This is my first jump into the Tolkien/Hobbit/LOTR fandom.

Its been a while since I've written anything fun for myself. I recently reread The Hobbit an LOTR books, then proceeded to binge watch the Hobbit, followed by LOTR and then subsequently The Rings of Power. All those feelings I had as a pre teen reading the books and then the even stronger love/hate feels after BOTFA was released have led me to this moment of jumping back into my love of creative writing feet first .

And here we go!

**I Do not own nor claim to own any of J.R.R Tolkien's work or characters.

Reviews are appreciated.

***

The chest pain was acute and constant with each inhale. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling the leafy concoction of Gandalfs pipe gave him. The pain was worth it, eager to ease the pain and numb it. He couldn't help the shudder his body released when he finally exhaled, his eyes still closed as he leaned back against the destroyed wall of the rampart behind him. He let the feeling of the smoky substance seep into his weary body.

Gandalf chuckled as he reached to retrieve his pipe that the exhausted and beat up dwarf king offered back to him. "Oin would not be pleased seeing you all out here with me."

"He can go kiss a troll." Thorin quipped, his voice deep and slow, eyes still closed.

Gandalf's mouth twitched humorously as he heard the dwarves to his right snicker at their King's retort. He felt a nudge against his right arm, "Care to pass that along?" Fili held out his hand, eager for the same reprieve his uncle was currently enjoying.

Gandalf shook his head and chuckled, taking a quick puff of his own pipe before passing it down to the younger dwarf.

"Share brother." Kili groaned as he adjusted how he sat against the demolished wall.

"Wait your turn. You weren't stabbed then tossed off a bloody cliff." Fili ground out before he took a deep inhale from the pipe.

"Attempted stabbing." Kili corrected, "And I caught you, lest you forget that. Nearly tore my arms from my body. One would think you were a bloody rock troll with how much you weigh."

Fili rolled his eyes and exhaled deeply, his body slowly relaxing. He grimaced slightly as his back twinged, reminding him of the ugly black bruise that covered the left side of his back. "Oh he tried all right. The mithril might have saved my skin but my back is screaming at me. I can barely move."

"Be glad lad, tha means yer alive. Thank the Valar we all decided to wear mithril mail before we joined the battle." Dwalin grunted roughly, still trying to calm the storm of emotion that stormed turbulently inside his gut. Only his eyes betrayed him to those who were closest to him, how terrified he had been that he nearly lost his closest companions to their sworn enemy just mere hours before.

Kili was wracked with a coughing fit, not anticipating Gandalf's pipe to contain a stronger substance he was used to. His eyes started to water as he held out the pipe to the bald, battle scarred warrior sitting next to him. "Here." He wheezed. "Don't be like that."

"Thank Mahal! There you are! Bilbo and I have been searching everywhere for you!" Balin exclaimed, his exasperation obvious. "You were supposed to be in the infirmary getting seen to. We need to make sure your injuries are cleared. Oin is fit to be tied."

"He has more pressing injuries to see to." Thorin growled. "We are fine. We will wait until every other warrior is seen to."

"Aule preserve me." Balin grumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "At the very least let someone look you over. I don't want you bleeding out from some unseen wound."

"My mithril mail prevented any fatal injury. I am just bruised."

"Internal bleeding is nothing to scoff at." Balin ground back, his jaws clenched in frustration. "Give your kin this one peace of mind."

Thorin sighed, only to wince as his ribs protested the movement. "So be it." He conceded. His cerulean eyes opened slowly, slightly misty from the affects of the wizards pipe. "Come boys. let us prove that we are not the dead walking."

Balin let out a sigh in relief as he watched the king and his nephews get up, stiff and slow. Dwalin got up as well, slower than he normally would have. He would have to make sure his brother took time to be checked by a healer as well. Lost in his worrisome thoughts, he failed to hear Bilbo approach him. "Oh good, you found them. Are they coming willingly or am I going to have to go fetch Dain to drag them in?"

Balin huffed, his humor shallow and fleeting. "They are coming of their own volition. Probably because he's too exhausted to put up a real fight."

Bilbo's gaze fell upon Gandalf, who continued to sit against the crumbled rampart and puff on his pipe as he stared out into the battlefield. Those who were able were respectfully moving the bodies of the deceased dwarves, elves and men away from the foul bodies of the orcs and goblins. Despite the cool breeze coming down from the mountain side, the stench of death hung heavy around them. Gandalf knew they narrowly won the battle, and it was sorely won. So many innocent lives cut short, death dealt quickly on swift wings. He also knew this was only the beginning. Despite the victory this day held, the darkness was encroaching upon them. Time was now bought, but paid for dearly. He could only hope they would have a reprieve from the evils he knew were ahead.

