With Thorin still away to aid Dis, the next two days had Bilbo in a rush to get as much accomplished as possible before his meeting with the council of idiots. He and Balin spent the day's in the company of Dain, managing the other dwarves as they prepared for not only the arrival of Thorin's sister but also the Royal coronation. Dwarves from the Ironhills began to arrive in droves, and the company set to work making sure everyone had a place to stay. Dain took every opportunity to discourage and belittle the hobbit as Bilbo attempted to assist. The dwarf often switched to Khusdul when conversing with others, taking over tasks Bilbo was in the middle of, only to give him harder tasks that he couldn't complete without help. Bilbo bit his tongue, knowing that this was Thorin's cousin and a Dwarven Lord. He needed the male despite his bad attitude, but Dwalin had taken to checking on him just to keep his spirits up.
The evenings were much pleasanter. Ori had returned from Lake Town the first day, and he'd employed the dwarf to teach him Khuzdul at dinnertime. The other company members had been invited to his quarters to eat and drink in an attempt to stave off the loneliness, and the laughter and merriment could be heard throughout the upper levels of Erebor. By the end of the first night Bilbo now knew every curse word in the dictionary thanks to Gloin and Fili, and they had all enjoyed a good laugh at his pronunciations. Bilbo took it all in with good humor, enjoying having his family back under one roof.
After dinner, once everyone departed back to their own residences, Dwalin would escort Bilbo down to his small forage to work on his project. The second night he'd caught Fili and Kili as they left the small building, both looking as if they were the cat that ate the canary. When he'd asked them why they were there, they waved him away with promises to tell him later. He shrugged off their weird behavior, since he'd already concluded that if he needed to know they would tell him. Bilbo had gone about his own business working on his own secret before exhaustion set in and drove him to his bed.
He hadn't gotten any better, and in fact he thought what ever weird sickness he had might be getting worse. Episodes of pain shooting through his head to the point of blinding him for minutes at a time. His limbs ached as if he was doing manual labor, and his injured leg remained blackened from where the orc poison had entered his veins. Though the wound on his throat was closed, it often throbbed and made his voice hoarse, especially when he was tired. He wasn't eating well, not by hobbit standards; while Dwalin would often bring him snacks and meals, his stomach would roll at the site of it and he couldn't keep anything down. After each episode, he was fatigued and short of breath, but he had taken to simply working through them as he didn't have time to concede to the mysterious illness.
On the third day, he was drained when he entered the large blue tent to meet with the other leaders. He knew he looked ragged when Bard did a double take as he entered, and Bilbo gave a small smile of reassurance to the man. He and Eric stood off to the left chatting with Gandalf, while the elves were on the opposite side, Thranduil seated with Legolas and Elrond conversing in low tones behind him. Dain pushed past Bilbo to take the hobbit's seat next to Thranduil; the elf seemed to cringe away from the dwarf in distain but didn't say anything. Bilbo remained standing at the end of the table while he waited for the others to take their seats.
"I appreciate that you both sent most of your people home," Even now his voice was gruff, his throat ached, his leg throbbed, and his head pounded as he looked around the table. He'd just barely finished with one of his episodes when Balin had found him leaning in an alcove trying to breathe through it. Despite the dwarf's concern, Bilbo had assured him that he was fine and had mustered what little reserves he had left to make his way down to the field of tents outside of Erebor.
He gestured to the elder dwarf beside him, "Balin has a set of contracts for the leader of Lake Town, as well as for the elven King of Mirkwood, please look them over and we can work out the details if there any displeasure with my resolutions." The dwarf passed out the scrolls of parchment, Bard and Thranduil beginning to read. He watched as Bard and Eric's eyebrows continued to rise in shock as they took in the contract's details.
"Why?" Bard asked, turning to the hobbit.
"You're going to have to be more specific." Bilbo laughed.
"You've set a condition of receiving funds that either I or someone from my bloodline sit on the throne of Dale, why would you put in this clause?"
