Chapter 13
They reached the mountain by the third day, which pleased Bilbo as he was getting sick of the boat… and water in general. After nearly drowning, he could see the appeal to living in a mountain for the rest of his life. With an extra day until their deadline, they weren't moving with as much urgency as they had on the first trip to Erebor. They spent the rest of that day hiking into Dale where they had decided to camp for the night before waking early in the morning to find the door on Durin's day. It was a sad skeleton of what had once been, but Bilbo was hopeful for the future where he knew Bard would rebuild this great city of Men.
Bilbo had recouped all his strength that he'd lost between Mirkwood, drowning, and being sick; Oin finally cleared him from bedrest, so he was able to help collect firewood and prepare for camp. It had surprised him that they hadn't left him behind given his state. Last time Thorin had been so driven to reach Erebor on time that he'd left behind his nephews, Oin and Bofur. The only reason he could think of behind his presence now was that Bilbo wasn't a blood relative in need of protection and he had been on the mend.
The others spent the rest of the day scouting ahead or looking for supplies and firewood while he and Ori remained to set up.
"Bilbo," the quiet voice drew his attention to where Ori was sitting with his book open.
"Yes?" Bilbo was laying out the sleeping mats in the ramshackle building they had picked as a shelter. None of the structures had ceilings, but the four stone walls still stood and would keep the wind off of them in the night.
"I'm sorry," the dwarf looked close to tears; Bilbo rushed over, checking him for injuries.
"Are you hurt? Whats wrong?" The boy seemed fine, other than the tears now streaming down his face.
"I'm so sorry, I broke your confidence and told Dwalin about your snacks. Its just you looked so sickly and I had known you weren't eating enough and I didn't tell anyone which would have prevented it to begin with but I told Dwalin when you were unconscious and he seemed so angry I just-"
"Whoa, slow down!" Bilbo cut in to his monologue, pulling out a very stained handkerchief from his pocket. He passed it to Ori who promptly began to cry more, and blubber in a way he couldn't understand. So sat next to him and waited patiently for the tears to come to an end before asking, "Why are you crying?"
Ori sniffed, rubbing his eyes with the cloth in his hand. "Because you trusted me not to tell. I've never really had a friend, not someone close to my age. My brothers are hundreds of years older than me and have always treated me like a child. None of the other's have ever been interested in me for me… except you. You truly enjoy when I share my stories with you and have become an important person to me. I could have helped you find food to keep your strength up. I could have told the others sooner, so that they might have slipped you more food during dinners. But I waited till it was too late." Tears started to leak from his eyes again," You looked so ill, the others began questioning how it came to pass; but I knew it was my fault. And even though you had asked me not to tell the others, I told Dwalin. He got so angry he punched a hole in the hallway near the privy. I wasn't sure if he was angry at you or me… but then I saw your face and that is my fault to. I'm so sorry Bilbo!"
"Ori, relax, please," Bilbo wrapped him in a hug as he sniffled." Nothing is your fault, I was reasonably healthy before Mirkwood, at which point it was my own fault. None of you were there. And I never asked you to keep my snacks a secret, I just never told anyone who didn't ask. You were the only one who asked… Why would my face be your fault?"
"Because Dwalin hit you!" Ori cried, clearly very distressed. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Bilbo began laughing.
"No, he didn't," Bilbo soothed between chuckles," And it would hurt his feelings to know you thought so little of him. He's not as scary as he seems."
"But if he didn't, how did you end up with the bruise?"
Bilbo shrugged," Had an altercation with a man and won." Ori's eyes went wide at this information, but he didn't pry. Instead, he scrawled something into his book which reminded Bilbo, "Might I borrow your quill?"
Pulling his own small notebook from a different pocket, he flipped through the water wrinkled pages. All of the writing had stuck luckily, immortalizing the immortal king's stories. He hadn't lied when he had said he planned on publishing them one day. Until then they would be kept safe on his person in a tiny elvish notebook. Scrolling a missive with the borrowed pen on a blank page, he ripped the paper from its seam before folding it carefully and placing it both book and slip back into his pocket.
