A/N Guys, I'm so sorry this isn't a new Unexpected Love chapter; I just got so swamped this week that I couldn't find the time to write it. I just happened to have this lying around on my computer, and decided to post it since I didn't want to leave you all totally high and dry this week. Anyway, I hope you all can enjoy it at least a little despite that, and if you like it, it might actually get finished one day.

I watched him from the stairs, his tired eyes staring desperately over piles of gold and gems for a stone I knew was not there. Guilt bit at me, even as the others, who'd been granted a short reprieve of the search to eat and rest, gazed at me almost pityingly.

"He needs rest," I whispered, and they nodded. Their expressions… when we got here, when the dragon was slain, I'd thought, however foolishly, that our troubles would end. I'd thought the dwarves would have their chance at happiness. Now, though… now it was a different sort of trouble we faced, and not one we could face with a blade or a trick as every other. Thorin was… he was going mad, it was simple to see. The dragon sickness was overcoming him as it had his family before him.

"He'll not take it," Bofur said, and though in him I could see worry, I saw fear as well. In a way, I shared it; the Thorin I saw there, in the treasure, was not the Thorin who had come to my home however long before. This Thorin seemed almost… violent, at times, his expression dark and dangerous, and never before had I heard him declare himself king as he had hours before, as if we didn't consider him such. Not that the others were unaffected, of course; I saw the stares they settled on the treasure pile, how hypnotized by it they sometimes looked, but none were quite so bad as Thorin; they, at least, I could still recognize as my friends. That even Fili and Kili seemed to suffer from it, to become something beyond the carefree youths I'd met at the beginning of the journey, both shocked and pained me. I'd never imagined that this, of all things, would cause the most pain on this adventure. I suppose the worst part was that I couldn't seem to do anything for it.

"Why has he…," I tried, and Bofur only sighed.

"We all knew it would be a risk. His family… this is far from a new suffering for those of Durin's blood. Those like myself, we feel it, of course, the gold lust, but it isn't so… severe. For Thorin, this place is as much a poison as anything. With the Arkenstone missing… I don't imagine it would make things much better, but he'll still seek it." I licked my lips softly, staring over the massive hoard, the smell of dragon lingering, dry and ancient, over the room. Thorin's hands raked through the gold with a certain overdone pleasure, eyes glinting with steely obsession.

"This would not cease if he found it?" Bofur shook his head.

"I don't believe so, no. If anything, I expect it would only make this worse faster." I swallowed thickly; the stone was a weight I didn't want, wrapped in my jacket. I wished it had never been pulled from the earth to begin with, the cursed thing. I wished the dragon had died earlier, that this hoard had been ransacked until not even a coin was left. I wished that I did not save the lives of these dwarves who had become so dear to me only to watch the best of them succumb to a sickness with no cure.

"Is there any way to put a stop to it?" I asked, soft, and Bofur's hand squeezed softly, kind, warm eyes fixing themselves upon mine.

"I fear there isn't. Perhaps you might try to speak with him? He'd begun to cherish your advice, by journey's end." That, perhaps, was an exaggeration, but by then I felt it my best and only option. Everyone else seemed to be trying to keep their distance, as though he would cut them down with no provocation at all, and while he had indeed changed very obviously, I didn't believe he would ever do that. I walked slowly down the steps to his side with nothing but a nod, and settled my hand on his shoulder. I felt almost no warmth; the robe he wore was thick and fine, but seemed too heavy. He jolted nonetheless, jerking towards me, and I offered a small smile. He didn't return it.

"Halfling?" he asked, quiet and sounding perhaps a bit lost. "I asked that you and the others go rest for a time. I will search alone for now." I shook my head, kneeling beside him in front of the gargantuan pile.

"Come rest with us. You haven't slept since we arrived, Thorin; what good is a king with bleary eyes?" I teased, and his mouth twitched, but still he didn't smile.

"I am not truly king until the Arkenstone is in my hands." Cursed, cursed thing.

"You've been a king to me from the moment you arrived upon my doorstep, stubborn dwarf," I mumbled, taking him by the arm and trying to drag him to his feet. He remained resolutely where he was.

"A hobbit's allegiance is all well and good, but worth little in the ruling of dwarves." I chuckled softly, trying again to drag him up.

