This is a Fili-focused one-shot set in the movie universe, because, well, I love Fili and think he deserves more screen (and fic) time! Not to mention that in BoFA it would be great to have the Laketown dwarves portrayed as especially upset with Thorin's actions...

Hope you enjoy it, reviews are greatly appreciated!

The Company's small fire did little to dispel the gloomy chill of ruined Erebor. Fíli sat, arms wrapped defensively around his knees as he searched the somber faces around him for some spark of hope or encouragement in their current dilemma. He found none; even the always cheerful Bofur could only muster a wan smile. When he caught Kíli's eyes his brother grinned and nudged him from his place at his side, and for a moment his heart lifted at the familiar sight.

But such joy could not last, and the young prince knew that the group's disquiet had more to do with the atmosphere inside Erebor than the armies camped outside. Almost against his will the blond's eyes were drawn to the final member of their company, Thorin Oakenshield, the uncrowned King Under the Mountain now that Smaug was dead. Fíli's uncle had finally been persuaded to pause in his frantic search for the Arkenstone to take some food and rest. The prince's heart clenched as he watched the dark-haired dwarf, his eyes wild, mind still in the thrall of the mounds of gold and gems that filled the lower halls of the mountain.

His head in his hands, Fíli could only think of how very different the reunion of he and the other dwarves returning from Laketown was than he had anticipated before their arrival that morning.

"There will be no negotiation, no payment to this…Bard as long as an army lies outside our gates," Thorin spat when Fíli broached the subject of aiding the survivors of Esgaroth. "The Lakemen have chosen to throw their in their lot with elves, and that is the consequence."

"But…" Fíli sputtered in astonishment and dismay, "their town was razed by Smaug and many of their people lie dead in the ruins! Bard took us in when Kíli was near to death—surely that counts for something!" It had been hard—so hard—for Fíli to consider forgiving Thorin for leaving his brother behind. But finally at Kíli's urging he had accepted that their uncle would not have done so if he had known how serious the younger prince's injury had been. Fíli had expected Thorin to be contrite—relieved—grateful that his brother survived, but instead…

"Bard will be rewarded with gold, since that's apparently all that matters to him," Thorin said dismissively. "But not one gold piece will leave this mountain while they and those foul elves are stand before our gate."

Fíli clenched his fists in frustration, burning to point out the maddening irony of his uncle claiming that gold was Bard's sole interest. "Thorin…" the blond ground out.

The dark-haired dwarf turned on him, eyes blazing. "Enough!" he growled, slashing the air with an open hand. "My decision is made and I will hear no more of it!" With that, he spun on his heel and stalked out of room down the corridor toward the treasure vault.

The prince started after him, not willing to concede the argument so easily, but a hand caught his arm.

"Let him go, lad; arguing won't change his mind, it'll just make him angrier and more determined," Balin told him quietly.

"But…but…this is madness, Balin!" Fíli exclaimed. "We need to help them! We awakened the dragon that destroyed their town and killed their people! There's…there's enough bloody gold here to rebuild Laketown a thousand times over! Why is Thorin refusing to even talk to them? We—we have to speak to him again," the blond said determinedly, his face set. "Convince him somehow; explain how much they need our help—"

The old dwarf sighed, "We've tried, lad. We've all tried arguing, explaining, pleading… But Thorin's mind is set on this. We hoped that you and your brother might be able to reach him, but now I fear that he's too far gone in the gold sickness."

Fíli paled, he had heard whispers of his Great-grandfather Thrór's unhealthy obsession with Erebor's treasure, but he never expected his uncle to be ensnared by it as well. "No," he whispered. "It cannot be!"

The pained expression on Balin's face was all the answer he needed. "But… what can we do? What should we do? Granting them the gold is not only right and honorable given how they have suffered, but we have no other choice. There are only fourteen of us here against thousands, and they can simply starve us out if they wish!"

"Dáin is coming," Balin told him with a brisk nod. "So we need only hold out until he arrives with his warriors. Perhaps he can talk some sense into Thorin."

The young dwarf groaned, "But what if he cannot? Why should he listen to Dáin if he won't heed his closest friends and kin? It seems just as likely it will give Thorin reason to believe we can fight our way out!"

Balin had no answer to this, tacitly admitting that Fíli might be correct. He clasped the blond's shoulder. "I'm sorry, lad, we may just have to wait and hope for the best."

Fíli watched him with a sinking heart as he left to join the others. His eyes stung with tears of anger and bewilderment. How in Mahal's name had it come to this?

A soft cough brought the prince out of his reverie; it was only their burglar returning from the watchpost. The hobbit volunteered for more than his share of watch duty, preferring the open sky, however chilly, to the oppressive gloom of Erebor. Their eyes met; Bilbo smiled and crossed the room to lay a comforting hand on Fíli's shoulder. "Welcome back, my boy, we all missed you and worried for your safety."

Seeing the hobbit's cheerful face heartened him—with Bilbo's help they had escaped any number of sticky situations. Fíli let out a long breath to ease his tension; he had spent the day worrying over the problem of Thorin's intransigence, even devising a tentative, desperate plan to address it. All he had lacked was the will and the courage to follow it through. But perhaps Balin was correct that it would turn out all right without any action on his part.

