So, here's chapter 8. It's rather short, but the tone was so different that when I tried to put it together with Chapter 9, or tack it on to the end of chapter 7 (because it's what happens immediately afterwards), it just seemed weird to me, so I just left it as it's own little chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!

"So, you speak for Thorin then?"

"It would appear so," and it was just beginning to sink in, what all this really meant. Bilbo, simple Bilbo Baggins from Hobbiton had say so over the dwarf kingdom of Erebor (not that it was much of one at the moment, but still).

"What will you do?" And Bard looked at him here, hard and searching as they stood at the fringes of the camps, not too far from where Bard had lead them those many days ago. Was it even that long ago? Bilbo was finding it difficult to tell as the days seemed to stretch on and on, the nights slipping into small eternities the colder it got (and the longer Thorin remained asleep—and that's exactly what Biblo was going to call it, his mind shuddered at anything darker—or more permanent).

"My best." It wasn't much of an answer, but in his fatigue and with the sudden weight Bilbo realized he now carried, it was the only honest one he could give.

Bard shifted, his look becoming softer. "Of that, my friend, I am sure," he said as he laid a hand upon the hobbit's shoulder. "I have faith in you Bilbo, even if you have none in yourself."

Bilbo's mouth quirked with a sort of dark humour. "Thank you, Bard; if only the dwarves felt the same."

"I'm sure your Company does."

"If they did, then why did they not say anything?" For this, Bard had no response.

Bilbo's chest ached at the question, wondering if he had truly lost that much in that dreadful business with the Arkenstone. He had been a fool to think all had been so easily forgiven in the wake of the battle, no matter what his reasons had been. Before, they had trusted him. Of course, it had taken quite a lot to get them there, but once they had, their faith had been unflinching, completely leaving their fates in his hands without a moment of doubt or worry. Bilbo desperately wished he had that back, for he didn't know how he was going to get through this without it.

And a small part of him, in the deep, dark, dreadful part of himself he wished didn't exist, Bilbo hated them for it, for not being able to see that all that he had been trying to do was keep them alive. But then Bilbo would remember the look on Thorin's face when he had stepped forward, remembered the look of hurt and utter betrayal and something else that made Bilbo ache. Then, he would call them justified.

"Thorin does."

The words were soft, careful, but they still broke something in Bilbo. He wanted to cry and scream at that moment, wanted to slip on his ring and walk away and forget that all of this had ever happened. Wanted to go back to the days were his biggest worry was what book he was going to read that day, or how to get rid of the bugs that were eating away at his garden. But then he could hear the Company's laughter and knew what hollowed places it had filled up inside him. "How can he, after everything I have done?" he asked, desperate, the words hoarse and painful.

Bard stepped around him then, kneeling until he was at height with the hobbit before taking ahold of each of his shoulders. "It is not in spite of everything you have done, Bilbo, but because of it."

And his words were spoken so sincerely, with such whispered ferocity that Bilbo wanted with everything he had to believe him.

It was nearly dark by the time Bilbo even tried venturing anywhere near the dwarf camp. At first, he had thought he might go search out Thranduil in an effort to begin to set everything right, but Bilbo knew he wouldn't be able to manage much in the state he was in, so he let the matter be for today.

Again, it was Bofur who he ran into first, Bifur and Glóin with him this time. And Bilbo thought he must've looked as wrung out as he felt, as scared and tired and as hurt and stretched as he was for the looks he put on their faces and the soft, wretched "Oh Bilbo" he caused to fall from Bofur's lips. They stood there for a beat, for the first time in a long time so unsure with one another that it nearly caused Bilbo to be sick with the thought of it and how they got here until Bifur stepped forward, quick and gentle as he enveloped Bilbo. An apology and forgiveness all at once. And Bilbo shook with it and the sentiment it carried, leaning into the warmth and finding some measure of comfort in the soothing tone of Bifur's voice as he spoke though he knew not what he said.

They stepped away from each other then, and as they looked at each other, Bilbo knew something had shifted between them, though he couldn't say in what way, just that it had. He looked over as Bofur came closer, fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach out, but a worry and whatever else it was that caused him to look so lost stopped him, leaving him restless and unsure. Bilbo didn't know how much of what he said to Balin got out, but knew they at least knew some of it. And he remembered the hot, hateful words he had let come out of him then, remembered in his rush of anger how he had attacked all of them and cursed and rued everything he had built with them and the home he had found in them (even if he had never told them what he had found). He didn't know how much of it they had found out, but knew they had at least discovered the emotion in them if not the actual words themselves.

And for the first time since the beginning of all this, Bilbo wondered what trouble he could have saved them and not himself, if he had only stayed home.

He smiled at Bofur the best he could, but it was as weak and brittle as the rest of him. But he tried, tried his best to convey his understanding and acceptance and apology of his own, his regret and guilt and shame, and his desperate, desperate need for everything to go back to the way things were before the Arkenstone. Even though he was scared—terrified—because he knew what he had found in them and knew all he stood to lose if he lost them.

It was then that Bilbo began to feel more steady, began to feel some measure of sure-footedness as a determination so fierce worked its way through him. Whether they liked it or not, whether they believed in him or not, Thorin had given up their fates to him, and Bilbo was damned if he was going to fail them in this.

And perhaps something changed in his face for the next moment Bofur smiled, relief and hope clear in his face as he hugged Bilbo, a laugh that was all release shaking the both of them. Bilbo caught Glóin's eye over Bofur's shoulder, the red head giving him a wink and a warm smile that strengthened Bilbo further.

No, he would not fail them.

Well, there it is. A different tone and style than the rest of the story, but hopefully not in a bad way. I've already begun Chapter 9, so hopefully I'll be able to finish it soon. Thank you guys again for all the lovely reviews and follows and favorites. When I started this story, I didn't think so many people would enjoy it, and I'm happy and deeply honored that so many of you do. Happy readings!