"Your kin have felt the same, Thorin." A sudden, harsh light darkened his eyes as he jerked from my hold, hand taking my shirtsleeve harshly and yanking me nearer to him. When he spoke, his voice was a husk, a deadly shadow of itself.

"My kin plan only to steal from me, if I leave here," he hissed, cold eyes flashing over to Bofur, who waited for me on the stairs, as the others had left when I began making my way to Thorin's side.

"Thorin! Why in the world would you say that? Not a one of them would dare take something of yours; you ought to know that. They care far too much for you." He snarled, half-shoving me away.

"They care for nothing but themselves, now that I've gotten them here. Go, sleep, or stay here and do the same. I care little." He turned from me, an obvious dismissal, but I wouldn't stand for it. I wasn't leaving until I got something more than that out of him, some agreement to rest. I almost chuckled to myself; if only the hobbit I was before I met the dwarves could see me now.

"Why don't I stay? I'll look over your treasure while you rest, alright? Keep it safe for you." Oddly enough, he didn't even look suspicious. I waved a hand to Bofur as a signal that he'd likely be better off leaving, and he did so.

"You've done much these past days, burglar. You need it more than I." I shook my head, careful to keep the gesture light and easy.

"I've rested plenty recently, Thorin. Please trust me, won't you? I'll make certain everything remains exactly as you've left it. Surely you don't think I'm so weak that I couldn't stand guard a few hours whilst you sleep?" Slowly, very slowly, he shrugged off his robe and coat and lay them on top of the gold, slowly stretching atop them until he was comfortable. Within moments after that, he fell into a deep sleep, tense lines of his face relaxing into something close to normalcy. I settled beside him, knees to my chest, and imagined him waking up and being as he was before. I knew it was foolish even before he awoke and the first thing he did was glance around the room and ensure that all was as it had been.

He didn't trust me. He didn't trust any of us, not anymore. I realized that the moment he strode suddenly around the door, myself glancing into my hand at an acorn I'd found in Beorn's garden, and he asked immediately what I held, as if I'd be foolish enough to gaze at the Arkenstone in so obvious a place. I held it out to him carefully, palm open and wide, and he froze, brow furrowing.

"I picked it up in Beorn's garden." Still he stared, and in his eyes, suddenly, something softened and he was the Thorin I knew again. I almost froze myself; was it true? Was the gold's hold on him broken so easily? I almost felt my eyes well. I hadn't really realized just how much I'd missed him.

"You've carried it all this way?" he asked, voice quiet and familiar and the man I knew again at last, and I wanted to hold him tightly, desperately, to never let him go back into the treasury again. That moment, I actually felt hope again, however futile it may seem to one on the outside.

"I'm going to plant it in my garden in Bag End," I told him, my own voice equally soft as though I feared a noise too loud would return him to his prior state. I could scarcely even bring myself to do more than peek up at him for fear that he would suddenly fall under the thrall of the gold again. He smiled easily, amused and teasing and so like himself that I wanted to weep and cling to him like a fauntling.

"It's a poor prize to take back to the Shire," he whispered, so very warm.

"One day it'll grow," I answered, offering a barely there smile myself and praying that the moment would last an eternity, that everything would be alright, that the happiness I'd imagined for this time would finally come to be. When, during my pause, he didn't return suddenly to the gold sickness, I grew a little more confident. Perhaps… perhaps that thrall could be broken after all. Perhaps he had come back to us. "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." I finally managed a longer, more complete smile, and he grinned in response, his eyes the eyes I knew again, a strong leader who was never cruel, and I felt, for a moment, like I was home again. I should have known it wouldn't last, that someone like me, a silly hobbit with a silly acorn, couldn't possibly break the hold of something like that gold, at least not for long.

Not even a moment had passed before Dwalin came to tell us of the people from Laketown filtering into what little remained of Dale, and immediately Thorin called us all to the entrance hall. I thought, for a moment, that we were there to welcome them, until I saw the feverish light in his eyes once again and he had the rest of the company begin blocking the gaping entryway with stones.

"Thorin?" I questioned softly, but he only shook his head, taking up a stone himself and aiding the rest. I could only stand there, watching quietly and fearfully. Not even when Kili, wanting to help them as much as I, spoke up could he be dissuaded from his desperate, obsessive protection of the destroyed city. His voice was ice where once it had been fire. I still felt almost like weeping.