"Because you're the horse I've chosen to back, you know that." Bilbo shrugged. "Is the amount amicable to you both?" He looked to Thranduil who had set the scroll to the side so that Legolas and Elrond could read it.
"Why are you requesting Tauriel as an ambassador to reside in Erebor?" Legolas frowned.
"I've requested an ambassador from both the Men and the Elves; I simply know Tauriel will have Thranduil's best interests at heart while we develop and negotiate trade between our people. My goal is to solidify an alliance of mutual benefit among the three kingdoms." He didn't mention that he was trying to play matchmaker for Kili.
"The amount is more than we were asking for…" Bard looked at him as if he had lost his mind. The comment also drew Dain's attention, who had otherwise been picking at his nails with a small blade.
"What do ye mean," The dwarf asked, turning a glare in Bilbo's direction.
"Eight hundred thousand gold; payment for services provided to the defense of the Kingdom of Erebor as well as to the re-establishment of the Kingdom of Dale. Eight hundred thousand gold to the elves, to be split evenly between the elves of Rivendell and those of Mirkwood for services provided to the defense of the Kingdom of Erebor. The remaining White Gems of Lasgalen are to go to King Thranduil as incentive to establish trade and protected travel routes for immigrating dwarrow." Bilbo looked Dain in the eyes as the numbers were dropped for all to hear, the dwarf's face becoming crimson with rage.
"How dare you!" He shot up from his chair, knocking it to the floor as he finally blew up at the hobbit. "That is ours, snake!" He switched to Khuzdul, but even with only three day's of lessons Bilbo was able to pick up the gist. Angry insults spat one after another before the dwarf stormed out from the tent. Balin didn't move, showing his support for Bilbo's decision silently at his side.
Thranduil smiled pleasantly, "Where do I sign?"
The rest of the meeting went as planned, the three Kingdoms signing the agreements with little fuss. Gandalf signed as witness to the documents, and all parties received a copy to keep. After some haggling, a date of payment was set, and the three leaders were invited back to Erebor in two weeks from the day as guests to Thorin's coronation.
As everyone began to take their leave, Gandalf stopped Bilbo outside of the tent. "Are you feeling well my friend?"
"Yes, of course," He lied, pasting on a weak smile. "It's just been a big adjustment."
"Mmmm," The wizard didn't look to be buying it, but patted Bilbo's shoulder reassuringly, "If you ever need anything, I'll be close at hand."
"Thank you, I appreciate it." And he really did, despite not being as close to the wizards as he had been in the past he knew Gandalf had only ever wanted what was best for him. Even if neither of them knew what that was. "You are always welcome in Erebor." The wizard nodded before turning, making his way over to a female elf who seemed to radiate golden light. She stared at Bilbo with an ethereal other-ness, and he got the feeling she knew his every thought. As the wizard reached her, she gave a slight nod to the hobbit before turning her gaze on Gandalf. The two of them disappeared into the camp leaving Bilbo feeling inexplicably exposed.
The walk back to the gates was a quick, filled with Balin's happy chatter over a job well done. The air was crisp, and Bilbo enjoyed the grass under his feet and the sun on his back. He regretted that it would likely be another few weeks before he was able to leave the mountain again and shared his thoughts with the dwarf. The dwarf frowned, but before Balin could comment, they reached the steps to find Dain, backed by several of his solders who stood as a wall barring the hobbit entrance.
"Dain, what do you think you're doing?" Balin stepped forward.
"Thorin made a mistake, and I won't watch as this thing destroys this kingdom before it starts." Dain threw down his dagger so that it stuck in the dirt at Bilbo's feet. "I invoke my right."
"Don't do this you fool." Balin growled at the dwarf. Bilbo didn't need to know Khazdul to translate what came next.
