Author's Note: Well here I am again. This time it's been three (!) years. For those of you still following and favoriting this story during the long stretch before this update, I can't thank you enough. Even if I didn't reply to a review, please know that they kept me motivated to try and finish this fic.

I'm really nervous about everything in this chapter, if I'm being honest. Pacing, plot, characterization, you name it. I wrote the first half back in 2017 and then the second half in the last week or so and it's been both terrifying and exciting to get back into this story. But here I am and here it is.

Hopefully, it was worth the wait!

It was a clear night.

That was the only good thing I could say about my hike from Erebor to Dale. It was cold, my clothes were still wet from when I'd fallen into the water at the gate, and my arms felt like jelly as I pulled my chest behind me.

Under different circumstances I would say it was an easy walk. The road, as old and forgotten as it was, was still visible even in the pale moonlight, and the ground was surprisingly level given the rest of its surroundings was jutting rock.

But I was tired, I was scared, and I wasn't particularly confident that this wasn't a completely hopeless venture. I could depend on Bard, I was almost sure, but Thranduil was another story entirely. There was certainly no love lost between him and Thorin and I had a feeling our escape from his dungeons only amplified that. I could only throw a request out to whatever Valar was watching me that Thranduil and his people hadn't figured out exactly how we'd slipped away.

My luck, I knew, probably wouldn't let that happen. My suspicion was only cemented further when, after what felt like hours, I finally crossed the bridge to Dale's gate only to find four elves posted in front of it.

A break, I remember thinking, all I wanted was a damn break. Just once. Just a small one. Was that so much to ask?

"Halt," called one of the guards once I had gotten close enough. "Who approaches?"

I stumbled to a stop, gratefully dropping the end of the chest I'd been dragging to the ground with a thump.

"My name is Bilbo Baggins," I called back, trying not to wheeze. "I'd like to speak to Bard."

There was a beat of silence in which the elves and I stared at each other. Then I tacked on belatedly, "Please."

One of the elves peeled away from the gate to come closer, eyes sharp and assessing. I waited, holding my breath, as the elf's eyes roamed over me and then to the chest behind me, before finally snapping to my face.

I was suddenly reminded that these elves we not human, no matter how familiar they looked. There was something in their eyes that unnerved me. They were old, if what I remembered of what Gandalf had told me was right, far older than they appeared. It hit me that this very well could've been a mistake.

The elf turned suddenly, speaking quickly in elvish to the other three. They spoke far quicker than I could follow even if I could understand them.

Then, just as suddenly, the elf turned back and said, "Come, halfling."

I watched, stunned, for a split-second as the elf moved back towards the gate without even bothering to check if I was following. Then, snapping to attention, I grabbed the handle of my chest and moved as quickly as I could behind him. Elves were taller than the dwarves, and probably even taller than most humans, and it took more effort than I was used to, to keep up with his pace.

Two of the remaining elves opened the gate while the fourth took up next to the elf that'd told me to follow. I could feel the eyes of the other two elves on my back as we passed them and I tried desperately to shake away the feeling that this was a trap. Thranduil and his elves may not hold dwarves in the highest regard but they weren't cruel or malicious.

But that didn't mean that they were friends, either.

Dale was a huge city, even larger than I had first thought when we came upon it on Durin's Day. Built on a hill, the stone streets were narrow and curved and didn't seem to follow any sort of pattern. The buildings ranged from being in decent shape to rubble.

And there were people. Young and old, men and women, humans and elves, who moved through the darkened streets despite the late hour. It was both a relief and unnerving. To see so many alive was honestly a miracle but to see them so restless was worrying.

The stairs were the worst part, I decided, after climbing what felt like that fifteenth staircase but was probably just the fourth. My chest made it a struggle and my escorts showed no sign of being willing to help. I was stumbling in earnest when a large white tent came into view in what looked like a courtyard.

There was a warm glow that came from it's opening and as we drew closer, I could hear voices inside.

"Wait here," the lead elf told me, not even bothering to look back before ducking into the tent.

I took the few moments he was gone to inhale deeply, trying to even out my breathing. The other elf stood next to me, still as a statue. I didn't bother to look up at him.

Just as quickly as he'd gone, my escort returned. "You may enter, halfling."

Putting on a burst of speed I darted between my escorts, throwing a thank you over my shoulder before pushing aside the tent's flap and froze.

There were four figures in the tent. Three I recognized on sight: Thranduil, Bard, and - to my dismay- the Master of Lake-town. But the fourth threw me for a long moment as I took in his brown robes and short figure. I dropped my chest behind me, mind working.

It was the wizard. Well, not the wizard. But Gandalf's friend. The one who helped us flee from the wargs. The one with a rabbit toboggan. What was his name? What was he doing here?

Where was-

"Oh," the wizard said, looking startled just as Bard said, "Master Baggins, you have survived yet."

I struggled to tear my eyes away from the brown wizard to meet Bard's eyes. I scrambled to put together an answer, "I have. And I'm so glad to see you're alright. The- your children?"

Bard's expression matched mine, it was one of relief. I exhaled shakily as he said, "Alive and well, thank you, Master Baggins."

I offered him what I hoped was a convincing smile before I turned back to the brown wizard and let out the question that my brain was stuck on, "Where is Gandalf?"

At the table, I could see Thranduil's eyes sharpen even as the brown wizard look terrified. At any other time, it would have honestly been hysterical. Ever since I'd landed in Middle Earth, I'd succeeded in intimidating exactly no one. But here was a wizard, of all people, who I'd managed to make squirm.