When we realized the morning after that an army of elves had come in the night and surrounded us, when I realized that even then Thorin would do nothing, I felt a desolation unlike anything I'd ever known before. Was he truly lost? When Bard came to negotiate, to ask only for what he'd been promised to stop war, and Thorin refused him, I thought he surely was. The man I'd known… the man I'd known would not have forsaken his honor so. The man I'd known would have given what he'd sworn. He would not have said that it was none of my business, though I'd made the same bargain as he, though he'd made a liar of me as soon as he refused to keep his word. He would not have spoken so coldly when he said not to underestimate dwarves, something that once might've been spoken in jest, with a slight smile upon his face. He would not have been so eager for war.

On that evening, the dwarves began readying themselves for a battle they had no need to fight, and I tried to stay away, unwilling to be involved with it, with the needless bloodshed of the finest friends I'd ever known. Thorin, though, would not allow it; he called me to him, something gleaming silver in his hands.

"You're going to need this," he murmured, low and rough. He held the object out to me, eyes serious no matter the darkness, and I stared as I at last noticed what the object truly was; some sort of mail coat, as if I'd be partaking in the fighting. "Put it on," he ordered when he saw me only staring at him, and I felt my mouth twitch worriedly as I glanced from the mail to him. His gaze was hard and firm, though, unyielding, and immediately I shrugged my jacket off.

He deserved my compliance at least in this, I thought, after all I'd done, all I would do. Perhaps I could drag him fully from the sickness yet, if only I offered friendship without reservation, if only I pretended as though things were as they had always been.

"This vest is made of silver steel; mithril, it was called by my forebears," he whispered as my coat fell. He gazed at me through the thin material, eyes as serious and firm as ever, and honestly, my nerves were singing at the intensity of the look. Almost to get away, I picked up the bottom of it and began putting it on as he clutched the shoulders, and still, still he spoke. "No blade can pierce it." The determination, the surety, of the words startled me a little as he finally released it so I could finish putting it on. He still gazed at me, stepping a bit nearer to me silently. I cleared my throat softly.

"I look absurd," I tried, knowing that to be true; the mithril coat hung far too large on me, sleeves drooping to my elbows and collar generously wide. "I'm not a warrior, I'm a hobbit!" I told him, as if he hadn't yet learned that. He didn't smile, his eyes still as hard and dark and solid as ever. The gold sickness, I could tell, held him firmly now.

"It is a gift. A token of our friendship." And if only he knew how misplaced that was. Guilt gnawed me bitterly, my fingers rubbing the bottom edge of the coat almost self-consciously. "True friends are hard to come by. I have been blind, but now I begin to see. I am betrayed."

He took me almost roughly by the shoulder and led me away, voice even lower than before, dark, cold eyes flickering for only a moment to the company. I thought for a moment that perhaps he suspected me after all, perhaps he had given me the shirt in an elaborate attempt to make the reveal that he knew what I'd done. I swallowed thickly.

"Betrayed?" I asked him, and still his eyes were firm upon me, yet bright with fever.

"The Arkenstone," he hissed, as if that explained all. "One of them has taken it." I took in a deep, harsh breath, my eyes closing slightly. The company? Why in the world… why would he distrust them so, when all of them loved him so well? When… when I was the one who would betray him, the one who had taken it, no matter how noble my reason? "One of them is false." His voice was sibilant and low, still a hiss, so close to the dragon himself that I felt near enough to sick.

"Thorin," I tried, desperate, "the quest is fulfilled. You've won the mountain. Is that not enough?" He almost didn't even seem to hear me, as though what I said filtered through him like nothing.

"Betrayed by my own kin." He looked so, so hurt, so sad, as if the betrayal were true, as if they'd all been plotting against him from the moment we'd begun the journey. Perhaps, in his madness, he believed that they had.

"You… you made a promise," I spoke, still desperate to break through to him, "to the people of Laketown. Now is this treasure truly worth more than your honor? Our honor, Thorin, I was also there; I gave my word." He smiled again, very faint, a sparse curve of his lips. He slid the slightest bit nearer to me, eyes burning into only me now.

