Everything was falling apart.

Nearly literally, as the dwarves stumbled and scrambled for purchase with cries of surprise and thinly veiled fear on the mountain that quaked and roared under their boots. Thorin Oakenshield could see that none of his company were in immediate danger of falling off the side of the mountain, and for that he was grateful in some part of his heart that was not pounding with the knowledge that nothing was going as planned. And worse, that every passing moment revealed that everything was going as expected.

None of the dwarves had ever really believed that they had seen the last of Smaug the Terrible. Not for a second. But there had never been a plan of how to deal with the dragon. They had been counting on their burglar getting the Arkenstone out so the actual slaying could be left to the combined armies of the seven dwarf kingdoms instead of nine dwarves and a hobbit. Thorin didn't need Ori to tell him how high the odds were stacked against them, and he didn't need Balin to tell him how lazy and irresponsible it had been of him not to have a plan for this eventuality.

Thorin's mind was spinning, concern for Bilbo warring with a poisonous desire for the Arkenstone, for the gold. Thorin felt disconnected from his thoughts as he observed the two voices inhabiting his mind. One that was desperately trying to formulate a plan to get everyone - especially the poor, terrified hobbit who was not a warrior but was facing down a dragon for thirteen dwarves he had just met less than six months ago - out alive, and one that hungered only for the gold and the wealth of the mountain. His mountain. Thorin felt a chill run through him as he recognized the second voice.

it was his grandfather's voice.

Thorin was seized by fear as he wondered how long he had been in the clutches of that longing. He hadn't even noticed when it had started to harden him against everything that had always been the most important to him.

"Kili's hurt. His leg needs binding."

"You have two minutes."

Another roar and the ground shook again. Thorin retreated from his thoughts just in time to see Ori fall to the ground. The young scribe shakily rose to his feet again, gripping the stone face of the mountain with white knuckles. He looked around, fear evident in his eyes.

"What about Bilbo?" He asked, a tremor barely hidden in his voice.

"Give him more time." Thorin replied before he could think of what he was saying.

"Time to do what?! To be killed?!" Balin was looking at Thorin with a mixture of disbelief, disappointment, and disgust. Thorin reacted defensively, straightening.

"You are afraid?" He sneered at the older dwarf. Of course he was. Balin had always been soft, more of a scholar than a warrior. His influence had caused Fili to abandon the quest just as it was about to be completed. His influence had caused Kili to give into his pain instead of bearing the wound like a true Durin...

"Kili!" Fili shouted, desperate and afraid.

"Kili..."

"Yes, I'm afraid! I fear for you. A sickness lies upon this treasure horde - a sickness which drove your grandfather mad!" Balin shouted.

"I am not my grandfather!" Thorin exploded, furious. Thror was weak! Thror had abandoned his people and Erebor! Thror had let himself be killed and left the burden of rule to his grandson, a boy no older than Fili was now!

"You're not yourself." Balin retorted. "The Thorin I know would not hesitate-"

"I will not risk the fate of this quest for one..." Thorin was wretched from his defensive, angry standpoint. "...burglar." He finished lamely.

"I cannot risk the fate of this quest for one dwarf. Not even my own kin. One day, you will be king. Then you will understand."

Thorin suddenly could see the pain on his youngest nephew's face, the hopelessness and the self-loathing. Only then did he realize how hard Kili had fought against the pain.

"What are you talking about? I'm coming with you."

"We grew up on stories of the mountain - stories you told us! You cannot take that away from him! I will carry him if I must!"

"Fili, don't be a fool. You belong with the company."

"I belong with my brother."

"Bilbo." Balin said. "His name is Bilbo."

I cannot risk the fate of this quest for one dwarf.

"Kili...his name is Kili."

Thorin's eyes searched Balin's face for the answer even as the dark longing threatened to regain what ground it had lost. Thorin was torn - if he couldn't risk the fate of the quest for Kili, beautiful, young, trusting Kili, how could he risk it for Bilbo? But how could he not?

Thorin had promised himself a long time ago that he would not become his grandfather. He had never realized how hard that would be. He straightened resolutely. He could not yet repair the wrong he had done to his nephew, but he could prevent the same wrong from being done to another. It was not enough. It was not fair, and in Thorin's heart it didn't feel right. But he knew that his heart was rarely satisfied, life was not fair, and Durin's folk had not had enough for a very long time. And when this quest was over, when the dragon was dead and the Arkenstone was in the hands of Thorin Oakenshield, Fili and Kili would finally have what they deserved.