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“Well,” Balin mused, his large nose twitching in thought. “Náli’s gold would be where the rest of our gold is I suppose.”

Bilbo tried not to roll his eyes in frustration. “And where would that be?”

The older dwarf shrugged, “In the treasury.”

Laura Baggins smirked, her expression completely self-assured. “That settles it. He’ll be there, surrounded by the one thing he had no problem acquiring.”

Balin turned to the elder hobbit, his fuzzy white eyebrows raised in surprise. “Are you saying Náli is in the royal treasury? Few are allowed admittance outside the royal family or the Master Treasurer. As Thorin’s kin and Councilman, even I’d have trouble getting in there.”

Bilbo grasped the dwarf’s arms and shook him, though the action hardly seemed to affect Balin. “That’s it! If he has Dis or one of the boys, he’d gain access without question, wouldn’t he?”

“Oh.” Balin blinked, stunned by the revelation as he worked the thought over in his head. “You’re right. Very clever of you to see that, Mister Baggins.”

Thorin thundered down the steps towards them, his cape fluttering behind him dramatically and his sword at the ready. He looked ferocious, with heavy shadows covering half his eyes, and a scowl creasing his face. “What did you discover Balin?”

With Thorin storming about, it quickly drew the others attention. Dori and Ori hurried at his heels, the younger dwarf looking dreadfully fretful and nervously wringing his hands together, while Dori looked shockingly calm about the whole situation. Bofur and Bombur pulled themselves away from their family, Bombur kissing his wife’s forehead sweetly and pinching his youngest on the cheek, whereas Bifur patted King Thráin on the back before joining them. Óin hobble over, polished his ear pipe and taking his time to glare at Thranduil as he passed. Glóin tried valiantly to extract Gimli from around his legs, promising over his shoulder to take Gimli with him on the next adventure. The young dwarf looked determined to follow them regardless, until Legolas provided an excellent distracted for him.

“We shall guard the main gate in case this traitor comes back.” Legolas gave the young dwarf a jubilant smile. The elf’s silver diadem sparkled in the lantern light as he cocked his head to the side to study the young dwarf. “It should not be so difficult for you if I am here. I will protect you.”

Gimli sputtered, his cheeks turning as red as his hair. “I can guard the front gates by myself, you– you weedy elf!”

Legolas laughed, apparently pleased by the insult, and Thranduil gave his son a blatant, unimpressed look.

“Your majesty,” Balin said, sweeping back in a small bow as the others crowded around to listen. “Mister and Madam Baggins here have possibly discovered Náli’s hiding spot.”

“Where?” Thorin turned his fierce gaze on Bilbo, looking nothing like the loving dwarf Bilbo had woken up this morning beside.

“The treasury,” Bilbo said softly, wringing his hands together nervously. If he was wrong about his suspicion and one of Thorin’s family members was hurt, Bilbo would never be able to forgive himself. “He likes gold.”

Óin scoffed, “Every dwarf likes gold, lad.”

Laura Baggins glared at the dwarf, shaking her tiny fist in the air at him. “Are you calling my grandchild a liar?”

“There’s a wild fire? Where?” Óin looked around in confusion before putting his pipe to his ear. “Did someone sound the alarms?”  

Thorin ignored the arguing couple and pulled Bilbo aside, away from the eavesdropping group. Resting his forehead against the hobbit’s, Thorin huddled close and set his large hands heavily on Bilbo’s hips. “Are you sure of this?”

“I think so,” Bilbo said, staring down at his distorted reflection on the dwarf’s armored chest. “Grandmother thinks so too. She said he talked about gold all the time and he was always making plans on how to get more of it. She doesn’t think he’d leave the Mountain without his fair share and Balin said Náli’s gold is stored in the treasury with everyone else’s. I think if he had Dis or one of your nephews, he’d have no problem getting access to it and more.”

Thorin sighed, looking as exhausted and Bilbo felt.  “There are guards loyal only to the King who are posted there. If that is where Náli went with his hostages, someone would have sent a messenger to let me know by now.”

“I-if you don’t think that’s where he--” Bilbo started to say, the surety he had at figuring out Náli’s whereabouts withering away at Thorin’s doubt. He had been so sure, so positive he was right. Everything lined up just perfectly. But Erebor was a huge Kingdom and there were many places Náli could hide that Bilbo would never know about, places he’d never been to or heard about. A dwarf would probably know better, and Thorin had at least been acquainted with Náli longer than Bilbo. He felt foolish for even getting their hopes up.

“I did not say I don’t believe you,” Thorin interrupted, tugging the hobbit’s chin up and placing a small kiss against his lips. “I wanted to know if you were sure.”

Bilbo mulled on it. He tried to put himself in Náli’s boots, as difficult as it was to imagine himself in the mindset of a dwarf, especially one of Náli’s wickedness. The Councilman didn’t seem overly idiotic; despite all he’d done he’d been almost clever about planning things out. If Reginard had not found the trap door and Thráin had not appeared out of nowhere with Gandalf, the end result could have been disastrous for all of them involved. It was practically by luck alone that everything had worked out in their favor.

If Náli had retreated to places he was comfortable with, like his chambers or work office, someone would have undoubtedly found him by now. There were people all over the Mountain searching for him, so there would be no obvious escape through somewhere with heavy traffic, especially if he had hostages. Náli’s best bet for escape was to wait out the searching somewhere completely concealed, where no one would think to look for him or had access to. The abandoned chambers he’d pushed Bilbo and his friends into were too obvious, and Gandalf surely would have found them by now if that was the case. The treasury was the best suggestion he could come up with.

“Yes,” Bilbo said assertively, looking up to meet Thorin’s eyes. “I believe Náli is in the treasury.”

Thorin’s expression softened as he rubbed his thumb over the hobbit’s cheek. “Okay, that is where I will look. During that time I will have some of my personal guards escort you to--”

“Don’t you dare!” Bilbo growled, clamping his fist around Thorin’s arms. “I will not be abandoned.”

The dwarf huffed like he found the hobbit’s demands amusing. “You are not being abandoned. I am protecting you.”

“No.” Bilbo stomped his foot and glared. “I’m not staying behind. I’m going with you.”

“Bilbo…” Thorin sighed, trying to step back so he could scold Bilbo like he was a wayward tween up to no good. Only Bilbo would not let go or be coddled, least of all by Thorin. He had every right to be there when Náli was confronted for his crimes.  

“I won’t go, and if you try to drag me off, I’ll just sneak out while your back’s turned. I’m a hobbit and we are very light on our feet, so I could do it.” Bilbo refused to be left behind. Fili, Kili, and their parents deserved his support just as much as any other, and he would be there to comfort them, just as he knew they would have for him.

Thorin stared at him, his blue-grey eye bright with fondness. He searched over Bilbo’s expression, most likely trying to garner the truth in the hobbit’s words. If Thorin had not figured out by now how stubborn the hobbit could be, he was in for a big surprise after they were married. Bagginses were known for being quite hard-headed in the Shire.

“Yer Majesty,” Bofur said, sidling up to them with his hat in his hands. “Excuse me for interrupting such important discussion between you and yer beloved there, but Ori has something to add to Mister Bilbo’s theory.”