"I- That is to say, he," the brown wizard stuttered, "Important business arose-"

My eyes widened. "What sort of important business?"

"Hardly anything of concern," Thranduil said, watching me closely. "Radagast has come to us out of alarm rather than urgency. Well-meaning but wholly unsurprising. But you however, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, are an unexpected sight."

I watched, heart in my throat as Thranduil stood up, goblet in hand. ""It seems we meet once more. And here I thought never to see you again after you stole away from my dungeons under the nose of my guards."

Ugh. Of course.

I smiled nervously, "We didn't want to overstay our welcome."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed, though whether out of irritation or something else, I couldn't say. A few feet away I could see Bard stifling a smile. I switched gears, shoving my worry over Gandalf to the back of my mind for when I could corner Radagast alone and start interrogating him.

I had a mission.

"It's good to see you again," I told Bard sincerely, both avoiding having to engage with Thranduil- who, even outside of his Halls managed to look just as intimidating as ever- and hoping I could start by getting Bard on board with this truce first.

Bard gave me a small but genuine smile. "It is thanks to your counsel, Master Baggins, that we were well prepared. We can all sleep better now that the beast is dead."

"His counsel," the Master suddenly demanded, drawing himself up to his rather impressive full height. Radagast turned quickly, startled again but by the Master this time. "His counsel? It is because of this creature that we are here in these accursed ruins!"

I flinched, my eyes skittering between Bard, the Master, Thranduil, then back.

"You and your dwarves," the Master blustered, "have been a curse! To set the dragon on my town – to burn our homes! Why," the Master was suddenly very close, his eyes locked on the chest behind me, "I should hope that is only the beginning of the recompense owed to us! Your dwarf king gave us his word."

He wasn't wrong exactly. Not how I'd phrase it, but I couldn't deny his point. A promise was made, after all, even if it wasn't by me.

To my surprise, Bard was between us now. His hand wrapped around the Master's arm, making the Master reel back, eyes wary and narrowed.

"Master Baggins saved us all," Bard said mildly, ignoring the way the Master's face turned purple with fury.

I took a deep breath before offering, "That's precisely why I'm here. To settle our bargain."

Bard and the Master looked stunned. The Master jerked his arm free, straightening his coat fussily. Bard was staring. Behind them, Thranduil's eyes were sharp. Even Radagast was watching me closely.

"This," I said, the next word stuck in my throat for a moment, I turned and pushed the chest towards them, "war is unnecessary. I'm sure we can all reach an agreement without anyone getting hurt."

"I have tried to come to terms with Thorin," Bard reminded me, sounding very tired, "for all the good that came of it."

I breathed in deeply at the mention of Thorin. I pushed away the overwhelming misery that washed over me at the thought of what he'd say if he knew I was here, "I know. He may not be willing to negotiate but I am."

It was then that I took the opportunity to open up the chest, allowing them to see the gold and jewels within. Even outside of the mountain, they seemed to glow. Bard moved to get a closer look, eyes wide in astonishment, as the Master took in a sharp breath. Thranduil, I could see, was eyeing the little intricately carved box, face slack and eyes wide. It was the most extreme expression I'd seen from him yet.

Thranduil glided closer, goblet forgotten. I waited until he dropped down to a knee right in front of the chest before opening the little box. Thranduil's mouth fell open, just a little, in wonder as a shaking hand reached out to carefully run a long finger over the edge of the necklace.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" I asked, snapping Thranduil out of his daze as his eyes darted up to meet mine. I smiled, "They remind me of the stars."

"How," Thranduil breathed out, closing the little box carefully and pulling it close before rising. I knew right then and there that I had him. "How did you come by this? How is this yours to give?"

I cleared my throat and said, "I was brought to Erebor as part of the Company. Now that the mountain is safe and the dragon is dead, I'm entitled to my share of the treasure."

The Master, Bard, and Thranduil all stared. It hit me that I didn't have a way to prove this was true. Thorin, even if he was here, would never back me up, not for this. Oh my God why didn't I-

"Ah!" Radagast exclaimed next to me, startling us all, "The contract!"

Radagast stuck his hands deep into his pockets. It took a moment, and Radagast came up with more than what I expected: a bird's nest, several of what looked like seedlings with roots and dirt and all, a handful of feathers tied together with twine. But then finally he pulled out a familiar piece of folded parchment from his robes –I was stunned that I recognized it.

Radagast turned to me, the hand with the nest, feathers, and seedlings outstretched, "Could you, yes, thank you," he said as I cupped my hands to hold them, bewildered.

At least it wasn't a stick-bug again. I watched as he unfolded the contract carefully to let it cascade to the ground. It was good to know my memory of its length wasn't exaggerated, "For his services he is to be given one-fourteenth of Erebor's wealth."

This was not at all a miracle that I'd expected. But I'd gladly take it.

The Master let out a pitiful noise while Bard repeated, "One-fourteenth?"

"It's yours," I told him carefully, trying not to let the overwhelming relief of having backup slide into my voice. I offered my handful back to Radagast who accepted it gratefully and carefully returned his things to his pockets, "All of it, if you want it."

I wouldn't need it, after all, that is, if I returned home. It was looking less and less likely, given the circumstances. All I'd managed to do since arriving at Erebor was make things worse. I expected the Valar weren't especially pleased with me. I certainly wasn't.

"Of course we want it you little-" the Master started only to be cut off by Bard.