"For that I am grateful, but the treasure in this mountain does not belong to the people of Laketown." He spat the words, still frozen, lips curling in a faint sneer. Then, though, it seemed as if he lost all his breath, his eyes closing for a mere moment as if he needed to gather himself. "This gold… is ours, and ours alone. All my life… I will not part with a single coin. Not one piece of it." I'd never heard him sound that way, so cruel, so separate, and knew that the gold sickness had truly, truly taken him as the dwarves marched by between us. I was nearly sick where I stood.

Not an hour later, I sought Thorin again and found him in the treasury, as was expected. Still his fingers raked through the coins, the soft rattle the only noise beyond his breath in the vast, cavernous chamber. He heard me immediately on the stairs, though, and whipped around to see me. His face softened the slightest bit, and he nodded his greeting.

"Come to share in it, Bilbo?" he asked me, and it felt so strange, him using my name when he was so very far from the Thorin I knew.

"I… suppose so," I said, faint, and he held out his arms. I moved towards him, slow, cautious, frightened, but he did nothing but stretch up and clap me on the shoulder and pull me to stand beside him once I reached the place where he was settled.

"Bilbo," he whispered, "the only one that I may yet trust. The rest of them are treacherous. They would take what is mine without thought or regret. You, though… what innocence that face shows. With you, I do not mind sharing my treasure." I swallowed convulsively, edging away, but he didn't even seem to notice, really. His fingers dug compulsively through the treasures, slowly, slowly letting them drip from his hands.

"They fought for this place as you did," I murmured, and he hummed quietly.

"And so they will have their shares. They would take more than they are owed, however. They would take of my greatest treasures as though they had any right." I sighed, shaking my head and reaching out to settle a hand on his arm. He only chuckled, breathy and faint as if he couldn't seem to find the air he needed.

"I'm sure the Arkenstone will be found, Thorin; the company cares far too much for you to have taken it." The chuckle turned bitter and dark, his hand moving to run over the thin, expertly linked rings of the mithril he'd bestowed upon me.

"It is not only the Arkenstone I fear has or will be stolen, burglar." The hand moved up, settling curved over my cheek, stroking my jaw. I almost felt unable to breathe. "You truly are so very small, Halfling. Far too small to protest their thievery." I swallowed, thinking to jerk away, but honestly, the look in his eyes… I was frightened.

"Thorin," I tried, perhaps to call his foolishness what it was, but he only chuckled, shaking his head.

"Hush, it is well; I know you have yet had no need. Still, I fear the attempt. Perhaps the toymaker will be the first to try; he has always seemed to have issues with knowing his place. His family as well, of course; I pray they will soon decide to return to their Blue Mountains." I could scarce believe them, the cold words spilling from him then, the cruel thoughts towards those who'd been willing to give everything so that he could reclaim this place and his throne.

"I can't believe you would say that, Thorin! We would not have gotten here without a single member of the company." He tilted his head, chuckling.

"Your loyalty is refreshing, I will admit, but undeserved. I speak only truth, and you would do well to see such. Were they to try to take you, you could not fight. We are all of us larger and stronger than you; it is only your swiftness that would give you means to escape should one of them turn." I sighed.

"They would do nothing to me, Thorin." I said it with surety, and felt as much truly; it was Thorin himself I was growing to worry for my safety around. He only laughed, but it was not a free laugh of joy. I could scarcely remember that sound, by then.

"So you believe, but they are wicked things who would only take the prizes of their king. Even my dearest friends, even my sister sons. Perhaps they are the worst of all; I have often seen them gazing upon you, your fair face, even now that I have given you this." Again he moved to stroke the mithril coat, expression full of shadows and cruelty. I shuddered. This was not Thorin; I tried desperately to remember that. This was nothe who had stormed into my home so very long before, eyes ablaze with passion. This person who stood before me now was a thrall to gold, as good as the dragon himself.

"They're my friends as well," I told him, patting his hand with my own, hoping against hope that he'd see reason. He sighed almost sadly, shaking his head and turning his hand to squeeze mine.