Ori struggled as Bombur pushed him in their direction, the young dwarf clutching a gauntlet to his chest and dragging his feet. Finally, the chef grew frustrated and shoved the younger dwarf towards Thorin. Ori stumbled and blushed, awkwardly flailing in front of the King as he tried to get his balance. “U-um, well, I just wanted to say that I saw which way D-Dwalin--er, Mister Dwalin-- went.”

“Did you?” Balin asked, tipping his head forward curiously.

“Y-yes,” the younger dwarf muttered, blushing even more. Dori put an arm around Ori’s shoulder, trying to comfort his brother under all the attention he was receiving. “We were--um, standing together during the ceremony, so I noticed when he left m-my side.” As if lost in the memory, Ori gazed down at the gauntlet in his hands, gently caressing the symbol carved into the palm of it.

“Oh. Oh!” Balin said, rocking back on his heels with a chuckle. “I see now.”

Dori looked suspiciously from Ori to Balin, his lips turned down in distrust.  “What. What do you see?”

“Tell me Master Ori,” Thorin interrupted kindly, saving Ori from explaining and Dwalin from future retribution. “What news do you have that can help us?”

Ori was nearly purple he was blushing so badly. If Dori hadn’t his arms around him, Bilbo was sure the young dwarf would have fainted at their feet. “H-he went through those d-doors, tha-that way-y.” Ori trembled, pointed to a set of door hidden by the shadow of the large stalagmite over the throne. Bilbo peeked around Bofur to get a look at it, wondering why he’d never noticed them before.

“The main road!” Someone shouted behind them in a squeaky voice, startling the group so much that some of them jumped. Bilbo whirled around to find Reginard heading right for him, Ginnar right behind him, and neither one of them slowing down. “Bilbo, remember what Gandalf said!”

“Reg?” the hobbit blinked in surprised, bewildered by his cousin’s sudden reappearance. He’d nearly forgotten in all the fuss that the other hobbit had disappeared. Bilbo had just assumed that his cousin had found his husband and gotten distracted.

Reginard reached forward and yanked Bilbo to him, going nose to nose with the other hobbit. “Gandalf said to stay on the main road. The main road leads through those doors.” He pointed to emphasize the fact.

“And those doors lead to the treasury,” Ginnar filled in, looking proudly over his husband, “where my precious pearl swears he saw Náli retreat to. We were listening in on your conversation.”

“Really?” Bilbo asked, ignoring the admittance to eavesdropping as hope bloomed in his chest. He could not believe their fortunes. Gandalf had said to stay on the main road no matter what, and it was always wise to follow a wizard’s counsel.

“Well,” Reginard blushed, stepping back. “You told me to keep an eye out for Nali and it sure looked like him from behind. I’m not a hundred percent positive, but I’d bet my mother’s shortbread recipe that it was.”

To a hobbit that was as good as a Kingly pledge. No hobbit would risk their mother’s secret recipe for just anything. Bilbo turned to nod at Thorin. “I’m definitely sure now. The treasury is where we’ll find Náli.”

“Then it’s settled,” Thorin said loudly, stepping onto the dais. “My group and I will search the treasure hall. Balin, you will stay and command the other searches from here. I want order restored to Erebor and Náli found, alive, before he can escape the Mountain.”

The elder dwarf nodded dutifully. “As you wish.”

Thorin turned towards their company. “Mister Bifur, if I could request you keep an eye on my father.” Thorin asked, looking the other dwarf over carefully. “He remembers you and your weekly talks of mathematics, and is less likely to cause a scene in your presence. I trust you to guard him at any outcome.” Bifur grunted, knocking his fist to his chest in an odd motion.

“And Bilbo…” Thorin trailed off, looking down at his intended with an exasperated smile.  

Bilbo glowered back at the dwarf. “I’m going with you.”

“As you say,” Thorin said loftily, sweeping his cape out behind him as he turned towards the congregated elves. “The ceremony must be cut short. My men will see that you are escorted safely to your chambers and I… apologize for the unexpected commotion.” The way Thorin asked for forgiveness made Bilbo’s toes curl, it was such a discourteous tone of voice.

Thranduil tipped his head slightly to the side, his expression frigidly blank. “Apology accepted, Prince Thorin.”

Thorin’s lips curled back in a silent snarl, but he held himself back from being outright disrespectful. He turned quickly to address Lady Galadriel, who was gently rocking baby Myrtle in her arms. “My Lady, I thank you for your assistance with the hobbits. My intended and I,” Thorin glanced over at Bilbo--who beamed back, “we appreciate what you have done.”

“It is no bother, Master Oakenshield,” the elf said softly, her eyes never leaving Myrtle. Lady Galadriel seemed wholly engrossed in cooing down at the babe, tickling the baby hobbit’s ears with her finger and earning a shrieking giggle. “I will do all I can to help yours and Master Baggins’ people. Please, do not hesitate to call on me if you need my assistance.”

Grunting, Thorin turned to address the rest of the lingering crowd in Khuzdul, the sparse soldiers in their black uniforms and silver armor were waiting for their orders patiently, standing at attention in two rows before the throne. Bilbo tried to listen as Thorin gave his commands, though he had no real understanding of what was said, he soon got lost in the rasping words spilling from Thorin’s lips. Just watching Thorin give out orders in his native tongue caused his heart to beat rapidly and a blush to rise to his cheeks. Dressed up in his shining armor before the throne, the dwarf King looked very majestic and regal. Thorin looked and sounded every bit the King he was meant to be.

“Mister Baggins,” Thranduil said suddenly, bending low to whisper in the hobbit’s ear. “May I express my deepest regret that I had not helped you when you needed it the most.”

“What?” Bilbo whipped around to gape at the elf.

Thranduil’s usually cool expression turned contrite. “I had seen you enter the Mountain with the dwarf who would hurt you and at the time, in my heart I knew something was not right, but I did nothing. I continued my procession and I did not bother with any thought to your safety.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said, snapping his jaw shut, though he was still a bit stunned by the Elvenking’s sudden apology. “Oh! No, no, no! Its fine, Milord. I would never have expected you to know--”

“Please, Mister Baggins, do not try to say I have no culpability in your kidnapping. I can only hope that one day you accept my apology for not being a true friend to you like I said I would. I have been most negligent, and one day, if you ever find it in your kind heart, I hope you shall forgive me.” Thranduil bowed his head, his long blond hair falling over his shoulder like a silvery waterfall and hiding his sad expression.

Bilbo sputtered, completely flummoxed by the Elvenking’s apology. “Um, yes? Of course! I would never dream of holding anything against you, Lord Thranduil. How could you have ever know what would happen? Elves do not have the foresight to know what would come about!”

“I suppose,” Thranduil stood up straight, his pale blue eyes glittering down like cerulean gemstones on the hobbit. “Thank you though, your forgiveness means all the world to me.”

Still a bit flustered by the elf, Bilbo wrung his hands together nervously and tried in vain not to blush. His head felt like it might explode from all the blood rushing to it. “Yes, um, you too--I mean, your apology, though really you had nothing to apologize for, Milord. But thank you, nonetheless. I did not mean to worry you or anybody else.”