"Gandalf?"

Bilbo had approached the wizard quietly, concern seemingly a permanent look etched into his face. So much had happened in the past 6 months, how did he ever think this quest wasn't going to change him?

"Yes Master Baggins?" Gandalf spoke out of the corner of his mouth, the pipe stem still fixed between his lips.

"The quest … Its done is it not? Thorin and his people have claimed their mountain. We have defeated the orcs, Azog is dead at Thorin's hand…" Bilbo rambled, his hand gesturing dramatically as if personally checking off tasks on a to-do list.

"It is done for today, yes. And perhaps tomorrow, a week, a month or even years from now."

Bilbo's eyebrows furrowed. "I feel as if you are insinuating that this peace is not made to last?"

They both sat in silence for a moment, watching Gandalf's smoke rings drift off to be swept away on the breeze. "Not only is this Thorin's victory, but all of Middle Earths against the one who seeks to destroy all." Gandalf paused, carefully considering his words. "This is only the beginning. And now our dear King Under the Mountain is in his rightful place to help keep that evil at bay. He has a long, hard won path ahead of him."

Bilbo swallowed the dread that had settled thick against his Adam's apple. "Then we must make sure he has all the support he needs."

Gandalf smiled, despite the severity that hung thick around them like a fog. "Yes, Master Baggins. I have no doubts that he will have just that. And more if I'm not mistaken. All in good time."

*********

Erebor had fallen silent as night had settled in. Torches remained lit, casting shadows to dance across the cold stone walls. He walked along quickly and quietly, grateful for the stillness of the late hour. His nightmare was still fresh in his minds eye.

He had awoken with a start, something mixed between a shout and sob caught in his throat. His night clothes and blanket had been drenched with the cold sweats that sent tremors through his body. It had felt so real, his body had been heavy and slow, as if trying to move through molasses.

This time, Fili had been run through, the blade bloodied and dripping onto the ice with deafening splotches. He had watched the life leave his beloved nephews eyes. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Silence ringing in his ears as he watched in slow motion, Fili, plummet to the ice flow to shatter into a million pieces as if he had been made of bloodied glass all this time.

Azog's raspy, evil laugh mocked him as he stood trapped, feet frozen to the bloodied ice flow around him. "Gazat glob (dwarf filth). Izg thrak matum-u latu-uk! ( I bring death to you all)

"No! I killed you! I ran you through! I removed your head as you did my grandfathers! You are dead!" He screamed furiously, fighting to free his legs. He went to grab his sword, but it was gone. He looked around him frantically, confused. He never went into battle without his sword!

Azog's maniacal chuckle was loud in his ears, echoing around him in the ruins of Raven Hill. He looked forward, and his heart stopped. Azog was standing directly in front of him, looking down at him with a sadistic glee in his eyes, his lips curled to reveal sharp, bloody teeth.

"Latu paashnar az-izish, snork glob! Latu paashnar bhadur lab matum! (you cannot kill me, worthless fool! You cannot change your death!)

It was swift, the icy hot pain that flooded his chest. He looked down and saw Azog's sword buried in his chest. "Mmmmaaaattttt!" (Ddddiiiieeee!) The white orc hissed as he leaned forward, pushing his dual sword arm deeper into his chest…

He fought down the bile that tried to rise up into his throat. "No, he's dead. Fili and Kili are alive. I removed his accursed head from his miserable body." He gritted through his teeth. He walked past the rooms that held the tainted treasure hoard of his grandfather, without even a passing glance. He needed the night air, a fresh reminder that he was indeed alive and that all was relatively well.

He had fallen under the curse of the dragon sickness, much to his never ending shame. He had managed to shake it off; he fought against it with all of his might. But by then it was too late. He had damaged what little rapport he had had with the people of Esgaroth and Dale. He hoped fervently that Bard would look past this grievous transgression, and allow him to make good the promise he had bestowed upon Bard and his people.

Thranduil was an entirely different matter however. But they had all fought, and they had all lost in equal measure. No one was better or higher than the other. He had to prove that he was better than his grandfather. He was not a greedy, mad king. No! Nor would he ever be! His rule would be different. It had to be. For his people, for his family and friends. But most of all, for himself.

Several days later…

Large snowflakes drifted silently onto the battle torn field outside of Erebor and Dale. Both cities were now bustling with sounds of construction, while the camp housing the Elven army of Mirkwood was slowly being taken down and the wounded readied for their slow trek home.