"So you believe now. I ask only that you are careful, else you see their true natures. Darkness dwells in the hearts of dwarves just as it does in those of men and elves," he hissed, and though the words were directed towards our companions, I saw them true mostly in him. He pulled me nearer to him, hand curling slowly around my hip. "You, my dear burglar, are my ghivashel; perhaps the men and the elves and my kin will try to steal all else from me, but you… you, and the Arkenstone, I will not let them have." I blinked. The hand at my hip squeezed as he settled his head against my chest, warm and heavy. I stiffened, jolted, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Thorin, I am not a piece of your treasure to be hoarded! I am a hobbit," I said, again as if he were unaware. He chuckled, and I felt him nod. He sounded, then, a bit more himself, but still there was a strange darkness to his tone that I didn't recognize to name.

"Indeed you are; a very valuable, very special hobbit. I've seen their covetous eyes upon you, more and more with every passing day. The men as well, I saw how they stared at you, even the fool Bard who they hail as dragon slayer. So, I've draped you in mithril; would only that we did not face these troubles now so that I could give you more of what you deserve. This," he said, tapping the shirt again, "this is but the start, given first because of its practicality in the coming days, because I would not see you dead. When my claim here is settled, I shall drape you in gems and gold until you glitter like mithril yourself." He sounded so… earnest; he trusted me so, and still I despised myself for knowingly betraying that, no matter the sickness he suffered. I let my own hands settle in his hair and he almost seemed to sigh with pleasure.

"Please, you know I've little need of such." I glanced down and found his eyes closed, his mouth curled in a smile.

"After you so sweetly threw yourself before me and saved my life, Bilbo, I thought often of how I might repay you. I thought of the day when you might step into Erebor at my side, when I might ask you to stay, when I might tell you of my affections for you. I spoke of it often, with the rest. Even then I saw the jealousy in their eyes," he spat. "If only I had known it. They, though… they do not feel for you as I do. I want only your happiness, and so, I offer you everything." He pulled me nearer still, softly tugging me down to sit beside him. His head moved from my chest to my neck, the soft, warm puffs of his breath fluttering over the skin.

"My happiness?" I mumbled, and he nodded once, serious.

"I would give anything for it, yes. Your happiness and your hand." I realized suddenly the meaning he'd been trying to get across, then, that his "affections" were more than friendship. With the realization came an almost painfully cruel thought; perhaps I could use that to avoid war. I flinched at the mere idea; I would never have considered such before I'd left on this mad quest.

Perhaps the worst part was that if he had been the Thorin I knew, I would have felt the same; I had for some time. I'd felt that for the true Thorin, however, the noble wanderer who would have done anything for those he called friend, the slightly rough but truly kind dwarf I'd saved, not the shell who stood before me then. I wondered… if I could but stay war, if I could but keep the Arkenstone from him long enough, if I could but distract him, could it return the dwarf I missed so dearly? I knew well enough that he'd likely care as little for me then as he had before this mess, but at least I'd have my friend back. Even if I remained unforgiven for what I would now do… it would, at least, be better than forcing him to suffer so.

"Then treat with the men and the elves, Thorin. That is all I want of you; with that, I'll be happy, and if… if you truly want my hand, you'll have it." His brows furrowed, his hands tightened, but I could see, at least, a willingness to listen on his face that had not been there before.

"You would have me give away our treasure?" he asked, and I ran my hand through his thick hair, feeling dirt and oil where he'd not bothered to take advantage of the calmness to clean the journey's mess from himself.

"Not all of it," I said, "Only enough to avoid war. Give the men of Laketown my share; I've no need of it, after all. As for Thranduil, I imagine he wants only those artifacts related to his people." His gaze flashed over to a large pile of smallish, clear stones that looked a bit similar to diamonds, at the center of which lay an exceptionally pretty silver neckless inlaid with the same stones.

"Truly?" he asked. "That is all you wish of me? Only that, and I will have your hand?" I nodded. This was what had to be done. Unless I did this, there would be war. I would not allow the company to suffer more when I could prevent it. Perhaps… perhaps I could even use the time to settle the affair with the Arkenstone, to find a place to hide it, or get rid of it some other way, so the suffering it had caused could be made to end. I nodded

"You will, Thorin. I do not want war," I said, and, though many moments passed, he at last nodded.

"I'll do what you ask of me. Come; we shall tell the others, yes? And then Balin and I will ride to their camp to treat. Would you like to accompany us?" It would be nice to leave the mountain for a time; the darkness, and the lack of sky above me, had become a bit… oppressive.