Handing the pen back to Ori, Bilbo stood to stretch before looking down at the Dwarf. "You are my friend, nothing has changed. Thank you for caring for me, I'll try not to worry you in the future." An answering smile lit up the boy's face, radiating happiness.
The next morning, they began their hike up the side of the mountain to find its backdoor. After several hours of looking, with Bilbo acting as if he felt the urgency as the others did, he thought it was probably time to point out the door. He was not sure how they missed something so obvious once again.
"Up here," Bilbo shouted, pointing to the crumbling dwarven statue.
"You have keen eyes, Bilbo," Not really, Bilbo thought wondering if perhaps dwarves were near sighted. While the others began searching for cracks and key holes, Bilbo sat off to the side wondering if perhaps Thorin had bad eyesight and trying to remember any other instance when he'd missed the obvious. As the hours dwindled down to just before sunset, the company began panicking.
"We're losing the light!" Someone shouted, Thorin and Dwalin taking a hammer and pickaxe to the door.
"Tis magic, we cannot break through!" Thorin looked back at Bilbo, irritation and fear plain on the dwarve's face. "Why are you not helping?"
Bilbo tinkered with his two braid and plastered on an innocent look, "What do you mean? This isn't the last light of the day. The moon is."
Everyone froze as if Bilbo had just dropped a bomb on them. Doubt covered their faces as they stared at the horizon and waited for the last minutes for the sun to set. Just like last time, crimson light of the final rays of sun mixed with the bright blue of the final moon of fall. From above they could hear the thrush give a knock, and looking at the stone the illusion fell away to reveal the key whole.
Bilbo thought that dwarves had a pension for dramatics with such a spell, but didn't voice his opinion as Thorin removed the key from his coat. Inserting it into the keyhole, it fit perfectly, and they could hear the grinding of ancient gears as it turned. Giving the door a shove, Thorin was finally home.
"Thorin ..." Balin choked up at the doorway. Thorin gave him a nod before entering fully, running his hands over the smooth stone.
"I know these walls ... these halls ...this stone. Do you remember it, Balin? Chambers filled with golden light."
"I remember ..." The company filed in, turning to see the etching above the doorway.
"Herein lies the Seventh Kingdom of Durin's folk ... may the Heart of the Mountain unite all Dwarves in defense of this Home." Gloin read into the reverent silence.
"The throne of the King," Balin explained to Bilbo. He simply nodded, not needing any explanation this time as to what the oval carved above the throne represented. He glared up at the picture of the stone, knowing what was to come.
As they made their way through the hall, Balin asked if he was ready.
"Are we not waiting for Gandalf?" Bilbo held on to the slim hope that they would wait for the wizard was soon dashed.
"He abandoned us, and we don't have time to wait for him. If the dragon smells us it will wake. No, our best bet if for you to find the Arkenstone." Thorin frowned, looking down the corridor towards where Smaug rested.
"Alright, and that would be?" Despite knowing, he knew it would seem odd if he didn't at least ask.
"It the stone we Dwarves hold most dear, white in color with a shine unmatched by any other. You won't mistake it as anything else." Bilbo nodded at Balin's explanation, trying to remember where he'd found it last time in the mountain for gold Smaug had horded.
"Alright… Kili, can I have a word?" Both Kili and Thorin looked at him in surprise while the others exchanged frowns as he dragged the dwarf to the other end of the hall out of ear shot. "If anything goes wrong, I need you to read this. Not before. Do you understand?"
"Aye?" Kili peered down at him quizzically, "What could go wrong?"