The royal tents were still up, housing Thranduil and his company. The elf king, his son Legolas, and Bard the Dragon Slayer were leaning over the table, discussing possible trade agreements for the future.

A guard entered and bowed swiftly before the table. "My lord, the Dwarf king and his kin are requesting an audience."

Thranduil's eyebrow raised slightly, his expression schooled like that of a carved statue. "Very well. Show them in."

Legolas and Bard glanced at one another in alarm as they took a step back to stand behind Thranduil.

Thorin stepped inside the tent, closely followed by his nephews who flanked him on either side along with Balin and Dwalin who brought up the rear of their small group.

The atmosphere in the tent was thick with tension. The dwarven kings face was stoic, as was his kin. Thranduil noticed immediately that the older dwarf with the snow white beard and hair had a wooden box clasped securely in his arms and quickly settled his gaze on the dwarf that stood before him.

Thorin swallowed thickly before he averted his eyes and gave a slight bow. "My lords." He greeted, his voice deep but civil. "I hope all is fairing well with you and your men."

Thranduil barely contained his surprise, while his son and Bard didn't even try to conceal theirs. "Considering all that has happened; yes. As you have probably gathered we are preparing for our departure."

Thorin nodded in acknowledgement. "Yes indeed. Thus my unannounced arrival." He cleared his throat as he adjusted his stance, squaring his shoulders while clasping his hands behind his back. "It is good that the Dragon slayer is here as well. What I have to say is for both of you."

The elf king cocked his head slightly to the side, shooting a glance to Bard then back to Thorin, his eyebrow still raised. "Very well." Was his cool, guarded reply.

Thorin could feel his kin's eyes on him as he took another moment to still his racing heart and the static that coursed through his veins. He knew this was going to take every ounce of humility he possessed. But it had to be done, not only for his people but for himself. He prayed to Mahal to give him all the strength he could to keep him on this painful path of redemption.

"I thought myself strong enough to withstand the evil that had overtaken my grandfather. And I was wrong." He had to pause, as if the words physically pained him to speak aloud. "I was too blinded by the past, to what my people lost, to see what I had become. And I stand here before you to make the first steps to fixing what I broke. I was so focused on you failing to come to our aid, to you turning your back on my people, I failed to remember that it was my Grandfather, lost in his own battle, who struck the first blow in what destroyed the ties to our kingdoms."

Thorins jaw clenched as he motioned with his head for Balin to step forward with the box he was holding. Balin stepped forward to place the box in front of Thranduil.

The Elvenking's eyes widened, not fully believing what he was hearing as he looked at the teak box that had been placed in front of him. Another brief moment of silence fell in the tent before Thranduil slowly opened the box, to see twinkling against luscious navy velvet, the gems of Lasgalen. "Calathiel." He trembled as his slender fingers traced the gems before him in reverence.

Thorin watched his once nemesis, guilt churning in his stomach when he heard him whisper his wife's name brokenly.

"What made you change your mind?" Thranduil's gaze snapped back up to Thorin questioningly.

"It was wrong for my Grandfather to keep them from you." Thorin's jaw was still clenched. "Before Smaug came, my father and I were attempting to have them restored to you without his knowledge. The sickness had such a hold on him, he couldn't see reason. They were never ours to keep in the first place."

It was Legolas that stepped forward, when it was apparent that Thranduil was at a loss for words. "Thank you." The sincerity in the elf prince's voice allowed the dwarves to relax slightly.

Thorin gave the prince a grateful nod, his ice blue eyes softening a fraction. He then turned his attention to Bard. "At your earliest convenience, we can discuss terms in regards what is owed to your people."

"Yes, of course. That would be most appreciated." Bard found his voice, shocked that the Dwarven King was so amiable. Bard was a good judge of character, and could tell that the king that stood before him now was not the same revenge driven dwarf that he had met back in Lake-town. It all seemed such a long time ago, when in reality it had only been a little over a month prior. He wanted to be free of the accursed gem that started this entire mess. He pulled the Arkenstone out slowly, and shifted its hefty weight in his hand. As he looked down at its luminous body, he saw the dwarves tense. Bard, without any further hesitation, stepped towards Thorin and held out the gem.

Thorin didn't hide the surprise in his eyes. "You would give up your leverage?"

Bard shook his head. "There is no need for leverage anymore. I trust you to keep your word."

He couldn't pinpoint what the exact emotion was that flashed across the Dwarf Kings face, but whatever it was it was a powerful one that made him appear uncomfortable. He eyed the gem he once held at the highest priority with uncertainty. "Balin. If you could please." His voice rough with emotion.