"I would," I said, and he nodded, faint smile curling his lips.

"That is well. Come," he said, standing and pulling me along with him. Our steps were quick but light, and while there was some displeasure on his face, some discomfort, he was at least walking, he was at least planning to treat, and that… well, it was better than it had been an hour before, surely.

The others jolted when we arrived in the front hall, in any case, their expressions akin to wide eyed terror at the sight of Thorin apparently leaving the treasury of his own will, but they settled almost immediately. Obviously he appeared calmer than they expected, and I'm certain that the fact that I stood at his side, alive and unharmed, surely helped settle their nerves a bit as well.

"Uncle?" Kili asked, the confusion more blatant on his face than the rest, and I couldn't help but smile a bit. Fili settled a hand on his brother's shoulder and shook his head once, very faint. Kili seemed to deflate in seconds and I wondered the reason. Thorin's hand felt heavy on my shoulder where it squeezed, though I felt no pain through the mithril.

"Bilbo has accepted my first courting gift. For his second, he has requested that I treat with the elves and the men. I've decided to grant his wish, and ask that Balin accompany myself and Bilbo as I do so." He sounded so serious, as if all of this were naught but some deal he was conducting, some kingly business, and every last one of the dwarves displayed a sharp surprise. Once again, Kili was particularly obvious; I assumed it his youth. I tried for a smile, hoping to reassure them, but received none in return. None of them argued, however. I suppose I should've been grateful for that; given the way Thorin had been acting, the things he'd been saying, I didn't imagine protest would've gone over well. Eventually, though, Balin nodded and made his way forward. Together we walked, leaving through the small, narrow hall through which I'd first entered and slowly making our way to Dale by way of long detours.

Thorin determinedly didn't speak, hand always on some part or another of me, as if he feared I'd flee. I tried to walk near to him, still hoping for reassurance, and he did at least seem to appreciate that through the gold haze. Balin shot me worried looks the whole way there, however, wise eyes dancing with fright. I knew what he thought, of course, that I was "sacrificing" myself to prevent a needless war. In a way, I suppose, he was right. Of course, in another way, I was taking advantage of Thorin, agreeing to something I knew he didn't truly want, another madness brought about by the cursed gold.

Eventually we did reach the human camp, and, very quickly, we were "apprehended" and escorted to Thranduil's tent, where, shockingly enough, we found Gandalf as well as Bard. I couldn't hold back my grin when I saw him.

"Gandalf!" I said, stepping away from Thorin for a moment to throw my arms about the wizard with grateful joy. He chuckled, low and faintly sad, patting my shoulder once before Thorin pulled me back with something low, like a growl. Bard was, very obviously, surprised to see us, and I believe that Thranduil was as well, though it showed far less blatantly on his smooth features.

"Thorin?" Bard finally asked, and the dwarf only lifted his chin.

"I am King Under the Mountain, and you will give me the respect of calling me such, especially given that I have come to treat." The shock only grew more obvious, now actually showing up a bit on the edges of Thranduil's expression.

"That… is unexpected," the human coughed, and Thorin sat, pulling me to one chair beside him while Balin took the one on his other side.

"I will admit that it is not by my choice. I do this under the request of my burglar," he said, nodding to me, and I felt myself flush a bit under the sudden attention. Thranduil raised a single brow, graceful as anything, and seemed to be fighting back something like a smile.

"Shall I assume that you are the one who broke into my dungeons and stole the dwarves away in my barrels?" I flushed more darkly.

"Er, yes, I suppose so. Sorry about that." I coughed. Thorin was smiling at me, for another moment like the him I knew, and stroked once through the mess of hair atop my head.

"A bit late for that, I imagine. So, King Under the Mountain, you say you are here to treat; what do you offer?" Misery flooded his features, and I could see the struggle going on in his mind, the greed and the promise warring one another bitterly.

"To the men of Laketown I offer the fourteenth share of the treasure once meant to be given to my burglar; he has offered to part with it. I am certain that it will be enough for the men to rebuild." The corners of Bard's eyes crinkled when he smiled, true relief filling his expression. He stood, then, and bowed to Thorin, hand out.

"I thank you," he said, and Thorin stared at the proffered hand as if it were a dead animal.