"What are your terms?" Bard asked, eyes bright. There was something close to hope in his voice, in his expression.

Yes.

I cleared my throat nervously, "I know that Thorin has been difficult," I ignored the looks that passed over Thranduil and Bard's faces, "but fighting isn't the answer. Tell your men – elves- to stand down. Should you agree, my share is yours: use it to rebuild Dale, rebuild Lake-town."

There was a long moment of silence before Bard said heavily, "I would like that very much, Master Baggins. Truly. But Thorin is obstinate. How exactly do you plan to get him to agree? It is in his mountain that the treasure currently sits, after all."

I sighed. How to explain that I had stolen the one thing Thorin desired, that he wanted so badly that he was convinced his family had turned on him? That I was planning to use it as extortion?

I had to choose my words carefully. I owed it to them to be honest about where things stood between Thorin and I. But to speak out loud his sickness to those that wouldn't be able to pry it out of Thorin over his dead body, well.

"Thorin is," I said slowly, carefully, "we disagree on this. But he is my friend and has always been willing to listen to me. I know, when I go back, he will listen again. And he will understand."

He'd have to. This wasn't something that could be undone, I knew. I'd already given away a portion of my share. The bargain that was struck, now saw its first payment. Thorin had sworn on his honor that I'd get my due. Had all but said aloud that there was nothing in my contract to stop it. I hoped it'd be enough leverage this them.

And if all else failed, I still had a trump card to play.

Bard stared at me for a long moment before stepping forward and extending his hand. I blinked at it, then grinned, sliding my smaller hand into his.

"You have an accord, Master Baggins," Bard said solemnly as the Master demanded, "What? Now see here-"

"We will leave you come morning," Thranduil said to Bard, speaking over the Master easily, "And return home."

The sweet feeling of success was washing over me now, warm and enveloping like a bath. I hadn't felt this good in a long time.

Radagast shifted from foot to foot, "Thranduil, there is still the matter of the orc armies of Dol Guldur. I must insist-"

Wait. What.

What.

Thranduil looked put-upon, as if this was a discussion they'd already had several times before, "I will not keep my men here to be subject to your whims, old friend."

"Wait," I turned to Radagast, "Dol Guldur? I thought that Gandalf had-"

"It wasn't what we thought," Radagast replied, words tumbling out almost before he could finish them. "An army has amassed and is marching this way."

"An army of orcs," I repeated slowly, my stomach filled with dread as I pieced it together in my mind, "But -Azog?"

"Yes," Radagast confirmed, voice faint, "That terrible creature leads them. The dwarves were never meant to retake the mountain. The balance is shifting. And now that they have-"

Oh god, the dwarves.

I turned to the three others, but nothing came out. I didn't know how to put it into words and explain how much this had worried Gandalf. Enough to leave our quest. To leave me alone to try to do as the Valar wanted. I asked instead, "How many? How long?"

"Oh, my, countless," Radagast replied, hands fluttering. "They will be here by dawn. I'm afraid there isn't much time left."

Bard was quiet, eyes darting between Radagast and I before asking, "You believe the wizard, Master Baggins?"

"Yes," I replied quickly, trying not to panic. I could hear it in my voice, anyway. They would be here at dawn, "Yes! Your people- is there anywhere that we can send them? Anywhere they can hide? Is there anything left of Lake-town?"

Bard frowned in thought, as if he was taking me seriously. Thank God.

"No, not Lake-town. We could never move the injured there safely. But the Great Hall," Bard said finally, "There are only a few entrances still accessible. And it is well built." Bard turned to Thranduil now, "You will truly leave?"

Thranduil looked aggravated, like he couldn't believe we were still discussing it. Or that Bard was on our side. "If it is so dangerous then who are we to turn away?" Thranduil turned to meet Bard's eyes head-on, "We will stay."

I clenched my teeth, resisting the urge to ask if he'd done the same when Smaug had taken Erebor. It didn't matter now, I reminded myself. The dwarves, the people of Lake-town, they were more important.

"Well, then," the Master said jovially, "Allow me to take up the task of preparing the Great Hall. Worry not! I will ensure not a single hair will be harmed of our dear citizens."

Bard pursed his lips but nodded shortly. Then he turned to me, "You have not steered us wrong, yet, my friend. Dragon fire took very few of us thanks to you and your foresight. We will ready ourselves again."

I shot him a grateful smile. "And I'll keep my word. My share is yours. But I need to return to the mountain. The others will realize I'm missing before long. And I'll need to warn them, too."

God, how was I going to do that? Thorin? No, absolutely not. Maybe Fili and Kili after all?

"Excellent," the Master declared, tucking one hand beneath his coat's lapel, "I shall take my leave and begin preparations." The Master took another step closer, eyes on the chest, and I wondered if I should draw out Sting. No way did this guy deserve a single coin, "I would be honored to take this generous gift and-"

"It stays," Thranduil said coolly, pouring a goblet of wine for Bard, his back to us. Yikes. Even when Thranduil and Thorin had thrown verbal volleys at each other they'd at least made eye contact.

The Master's expression turned stony. But he didn't falter, I'd give him that much. The Master straightened his coat, tossed out a frosty, "Good evening," and disappeared through the tent flap without a backwards glance.

I looked to Bard and Thranduil. "It was a pleasure doing business."

Bard shook his head, amused, "Safe travels back to the mountain, Master Baggins."

"Thank you," I said to Bard. I shifted to Thranduil and offered, "Good evening."