“Thranduil,” the Elvenking said, tipping his head to the side and smiling gently. “As you are elf-friend, I insist that you call me by that name.”

“Oh! Uh…please call me Bilbo, like I said befo--”

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, his voice ringing out in the quiet of the atrium. The hobbit quickly turned towards his dwarf, surprised to see the speech was over and that most of the guards were dispersing. Thorin alone was waiting for him. The others were already heading off towards the doors Ori had pointed towards, weapons at the ready. Thorin continued, “If you wish to stay here where it’s safer, I will not begrudge you, but I’d prefer if you keep company with others who are better armed to protect you.” Thorin’s eyes darted towards the Elvenking and his lips barely twitched into an irritated frown.

“No!” Bilbo squeaked, patting himself down nervously. “No, sorry, I’m ready to go! Just let me…um, should I bring something along or should I just….” Bilbo looked down around his feet and whirled in a circle, searching for something but not quite sure what. He didn’t feel like he was completely ready to stumble into a potential fight, at least not without a shield or a walking-stick for a weapon.

“Bilbo.” Thranduil’s pleasant voice called out before the hobbit could step away. “May I suggest you take a sword? To defend yourself, in case Master Thorin cannot shield you from danger for a second time. I have one about your size you can borrow. If you wait a moment I will have Galion retrieve it from my rooms.”

“Um, no thank you.” Bilbo said hurriedly, aggrieved by the very unsubtle insults being thrown about over his head. He sighed loudly. He couldn’t understand why Thranduil and Thorin disliked each other so much. As rulers for two Kingdoms so close to each other, one would think they’d at least attempt to get along for their people’s sake. “I’ll be fine. My friends will be there, so I am not too worried. But I should probably have a shield or something, just in case.”

Thranduil nodded and for a moment Bilbo thought he’d leave the matter alone, but then he made a motion with his hand and Tauriel stepped forward. Unlike the majority of the elves decked out in shimmer dresses and long extravagant cloaks, she wore a silken cream dress shirt and black leather trousers with knee-high polished boots, her attire simple but elegant.

“Please,” the Elvenking said, “take my most trusted guard, so she may protect you from any harm that may potentially befall you.”

“I will gladly lend my bow to your cause,” Tauriel said, bowing towards both Bilbo and Thorin, “to protect your family and to defend Master Baggins.”

Initially surprised by the respect Tauriel showed him, Thorin had to work up the fowl disposition to glower towards her. “Elf, we need no help from you. This is a matter between dwarves.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo admonished, ready to begin the search. They did not have time to sit around and argue. “I trust her and we need all the help we can get. We do not know the sort of situation we may be walking into. For Dis and Hept and the boys’ sake, let her come along.”

Thorin sneered in distaste, but waved her over nonetheless. “Fine.”

Tauriel smiled happily down at the hobbit, shouldering a wooden bow that looked much too small for her. “Thank you.”

“We go now, time is of the essence,” Thorin said, reaching out and snagging Bilbo’s hand in his. “If we encounter trouble, stay behind me.” They walked together quickly towards the hidden doors where the others were waiting, Tauriel following. Gimli looked ready to pursue them, but Prince Legolas stopped him with a question about his short beard.

“Yes, alright.” Bilbo would rather not get into any trouble at all, but he knew that was unlikely if Dwalin had not already neutralized Náli as a threat. The Councilman did not seem the sort who would easily surrender after all the work and planning he put into getting his revenge. “So are we just going to head right for the treasury? No strategizing or checking ahead for traps he might have laid?”

Glóin snorted, hefting his battle axe to his shoulder. “Naw, laddie. Best to confront it all head on.”

“That doesn’t sound very smart,” Bilbo said in dismay. Tauriel choked back a snort and had to look away before the others saw her laughing.

The doors opened slowly, their hinges old and rusty with disuse. The corridor ahead of them was dark, the lanterns hanging from the ceiling broken and the torches snuffed out. There was a wind howling through the tunnels that sounded somewhat like ghosts crying out in agony. It didn’t look like a pleasant tunnel to travel down at all, and Bilbo had been down some very unpleasant ones recently. The hobbit shivered, clutching Thorin’s hand tightly in his. For a moment, he thought about retracting his earlier demands and staying behind with Thranduil and the others.

Ori stuffed the gauntlet in his pocket as his hands started to tremble. “So who is going down first?”

“Um….” Bombur hunched his shoulder up towards his ears, his forehead breaking out in a cold sweat. “Would his Majesty like to lead the way?”

Thorin huffed, rolling his eyes at the others fear. “Fine. Follow me.”

Tauriel was at Bilbo’s side swiftly, helping him hold the door open as Thorin released Bilbo’s hand so he could pull his sword from his sheath and hold it at the ready. “Be careful,” she said, nudging him forward. Bilbo turned to look behind him one last time, glancing over the small group that had stayed behind. Lobelia and Loni were listening carefully to something Thranduil was saying, and Gimli and Legolas were arguing good naturedly as they headed towards the front gates, Reg and Ginnar were hugging each other, lost in the moment of being reunited.

For a moment, his Bagginses sense came over him, reminding him that hobbits were not ones for confrontation, particularly if the confrontation might lead to his own death. Thorin would not think ill of him for staying behind, especially after everything Náli had put the hobbit through already, and in fact Thorin would likely be insistent on it if he knew the truth of Náli’s sick fixation on Bilbo. But Bilbo was also a Took and he would never forgive himself of giving into the fear of confronting the scheming dwarf for all the grief he had caused Bilbo’s loved ones.

With one last lingering look over the remaining crowd, Bilbo’s eyes met those of Lady Galadriel’s. Her words the previous evening whispered pasted his ears like she was right behind him, leaning over his shoulder. Her warmth permeated his body like the summer sun, her presence almost physical, as if she was right beside him urging him forward. Her company reminded Bilbo that he was already brave, brave enough to stand at Thorin’s side through any hardship, that they’ve already encountered the worst that could be done to them and survived. They’d been separated and betrayed, and yet they’d still found their way back to each other’s side with hardly a scratch. There was nothing Náli could do to them that would harm them if they were together. Their love was more powerful than Náli’s cruel jealousy.

With his heart lighter than ever before, Bilbo straightened his spine and looked ahead. He wasn’t just any Took or Baggins, he was Bilbo Baggins, son to Belladonna and Bungo Baggins, friend to elves and wizards, future consort of the King of Erebor. Bilbo knew that he was courageous enough to confront Náli, he first just had to work up the nerve to take that first step forward.

“Bilbo?” Bofur leaned forward, peeking around Tauriel to see what was holding the hobbit up and cutting off Galadriel’s stare. Blinking away the fog in his head, Bilbo looked around and noticed Thorin had already descended down the tunnel alone. The others seemed anxious to join him.

Bilbo started, shaking himself out of his apprehensive state. “Let us go,” he said with confidence, his jaw clenching with determination.

“You first Mister Baggins,” Tauriel said, smiling down at him like she held a secret.