"I say again that I do this for my burglar, not for you. If you must thank someone, thank him." He looked quite ready to do so, but Thranduil spoke before he was able.

"And for myself and my people, Thorin Oakenshield? What do you offer us?" He gritted his teeth and steel glinted in the blue of his eyes.

"I have found stones that I believe your folk hold an interest in; they say they are made of pure starlight," he ground out. "So too is there a silver necklace decorated with these stones that I believe my forefathers may have created upon request of one of your people." Thranduil's smile was quite satisfied and a bit smug, and I could see well enough what Thorin wanted to say, but he held his tongue when I squeezed his arm.

"That would be sufficient," he said, and Thorin nodded.

"Our business is done, then. Upon my return to the mountain, I will gather what I have promised and send it over the gate. You may follow me and collect it if you wish. Following that, I ask that you both leave here." Bard looked faintly upset, for a moment, but then he settled, obviously deciding that at least he'd have something to start rebuilding with, at least his people would live. I was almost surprised at the ease with which everything was decided, then; perhaps… perhaps things would go well from there on after all. Thorin even kept his promise and did as he'd said he would once we arrived; the gold and the stones went over the wall in almost record time, as though Thorin wanted to get rid of it before he couldn't do so any longer. He held me like a lifeline the entire time and I… I almost wept again, like a child. I truly, truly was not worthy of this trust he'd given me.

With dawn came the arrival of another army, the elves and men both having left (apparently taking Gandalf with them, which truly did upset me) after taking their prizes, though the dwarves seemed to welcome it far more, given that this army was made up of other dwarves, one of whom was a relative of Thorin's who he greeted kindly when he reached the mountain's gate.

"Dain!" he called, a grin flashing across his features, and the other dwarf, a bit stockier than Thorin himself, returned the expression.

"Thorin! I must say, I'd have built a more… moveable door before filling that one with stone." He chuckled darkly.

"Call it defense, cousin. Wait there, would you? I'll send Dwalin to escort you in through the back way." The other dwarf nodded agreeably, his mount, which appeared to be a large boar, shifting beneath him. Not even a half hour passed before the new army was with us in the mountain, and even less time passed before I was surrounded by them. I swallowed; it had been some time since I was surrounded by quite that many weapons.

"Cousin, what in all of middle earth is this?" he asked, prodding my face with a sword tip. Thorin turned the blade from me with a hand, arm draping easily over my shoulders and pulling me into his side. I felt myself flame brilliant red even as the rest of the Company looked away, obviously made to feel some discomfort. I still wished to reassure them but knew it wasn't the time.

"He is a hobbit, my burglar, and my betrothed." Dain actually gaped at me. Had the circumstances been better, I might've been offended.

"He's a bit… soft looking, Thorin. Not to mention how young he looks." I squirmed, likely not helping his view of my age, and Thorin actually glared, apparently thinking me offended.

"He has saved my life more than once, Dain, and old enough." Dain didn't look as if he believed a word of that. I, honestly, didn't blame him.

"He's still beardless," he said. "Couldn't even be as old as your nephews." I coughed, quiet, hoping to draw a bit of attention to myself.

"Hobbits, we don't, well, we don't grow beards, not even in our later years. As for my age, I'm fifty, and while I realize that sounds quite young to dwarves, it's a comfortable middle age for me. Hobbits age like men, you see," I explained quietly, having already gone through a similar struggle far earlier in the journey wherein the dwarves, after learning of my age, attempted to attack Gandalf for tricking them into bringing a child on a life threatening journey. Dain continued staring at me. Thorin squeezed my arm in what I assumed was meant to be a comfort.

"Be that as it may, you are not a dwarf, as you've said. Your rule at his side will not be acknowledged; my cousin would yet be expected to marry another, and to produce an heir." Thorin moved his arm, nudging me behind him in some sort of protective gesture, then strode forward to crowd Dain, threat dark in his gaze.

"I have a fine heir already; my sister son Fili will be perfectly capable of ruling when it is his time, especially with his brother at his side. I will not stand in my own kingdom and have my cousin tell me who I may and may not wed; the people will learn to acknowledge him, especially when they know of all he has done. Without him, our quest would have failed many times over, likely before we even reached Rivendell." I shifted, a bit uncomfortable with the praise and more uncomfortable that I seemed to be causing such trouble despite the fact that all I'd done had been to prevent such. Dain looked angry for a moment, his face twisting into a mask of rage that reminded me too closely of recent expressions I'd seen Thorin wear, but when Thorin took another half step towards him, the anger melted as if it had never been there.