I gave Radagast a nod and followed him to the tent's flap, ready to leave and maybe, finally, get some sleep when Thranduil called after me, voice low. "Master Baggins. You would give up your claim? For dwarves?"

I paused, then found myself replying with more honesty than I would've liked, though every word was the truth, "I would have given up far more."

I took a deep breath and ducked beneath the tent's opening and into the cool night. I heard more than saw Radagast join me.

We walked in silence for a few minutes, letting the sounds of an active city, even so late at night, wash over us. I turned over the meeting we'd just left in my head. I couldn't help but feel unbearably relieved. It had gone so much better than I could have ever hoped.

I glanced up to find Radagast turning into a tiny abandoned courtyard that was well out of the way and out of earshot – even from elves. When I looked up again to Radagast, questions locked and loaded, I found him already staring at me.

"I understand what Gandalf meant," Radagast said, peering down at me, eyes very serious and far more focused than they'd ever been in the tent. It was even more unnerving than when Gandalf sometimes looked at me, looked through me. "You are truly an oddity."

An offended wave washed over me and for the first time all night I let my face show what I was feeling.

"Unnatural," Radagast murmured, hand raised as if to touch me, ignoring my look. Oh. He meant my body situation. That really didn't make it any better but it was definitely less irritating, "And yet you cohere."

Radagast leaned back, hand falling to join with his other one tucked in his sleeves, deep in thought and eyes unfocused. "Truly a marvel."

"Thank you," I said dryly, which made Radagast's eyes snap back to me.

"Gandalf called you Laura," Radagast said, watching me closely, "but that is not what you answer to."

"I followed Gandalf's lead," I answered, feeling a little defensive of Gandalf's choice. Which segued nicely into, "Where is he?"

Radagast looked surprised. My eyes narrowed. He and Gandalf really were related. They both had the worst innocent act I had ever seen. "Where is who?"

I wasn't in the mood. I wasn't even on the same continent as the mood.

"Where is Gandalf," I asked again, this time I let a little more steel into my voice, "Why isn't he here?"

Almost immediately Radagast shrunk back. I could get used to this. "Well, important business-"

"If you know what I am," I said, impatience bubbling over, "Then you know why I'm here," At this Radagast's eyes darted away, "And you should know why this would worry me."

"I do," Radagast admitted, "But I'm not sure, that is to say."

I waited several long moments but Radagast said nothing else. Deciding to take it into my own hands I asked, "What did you find at that place? Gol – Gol-"

"Dol Guldur," Radagast said, hushed. "Terrible place. Far too many shadows."

Radagast stayed quiet for another long stretch, long enough for my patience to get close to snapping when he finally admitted, "It wasn't what was there but what wasn't."

Great. More wizard riddles. Lovely. "What do you mean?"

"There was a darkness," Radagast took a deep breath as he pulled out a pipe not dissimilar to the one Gandalf had. I watched as he lit it without a touch and sweet smoke curled around us, "something wrathful and watchful and clever but when we arrived it was gone. All of it was gone. And that is why Gandalf followed."

"Followed," I repeated, trying to make sense. "Followed to where?"

"North," Radagast breathed out, no more than a whisper.

I knew I was missing something. Something big. Some kind of context.

"Should he have gone alone?" I asked, worry eating away at my stomach.

"Oh," Radagast said, looking a little calmer as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. "He isn't. Our leader has gone with him. But it will take time – time that you do not have here. And so, Gandalf asked me to find you before the armies of Dol Guldur arrive."

"Well that's," I paused, searching before finally settling on, "good."

"And now that I have," Radagast said, straightening, "we are leaving."

I stared blankly. I had a feeling he didn't mean back to the mountain so I asked, "To where?"

"As far as we can get," Radagast exclaimed anxiously. "My rabbits are waiting, we must leave. Now."

"What," I asked incredulously, "What are you talking about? I have to go back-"

"Yes," Radagast interrupted, hands waving, "To the Shire. We will take the Old Forest Road and then Master Beorn has agreed to see you safely over the Misty Mountains."

I pushed the image of the rabbit toboggan barreling through down the path in Mirkwood to the back of my mind and focused. That was not what was going to happen.

"No," I said firmly.

Radagast looked confused. Good. It was nice to not be the only one for a change. "No?"

"No, I'm not going to the Shire," I explained heatedly, "No, I'm not leaving. I'm going back to Erebor."

"But you can't," Radagast said urgently, "it isn't safe."

"I imagine not," I told him wearily. Given there was a massive evil army due to arrive tomorrow morning.

"No, no," Radagast said with a shake of his head, "It is not safe for you there."

I stared at him. The dwarves were there. How could I not be safe?

Radagast seemed to sense my thoughts because the next words out of his mouth were, "An evil lies on that gold now, thanks to the wyrm that long brooded over it. Dragon-sickness seeps into even the most strong-willed."

My stomach dropped. I knew exactly who he was referring to. I felt more than a little defensive, and, surprisingly, even angry. "I know. But that doesn't make him- make him-"

Radagast didn't answer, puffing on his pipe and avoiding my eyes. And that in itself was answer enough.

"Thorin might be sick but I won't leave him. Any of them. I'm not leaving," I said carefully, watching as Radagast's expression grew stricken, "Gandalf said that this was my destiny, to go to Erebor. Here I am, finally!"

Radagast opened his mouth, but I wouldn't let him talk me out of this. This was where I needed to be. No matter what happened.