Bilbo stepped into the gloomy tunnel, trying to tip-toe around the broken glass and crystals shards he could see. Bofur scurried to his side, directing the hobbit where not to step when the corridor got too dark for him to see on his own. Only the vague golden light at the end of the hall helped Bilbo navigate where he was going and he clung tightly to the arm of Bofur’s tunic.

“Don’t worry, Bilbo, everything will be fine” Bofur said jovially, which is when three dwarves in gold armor came charging around a corner at them.

Thorin was the first to meet them, hefting his large sword over his head and bringing it down hard on one of the attackers head. The sicken sound of metal hitting bone shocked Bilbo, but he had little time to ponder the horror of it before Bofur was pushing him back towards the others and meeting the second attacker.

It didn’t seem a very fair fight to Bilbo, who had stumbled back into Tauriel’s legs and as he watched in fear Thorin and Bofur dealt with the remaining assailants. Bofur was handling himself pretty well with just a wooden shaft to defend himself, laughing aloud as the dwarf in gold armor grew frustrated with his ineffective attacks. Without the heavy armor to weigh him down, Bofur was easily able to sidestep the attacks, striking out and hitting the unprotected parts of his enemy without incurring any injuries himself. Bombur must have gotten tired of watching his brother play with their foe and swiftly slammed a frying pan over the attackers head, causing the dwarf to pass out. By the end of it, Thorin had easily dispatched the third dwarf before the hobbit could so much as blink in disbelief.

“A-alright,” Bilbo stuttered, wiping his sweaty hands nervously on his thighs. “Um, is everyone okay?”

Óin looked the two unconscious dwarves over, popping their helmets off to examine their head injuries.

“Their armor is strange,” Dori commented, picking up one of the abandoned helmets. As he turned the armor over in his hands, the solid gold of the metal glittered like fish scales in the faded light. It was certainly odd to Bilbo, who didn’t have much experience with armor in the first place, but it without doubt didn’t look like something any of the usual guards of Erebor wore. It was much too gaudy.  

Thorin thundered towards them, swiping one of the bloody helmets up in his hands. “This is from the treasury, ceremonial armor made before even Thrór’s time. They’ve tried to scrape the Durin’s crest off of it.”

Glóin chuckled darkly, “Not much of a dwarf if they didn’t know gold’s not good for body armor.”

“So does t-that means we’re heading in the right direction?” Ori asked, a bit wild eyed. He seemed just as shaken by the attack as Bilbo was, though he looked somewhat like he was handling it better than the hobbit was.

“I assume so,” Thorin growled, tossing the helmet aside. “Nali and his men would have heard the battle by now and must know that we are coming. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

The gruesome grin on Thorin’s face alarmed Bilbo and he ended up dragging his feet as the others all sprinted towards the end of the tunnel, yelling and hollering in delight. Thorin shouted out in Khuzdul, charging ahead with the others with nary a thought towards the casualty lying at his feet. Tauriel put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, helping him around the dead body of the dwarf when Bilbo could not even glance at it without feeling sick.

“In war, there are some grisly sights we must stomach,” the elf said gently, pausing at the end of the tunnel to peek around the corner. “Prince Thorin was kind enough to end his life quickly. Traitors do not fare so well in Mirkwood.”

“I did not know Mirkwood had many enemies.” Bilbo said, the nauseous feeling in his stomach gurgling unsettlingly at her words. Her admittance only emphasized the stark differences of their culture. Even to elves, the sight of death did not seem to faze them. It boggled Bilbo’s mind that just a moment ago the dwarf guard had been alive, and now he lay dead and discarded on the ground. Something in Bilbo’s chest tightened at the thought and tears prickled at his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping at the tears. “I’m just not use to it.”

Tauriel nodded absentmindedly, her focus on whatever lay ahead of them. Bilbo looked past her and into the chamber below them. What he saw took his breath away and flushed any thought of death from his mind. Past the open doorway and into the open chamber hall was a towering hill of gold below them. A literal hill of gold.  A hill far larger than even Bilbo’s grassy hill back home at Bag End.

He had never seen anything like it before.  

“Oh…” He breathed, blinking wildly. He couldn’t be sure if he was so overwhelmed by the sight he was seeing double or not, but it possibly looked like there was more than just one hill of gold. “Is that… all gold?”

“I believe so,” Tauriel answered, moving to the other side of the doorway. Next to them was a balcony that led to some stairs down below. Since the others were not waiting about, Bilbo assumed they had headed down to the ground level of the chamber.

“I’ve never seen so much--” The words died on Bilbo’s lips as he walked towards the balcony railings. There was a trail of blood and a torn black tunic of an Ereborian guard uniform snagged on the gold railing, but no actual body in sight. Dread filled Bilbo and he quietly despaired. He feared the worst might have befallen Thorin’s loyal guards.

Tauriel glanced quickly over the railing into the treasure hall. “I can see a group down below. Twenty seven men, who do not appear to owe their allegiance to Prince Thorin, and there are five more that are bound. One of them is the Princess.”

“Dis?” Bilbo jerked his gaze away from the smear of blood. “Is she alright? She isn’t hurt is she?”

The elf shook her head. “No. But another is. Male, balding, with tattoos.”

“Dwalin!” With little disregard for his own safety, Bilbo hurried past the balcony and towards the stairs. Tauriel reached for him, but missed by mere inches.

With every set of stairs there was a window and open corridor to another balcony, and each one he passed revealed even more gold in the treasury, piles of it, as far as the eye could see. Coins, armor, jewelry, anything the imagination could think of. The mounds of it glittered in the torchlight, shimmering like a vast golden sea. Bilbo stumbled over his own feet as he ran. He could not believe that something like this had been in Erebor this whole time, but he would not let himself become distracted by the awe-inspiring sight of it all. He had to get to the ground level where the others were.

Bilbo traveled down five sets of stairs to get to the bottom. He caught sight of Bombur first, his huge body blocking the last door and entrance to the treasure hall.

“What’s going on?” the hobbit asked, standing on his toes to get a glimpse. “Did any of you see Dwalin? Is he okay?”

“Shh!” Dori hissed, glaring under Bombur’s arm at him.

“But--?” Bilbo started to say, only an eerily familiar voice rang out and gave him pause. It would be a voice he’d hear in his nightmares for years to come.

“And where is he now?” Náli’s laughed, his tone filled with antagonism. “Where is your cowardly halfling lover? Did I frighten him so badly he decided to leave the Mountain for good? Did he leave you, Thorin Oakenshield? Or did he find someone better? Maybe an elf lord?”

Despite his terror at confronting Nali again, Bilbo knew he could not stay hidden. He pushed frantically at Bombur’s back, trying in vain to get the dwarf to move out of the way. “Please, I must go to him. Thorin needs me!”

“He’s only trying to bait him,” Bombur whispered, steadying his feet against the stone floor. “Thorin cannot divide his attention between all of ya’ll. It’s better you stay here where it’s safe.”

“You don’t understand--” Bilbo said, seething in anger through his teeth. He couldn’t even see what was happening or what was going on. He had to know, had to see for himself that Thorin’s family was okay and that Thorin wasn’t going to do something half-witted because he was angry.