He sheathed his blade, then, and once more his men followed. Then, he knelt, head on the stone floor. Still the army he'd come with followed his lead perfectly. A strange pleasure lit in Thorin's eyes and he took me by the hand, pulling me to stand by him again. Many moments passed in the silence, until at last Dain stood and held out a hand. Thorin took it with his free one.

"I congratulate you, cousin; you've done well, far better than I'd imagined you would. When do you plan to have the wedding?" he asked, and Thorin actually smiled again, his face softening, though I could still see the bright madness in his eyes. He was drifting so far away, I could see it, but at least he could still smile. That had to mean something, however slight; it had to mean that hope remained. If only I could make myself remember that.

"When Erebor is in splendor once more. So too would I have a crown made for him first; I found the crown of the king, of course, but not the crown of the consort. I suppose I would prefer to make it myself anyway." Dain inclined his head, respect in every line of his body.

"I and my men happily offer our service in the rebuilding of Erebor, cousin. We would all gladly see it made fine again." Thorin nodded.

"I accept your aid with equal joy. I ask only that you send a small party to the Blue Mountains and have my sister brought here; I am certain she would like to see her children again." I saw happiness lighten Fili and Kili almost immediately, the both of them, I knew, having missed their mother greatly over the course of the journey. They'd told so many stories of her that, truly, I was a bit happy as well; I wanted desperately to meet someone like the woman they described. After all, she could surely talk sense into Thorin, if anyone could.

Dain did so easily, turning to one of the assembled dwarves and making the order with a simple wave of his hand. I almost wanted to laugh, it was done with such ease; I'd long ago begun to miss simplicity, even in things like that.

"Have you a place for we who remain to rest, Thorin?" He shook his head, actually looking a bit embarrassed as he led me from Dain's men to the Company.

"Regretfully no; there are some rooms we could reach with little effort, I'm sure, but I don't want anyone wandering through the mountain when it is so damaged. We'll begin forming parties to judge the areas safe to travel in the morning, and when we've a general idea of where the ceiling won't collapse upon us, we can set about rebuilding the weak and destroyed areas." He sounded so like royalty, then; he'd always looked noble, of course, carried himself like a king, but now, dressed in fine robes with a crown atop his head, his status fully struck me.

Before, he'd been Thorin, leader of the company, my friend. Now he was King Under the Mountain, a man I barely knew, sick with gold and only growing sicker. I squeezed his hand as if I thought that would bring him back again.

"What would you have me do then?" I asked him, and he raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up almost teasingly.

"You? I'd have you remain here, perhaps with Balin." I stared.

"Thorin, I will not-," I attempted, but he was very obviously not listening, and wouldn't have cared even if he was.

"I have not done all I have only to have you crushed in a cave in whilst you traipsed about through a mountain you've no idea how to navigate. You haven't got a sense for stone as the rest of us do." I glared, forgetting for a moment that the dwarf I saw now wasn't the same as the dwarf I'd met over the course of the journey, at least not entirely.

"And I have not done all I have only to be treated like some glass bauble upon the end of the quest. Let me help." He gave me a certain look, a little confused and a little frustrated and even a little amused.

"You shall; you will help my nerves greatly if you remain up here with Balin instead of wandering the mountain without protection." I sighed.

"And what's this, then?" I murmured, plucking at the mithril coat, and the amusement drained from his face as his hand stroked through my hair, down the side of my face.

"That will protect only what it covers. It will do nothing for your head should a rock fall, nor your legs should you stumble where the stone has become uneven, nor even your lower arms should you try to lift something too large. Stay; when a place is deemed safe I will escort you to see it myself. If I thought I could stand the days without you I'd have you wait in your Shire until all was completed then bring you back to see it all at once. Now, rest, yes? But be watchful; I must look about myself for a bit, but I'll return before dawn to lie beside you." He had me sit with one last stroke of my hair, and then he was gone, moving deeper into the mountain through one of the doors that, at least, didn't lead to the treasury as far as I knew. The Company was around me in an instant.