"Gandalf is the one who brought me here," I told him, "He dragged me across this world. I wanted no part in it. I wanted to go home." I still wanted to go home. "But now that I'm here, I need you to let me try."

I watched as Radagast closed his mouth, his expression one I couldn't quite pinpoint. Resigned, maybe. Maybe even sad.

"You are precisely as he said," Radagast said finally, voice surprisingly gentle. I think he meant it as a good thing.

We stood together in silence for a long time. Long enough for Radagast to finish his pipe and for the last of the sweet smoke to fade.

"Very well, Laura," Radagast said heavily, "Return to Erebor. If you say that you must stay, so be it."

"I do," I breathed out, grateful. "Thank you."

Radagast tapped the ashes out of his pipe and tucked it away. "I will ride for help. This war – even men and elves together will not be enough to defeat the Defiler's host."

I stared at him, frowning. That was comforting to hear but it wasn't the picture Gandalf had painted for me of Radagast all those months before. "Really? You will?"

Radagast smiled wanly. "I will. This, my dear, is far too important. How tomorrow ends will decide much of what will follow. You've tipped the scales as they say, for us all. In Gandalf's stead I will do what I can."

Set the board.

My eyes filled with tears. "Thank you."

Radagast looked up to the moon and then to what I thought may have been east. "It will take time. I will not return with aid before first light. You will need to hold out for as long as you can."

I didn't like the sound of that, not at all, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "I understand."

Radagast turned and watched me closely for a few moments before telling me, "You best be off then."

I smiled up at him, wishing that I felt as confident as I sounded, "I'll see you soon."

I hoped.

The walk back to Erebor was almost a walk in the park compared to my journey to Dale. But I had to move fast, because I could already see a stripe of purple on the eastern horizon. If any of the dwarves figured out I wasn't in the mountain, well, I didn't want to think of what would happen.

I was relieved to see that my rope was still in place when I returned to the gate. That meant that the dwarves hadn't noticed my departure.

But it was the climbing of the rope that was the true obstacle. My arms were already in agony from dragging the chest of treasure around everywhere and I hadn't slept well, not truly, since before the goblin tunnels. Before my ring. I was exhausted before I'd even begun and it took me an embarrassingly long time to scale the wall and hoist myself back over the edge.

I collapsed when I made it, letting the cold from the stone seep into my back. I waited until my breathing returned to normal before stumbling to my feet. I needed to get back inside and to a bedroll, I knew. I probably wouldn't be able to sleep but at least I could be somewhere that the others could find me come morning.

I rounded the corner ready to topple down the staircase, mind listless, when I ran smack into a warm body.

And promptly had a heart attack. Oh, shit, shit, shit-

"Evening, Bilbo," Bofur said above me, hands at my shoulders to steady me. "Or morning, I suppose?"

"Hello, Bofur," I replied automatically, ignoring how my mind was screaming at me that I had messed up so bad. Catastrophically bad.

Bofur eyed me, face strangely solemn. "Alright there?"

"Yes," I answered, mind racing frantically, "I apologize I was – I was just-"

Bofur watched me closely, eyes unusually sharp, before saying, "Hope you don't mind a little company, been having trouble sleeping myself."

"Yes," I said without thinking, "I mean no, of course not."

Bofur let out a chuckle, though there was nothing joyous about it and moved closer to the brazier. "Been thinking about tomorrow, is all."

I eyed him cautiously, and admitted, "Me too."

Bofur turned to warm his hands, "This where you thought you'd wind up?"

"No," I said, more honesty in my voice than I meant to let out, "Never."

He grinned, but it was like before: empty.

"Didn't think we'd make it this far, truly." Bofur sighed, "Might wish we hadn't before the end."

My heart hurt. My lungs. My chest. We stood quietly together for a long moment before I could see something to Bofur's right catch his attention. And I didn't need to turn to know what he had seen.

My rope. God, I was an idiot.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to think of any excuse to keep Bofur's suspicions away.

But Bofur spoke again, so quietly I almost missed it, "No one could blame a soul for wishing themselves elsewhere."

I inhaled sharply.

After a long tense silence I finally answered, "No, I suppose you couldn't." I glanced up to meet Bofur's eyes. "But I have this feeling that I'm exactly where I should be." I glanced down again. "Strange, isn't it?"

Bofur's eyes were very reflective in the firelight, but I didn't miss the fondness flashing through them as he replied, "Now that does sound like a comfort."

I smiled back. It was easier than I thought it would be. "I'm glad you think so."

Bofur turned to look back out to Dale before saying, "It's almost dawn, aye? Why don't you head inside, Bilbo? Get some rest."

"I," I started, before realizing I had no idea what to say, "I'd like that, I think. You'll be alright?"

Bofur nodded, a strange look passing over his face that I couldn't quite catch, "Always am, aren't I?"

I let out a startled laugh, recognizing my own words as they were thrown back at me. "Yes," I said warmly, "We can always count on that."

Bofur grinned and this time I was sure it was real. "Good night, Bilbo."

I nodded, moving towards the staircase before stopping at the first step, hesitating.

"Bofur?" I called back, waiting until Bofur turned around before telling him, "Everything is going to be alright."

I would make sure of it.

A flash of genuine surprise crossed as his eyes roamed searchingly over my face. Whatever he found seemed to startle him even more before his expression smoothed out. "Aye, Bilbo. I reckon it will."

I smiled back before turning back to the staircase and heading back into the mountain.