Balin quickly stepped forward and let Bard hand him the Arkenstone. He nodded appreciatively and stepped back to stand by his brother as he secured the sacred gem inside his jacket.

"Ill leave you to conclude your business. Good travels to you." Thorin inclined his head and bowed slightly again to the Elven King and Prince.

Thranduil looked up finally from his wife's heirlooms. It was the first time Thorin had seen the king's icy disposition waver. It was a rarity indeed that he was caught off guard. "No i Melain na le. (May the Valar be with you.)" Thranduil's peaceful parting surprised Thorin, it was spoken in the most civil tone he had ever heard the Eleven King speak in. It was a tone of quiet respect.

Uncomfortable, Thorin nodded again and turned quickly to exit. He couldn't get out of the claustrophobic tent quick enough. He exhaled in relief as soon as the crisp and snowy air hit his face.

"Well… that was…unexpected." Kili muttered as he looked at his uncle in concern. Fili looked over at his brother and shook his head quickly. "Not the time." He mouthed.

"Well, that couldn't of gone any better. Well done Laddie." Balin placed a congratulatory hand on Thorin's shoulder, conscious of his friends wounds.

"I must say I didn't even see that coming." Gandalfs voice made the dwarves jump in alarm. "I didn't even need to instigate that. I feel as if I'm no longer needed here." Thorin rolled his eyes as he turned to look the wizard. "I am perfectly capable of handling sensitive diplomatic matters without your pretty words."

Gandalf smiled, his eyes twinkling happily. "Then I will be leaving Erebor in the most capable hands. Not that I ever doubted you for a moment."

"Your leaving already Mr. Gandalf?" Kili asked with his disappointment evident. They all knew that once he left he would be escorting Bilbo home to the Shire.

"Well, not just yet. We will probably stay for the coronation then leave on our merry way."

Thorin nodded in understanding, not entirely surprised with his friends travel plans. "I am pleased to hear that your staying for the coronation."

"Oh, Mr. Baggins and I wouldn't want to miss it. It will be a most glorious occasion. Gives me the perfect opportunity to light off some of my firecrackers."

Fili and Kili grinned, excited to finally see the 'wizpoppers' Bilbo had always described in wondrous detail.

The wizard began walking alongside the dwarves as they made their way back towards Erebor. Fili and Kili were talking excitedly with Balin and Dwalin about the grand parties that had been thrown in Erebor in the days before Smaug. Gandalf looked down at the silent King, who was lost in his own turbulent thoughts. The wizard's brow furrowed in concern. "Your father would of been very proud of you. Of what you accomplished today with Mirkwood and Dale."

Thorin grunted in acknowledgment, still looking ahead of him. "If I had just kept my wits at the beginning of all this like I was supposed to, we wouldn't have to be doing all this groundwork now." He bit out, his words dripping in self loathing.

Gandalf shook his head, not surprised that Thorin was battling with these personal demons. "You are not doing yourself or your people any justices by taking on the shortcomings of the ones who came before you. You did the very thing your grandfather couldn't bring himself to do, you overcame the illness that doomed his reign. In fact, dragon sickness is not something the inflicted walk away from in one piece."

Thorin stopped walking abruptly, his eyes flashing an electric fire. "My grandfather succumbed slowly over centuries of wealth. I was afflicted by the time I stepped on the shores of Lake-town." He growled. "I was weak."

Gandalf jabbed his staff into the ground before him and leaned down slightly to look Thorin in his eyes adamantly. "Erebor was permeated by a wicked dragon's unquenchable greed for over a century. It was by no fault of your own that you were affected. But what matters most is that you fought your way out of its control. There is no recorded instance of someone overcoming it, You are the first to hold that title. And that, Thorin Oakenshield, is something to be proud of. You must remember that we are only shaped by the situations we find the strength to conquer."

Some of the tension melted from Thorin's face, and he relaxed his defensive stance.

"You must learn to be kind to yourself. You are just as deserving of leniency than anyone in this world deserving of it. And before you say anything, you DO deserve it."

Thorin smiled slightly, letting out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "Thank you my friend."

Gandalf grunted, satisfied for the time being that he was heard. "Good. Heed my words and all will be well with you."

Thorin snorted and shook his head, still smirking. They continued walking, walking side by side in companionable silence for the first time in over year, before the quest to reclaim Erebor was even set into motion.

Needless to say, I have taken liberties on certain things. Ive done research but Ive played with some things to better fit the vision I'm going with. :)