Homeward Bound Part One: An Unexpected Journey

Chapter Forty-Seven

Dain arrived two days later along with his army. Thorin and the rest of his Company were able to open a small part of the front gate allowing them to walk straight in the front door of Erebor. A massive pathway was opened up through the center of camp to allow them to pass. The elves and men gathered along both sides, watching in complete silence as the dwarves passed, the only sound the clinking of the tack on their ponies and the sound of their armor and mail.

Thorin stood on the battlements over Erebor and waited for his cousin to join him. The ground was wet from intermittent rains, causing mud to splatter up in a thin mist as the dwarves marched in. The temperature had dropped even lower, the stone of the railing he stood against felt like ice against his palms.

Briefly he wondered how Bilba and his nephews were faring but he quickly pushed the thought aside. Any discomfort they suffered was their own doing.

It was the first time he'd been out of the mountain in days. It was the first time he'd been among people too. After he'd banished the traitor and his blinded nephews he'd locked himself in his grandfather's old rooms and refused all visitors. He'd received word soon after that Gandalf was at the gates demanding entrance but he'd refused to see him. The blasted wizard was the reason he'd had the traitor in his midst. Without his meddling he'd still have his nephews at his side where they belonged.

His heart wouldn't have been stolen by a thief and a liar.

He'd heard tale of a massive army supposedly on the move from Mordor but he wasn't fool enough to believe it. Quick on its heels had been the requests to allow refuge in the mountain.

Thorin's lips turned up in a sneer at the memory. They thought him a fool, that he would gladly open the mountain to them and welcome them in. No doubt their true aim was to take his throne. The story of the army was false, simply a plot to gain access.

He would not be blinded so easily.

The ever present headache still thudded in his temples. He'd grown almost used to its presence. No doubt it was caused by the stress he'd been under as well as having to deal with the cancer that Bilba Baggins had brought to his Company. Even before he'd locked himself in his new chambers he'd seen the looks they had been giving him.

It wasn't just his nephews she'd poisoned; they had just been deceived more than the rest. No matter, she was gone and soon his nephews would see the light. They would return to him and things would be as they should be. Erebor would be controlled by dwarves once more. They needed no outsiders attempting to tell them what to do, plotting and scheming against him.

His eyes went to the rows and rows of elves and men watching Dain's army enter the gate. Almost against his will his eyes sought out a small, female form, the dark hair of his youngest heir, the golden blonde of his eldest.

Thorin cursed his own weakness and spun on his heel, stalking back inside and slamming the door behind him.

He went in search of Dain and soon found him standing in the doorway of the Treasury, a grimace on his face. Thorin understood it. The stench of the rotting dragon only seemed to grow day by day. It spread as well, permeating hall by hall until he was convinced he could still smell it dozens of levels away.

"I would celebrate except it might involve heavier breathing," Dain said dryly as Thorin stepped up next to him.

Thorin grunted in agreement. He hadn't seen his cousin in many years but not much had changed. Dain was near him in age and had a similar look. He was shorter than Thorin, closer to Dwalin in bulk, with shorter, straight black hair and a longer beard. His eyes were closer to a turquoise than blue but, from a distance, they had sometimes been mistaken for one another.