"A lot, and you'll know it when it happens. Please do this for me." Kili took hold of the note Bilbo had pulled from his coat, eyeing it before slipping it into his own. Giving the prince a farewell pat on the shoulder, he turned and quickly made his way back to the group for Balin to lead on. Giving a nod farewell to the group, Thorin stepped forward to guide him instead. Butterflies found their way into Bilbo's stomach as he let the dwarf king walk him down the hallway to the stairs.
It was silent like the tomb they would find it to be, the stone walls rubbed smooth from thousands of years of wear by Durin's folk. It smelled old, like an untouched library, and little light could be seen as they made their way just out of sight from the company. They stopped just before the stone steps that led to the belly of the mountain. Despite knowing what awaited him, he shivered in fear of the future. Turning, he found Thorin staring down at him, a small frown puckering his brow. Hesitantly, he reach up to cup Bilbo's face; his large callused hand a gentle cress.
"You don't have to do this if you don't want to. No one would hold it against you…" A look of desperation lingered in the dwarf's eyes, whether he was hoping for him to stay or to go claim the Arkenstone Bilbo couldn't say. He only wished that perhaps it was the first option, that maybe Thorin would relinquish his kingdom for a sad broken Hobbit. No matter how much he wished for it, he would never ask for it to be a reality, having worked to hard to see Thorin sit on that throne.
"I can do this; it's why you keep me around." He faked a cheery smile, turning to take a step towards the stairs. Before he could take another step, Thorin's hand caught his wrist, halting him mid-stride. The grip was firm but not forceful, a silent plea wrapped in restraint. Bilbo turned, confusion flickering in his eyes, only to find he'd already moving closer. The space between them disappeared in an instant.
"You're wrong," Thorin murmured, his voice raw and unsteady. Then, with a depth of care that stole Bilbo's breath, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Bilbo's. It wasn't rushed or frantic; it was deliberate, as if Thorin was pouring every unspoken word and every ounce of doubt into the kiss. Bilbo froze, his mind spinning, but the warmth of Bilbo's mouth against his shattered his defenses. Slowly, he melted into it, his hand finding the king's shoulder for balance as the kiss deepened, every touch a confession neither dared to voice aloud.
Just as quickly as it had started, Thorin pulled away, his touch vanishing like a whisper in the wind. Without a word, he turned and disappeared into the tunnels, his retreat swallowed by the shadows. The faint sound of his footsteps echoed for only a moment before leaving Bilbo in a suffocating silence.
He stood frozen, his arms instinctively wrapping around himself as though to hold together the pieces of him that had suddenly begun to splinter. His lips still tingled with the memory of Thorin's kiss, but the warmth it left behind now felt like a cruel trick. What had just happened? His mind raced, replaying every second of their exchange, searching for an answer that wouldn't come.
He couldn't shake the image of the dwarf's retreating back, the silence more damning than any words. Was it regret? Rejection? Or something he couldn't begin to name? Whatever it was, it tore at him. A deep ache rooted itself in his chest, sharp and unrelenting.
But there was no time to untangle his emotions—not now. He clenched his fists and forced himself to move, his steps echoing louder than they should in the narrow, empty space. If he lingered in the dark too long, the doubts would bury him alive. He had a job to do; even if it cost him everything.
Slipping down the stairs and through the corridors, it took him some time to reach the room where he knew the dragon slept. The temperature increased the farther down he walked, and he was tempted to remove his coat as he felt sweat on his brow. Reaching the bottom, he could see coins littering the floor like breadcrumbs to his demise. One step after the other, he crept carefully into the room.
Silver and gold glittered brightly from the mountain in front of him; coins, plates, armor and chalices all reflecting what little light leaked this far into the mountain. Mixed into the pile of precious metals were stones every color of the rainbow, wooden chests which held even more riches, and one large dragon. Taking a deep breath, then another, keeping time with the soft beat of Smaug's own breath.
As gently as possible so as not to disturb anything, he began making his way up the mountain of gold, looking for any sign of the stone. Just as before, the feeling of shaking, the coins and jewels moving like sand as Smaug shifted; Awake and alert.