It was silent in Erebor's halls as I made my way back to the treasury. I could hear no voices, no debris being moved, no weapons sharpened. Everything was still. Quiet.

When I turned down the last hallway and came upon the treasury I was surprised, and somehow still disappointed, to see only one dwarf moving through the gold. I didn't need to move closer to know who it was.

Before I even reached the landing, I was counting, able to identify who was who simply by the number of dwarves in each cluster. When I reached eleven, I took a moment to think over my options, and quickly concluded there was really only one.

I felt terrible for waking Balin. Even worse when I saw that he was sleeping in his armor. When I laid a hand on his shoulder, I felt him flinch. Balin turned to look at me, sleep quickly vanishing from his eyes and he was already halfway sitting up.

"Bilbo?" Balin rasped out, the only evidence that he'd been sleeping only a moment ago.

"I'm sorry to wake you," I said, and I meant it wholeheartedly. There was no one better, I knew. But I also knew it was a risk, to Balin, to ask for his help, given how Thorin had been reacting to him since Smaug had took flight. "Could we talk?"

"Aye," Balin replied, and he didn't appear bothered that I'd disturbed him. There were lines of worry, though, taking shape on his brow, around his mouth.

I shuffled to my feet and took a step back to give Balin room. I turned and found two pairs of gleaming eyes staring at me out of the shadows that stretched across the landing.

I knew at once who it was. Fili and Kili.

I also knew they probably had an idea of what was happening. That I wouldn't wake Balin unless it was important. But I couldn't bring myself to rope them in too. I shook my head at them just as Balin got to his feet. By the time he'd turned, Fili and Kili's eyes were gone, leaving only shadow.

Balin and I climbed the stairs together, our steps in-sync. We were still synchronized as we turned to glance down at Thorin, whose back was still to us, before disappearing through the archway. We walked down the corridor in silence until we reached Bombur's kitchen.

"I need your help," I whispered to Balin once we were far enough into the room to not be seen from the treasury.

Balin was frowning, but his expression was one of patience. "I will do what I can, Bilbo."

Relief washed over me. I knew I'd made the right choice, but it was something different to have it confirmed. I chose my words carefully, but made sure to emphasize the big points: Gandalf wasn't coming. Radagast was going to try to help us instead. An army of orcs had been built in Dol Guldur, to answer for the mountain being retaken, and that they'd be here at dawn.

Balin's face grew paler with every moment. The only silver lining I could find was that he seemed to believe me, that he was taking my words seriously.

"Azog," Balin breathed out, and he looked like he was seeing a ghost.

I nodded.

"How did you come by this news?" Balin asked finally. He didn't sound suspicious exactly. Maybe a little disbelieving. I couldn't blame him for that.

"I took Bombur's shift earlier," I said, stopping myself from adding anything else. I had to believe that Balin would find success with Thorin. That it wouldn't be needed after all, for me to let spill that I'd went around the others to fulfill the bargain. "Radagast and I spoke then."

Balin let out a long slow sigh. He looked lost in thought and I let him be. Whatever idea he could come up with, to prepare the others – to maneuver Thorin – I'd gladly follow. "This is ill news, Bilbo. And I do not doubt you. But there is some hope, in saving Erebor."

I bit my tongue, eager to hear what Balin would offer.

"Thorin," Balin said, and his voice sounded as hesitant as it did whenever Balin spoke with Thorin lately, "has sent word with one of the ravenfolk to our kin in the Iron Hills. Dain may have seen this quest as folly, but he is still our kin. And there is no denying us now that Smaug is dead. He will bring his army, to reckon with Thranduil and Lake-town."

Wait, wait, wait.

Thorin's solution to Bard and Thranduil's alliance was to bring in another army in hopes of intimidating them enough to drop it. Of all the ideas I'd heard come from the dwarves this was the most ridiculous – and terrifying – yet.

"Can you," I couldn't believe the next words that came out of my mouth. Middle Earth was so weird, "send another ravenfolk? To warn them?"

Balin suddenly looked very tired. "No, I'm afraid not. The ravens have awaited us for a very long time, it is true. But all but their leader has lost their speech, and their understanding of it, now."

I suddenly felt exhausted too. Well, there went that.

"Thorin may yet be able to put this to right." Balin said thoughtfully. His eyes met mine, a little sad, but growing more determined. "With Erebor reclaimed, his rule is not only over the mountain, but all the dwarf kingdoms. Even if Dain might wish to draw blood, he must heed the word of the King under the Mountain."

There was something close to hope kindling in my chest. Balin had listened. Balin believed. And Balin was going to help.

"Balin," I said softly, my voice cracking. I stopped, embarrassed.

Balin's eyes met mine and they were warm now. Fond. Like when Gandalf looked at me, sometimes, before he left. My heart felt, even if it was just a little, lighter.

"Rest," Balin said, firmly but kindly. "I will speak to Thorin of Azog. I will remind him of what has haunted out steps and now will soon be at our door."

Something inside me was settling now. It wasn't quite a calmness, but something that could be. That this would turn out alright.

"Thank you," I said sincerely. I was grateful, and lucky really, to have Balin with me.

"You are a kind creature, Bilbo," Balin replied, and there was something heavy in his words, something genuine, "And a good friend to keep. I am glad you are with us."

I didn't know how to reply. The Arkenstone felt suddenly heavy in my pocket.

Balin didn't mind. He took my elbow and together we returned to the treasury. Balin was already turned away, his eyes roaming over the gold, looking for Thorin. With an absent wave, he ushered me back down the steps.