Náli continued to taunt Thorin as the dwarf King stayed silent, his words cutting like a sharp blade against Bilbo’s heart. “Did you know he begged? Said he’d do anything to save his friends, anything. I had half a mind to force him to his knees right there in front of his friends to prove his convictions. He has such pretty lips, red as a ruby. But I do not want your second hand scraps, Thorin Oakenshield, I have more pride than that. He’s hardly worth the trouble you go through for him. A halfling like that is only worth the warmth they provide in your bed for a night.”

Dori scoffed aloud and Bilbo did not like what Náli was insinuating. Sure Bilbo would have done anything to save his friends, but he had some dignity. He rather doubted Bofur or the others would have let that happen. Bilbo was sure Náli was just saying these things to work Thorin into a fury so violent he couldn’t see straight, and that’s why Bilbo was sure he had to be there at Thorin’s side for this confrontation.

Searching through his pockets, Bilbo withdrew the lovespoon. It was the only weapon he had on hand. So without giving himself a moment to second guess his plan, he whopped Bombur over the head with it.

“Ouch!” The dwarf yelped, jumping away from Bilbo’s attack. Seeing the doorway open to him, Bilbo dashed through before someone else could stop him and rushed to Thorin’s side.

“Ah, and here he is now,” Náli sneered, his lips curling back cruelly. “I must say I’m rather surprised.”

Bilbo glared, his fists clenching at his sides. “Why? Because I outwitted you? I’m not surprised, you’re somewhat dense in my opinion.”  

Now that he could see everyone, Bilbo took in the scene before him quickly. Náli’s unkind face was scratched up and bloody, his red beard unbraided and tangled. The once gleaming gold armor that protected his rich clothes was scuffed with abrasions. Náli’s guards looked to be of a similar appearance, most of them in the garish gold armor and sporting a few injuries among them.

Dwalin was tied up and grinning with a bloody lip, the guards surrounding him looking the worse for wear. Dis was carefully bounded to a chair off away from the others, while Hept and his sons were secured to a column, kicking and cursing with ties in their mouths. Wretchedly, and perhaps the most unexpected appearance, was Master Pumpernickel. The cat was halfway covered by a golden bowl near the feet of the guards, lying at an odd angle and unresponsive.

Bilbo cried out and tried to rush to his tenant’s aid, but Thorin held him back, pushing the hobbit behind him instead. “How could you!” Bilbo yelled, trying to squirm free of Thorin’s grip. “How could you hurt such a helpless creature?”

“Helpless?” Following his gaze, Náli snarled, “That creature is no less helpless than a viper.”

“So you were almost defeated by a cat,” Thorin laughed meanly, keeping his eyes on the dwarf. “No wonder you have to turn to deceitful tactics to win. You are greedy, pathetic, immoral traitor. You do not even deserve to be called a petty dwarf for all the honor you lack.”

Náli’s face turned red with anger, his hooked nose looking like one of Farmer Maggot’s exotic purple carrots. The dwarf trussed back his cloak and started to pace in front of Dis, a clear reminder to Thorin about the precious hostage he held. “Do not talk to me of honor. The line of Durin lost their honor years ago when your grandfather went mad with power. Your perversions for the halfling lover only emphasize your own insanity. You are as cursed as your forefather before you and I would rather burn Erebor to the ground than risk you sitting on the throne.”

“Thorin, he plans to--”Dwalin strained to his feet under him, but was knocked over by a blow to the head. He moaned weakly and tried to shake it off, only to fall over on his side in pain. Ori squeaked from somewhere behind Bilbo, and Bofur made a comforting noise in response.

Náli laughed at the rage the action invoked in their company. When his pacing brought him close enough to Dwalin, he kicked out at the helpless dwarf, howling in even more laughter when Bilbo had to restrain Thorin from charging the Councilman right then and there.

“Oh hush up!” Bilbo growled at Náli, yanking on Thorin’s arm until he settled. “You keep talking like you’re doing everybody a favor by committing treason, but you’re just a bitter old man! You couldn’t take it that my grandmother rejected you and then Prince Frerin defeated you in battle. So you schemed and planned revenge for your own selfish reasons. It’s over for you now, so tell the truth! Your men should know the true reason of why you’ve endangering their lives.”

“Lies?” the dwarf echoed, turning his livid gaze on Bilbo. “You filthy creature, what would you know. Laura loved me, but that Baggins scoundrel lied to her, spilled deceitful fabrications in her glorious ears and then had that foolish Prince defend him. She was mine and he took her from me.”

“She wasn’t,” Bilbo said, stepping out from behind Thorin. “She never loved you. Mungo, my grandfather, was her One and she’s sorry if she might have made you think otherwise, but she was always going to marry him. She knew you never really loved her, you were too obsessed with your gold to ever be true to her.”

Náli froze and turned his whole body slowly to gawk at Bilbo with wide, wild eyes. Bilbo trembled at the crazed focus placed on him, yet he stood his ground. Lifting his chin defiantly, Bilbo glared back at Náli, barely resisting the urge to hold Thorin’s hand in comfort. He knew he could do this, knew he could handle Náli on his own. He just had to give himself a chance to prove to himself and everyone watching.

“True to her? She thought I would never be true to her?” Náli said slowly, his voice scarily composed. “I have loved her all these years. I love her still! It has driven me mad with wanting. I see her face in every hobbit’s I see, her laughter in the wind, her blush in the bloom of the spring flowers. If that does not prove how true to her I am, she is obviously the one at fault.”

“She said she’s sorry,” Bilbo repeated steadily, “she’s didn’t mean to cause you pain, but she loved my grandfather more than you could imagine and it would have been deceitful to accept your proposal when her heart belonged to another.”

“She’s sorry?” Náli choked, his voice high and hysterical.

Bilbo nodded. “Yes. And I’m sorry too. I know you were upset about what happened and it’s what brought about events that happened today, but I’m willing to put it in the past. I forgive you for what you did and if you apologize to Thorin, I’ll make sure he gives you a light sentence.”

“Is the idiot trying to reason with him?” Dwalin asked no one in particular, sounding dazed.

“You…you forgive me?” Náli inquired skeptically, taking a step towards the hobbit. Bilbo didn’t sense he was in immediate danger, especially with an armed dwarf King right next to him, but he was on his guard nonetheless as the Councilmen drew closer. “You halflings are so gentle hearted. So willing to show your belly instead of fighting for what you want.”

Pursing his lips, Bilbo wasn’t sure how to reply to that. He was pretty sure he was being insulted, only it didn’t sound offensive to his hobbit sensibilities. “What?” Bilbo asked, cocking his head to the side. Thorin flinched, his arm jerking subtlety towards the hobbit.

Náli continued, his expression wistful with longing. “You do look so much like her. The spitting image. You can still be mine, just take my hand. I’d worship you, cover you with jewels, and layer you in the finest of golden fabrics. You’d never want for anything and you would only have to be mine. Your precious Shire would be free of the tyranny of the mad King. Stand by my side and together we can defeat the line of Durin.”

Planting his hands on his hips, Bilbo leveled a steady frown at the dwarf. “No.”

Náli’s progression towards him stopped. “No?”