"Duel of Honor," The other dwarves seemed to hold their breaths as they waited for Bilbo's reply. By this point many more of Dain's dwarrow as well as Bomber and Bofur were gathered around behind the line. Bilbo's stomach was a pit of dread as he looked at Balin for confirmation. The dwarf reluctantly nodded, and Bilbo reached down, removing the blade from the sand. It was similar to Dwalin's, Damaskus with a leather-bound hilt. Looking up at his challenger he met Dain's eyes, the dwarf looking down at him with a smug expression.
"When?" he asked, feeling a coldness sweep over him.
"Midnight." At that, the dwarf turned to step back into the kingdom's gates. The others stood as sentries against the 'invading hobbit' , while Dwalin muscled his way through the line to reach Bilbo, looking between the hobbit and his brother.
"What happened?"
"You know me, making friends." Bilbo chuckled, flipping the blade in the air like a toy.
"The hot-head has challenged our consort for his position." Balin filled in, causing Bilbo to do a double take.
"Wait, he wants to marry Thorin?" He couldn't keep the mix of ick and jealousy from seeping into his voice.
Dwalin patted Bilbo on the head, "Na, he just wants ye removed. He's never been able to keep up with Thorin as a leader, but with that, ye represent our King's equal despite bein' an outsider, he probably couldn't take it. I told ye this would happen," He nudged Balin who swatted him away.
"I figured our burglar could win him over like he did the rest of us."
"Well, it looks like I've got a fight to the death tonight, it's been a while." Dwalin stretched his arms over his head with a grin, the muscles rippling.
"No." Bilbo slid the blade into his belt, the cold calm vibrating through his body as he looked at his friend, "I'll not have you fighting my battles."
Both Dwarves turned to him as if he'd grown a second head. "No- No no no!"- "Ye're no gonna face Dain!" they shouted over each other at him. He ignored them both, climbing the steps to the line of dwarrow.
"Move." He growled low, his calm exterior not disguising his bloodthirsty intent. The guards exchanged looks before parting to let him into Erebor. The brother's fell in behind him, and he walked up to Bomber. "Get the others," Bombur nodded, rushing off down the corridor. Bofur joined him as he walked up to his quarters. Once there, he stepped through the double doors into room that had become his sanctuary. Sitting at the dining table which had been moved the night before for his lessons, he waited as the others filed in to take up every free seat.
Dwalin was the first to break the silence, "Ye've gotta be daft now; whats the point of my swearing myself to ye as ye're sword if ye will na' use me?"
"What's going on?" Kili asked hesitantly.
"Our consort is tryin' to get himself killed, again!"
"You don't have to fight him," Balin beseeched, "There are other ways to gain their respect and loyalty, their view of you won't change just because you let Dwalin handle this. You're allowed a proxy."
"Look, for the last several weeks I've played this your way. With the etiquette lessons, and treating you all like you're less than me as a way to gain the others respect. I let you lot call me 'Highness' and keep your distance. I tried, and it didn't work. Because I'm not dwarrow. That's not how I earned your respect," he gestured to the company. "And it's eating me up inside that I cannot treat you like the family you are to me. I will earn their respect with time, and I'm willing to work at it. But with you all, I want it to go back to how it was. To you, I'm just Bilbo."
"Here! Here!" Bofur pipped in with a grin.
"That all fine and well if ye survive, but ye want to face Dain in a duel. It will be one on one combat of blades and fists, and no one can come to yer aid, not even me." Behind his anger, Bilbo could see the worry in Dwalin's eyes.
"Are you saying your bets are on the other guy?" Bilbo teased, trying to lighten the mood.
"Trolls, goblins, orcs, wargs, men and a dragon." Bombur counted of on one hand, a happy smile on the large dwarf's face. "I think we should be warning Dain." This got a roar of laughter from the others, and even a small smirk from the protective Dwalin.
"If this is how I'm to earn his respect, I'll smash him into the ground with a smile on my face. Now, who wants to explain to me how a dwarven duel works?"