When I tumbled onto my bedroll, I turned to my side. I couldn't see Balin, Thorin, or even where Balin would step out onto the gold.

I couldn't sleep. My nerves were too electric, my anxiety roiling too powerfully. My eyes were hurting, it felt like sandpaper to blink. I could only breathe. I could only wait. And hope.

I didn't wake, exactly, because I didn't sleep. But I was pulled out of my daze by shouting.

Most of the others were already up, stumbling to their feet, groping for their weapons. I joined them, falling into line behind Bifur.

Balin was already out on the rampart when we stepped into the light. He looked pale, his eyes rimmed red, expression one of defeat. My stomach dropped sickeningly. The others were in their armor. Thorin was too. And he was wearing a crown.

When I was close enough to the edge of the rampart to look out, I could see it wasn't an orc army at all. It was an army of gold.

Elves.

What the hell was this.

Their armor gleamed as they stood in long rows. And between their neat rows huddled together in a closed circle, was a group of what must have been Lake-people, dressed in browns and greys and holding whatever weapons they could lay their hands on. I saw several harpoons and even a few fishnets.

Ahead of the rows of gold, there were two figures on horseback. Well, one horseback. Bard was on the same pale horse from yesterday. The other was – elkback? Reindeerback? I didn't know the difference. Thranduil's mount had antlers, and towered over Bard's horse. It was a feat in of itself that Thranduil looked elegant even then, and not ridiculous.

Oh my God I was going to lose it. I was going to scream.

"Come, King Thorin," Thranduil called up at us. I was fairly sure, even at our distance, that he was smirking, "We bring you glad tidings."

"Your tidings," Thorin snarled, almost vicious, his face even more pale in the morning light, "Are not welcome here, King of the Mirkwood."

"I should think you'd be pleased to hear our news," Thranduil said, smirk gone now, "You will find no war with us. An armistice has been offered and accepted."

"You lie," Thorin said confidently, "As I have told your friend: you will find no goodwill with us."

Oh no. No, Thranduil wasn't-

"On the contrary," Thrandruil countered, eyes bright and gleaming in the morning sun. It was impossible for me to tell if he was angry or happy, "We have been given a promise from one of your own. And who should know honor better than you and yours, King under the Mountain?"

-going to throw me under the bus. That asshole.

Thorin flinched, almost imperceptibly, if not for the way one of his shoulders twitched. To my left I could feel Bofur's eyes on me. I couldn't turn to meet them.

"A lie," Thorin shouted back, voice unwavering, "From a base king. For none of mine have left this mountain since it has been reclaimed. No bargain could have been struck!"

"It's not a lie," I said before I could stop myself, before I could think it through. But I had to try to salvage this, even if no help would come from Thranduil or Bard.

Around me, the others were deathy quiet. I wouldn't turn to any of them either, though for an entirely different reason.

Thorin was looking at me now, his eyes were like chips of ice but his face was slack in surprise.

"I made them an offer," I explained carefully, heart twisting painfully as Gloin and Dori stepped back away from me in shock. "I may have mentioned it before. I offered my share, if they agreed to stand down. They accepted."

Not that they were doing much standing down, currently.

I'd fractured something in Thorin. His trust maybe. What little good will or friendship he still felt for me. I could see it in his eyes, his expression, as he took a step closer. It looked almost agonizing. It felt agonizing, to me.

"On your honor, you said," I explained nervously. Thorin's silence felt like more like a gathering. Like the precious few moments before a storm hit. I knew it was coming my way now. "Or does that not matter now?"

"The treasure is our birthright," Thorin said, slowly, enunciating every syllable. "My birthright. And so too is all that is kept within its halls. The mountain is mine. The gold is mine."

Anger flared suddenly, unexpectedly, somewhere in my chest. I felt too hot, my hands were shaking. Gold, gold, gold.

"Your gold," I said, my anger making my words flat. "Do you care about anything but your gold?" Thorin flinched, as if I'd struck him. "Do you care at all about what you've brought to our doorstep? War, Thorin. Don't you see?"

There was a tense moment of silence. Thorin looked far away, his eyes almost dazed.

"See?" Thorin breathed out, and I didn't want to hope. I was glad I didn't when he said, "All I see is a miserable craven rat who sooner turned to my own enemies than show any loyalty to me. To mine own."

Rat. That was a new insult. It didn't quite hurt, didn't quite land. Partially, I suspected, it was because I knew it was the sickness talking. Partially, too, it was because this felt more like Thorin was lashing out, like he was striking out into the dark hoping for a hit.

That was probably why, when I spoke next, the words came easily if not a little shaky, "Call me what you want. But I am here. We are here. Our lives are worth something! Worth more than throwing them away to war over gold."

Over a stone.

Something in my words struck true in Thorin, because he'd flinched away again. I took a deep breath, ignoring how my chest felt like it was cracking open, and said, "Look at me." Thorin, to my shock did. His eyes were even brighter now. "I trusted you to believe that. But now? I don't know you at all."

Thorin's fury was so quick so burning, it was my turn to be caught off guard. His voice though, was cold as winter when he said, "I am the king."

Not my king. Not like this.

"Not yet," I told him. I resisted the urge to pull out the Arkenstone. It felt too much like a cruel taunt. "Right?"

Thorin was frozen now. I didn't even think he was breathing. There was something dawning on his face. Realization. Disbelief, too. Warring against one another.

"Not yet," I said again. I steeled myself, gathering all my willpower to stay strong. "Not until my bargain has been honored. Then I'll tell you where it is."