“No, I won’t. I love Thorin, he’s my One and we will be married despite all your attempts to sabotage us. I will not desert him, nor will I let you hurt any of our family or friends. I might not be a dwarf and I know I’m not a warrior, but I’ll pick up a sword myself before I let you do anything to harm any of them.”

Náli’s jaw dropped at the vehemence in Bilbo’s tone. Thorin stared at the hobbit like he’d never seen him before, his eyes wide and gleaming with fascination. Bilbo blush under the scrutiny.They were in a serious situation and he couldn’t get distracted because Thorin was gazing at him with hearts in his eyes.

Working his jaw closed, Náli growled thru his teeth at them. “You choose this beardless whelp? This lying, treacherous princeling over someone who could give you everything you’ve ever wanted and more?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said simply, wrinkling his nose up prudishly. “It’s not about getting everything I want. I admit Thorin and I are different and we don’t always get along, but he makes me happy. My love isn’t a reward--you can’t just win it in a duel. I care about Thorin, I’m committed to him, and when the blush of passion fades and sparkof fervor withers, he will still be the only one I want to plant my garden with and grow old with. We accept each other’s faults, whatever they may be, and it might not always be perfect to everyone else, but it’s perfect to us.”

Náli sputtered and tugged at his messy beard, seemingly overcome with a fit of frenzy by Bilbo’s answer. One of the guards surrounding Dis dropped his arms, glancing towards another as Náli started to pace wildly again. The Councilman looked crazed and demented, muttering to himself and twitching violently at nothing. Thorin pulled Bilbo against his chest, placing a quick kiss against the hobbit’s head while he watched the other dwarf cautiously.

“Thank you,” Thorin whispered, nuzzling his nose in Bilbo’s hair.

“Everything I said was true,” Bilbo replied, shrugging.

Thorin dragged the end of his sword against the ground and then pointed it at Náli. His deep voice was eerily calm and collected in comparison to Náli’s ranting. “Fight me. Here and now, just you and I. If I win, you will release my family and take your men and leave my Mountain, never to return. You will never harm another dwarf or hobbit in your lifetime, and you will leave Bilbo and I in peace.”

Náli raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “And if I win?”

Scoffing, Thorin shrugged off his heavy cloak. He seemed completely confident about the impending battle. “That will never happen.”

Following the King’s routine, Náli tore off his own cloak, thrusting it into one of his guard’s startled arms. “So self-assured for a Prince who will never be King. When I win, I will take your Kingdom and your lover, despite his adamant confession of true love. The Durin’s will be exiled and all this accumulated wealth will be mine.”

“We will see.” Bundling Bilbo back towards their friends, Thorin crouched and startled to walk in a circle, staying opposite of Náli until the dwarf was properly ready to fight. Náli fussed with his armor before he unsheathed his sword, which happened to be the blade Bilbo had commissioned for Thorin.

“That’s--!” Bilbo tried to point out and was hushed by Bofur, who gestured with his head at Thorin.

“Quiet, you don’t want to distract Thorin.”

Gritting his teeth in anger, Bilbo wrapped his arms tightly around his middle. Afraid he might shake apart with a combination of nerves and anger. He didn’t like this. He didn’t want Thorin to fight Náli. Not because he thought his dwarf would lose, but something just didn’t sit right with Bilbo. Náli seemed too confident about fighting Thorin, even though he’d seen for himself Thorin win the sword competition a few days before. And the fact that he wanted to use Bilbo’s small dagger against Thorin’s large broadsword, it just didn’t make sense. Náli had to have something up his sleeve.

The first strike was made by Thorin, who rushed towards Náli with his sword at the ready. Náli blocked it easily, using both his hands to buffer the assault as the handle of his dagger caught the edge of the sword. Thorin twirled out of the way quickly, never allowing the other dwarf a chance to strike back while the underside of his arm was unprotected.

“Well come on,” Náli taunted, smiling merrily. “Let’s get this over with.”

Bilbo wasn’t the only one suspicious of Náli’s sudden confidence. Thorin’s brows furrowed and he was more cautious about charging the Councilman the next time. He paced himself slowly in a circle, barely flinching when Náli pretended to make a motion towards him.

Náli lunged forward, feinting to the left before striking out on the right instead. Thorin got his sword behind him in time to block the attack, but it left his middle open. Náli took his chance and kicked out, kneeing the other dwarf in the groin.

“Foul!” Bofur yelled, waving his weapon at the fighters. “That’s not honorable fight’n.”

Giggling manically, Náli danced away as Thorin tried to catch his breath. “There are no rules of honor if the one you’re fighting lacks his beard and braids.”  

Ori stomped his foot angrily. “That’s cheating! There are no such rules!”

Thorin waved their concern off, staggering to his feet and holding his sword out ready to fight. His expression still looked pained, but he was determined to finish as champion. Náli scoffed indifferently, practically skipping as they continued their circling.

Now that he knew being on defensive wouldn’t work, Thorin barely waited a minute before attacking again. He swiped his sword at Náli’s feet, sending a scattering of coins into the dwarf’s face. The sound of the gold hitting Náli’s armor was like bells, echoing loudly in the empty hallway. It distracted Náli enough though that Thorin’s next blow landed a mark, jarring against Náli’s shoulder and sending the dwarf to the floor in a roll. Quick as a snake, Thorin struck again, over and over again, each hit landing somewhere that had the Councilman yelping in pain. Náli had to reach out with his hand and jerk Thorin’s leg out from under him to get a moment of ceasefire where he could get back to his feet.

Spitting blood at his feet, Náli shucked off his dented armor, leaving only his chest plate and gauntlets on.

“You want to play dirty?” Náli asked, flipping his dagger in the air. The blue gems flash brightly in the golden light, and Bilbo dearly wished that the blade wasn’t being used against Thorin. The dagger had been meant as a gesture of devotion, and now it was being used in such a cruel way against them. After Náli was dealt with, Bilbo didn’t think he’d ever be able to look at the weapon the same again.

Thorin grinned meanly back, “You started it.”  

Náli laughed and then threw the dagger at Thorin. Barely dodging out of the way in time, the sharp blade cut at Thorin’s thigh and embedded itself into a wooden chest behind him. Náli then jumped toward him and punched the other dwarf in the face. Thorin to rock back on his heels, stunned by the blow and too slow to avoid the next one, his head cracking to the side as Náli’s punch sent him reeling into a pile of gold blocks.

Cursing in Khuzdul and wiping away the blood running from his nose, Thorin almost slipped on the gold coins scattered at their feet. Bilbo felt his heart jump up into his throat, worried and concerned by how hard blows from Náli had been to Thorin. The duel should have been in Thorin’s favor, he had stamina and strength, a better sword, but Náli’s attacks were landing harder and weakening the other dwarf quicker than he could defend himself.

“Don’t relying on your sword so bloody much, ya idiot!” Dwalin yelled from the sidelines. “Stop treat’n it like a princely duel and start fighting like you’re in a war. Don’t let him win because ya are being a royal twerp!”