"Well, what do we have here…thief" The beast seemed to chuckle to himself as his enormous head shifted from side to side, gold falling with every shift, as he positioned himself to better look at Bilbo. He took a second to regret not having the ring within reach this time around; it lay silently in the bag around his neck.
"Thief has never been one of my titles…" He flinched at the lie, memories of being held out over a cliff flashing through his mind. Clearing his throat he continued, "I am Troll slayer, arsonist, writer of stories and rider of barrels." This seemed to give the monster pause.
"Barrels you say; mighty feats in deed. I've not seen one of your kind before. Where are you from?"
"I'm from just past the misty mountains, over hill and under hill," Bilbo could feel the ring like a pulse on his chest.
"And why then, does one of so many titles stand before me if not to steal from me? I can smell them on you, the dwarves. It seeps off you, the slinking creatures I knew would one day find their way back to my mountain, like flies to rot. Might I do away with you," Smaug hissed out, the heat and smoke of his breath like standing in front of an open kiln.
"You might, but then I would die thinking you are but a small lizard, like the ones I step on in my garden." Bilbo pivoted to face the large red eye.
"You think me small?" Though he didn't really have any sort of expression, Bilbo could hear he'd insulted the dragon in his voice. Bilbo nodded, trying to hide the smirk on his lips.
"Well of course, I've only seen your head and neck. I'm betting that all there really is to you. Feeble wings and body, supporting a giant head. Not very fierce-" His breath was knocked from him as he went flying, tumbling with the gold that shifted like water as Smaug pulled himself from his nest.
"I," He sat up on his haunches, "am not," Spreading his wings out wide," SMALL!"
The roar shook the cavern, and as the dragon loomed over him, his clawed wingtip poised to crush him, Bilbo scrambled back, hands bracing against the cold metal that bit into his hand. "You're definitly uglier than I thought you would be," he said, raising a hand as if to shield his eyes. Smaug hesitated, his claw freezing mid-air, as if processing the audacity of the comment. Bilbo seized the moment, a smirk creeping onto his face despite the danger. "At least I won't need to bare it much longer."
Arrows began flying from above, dwarvish battle cries echoing through the cavern. Pulling himself to his feet, Bilbo sprinted to the nearest shelter, several spires holding up a balcony and staircase. Reaching on of the large stone columns he hid behind it long enough to remove his coat and unsheathe Sting. Fire rained down as the beast roared in anger, unable to pinpoint the source of the arrows. He felt a grip on his arm where he turned to find Dwalin, axe at the ready.
"What are you doing down here?" Bilbo panicked, unsure if he could keep the dwarf safe when he couldn't even promise himself the same.
"I'd ask you the same, batshit crazy burglar, insultin' a dragon was yer best plan?"
"Yes, that and having you all stay up high in the alcoves where he can't reach you!"
"Not happening, next plan." Bilbo blew out a frustrated breath as Dwalin peered around the corner at Smaug who was trying his best to thrash and burn what he could.
"We need to get him to rear up again, so Kili can get a clean shot."
"Aye, then we'll need a distraction… or to get Kili on the ground?" Bilbo realized this was an excellent plan, as he could see the shimmering white of the missing scale on Smaug's breast from here. It would work but would also endanger Kili.
"Get him down here," Bilbo conceded. Dwalin rushed back where he came, while Bilbo made his way around the cavern running to a medium sized doorway at led into another room.
"Oh great and might Smaug! So puny when compared Scatha and Glaurung. Even smaller still to Ancalagon!" Bilbo pulled names from Thranduil's stories, spitting them at the beast like knives," Who would ever fear you!"
In a rage, Smaug batted his wings at the stray arrows as he turned to the hobbit, "Even those who do not fear me have died all the same, come little thief, I sense the great gold on your person, I shall consume you whole!" Rushing forward, mouth of razor teeth wide a reverberating scream from the dragon split the very stone rock as Bilbo was swallowed whole.