Bilbo turned to share a joke with Kíli and his honey-gold curls caught the firelight. The young heir gasped softly, a memory from Laketown unexpectedly assaulting his senses. He and the other dwarves had assisted the rescue efforts before leaving for Erebor, and although Bard and his children had all survived the devastation, but there was a young girl—a friend of the bargeman's daughter Tilda—whose hair was just like Bilbo's. Fíli recalled unearthing her body, curiously untouched by the dragon fire, but crushed by falling debris. The men of Esgaroth had borne the brunt of the dragon's fury, and it was an elf, he reminded himself firmly, that had saved his brother's life.

He bit his lip to keep the tears from coming and took a deep, shuddering breath to compose himself. Resolved, he stood; his movements made jerky by the enormity of what he was about to do.

All too soon he had crossed the room and was looking down and his uncle with what he hoped was a conciliatory expression on his face. He cleared his throat, "Uncle, I…I meant to tell you of this earlier, but I found something that you might be interested in seeing. It might aid you in your search."

Thorin gazed at his nephew narrowly. "Well?" he snapped. "What is it?"

"It's a book…a listing of items held in vaults other than the main one." The blond shrugged as casually as he could, "I thought it might help."

"Hmm," Thorin said thoughtfully. "It is most likely that the Arkenstone is in the main treasure room, but there is no harm in looking, I suppose. There may be items of great value in the other vaults as well. Where is this book?"

"I left it where I found it; it was quite large and looked very fragile with age. I can show you where it is if you wish, Thorin."

The dark-haired dwarf stood, "Then do so." For the first time since they had returned from Laketown his eyes held some of their old warmth, and his uncle clapped him on the shoulder. "It is good to see you taking an interest in proper concerns once again, nephew. Much more fitting for my heir."

Fíli felt like he had been punched in the gut at this praise, but did his best not to let it show on his face. The young dwarf led Thorin to small side room not far from the Company's campsite that he had discovered earlier. He ushered Thorin inside and gestured to a large book sitting on a stand at the back of the room. "There," the blond explained. "My apologies, Uncle, I had nothing to mark the page. The entry listing the other vault rooms is toward the end."

He remained near the door while the older dwarf impatiently approached the reading stand. As soon as Thorin was engrossed in examining the book Fíli slipped out, softly closed the door behind him and turned the lock.

The rest of the Company learned what had occurred when Thorin's shouts of rage began echoing through the empty halls. They arrived at a run to find Fíli sitting on the floor outside the room with his head in his hands, while the heavy door shook with the fury of the king's relentless pounding.

Dwalin was one of the first to arrive and he stared uncomprehendingly at the scene before him for a moment before speaking. "Mahal's guts, Fíli, what is going on here? Did…did you do this?"

Fíli stood, his calm demeanor belied by the quaver in his voice, "Yes. I did what had to be done."

"Are you mad?" the bald dwarf growled. "Release him immediately!" He stepped forward to confront the prince but was stayed by a hand on his arm.

"Wait, brother," Balin said quietly. "Let him explain."

The blond met Dwalin's eyes, "We must negotiate with Bard and the others, and we must do it now, before Dáin arrives. Then Laketown can be rebuilt there will be no further bloodshed. That is clear to all of us, as is the fact that Thorin is not in his right mind at the moment." He glanced at Balin, his face bleak, "I…I understand why none of you could make this decision, but I can, and I must."

"You're just going to leave Thorin locked up like a common thief?" Dwalin demanded.

"It needn't be long—just until the gold is delivered. Once the men and elves have agreed to leave, he can be released."

Balin snorted, "It could be that some time away from the treasure hoard could clear Thorin's mind. 'Twould be no bad thing."

"Whether that happens or not, we'll all have to face his judgment if we do this. It'll fall hardest on you, Fíli. He's unlikely to forgive you for this, even if his senses return." Dwalin's statement was accompanied by the strident cries audible through the locked door; accusations of betrayal and worse.

"Are you ready for that, lad?" Dwalin shook his head, "We can prevent him from doing you harm, but if he chooses to disown you—exile you and put Kíli in your place…"

The younger heir stepped up to stand shoulder to shoulder with his brother and snorted, "That's not happening. If Fíli goes, I go too."

Fíli shot his brother a grateful look, and gave a firm nod. "I'm ready." He cast his eyes over the company, "But if any of you oppose this course of action, say so now." The assembled dwarves glanced at each other; Glóin looked as if might speak but he fell silent under Óin's pointed glare.

Bofur grinned, "We're with you, lad." Others nodded in agreement and Fíli let out a long breath in relief.

"Right, let's get started." Fíli caught the hobbit's eyes, "Bilbo, could you please go down and explain that we'll be sending out a small party to begin negotiations? I don't want anyone to mistake our intentions."

Bilbo's eyes shone with relief and excitement, "I would be delighted, Fíli."

A short while later the dwarves had decided their negotiation strategy and Bilbo had returned from delivering his message with the good news that the Bard and Thranduil were waiting.

Fíli took a deep breath to steady his nerves and squared his shoulders as he led a small group to the gate. Now, for a least a fleeting moment in time, he must become the prince he was born to be.