The Fate of the Quest

AN: Credit for the dialogue at the beginning goes to the writers of Desolation of Smaug.

. . . . .

"You do know we're one short. Where's Bofur?" Bilbo pipes up as the Company troops down the dock towards the boat.

"If he's not here, we leave him behind," I respond resolutely. One less pair of eyes looking for the hidden door will hardly make a difference, and it is not essential for him to be present when we find it; only Bilbo, myself, and perhaps Balin cannot afford to stay behind.

"We'll have to," Balin says, giving voice to my thoughts. "If we're to find the door before nightfall, we can risk no more delays."

I stand watching the company as they climb into the boat. They appear to be in good health, but a sense of foreboding hangs in the air. Kili starts to pass me, and I see that his face is pale and he lacks his usual enthusiasm. He walks with a pronounced limp, and immediately I deduce that he does not have the strength to climb the Mountain.

"Not you," I say, stopping him in his tracks with a hand on his chest. "We must travel at speed. You will slow us down."

He looks at me in confusion. "What are you talking about? I'm coming with you."

"Not now." I shake my head as I hand weapons down to the Dwarves already in the boat. He must understand that we cannot afford for him to come with us. His injury will only put him in even greater danger if we face the dragon, which we undoubtedly will, though I decide not to say that aloud. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Fili watching us intently.

"I'm going to be there when that door is opened," Kili insists. "When we first look upon the Halls of our Fathers, Thorin…" A note of pleading has crept into his voice.

"Kili, stay here. Rest," I say gently, putting a hand on the back of his neck. "You join us when you're healed."

He stares at me, disbelief strong in his eyes, and I turn away before he can change my mind.

"I'll stay with the lad," Oin rumbles as he climbs back out of the boat and onto the dock. "My duty lies with the wounded."

I let him go. I have a feeling that even if one of us is injured on the Mountain, Kili will still need the medical attention more urgently.

Fili looks up at me incredulously from where he stands on the boat. "Uncle, we grew up on tales of the Mountain. Tales you told us. You cannot take that away from him!"

I try to reason with him. "Fili…"

"I will carry him if I must!" he continues, unperturbed.

I realize that little will make him leave his brother behind, but I must try to make him understand. Kili is taken care of. And while I am proud of Fili's loyalty and strong protectiveness for his younger brother, the success of the quest is a higher priority than sparing feelings.

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

Fili is the heir and must learn to see the bigger picture, that the needs of quest and kingdom outweigh the needs of a single dwarf, even his own brother. Kili may be family, but that doesn't change the fact that because of his injury, accompanying us on the most important stage may jeopardize the fate of the entire quest and put not only his own, but possibly all of our lives at risk.

Behind me, I hear Oin fussing over Kili despite the younger's insistence that he's fine.

Fili's jaw works as he appears to be turning the thoughts over in his head, weighing his options. Then he resolutely steps back onto the dock, heading towards his brother.

I catch him by the arm and turn him to face me. "Fili, don't be a fool. You belong with the company."

He stares defiantly back at me, his blue eyes full of determination. "I belong with my brother."

Fili pulls his arm out of my grip and strides to his brother's side. I let him go, albeit grudgingly – we can afford no more delays, and I know that the only way I can separate him from Kili would be to drag him all the way to the Mountain tied up in a sack.

I do not look back as the boat is steered out of the canals of Lake-town and onto the open water. The Lonely Mountain – my home – looms ahead, its peak crowned with grey clouds. The end of the quest seems so close at hand, yet I know that it is far from over. The dragon still broods over the gold, I am sure of it. Though my heart wishes it were otherwise, my head has no doubts that Smaug still lives.

I do not regret having left Kili behind in Lake-town. Injured, he would be of no use to us when we reach the Mountain, and we would not be able to spare thoughts about him; he would be nothing but a liability, a burden. The safest place for him at the moment is Lake-town. But honestly, I don't know what will become of him, even with the healer at his side. He thinks I haven't noticed, but I have: the way he leans heavily on Fili, the gauntness of his face as he tries to mask the pain, how his eyes flit nervously around to see whether or not anyone suspects him. And I will not lie to myself and pretend that he will heal just fine; I know too well the damage that Orc arrows can cause.

Fili, however, is a different matter. Unlike Kili, he has all the responsibilities of the heir, and yet oftentimes cannot see beyond his brother's welfare; he is almost too protective. He has to learn that a king must be willing to make sacrifices for the greater cause. His time as a young lad free of burden is over. Fili must be ready to take the weight of the crown earlier rather than later. None can say how the Quest will end, but should it prove fatal for me, he must be there to take up the mantle of leadership. Yet perhaps he was wiser than me when he said that family is more important than power, for not all the gold in Middle-earth can bring back loved ones that have been lost. Wealth can be reclaimed, lives cannot. But the question still remains; where to draw the line, when the kingdom takes a higher priority than kin.

As the Mountain draws closer, my mind turns to the vast stores of gold that seem to be simply waiting for me to reclaim them. Ever the treasure pulls at my thoughts, beckons to me. I remember well watching my grandfather fall to madness, and know not how, or if, the dragon sickness will affect me. Is this what he felt before he lost his mind? Should I push my thoughts as far away from the gold and the gems as I possibly can? Or is this the way the Mountain, my home, calls out to me? Perhaps I should embrace this sense of calling, let it drive me.

Once I have the Arkenstone, I will officially be King under the Mountain. I will have the power to restore Erebor to its former glory.

The dragon sickness can have no hold over me; I am not my grandfather.

. . . . .

AN: This was my first attempt at writing in the first person, so please tell me what you think! Thanks for reading! :)