Thorin shook off the lightheadedness, swaying from side to side as he settled back on his feet and took in his surroundings. Squaring his shoulders at Dwalin’s words, a visible transformation went through the dwarf King. The once precise and measured stances became somewhat chaotic to Bilbo’s untrained eyes. Thorin did not appropriately position himself and level his weapon at Náli like he did previously in each attack, and instead paced in a circle like a wolf on the hunt, his eyes grimly fierce and a growl rumbling in his chest.

“So you will resort to barbarous attacks?” Náli asked, smiling and showing off his bloody gums. He yanked the dagger out of the wooden chest and wiped Thorin’s blood off on his trousers. Their circling had brought the traitorous dwarf closer to their group of friends, and if Bilbo didn’t know how much this fight meant to Thorin, he might have seize upon the chance to incapacitate Náli from behind without anyone else getting hurt. He had his spoon at the ready just in case.  

Thorin cocked his head to the side, as if remembering a thought. “That’s right, you were never at the Battle of Azanulbizar. You hid like a coward in your tent and made excuses. You have never shed blood in a real battle.”

Náli flushed, clenching his fist angrily at his side. “I was there!”

“Did you fight?”

Even Náli’s guards looked interested in the answer, their weapons lowered or tucked away as the two dueled. It seemed whatever conclusion was wrought today in battle, would decide where their loyalty lied.

“It doesn’t matter if I fought or not! I was there!”

This time it was Thorin’s turn to laugh before he volleyed a multitude of sword strikes and kicks at the other dwarf. He fought dirty, encroaching in the other dwarf’s space and attacking in any way he could. Thorin elbowed the Councilman in the head, kneed him in the side while he was bent over, using the handle of his sword to strike at Náli’s head again. Náli coughed, falling to the floor and rolling up in a ball. Thorin didn’t even stop then, he kicked at the dwarf while he was down, snarling murderous in Khuzdul.

“Enough, enough!” Náli cried out, curling up in ball to protect his middle.

Stumbling back, Thorin lowered his sword. “You yield?”

“Hah,” Náli laughed, wheezing as he got to his feet. “Never. Never will I yield to a Durin again.”

Glóin hissed at Bilbo’s side, shaking like he was waiting for just the right moment to jump in and join the fight. “That’s underhanded. Pretending to give up like that so Thorin will let off.”  

Thorin growled and Bilbo’s attention whipped back to the fight. Náli picked up a heavy looking gold vase, and he lobbed it at Thorin’s head. The King rolled out of the way, but Náli was already picking up the next item from the pile of gold next to him, tossing them at Thorin with accurate precision. A heavy music box hit Thorin in the jaw, right where he had a bruise already purpling on his skin.

“Thorin!” Bilbo yelled, jerking forward as if to run to his lover’s side. Both Bofur and Glóin grabbed hold of his arms, holding him in place.

“How sweet,” Náli sneered, looking Bilbo up and down. “He’s so worried for you. I can only assume he doesn’t have much faith that you will win, Thorin.”

“Take that back!” Bilbo protested, kicking out as Bofur and Gloin held him up. “I have every bit of faith that Thorin will win and….and he’ll beat you so hard your beard will fall right off in shame!”

“Bilbo,” Thorin said calmly, rubbing at his jaw. “It’s fine. Settle down and let me handle this. This duel will be over with shortly.”

“Oh…okay,” Bilbo faltered, going lax in the dwarves hold.

Náli laughed again, his sleazy smile making the hobbit shiver in revulsion. “The halfling is so pliant at your command. No wonder you enjoy bedding him.”

Bilbo pursed his lips together and puffed out his cheeks, fighting himself not to respond to Náli’s taunting. The insults were meant to bother them, to get either or both of them too worked up that they wouldn’t be able to think straight, so Bilbo knew he’d do best just to ignore them. But it was so hard. He didn’t want to listen to Náli talk about their private life so crudely and in public like that. He had no right!

“Your fight is with me,” Thorin reminded the other dwarf, taking a jab at Náli’s back.

Again the fighting started up again and Bilbo felt his heart jump into his throat. As many hits as Thorin got in, Náli was just as crafty to get some of his own in as well. They were both sporting cuts and bruises after a few short minutes, though it felt like it went on forever. Thorin soon had a cut to his forehead, across the crown of his brow, and he had to switch his sword to the other hand when Náli got too close with the dagger and sliced across his knuckles. Náli now at least seemed to be faring the worst, limping constantly and leaning to the left where Thorin had kicked hard at his hip with his steel toed boot.

“Do you know where I got this sword?” Náli asked, staggering back and caressing the bloody blade of Bilbo’s dagger.

“Yes,” Thorin grunted, not rising to the bait. “It is Bilbo’s. He had it made to be presented to me in the final day of our courting. You took it from him and threatened him with it.”

“Oh, so you do know.” The Councilman laughed through his panting, dropping his arms limply and pointing the blade at the ground. “Well, then I imagine you will understand why I am going to do the right thing and give it back to him.”

Everyone halted in confusion, even Thorin paused to blink slowly in puzzlement. Then Náli turned around and thrust the blade into Bilbo’s belly.

“Ah…” Bilbo breathed, eyes wide with surprise as his hands went up to grasp the handle of the dagger. Náli jumped back with a smile, jerking out of the way as Glóin and Bofur both lunged for him. Bilbo looked down at the weapon sticking out of him, deliriously confused about what had just happened.

“Bilbo!” Everyone shouted, the sound of it echoing through the treasure hall. Thorin dropped his sword and rushing to the hobbit’s side, his yelling the loudest of all of them. Dori reach Bilbo first, catching him as he stumbled backward in surprise, holding the hobbit and they both lurched towards the ground. Thorin fell to his knees next to him, skidding across the gold coins and almost colliding with Dori.

“Bilbo,” Thorin stammered, the color draining from his face. His hands hovered hesitatingly over the wound, flapping uselessly and unsure where to touch that wouldn’t cause pain. “No, no, no,” Thorin moaned, tears slipping between his lashes. “Not Bilbo, please, Mahal, not this, don’t let it end like this.”

“You didn’t expect that!” Náli jeered, scooping up a handful of gold and tossing it into the air over them. “Long live the King! I shall treasure this moment always. You should have known if I couldn’t have him, I would never let you have him either, Thorin. Really, you are so gulli--ulp!

Náli suddenly fell to the ground hard, an arrow embedded in his back of his neck. His fingers twitched and he blinked wildly, but he made no move to get back up. Bilbo stared at him, watched as he continued to gasp for breath like a fish out of water. Náli wasn’t dead, at least not yet, but he wasn’t getting up again either.

What sounded like rushing waterfall filled Bilbo’s ears and time seemed to slow down. His gaze wandered away from the Councilman and moved almost uncontrollably over the others. He felt like he was tumbling head over heels down the Mountain, dizzy as the earth slipped out from under his feet.

No one rushed to aid Náli, instead their attention was wholly focused on Bilbo. Even Náli’s hired guards seemed concerned, stepping away from their charges to peek over the companies shoulders for a look. Nori appeared out of nowhere, cutting Hept free first before helping the boys. Dis simply stood up and walked away, right into the arms of her husband and son. Sometime during the duel she’d slipped from her bindings, but not wanting to distract Thorin, she hadn’t moved from her spot. The reunited family pressed their foreheads together, smiling and whispering softly to each other. Hept placed a gentle hand over Dis’ belly and the Princess smiled back.