Balin and Dwalin went into the specifics; how this was considered a royal duel which could only take place between titled dwarves; this clause extending to royal consorts, even if they were a hobbit apparently. A non-titled dwarf couldn't challenge Bilbo or any other titled dwarrow. In addition, it was quite a show for anyone who wanted to attend; gladiator style, the fight would take place in a pit surrounded by stone seats. The arena had existed in Erebor since the first dwarves. The rules stated that combatants were allowed one weapon and no armor. And it was usually to the death.
"Dwarrow fight a lot, usually with fists though kicking is allowed. It's a legal and customary way to sort out grievances. But it is illegal for one dwarf to kill another except under these circumstances. If he wins, he's allowed to kill you with no repercussions." Balin confided, a small frown between his brow.
"Nothing legal anyway," Kili added, "He'd still have to deal with Uncle and all of us hating him for the rest of his life."
"He might still," Fili joked.
"Reasonable, does he have any weaknesses?" Bilbo wasn't above exploiting any advantage he could find. He leaned his head back in his chair and closed his eyes to listen.
"When we used to spar, he favored throwin' his left fist. He's a southpaw, and it's a good distraction when ye're no' expecting it, especially when the blade will likely be in his right." Bilbo could imagine the movements in his mind's eye, committing the information to his memory. He'd seen similar moves when he'd learn to spar in Rivendell, and though the elves tended to ambidextrous, they would often switch up tactics to throw him off.
"What even got him angry enough to initiate the duel in the first place?" Ori asked; he'd been writing in his book since he'd arrived, ink staining his cheeks.
"I might have given away a large sum of my one fourteenth," Bilbo peeled open his eyes to shrug sheepishly, the looks of disbelief mirrored in every face in the room except Balin's.
"WHY?" The same question echoed from the nine other dwarves.
"I haven't any need for it, and it went towards strengthening our relationship with Dale and Mirkwood." Bilbo shrugged, "I still have some of it, more than I'll ever need. I plan to put most of it towards Erebor, though I'm not sure for what yet."
This had the company shaking their heads at their crazy burglar, but they didn't argue. It was just something they should have expected to come from the hobbit; he was the best thing that could have ever happened to them, and his goodness shown through everything he did. So of course he would donate everything he had to help Erebor. The company exchanged a look among each other that basically translated to 'we need a trust fund for this dumb arse'.
They spent the next several hours feeding him and prepping him for the fight, and everyone told stories of how they'd fought their first dwarven fights. The tales of winning were not nearly as humorous as the losses, and Bilbo felt the warmth of his family around him once again.
He didn't dare fall asleep for fear that Dwalin would let him sleep through the fight, and as the hour drew near, Bilbo stood, drawing worried gazes from those around him.
"I'd still fight, ye only have to ask." Dwalin murmured beside him.
Bilbo patted the male on the arm with a grin, "I know it, but I've got this."
The group made their way through the halls, Dwalin taking them to the arena where the fight would be held. All the dwarves in Erebor lined the pit, trying to catch a glimpse of the hobbit. Dain stood in the center, shirtless with a blade in hand. Bilbo's own dwarves each gave him a hug before leaving the entryway, climbing the stairs up into the seats above. The hobbit removed his own shirt and turned to Balin to lead the way.
The elder dwarf placed a hand on each of his shoulders to look him in the face, true fear in his expression as he begged. "Please let Dwalin do this for you. Even as skilled as we know you are, you are not well, and Dain is just as skilled with one hundred years more practice. You will die, truly die, if you make one wrong move."
"I have to do this. I will never have peace unless I put him in his place. He needs to know I'm strong enough to lead this kingdom at Thorin's side, they all do. Otherwise there will always be conflict between the crown and the subjects. Like you said, this is how dwarves resolve their issues." Bilbo reached up to grasp Balin's hands in his own, giving them a squeeze before moving forward. He couldn't let doubt enter his mind, not with such high stakes. Entering the ring, he faced Dain with Balin coming in between the two as the officiate.
