to let him finish. "Have patience."

"Patience," Thorin repeated, and he sounded impatient now. That was new. Thorin had be short with everyone, I'd witnessed it myself with even Balin and Dwalin, but this was the first time in a very long time that it'd been directed towards me.

I didn't know what that meant. But I could guess. It wasn't good.

"You have the mountain," I tried instead, hoping to put a halt to whatever dark thoughts, dark words, the sickness would draw out, "your home."

"Yes," Thorin agreed after a beat of silence and my heart gave a hopeful flutter only to drop sickeningly when what followed was, "yes. The mountain is mine. The treasure is mine. And I will not part with it."

"Yes," I echoed, feeling something like loss now, something like grief. "It is yours."

Erebor. The rest of the Company. Me. None of that matter anymore, to Thorin. I could see it now, so clearly, I could hear it in every word.

Thorin was gone, lost to the dragon sickness. There was nothing more I could do for him, I didn't think. Not alone. Not without Gandalf.

But I couldn't let war follow. I knew what I had to do.

It was nearly midnight when I put my plan into motion.

Thorin was easy enough to shepherd back to the treasury. Most of the dwarves were out over the gold, whoever wasn't was probably at the gate. Thorin paused on the walkway, and I did too. He was looking out over the others, expression dark. For a painful, terrifying moment, I thought Thorin would make obvious his doubt. This time, not just to me but for everyone to hear. But when I turned towards the stairs, he followed, and was soon moving past me. I waited a moment, until I was sure Thorin wouldn't turn back, then began the task of removing my coat, my extra shirt and slipping on the mithril. It was so light, by the time I'd pulled my shirt and coat back on I couldn't feet it all. I wondered if it was magic too.

When Bombur, hours later, made his way back off the gold and up one of the staircases, I knew that was my opening. It was easy to follow Bombur to the front gate unseen, and just as easy to follow Dwalin and Gloin back to the treasury. I watched from the archway until they'd both made their own ways out onto the gold that I got to work.

It took less time than I expected, to retrieve my chest of treasure from the courtyard and bring it back towards the gate. No one noticed me in the treasury, no one out on the gold and not a single one of the dwarves who were sleeping stirred. I thanked whatever Valar was listening for my hobbit-magic. I was lucky enough to have found a coil of rope among our meager supplies, which meant I had a way down the wall. There wasn't a soul in sight, like I had planned on, and I was able to hide the chest among the remaining rubble easily before climbing the stairs.

Bombur was nearly asleep by the time I'd come back, slumped against the wall, and looking out towards Dale.

I cleared my throat and felt a small stab of guilt as I winded up scaring Bombur anyway, watching him jump. "Good evening."

"Ah," Bombur said in his quiet voice, looking relieved. I wondered who he was most worried about catching him. Certainly Thorin, but maybe even Dwalin. "Good evening, Bilbo."

I smiled in return, hoping not to reveal the swirl of guilt and anxiety gnawing at my insides for what I was about to do. "It's a cold night tonight, isn't it?"

Bombur nodded in agreement, "Aye, if only we could stoke more of a fire out here."

I hummed thoughtfully, glancing at the sputtering braziers. "It's warm enough inside."

It really wasn't. When Smaug had left, it'd took all the warmth with it. The only difference I could tell from being out here was at least it was out of the wind.

Bombur smiled ruefully, "I'm afraid my watch is until the wee hours."

I paused, gathered my courage, and then took the plunge, "You were kind enough to take my watch yesterday when Thorin called for me. I'd be happy to return the favor."

"Oh," Bombur said, looking bashful. "I couldn't ask that of you."

I smiled at him and it was only half-forced. "I'm afraid I won't be sleeping tonight. It wouldn't be any trouble, if you'd like."

Bombur visibly hesitated, but the call of a warm bedroll was enough for him to give in. "You are a good fellow, Master Baggins," Bombur told me, pushing to his feet. "I will take your offer. Thank you."

I smiled, this time with much more feeling. "You're more than welcome, Bombur. Sleep well."

I waited until Bombur made his way down the stairs and then watched as he disappeared into the mountain.

Then I bolted.

I made quick work of slipping the coil of rope over my shoulders and hauling my chest up the stairs.

There was already a thick chain, a remnant from before Erebor fell probably, bracketed to the wall. I wound my rope quickly through the bracket making the most complicated and tight knot I'd ever attempted. Once I was mostly sure that it could support my weight, I took the other end of the rope and did the same thing to one of the handles of the chest. Then came the most nerve-wracking part. Slowly I lowered the chest over the wall, unable to really tell how far down it was, since it was so dark. But eventually I felt the chest hit the ground.

And then I pulled the rope tight against the bracket and followed it.

This was a bad idea, for a variety of reasons. The one that was at the forefront of my mind was the forcible reminder that Bilbo was no athlete. My arms burned with having to hold up my weight on the rope and it was a slow and painful journey to the ground. I was so tempted just to slide down the length of the rope but resisted. If there really was going to be a war - a war- in the morning then I'd likely need to use my sword. Rope burns would be the opposite of helpful.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, I hit ground. Though I immediately ruined my success by losing my footing and falling backwards into the waist-deep water.

Gasping I pushed myself out, cursing at how cold the water was. Angrily, I pulled out Sting and slashed it through the rope. Sheathing Sting quickly, I used both hands to pull the chest behind my back out onto the faded road. I stared out at Dale mournfully, shivering, and wishing it wasn't so damn far before beginning my trek.

I would find Bard or Thranduil and I would get them to listen. To barter a peace.

I would. I had to.

Because the alternative was unimaginable.