Chapter Text
In Erebor, Thorin gazed upon the throne, over which the Arkenstone had been inlaid before it was lost. He spoke to Balin, Dis, Dwalin, and Bilbo, who were behind him.
“It is here in these halls - I know it.”
Dwalin shook his head, “We have searched and searched…”
“Not well enough!”
Dis put her hand on Thorin’s shoulder, “We all would see the stone returned, Dear brother.”
Thorin shook the hand off of him and stood outraged, “And yet, it is still not FOUND!”
“Do you doubt the loyalty of anyone here?” asked Balin cautiously.
Thorin turned and slowly sneered.
“The Arkenstone is the birthright of our people.” Dis said.
“It is the King’s Jewel!” Thorin growled then shouted, “AM I NOT THE KING?!” The four in his presence all sunk back, uneasy. “Know this - If anyone should find it and withhold it from me, I will be avenged.”
Bilbo was very disgruntled as he watched Thorin storm out of the room. Dwalin took off after the King.
Balin looked as if he was seconds away from weeping and Dis looked no better.
“Gold-sickness.” Balin spat the words, “I’ve seen it before. That look. That terrible need. It is a fierce and jealous love, Bilbo. It sent his grandfather mad.”
Bilbo’s limbs shuffled, nervously. “Balin, if-if Thorin...had the Arkenstone...” Balin and Dis understood Bilbo’s implication, both Dwarves looking to one another. Bilbo continued, “...if it was found - Would it help?”
Dis shook her head, hand over her mouth.
Balin stepped forward, putting a hand onto Bilbo’s arm, “That stone crowns all. It is the summit of this great wealth, bestowing power upon he who bears it. Will it stay his madness? No, lad; I fear it would make it worse. Perhaps it is best that it remains lost.”
Dis nodded in agreement.
It was at that moment, Bilbo knew what he had to do.
****
Bilbo thought about his situation as he sat on a bench in a hall. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled something small out. Thorin, walking in an adjoining hallway, saw the action and jumped at him.
“What is that?!” He stormed towards Bilbo. The Hobbit stood. “In your hand!”
“It-It’s nothing.”
“Show me.”
“It…” Bilbo held out his hand, and in it was an acorn. “I picked it up in Beorn’s garden.”
Thorin’s shoulders deflated with tension, eyes turning soft. The Thorin Bilbo fell in love with showing through the cracks, making Bilbo smile.
“You’ve carried it all this way.” The Dwarf asked, his voice so gentle that it brought a tear to Bilbo’s eye.
“I’m gonna plant it in my garden, in Bag End.”
Thorin smiled solemnly, “That’s a poor price to take back to the Shire.”
“One day it'll grow. And every time I look at it, I’ll remember - Remember everything that happened, the good, the bad. And how lucky I am that I made it home.”
“A part of me thought you’d stay here… with me.”
“I would…”
“What is it you require? I’ll build you the kitchen, I’ll give you lots of land to plant your trees. We could be home here, Bilbo.”
Desperate for this Thorin to stay for a bit longer, Bilbo cupped Thorin’s face, leaned forward and kissed him before the Dwarf could do anything about it. Thorin’s lips were soft and his beard smooth against his fingers, but prickly on his mouth.
Thorin tilted his head, making Bilbo tilt his own in the other direction, then licked at his lips with his tongue. Bilbo opened his mouth a bit, and Thorin slid his tongue inside seamlessly. He started slow, with little touches to Bilbo’s tongue, but the Hobbit’s hands moved to his broad shoulders, gripping there hard as he made small, soft moans in Thorin’s mouth. Thorin’s hand card through Bilbo’s hair, feeling the singular braid he had placed there and close into a fist around the loose walnut-coloured locks. He opened his mouth wider, inhaling Bilbo, turning their kiss animalistic.
Thorin then broke their kiss, panting and resting his forehead against Bilbo’s.
“Thorin…” he said, breathless.
“Please.” The Dwarf whispered, “Tell me you’ll stay.”
Chest tight and nose sniffling, Bilbo shook his head, “Thorin, I...”
Suddenly Dwalin came up and interrupted.
“Thorin, survivors...from Lake-Town. They are streaming into Dale. There’s hundreds of them.”
They pulled apart and Thorin’s smile faded into a stern, uncompromising face. His Thorin disappearing.
“Call everyone to the gate.” Thorin strutted off, shouting to the others, “TO THE GATE! NOW!”
****
The people of Lake-Town walked into the ruins of Dale. They stared around at the ruins, including the many charred and burned bodies.
“Come on, keep moving.”
“SIRE! Sire! Up here” Alfrid called.
Bard looked up to see Alfrid on one of the city walls. Bard joined him.
“Look, sire, the braziers are lit.”
They could see the giant braziers full of fire at the gates of Erebor.
Bard huffed in disbelief, “So, the company of Thorin Oakenshield survived.”
“Survived? You mean there’s a bunch of dwarves in there with all that gold?”
“You shouldn’t worry, Alfrid. There’s enough gold in that mountain for all.” Bard then called to his people, “Make camp here tonight. Find what shelter you can. Get some fires going. Alfrid, you take the night watch.”
As Alfrid looked sourly at Bard and stomped off, Bard looked back at the Mountain, hesitant.
Within the walls, the dwarves worked to block up the entrance that Smaug broke through. They carried rocks both by hand and with the help of various pulleys and other machines.
“I want this fortress made safe by sunup. This mountain was hard won - I will not see it taken again.” Thorin commanded
Kili frowned, “The people of Laketown have nothing. They came to us in need. They have lost everything.”
“Do not tell me what they have lost. I know well enough their hardship. Those who have lived through dragonfire should rejoice. They have much to be grateful for.” Thorin looked out at the city of Dale, where many fires could be seen lit by the people. He then turned and shouted to his dwarves. “More stone! BRING MORE STONE TO THE GATE!”
Bilbo looked on in despair. Dis sliding next to him and she held his hand as they watched someone they loved dearly lose themselves to darkness.
****
When night came, in Dale, the people were starving and infants were crying. Hope was draining until the Elves arrived with enough supplies to feed and nurse and army, saving the people of Lake-Town.
King Thranduil rode up on his steed.
Bard looked gratefully at the King, “My lord Thranduil; we did not look to see you here.”
“I heard you needed aid.” Was the Elf’s response.
“You have saved us! I do not know how to thank you.”
“Your gratitude is misplaced. I did not come on your behalf.” His voice was cold as he explained, “I came to reclaim something of mine.”
After a while, when Thranduil watched his troops prepare to march out of Dale, Bard came running after him.
“Wait! Please, wait! You would go to war over a handful of gems?”
“The heirlooms of my people are not lightly forsaken.”
“We are allies in this.” Bard pleaded, “My people also have a claim upon the riches in that mountain! Let me speak with Thorin!”
Thranduil raised an eyebrow, “You would try to reason with a dwarf?”
“To avoid war?” Bard nodded, “Yes!”
