Note: Oh boy have I not written here in a while. Still haven't technically. Okay, so. I have had a fair few people wanting a sequel to this and I'm just gonna say here that I can't really do that. I'm sorry! I did try, if that helps. It's just not happening. On that note, I did feel like I should do something so I kinda changed this up a bit. It's still the same just written better, hopefully. I did keep a lot of the dialogue the same. I've probably missed a few spelling and grammar errors as it's pretty late and this was a last minute thing but tada! I hope you like it! If not, just go to the next chapter and read the original. THANK-YOU! No seriously, thank-you all for your wonderful comments. You're all very nice aha.

"You're a traitor! A filthy dirty traitor! You betrayed us all!" Thorin hurled each word, brimming with rage, at the whimpering hobbit who had fallen to his knees before him. His band of dwarves stood behind him. Expressions twisted with the feelings of betrayal.

"I'm sorry! I was just trying to help." Bilbo stuttered, curling in on his own small frame. Heavy footsteps approached the crumbled frame and Bilbo could feel Thorin's eyes, glaring down upon him. He did not wish to look. He couldn't possibly look into the dwarf's once so warm and caring eyes.

"Help!? How was giving away the Arkenstone helping us?" Thorin all but roared at the shuddering frame of their burglar. The title befitted him more so now than ever and Thorin wished he had never taken the faded wizards advice.

"I…I was! Please, trust me." Bilbo squeaked out his plea. Thorin's voice alone, so dedicated to the rage and madness built up inside of the dwarf that Bilbo could not help but squeak.

"Trust you? We have once and you betrayed us all!" Thorin snatched at the Hobbit's curly hair and yanked the small body upwards, forcing the Hobbit to look into his eyes. "Do you have any other plea, burglar."

Bilbo tried to shake his head. Thorin's hand was buried deep in his curled locks and each twitch of his hand was followed with a wave of pain. Thorin withdrew his hand from Bilbo's hair but did not step back, the smaller man was left to stare at the dwarfs dirtied boots.

"Look at me." Thorin hissed, his strong hand appearing again and grasping at Bilbo's chin, forcing it upwards and holding it in place. The still beautiful brown that had once been swimming in concealed care for his friends, who had grown to be more like family, was gone. No longer were those eyes kind. Hatred swirled in their depths, of what Bilbo was certain. Him. But there was more to his eyes, there was a sickness. Clear as day. Dancing about the edges like the elves that danced on the edges of the forest, teasing him with food and music and merriment.

The teasing and the creatures had turned. For now they were devils and their intent had shifted. Now, they wished to drag his dear friend from his sanity. To tear him from his friends, his family and his reason. There could be nothing that would terrify Bilbo more.

"Leave this place, Bilbo Baggins. Leave it, and never return. If I see your thieving face again it shall be upon a stick." Thorin spat, releasing his grip upon the Hobbit's chin and throwing him back. Bilbo stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance. Tears building up behind the eyelids, squeezed tight, hiding the world from his view.

After a moment, Bilbo re-opened his eyes and caught the eyes of Kili, the eyes that mirrored Thorin's own. Even now. Muffling a sob Bilbo let his eyes travel between the faces of his friends, all creating the picture of agreement with their king. No matter how strained the agreement might be.

With a shaky breath, Bilbo turned on his heel and began to march away from the dwarves. Tears streaming down his face, lip caught between his teeth. They were his friends, and they were lost. Guided by a King who had dug their graves with every sickened breath he took.

It was only a few more of these large strides that Bilbo managed before he stopped. There was one way he could convince them, one way he could change their mind, but he wasn't sure he wanted it changed. They had fought, they did not want him saved. Why should he save them? Why should he hold back? If he was to disappear, why not let them know what he would be disappearing to?

"Do you know what I gave up for this quest?" Bilbo's tone was hushed, he clung to a faint hope that no one had heard his voice but Thorin could not resist his opportunity to taunt.

"Your precious little hobbit hole? Don't worry you'll be getting back to that soon." Thorin sneered, lips curling up in derision. He watched as Bilbo's shoulders rose into a shrug. The hobbit had yet to face them.

"No. I've lost my home. There's a law, in the shire. If a hobbit's home has been unoccupied for longer than a year, it is the councils to claim. It will have been long over a year by the time I return." Bilbo's voice was apathetic, minor shakes as rises in pitch as he spoke but otherwise monotone. Thorin's brow furrowed. What was the purpose of this?

"Did you know I will return to nothing but a home filled with strangers and my belongings strewn across the shire? No. But that's alright. I can live without my home, now." Bilbo's shoulders were raised to stand about his ears, the dwarves watched on in silence.

"The act of taking another living beings life isn't acceptable for Hobbits." Bilbo continued, looking over his shoulder at the dwarves who had begun to shift uneasily, "It's considered the worst act one could commit. We're reluctant to kill the cockroaches that crawl into our pantries or the worms that chew through our apples." Bilbo chuckled, turning now to face the dwarves completely. Their eyes all trained elsewhere. Thorin's own drilling holes through the ground at his feet.

"But I pushed it all aside because I thought I could help you. Help all of you to reclaim your home." Bilbo's light laughter continued, but its twinkling sound did not mirror the feelings behind it. The sad, lost and hopeless feelings that curled around the laughter and strangled it.

When the laughter had faded and an uncomfortable silence had followed, Bilbo refilled it once again with the sounds of his pockets emptying. A golden ring fell at his feet, onto the rock. The sword, faintly glowing blue, was dropped beside it.

"I don't want these. The ring especially. It's twisted. It creates feelings within you that you've never had before, it possesses you and will not let you go. I don't want to see it ever again and I advise you do not wear it yourselves. While its powers are great but its evils are far worse. I've come to learn why the creature I had taken it from was so withered and I do not wish to become him. I hope you have some sense and throw it away, bury it so deep that no one can ever find it again." Bilbo stepped back from his belongings, eyeing them warily.

"And that sword. I hate it. It is the evidence of my murderous crimes, of my bloody behaviour. I cannot wield such a weapon. Take it, please. It may help you."

He then looked to Thorin, peering into the eyes that had captured him so early in their adventure. The rage had begun to fade, replaced by a minute amount of guilt. But the obsession, the madness, the sickness. It was still there.

"Your sickness is growing Thorin Oakenshield. Hope that it doesn't consume you." With that Bilbo turned and made his way into the forest alone. Bereft of weapons, ring and friends. He walked with a strong stride into the forest filled with beings, begging for a taste of blood.

The battle raged, the dwarves mourned their victory. For it was far too bittersweet a victory. They clung to each other in the night and sobbed to the stars.

No one ever did find Bilbo Baggins.