Dwalin used Thorin’s discarded blade to cut himself loose, scooping up Master Pumpernickel in his arms before rushing over to them. The cat lifting his head weakly and mewled softly. A rush of relief traveled through Bilbo. He was so happy to know the creature was alive.

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, his voice trembling with sobs as he hunched over the hobbit. Bilbo gasped and turned his attention back to his beloved, alarmed to see Thorin lying next to him. Last he remembered the dwarf had been hovering over the dagger sticking out of his belly. “Bilbo, everything will be f-fine. I promise. Don’t move. Don’t pull the blade o-out. Keep still. Please. Please.”

Bilbo was confused to find himself laying down, his head pillowed in Dori’s lap as the others bent over him. Ori was in the process of unwinding his scarf, offering it noisily to Óin as a bandage to stanch the bleeding. Bofur was flapping his hands uselessly around the handle of the dagger, too scared and too worried about touching the hobbit and making his wound worse. Dis eventually found her way over to them, making room through them and dropping to her knees next to Bilbo’s hip before taking up his hand. She placed a gentle kiss on the back of his knuckles.

“Please, Mister Baggins, do not pass into the halls of Aulë before your time. Don’t close your eyes. Stay here with my brother. Stay here with us.” Her beautiful blue eyes started to well with tears.

Bilbo blinked slowly. “Um… alright?”

“He’s in shock!” Óin hollered, pulling some frankly archaic and horrifying medical utensils out of his coat pockets and setting them next to Bilbo’s head. “Don’t touch him. Ya don’t want to jar the wound. Call for healers! I’ll need help! And don’t forget to ask for a stretcher to take him to the infirmary!”

Dwalin rushed to do as was bided and Bilbo squawked at him. “Wait! That’s not necessary!”

Tears fell freely down Thorin’s face and he smothered his lips against the hobbit’s neck, his beard scratching pleasantly against the soft skin. He rasped, “Bilbo, I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh Eru,” Bilbo sighed, rolling his eyes. “You are all being ridiculous. I’m not hurt.”

“That’s just the adrenaline,” Óin barked, slapping Bombur’s hand away when he tried to help Nori cushion the hobbit’s feet with a small chest of gold. “Leave him. No one touch him.”

Thorin glared mutinously through his tears at the healer, refusing to move an inch from Bilbo side. The dwarf King carefully cradled Bilbo’s jaw, stroking his thumb across the hobbit’s lips before kissing them softly. Dori awkwardly moved away and set the hobbits head carefully on the ground. “I won’t leave, ghivashel. I’ll stay by your side always. Men lananubukhs menu.”

“You all,” Bilbo growled against Thorin’s lips, tired of their fretting. Before they could make an even bigger production, Bilbo yanked the dagger out of his belly. The blade’s sharp edge snagged on part of the silvery threads of his tunic, so it took a couple of tugs before it came loose. Everyone had gone into full blown hysterics by then.

“No!” Thorin bellowed, falling on Bilbo to keep him still. The hobbit groaned out loud, surprise by the dwarf’s sudden weight.

“You idiot!” Bilbo screeched, kicking out with his feet. “I’m wearing the mithril shirt you gave me! I’m not hurt!”

“What?” Dis asked, falling back on her rump.

“I. Am. Not. Hurt.” Bilbo tossed the dagger over Thorin’s head and to Fili’s feet. The Prince picked the weapon up and examined it.

“There’s no blood,” Fili gasped in wonder.

Thorin rolled off him and to his knees, wrenching the hobbit’s shirt open so hard the gemstone buttons went flying. In the torch light, the silver metal of the chainmail glittered like moonlight on the water. A few of their friends gasped in amazement, either surprised by how unharmed Bilbo was or by the sight of the chainmail, the hobbit could only guess. Bombur looked ready to faint in shock and nearly stumbled to the floor when his knees gave out from under him.

“For Mahal’s sake,” Óin groaned, sagging against his brother’s back. “Warn me ahead of time if yer gonna play a bloody trick like that. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Dis reached over Bilbo and smacked her brother over the head. “Dunderhead!”

Nori plopped himself into a pile of gold and stared dazed out at the horizon. “That was…petrifying.” Náli’s men awkwardly looked at each other, unsure what to do. One kindly offered Nori a handkerchief, which made the red-headed dwarf glower at him before swiping it from his hands.

Ori nodded, clutching Dwalin tightly around the middle, careful not to jar Master Pumpernickel. The royal guard scratched at his beard, brows wrinkled in confusion. “So the halflng’s okay?” he asked, sounding a bit like he was somewhat put out by the news. Bilbo glared suspiciously over Thorin’s head at him.

Grumbling loudly in Khuzdul, Óin got to his feet and wandered over to check on the cat, tutting at Dwalin not to jostle the creature. After a few minutes of examination, he declared Master Pumpernickel for the most part fine, but suffering from a concussion. Bilbo swore to himself he was going to see that the cat was spoiled in all the best ways he could imagine. There would be fluffy pillows and the best catnip one could buy from the Dale market! Anything Master Pumpernickel desired would be his. The cat had been a true knight in furry armor.

“I hate you!” Bofur yelled, throwing his hands up in the air and knocking his hat off. “My beard’s going to fall right out because of you both. I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about the mithril shirt, Bilbo, and here Thorin knew the whole time you were wearing it.”

Thorin ducked his sister’s next swipe, trying to roll away as she scuffled after him. “I didn’t know!”

Bilbo wiggled up into a sitting position. Checking over his belly he found the hole where the dagger had pierced his clothing and stuck a finger through the torn fabric, wiggling his finger and laughing somewhat hysterically. The chainmail looked as good as new, and besides being a bit winded, Bilbo was completely fine. He guessed Thorin wasn’t kidding when he said that nothing could damage mithril.

There was a loud creaking noise and everyone turned their weapons on the intruder, even Bilbo picked up his dagger to protect himself. Náli’s men had strangely been complaisant since their master’s incapacitation, but it wasn’t smart to be careless about security at a moment like this. It would be the perfect opportunity to strike a blow if one was looking for it.

“Oh bother!” Gandalf stepped out of the door that had mysteriously appeared in the wall, tugging cobwebs from his beard and unaware of their presence. Kili made a gurgling noise in his throat and the wizard paused, turning slowly to look at them. “Well, this is a surprise. Everything alright?”

“Gandalf,” Bilbo sighed, ignoring Fili’s loud groaning. Thorin fell at Bilbo’s side, wrapping his arms around the hobbit and burying his face against his neck as the rest of their Company rush to besiege the wizard with the tales of what had just occurred. The dwarf’s nose was cold and blood still oozed from the cut on his forehead, staining what was probably the last clean space on Bilbo’s clothes. The gorgeous outfit was completely ruined at this point.

“Let’s go home,” the dwarf King said, squeezing the hobbit tightly. “I am tired and would like to sleep with you at my side.”

“Gladly,” Bilbo replied, carding his fingers through Thorin’s hair and smiling.

 

****