Thorin was erupting again, words almost hateful now. I could feel my resolve wavering, my eyes burning. I didn't have much time left until the dam broke. "Liar! You think me so easily tricked?"

Tricked. Like I was trying to be cruel. To hurt him. I supposed, now that I was seeing all unfold between us, he was right. I was doing all those things.

"You won't find it," I said, instead of apologizing like I wanted to. Instead of doing anything that could pull this knife out of my heart. To stop the hurt, for both of us. "I've hidden it. Maybe in the mountain." I heard the others gasping around me, shifting away. I tried not to let that hurt too. "Maybe in Dale. Even with your army searching, you won't find it. I've made sure of it."

Thorin went very still. I didn't realize it at the time, but looking back it was precisely the same way a predator froze, before an attack.

Suddenly, I was stumbling back. Thorin was in front of me, having moved so fast I didn't even register he'd done so. His fingers were digging into my coat, my shirts, twisting them tight and pulling me closer.

"What was the price?" Thorin hissed at me, so low I didn't think anyone else would be able to pick up on it. "What did they promise you?"

"Nothing," I breathed out, concentrating just as much on keeping my balance on my tiptoes as I was on Thorin's face. It was twisted now, so dark it was impossible to miss the sickness. There was something below, too, burning hot as dragonfire. "I went to them with my offer."

"Traitor," Thorin shouted, loud in the silence around us. I had no doubt every soldier below could hear.

I squirmed on instinct, to get away, to catch my balance. I saw a flash of gold and Fili was there too. For an irrational terrible moment, I thought he'd joined Thorin. But then I saw his hand, grasping tightly to one of Thorin's forearms, the other hand on his shoulder. He was trying to help me.

"You're hurting me," I gasped out, not afraid exactly. Startled, certainly. Vulnerable, too. Not even at his darkest did I ever think Thorin would be this incandescently furious. With me.

Thorin let go.

I stumbled back. When our eyes met, I caught the last wisp of shock just as it was eclipsed by fury. I didn't know if it was a good thing. It if was a sign that Thorin wasn't so far gone as I'd accepted. IF there was anything worth hoping for still in him.

I didn't know if I was just seeing what I wanted to see at this point.

"You have betrayed me." Thorin said above me. Our eyes met again and I was shocked to see tears gathering at his lashes. They made Thorin's eyes look even brighter. One rolled down his cheek as he said, "You are nothing more than a craven knave. You care nothing but for your own life and have laid it bare for all to see."

Thorin had finally hit a mark. I could feel it, like a knife through my ribs. My chest, my heart, was hurting. It was agony.

I felt the first of my tears fall, catching on my chin. A second and third soon followed.

"Your employment has ended, Master Baggins," Thorin said. His voice was flat now. All fury was gone. He sounded empty. "So too has our friendship. You are banished forthwith from the kingdom of Erebor."

Oh, I thought, stunned. Fear was finally blossoming, making a home alongside my misery. I hadn't ever thought – I hadn't ever considered. The dwarves were all I had. It never occurred to me that I would ever lose them. Not like this.

There were hands on my shoulders now. They were gentle. Far gentler than I expected. Or deserved. I was being pulled away now. Thorin was turning away. That was it, then.

"Rid us of the traitor," Thorin called over his shoulder. "Throw him from the rampart if you must."

Several dwarf backs – Dori, Ori, Oin, and Bifur – blocked my view of Thorin. The hands were still pulling me away. I was still crying.

I was not thrown from the rampart, not that I actually expected it. It felt too – drastic. Dramatic, frankly.

When we reached where I'd left my rope, I brought my arm up to wipe my eyes, realizing a beat too late that it was a wasted effort. In front of me, Nori was gathering the coil of rope I had left behind and tossing it over wall.

A warm hand was on my back and I realized it was Bofur and Kili bracing me.

"It's alright Bilbo," Kili whispered, face white as a sheet. His touch was careful as they guided me over to the edge.

"Come on now," Bofur said softly, pressing the rope into my hands, "There we are, Bilbo, down you go."

"Be careful out there," Nori whispered to me, as I threw my leg over the wall. "And good fortune, friend."

I wanted to say something, anything, back. To tell them thank you. To tell them how sorry I was. That I didn't mean for this to be what happened. It didn't matter though, in the end. I couldn't get the words out, my throat was tight and hot and painful now, and I was sobbing fully as I climbed down the rope.

It took an eternity to reach the bottom and once I hit the ground I stumbled. My head was throbbing, my lungs ached, my eyes burned, and I was still crying.

I made my way across the bridge as quick as I could and came to a stop in front of Bard and Thranduil.

"Master Baggins," Bard said, eyes very wide. White-hot anger cut through me.

"How dare you," I hissed out through my tears as I glared up at them, stopping Bard short. "This wasn't what we agreed to."

Bard looked ashamed. Next to him, Thranduil look almost regretful.

Before any of us could say more, a loud horn blared across the plain. It was different than the horn I remember from our time running from wargs before we found sanctuary in Rivendell.

"What now," I heard Bard murmur, turning his horse in the horn's direction.

From above, Thorin called, "The Shire-rat's share is yours, if you live to see the next sunrise."

To the left, cresting over a ridge, was an army. But it didn't look like orcs. Their march was rhythmic, their armor gleaming.

Thranduil had an answer for us and hissed out, "Dwarves."

Perfect. Things were going far too well, anyway.