Dain stood opposite him, cracking his knuckles against his weapon's hilt with an overconfident smirk. "Didn't think you'd have the spine to show," he jeered, tossing the blade from hand to hand.
Bilbo remained silent, his gaze steady, calculating. He pulled Dain's Damascus from his belt, holding his steady between them. The faintest smile played on his lips, one that he knew would set the dwarf's temper alight. It worked, as the male glared at him in response.
"Rules are simple," the Balin declared loud enough for everyone in the stands to hear. "Contact and knife, fight ends when one yields or dies. Begin!"
Dain lunged first, his sheer size making the ground seem to tremble. He swung a massive left fist, aiming for Bilbo's face. The haymaker was expected just as Dwalin had said and he was able to duck low, slipping to the side with practiced ease. The blade in the right hand swept up where the hobbit should have been but wasn't.
"Too slow," Bilbo quipped, earning a growl from the dwarf. The crowd jeered from the sidelines, trying to draw Bilbo's attention and driving Dain forward with their calls.
The knife in Dain's hand came down in a brutal arc that he parried with his forearm. The force was jarring, but he was able to use his momentum to spin into Dain's blind spot. He struck quickly, the hilt of his own blade smashing into the dwarf's ribs.
This earned a grunt, but he recovered fast, throwing an elbow that grazed Bilbo's cheek and sent him reeling to the side. One foot followed the other as he stepped back, putting space between them as the larger male charged at him again and again. Each time Bilbo slipped deftly to the side, inciting the rage that would cloud the dwarf's judgment. With one last step, he feigned a retreat, stumbling slightly to bait Dain closer, before whipping to the side to slide his blade across his enemy's arm to draw blood.
"You'll pay for that," Dain snarled, ripping his blade through the air in quick swipes. Bilbo tried to breathe as he was being driven back in earnest, the bulkier dwarf using his size to corner the hobbit.
Agony laced through his temple causing him to cry out, dropping to his knees with his fist coming to his temple, just as Dain's knee met with his nose. He felt the crunch, and he was propelled back into the sand as the blood gushed down his face. The sound of cheers echoed in his ears. All he could see was bright light as the pain thrummed through his mind, but he could feel the vibration as the dwarf charged forward.
Rolling to the side, Bilbo kicked out unseeing, his foot making contact with what he assumed was Dain's leg as the dwarf let out another grunt of pain, buying him some time. Adrenalin pumped through him from the close call, driving back the pain enough that he could at least think again. Hopping back several paces, his back hit the wall as he rubbed his eyes, breathing heavily as the light formed into shapes of dim sand, dark stone, and a red headed dwarf running at him.
As Dain committed to a swing aimed at Bilbo's throat, the hobbit dropped to a crouch, sweeping Dain's legs out from under him. The larger male crashed to the ground, his knife skittering through the sand just out of reach. Bilbo pounced, pinning Dain's arms with his knees and pressing the blade of his knife to his opponent's throat.
"Yield," his voice was cold as the steel in his hand, steady.
The dwarf struggled beneath him, his face a mix of rage and disbelief. "You... you cheated!"
"Hardly," Bilbo replied, applying just enough pressure with the blade to draw a bead of blood, causing the male to cease his struggles. "You're not the only one who knows how to fight."
After a tense moment, Dain's muscles slackened. "Fine. Kill me."
Something skittered through his mind, the voice that had been silent for the last weeks from the small bag inside his pocket. Glutton, you want to taste his blood. It whispered, and he could feel it like an itch, some part of him wanted to agree. It would be easier, another opponent that couldn't harm him, couldn't harm the ones he loved. It was an legal, expected even; the dwarf had brought it on himself. The wisp of the ring in his mind mixed with himself till he almost couldn't tell the difference. Almost.
"You may be a bastard, but you don't deserve to die. I'd not weaken Erebor with your loss." Standing, he flipped the knife in his hand before tossing it to the ground beside Dain. "Next time, don't undermine your King's choice. Or I will have your head."