for all the gold || hobbit {completed}

chapter eighteen - dragon sickness

The hobbit led us back up the staircase, up a few flights, and then through some corridors. Erebor had lacked dwarven inhabitants for nearly two centuries - it was a dingy place, dark and abandoned. Some torches had been made and lit, fixed to long-disused sconces, yet it could not fend off the general bleakness that hung in the air. Perhaps the hobbit was right, perhaps a sickness did lie over the place. Or perhaps the thick, musty air was just making me on edge. I hadn't known what to expect from Erebor, perhaps a larger and more ornate version of Ered Luin. These few standing passageways hardly warranted songs.

Up ahead, walking beside the hobbit, Bofur was bombarding the halfling with dozens of questions; the hobbit struggled to keep up.

"They're all ok? Bombur? Bifur? Balin? Dwalin? Dori? Nori? Ori"

"Yes- yes, they're all fine-"

"Bombur didn't get hurt, did he? Did he get any burns? And Bifur, what about him? No more head wounds on him?"

"No, no-"

"And Balin? He's-"

"They're all alright!" the hobbit exclaimed, annoyed. "I keep telling you. No one was hurt. Not by the dragon. Not by anything!"

Bofur nodded, only to start up all over again, asking specific questions for each member of the company. The hobbit could only answer as best as he could until he finally brought us to a small cellar where the others were gathered.

"Balin!" Bofur was the first to spot the back of the older dwarf. He was met in welcome with an excited embrace from Dwalin as one by one the other dwarves reacted in joyful surprise to our evident survival.

I held back, finding myself somewhat hesitant to interrupt the greetings, but the others would not let me off so easily.

"You made it then?" Nori asked, having extracted himself from Fili and Kili's embraces.

"Just about," I retorted. "You'd have thought Smaug would have better taste."

"Eh, well, guess he prefers his meat less gristly." He hugged me anyway, a moment that we both found uncomfortable. He was then followed by Dori, who gave me an enthusiastic handshake, and little Ori, who gave me a surprisingly tight hug. Then came the others, one by one, dwarves I had known for only months, but who all seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being. I was pleased to see that they had all made it.

"Fought them off, did you, lass?" Dwalin said, slapping me proudly on the back. I gritted my teeth to hide the pain, my ribs still bruised from our fight with the orcs, a fight we were just recounting to the others over a bowl of stew and some long-brewed ale.

"'Course," I replied, "like you taught me." I didn't fall over then, at least not too much.

"Slippery bastards those orcs," Dwalin continued, turning his attention back to the others. He made a fist and smacked the old wooden table, dislodging two centuries of dust into the air. "Once we've settled the mountain, we must deal with them."

"If they don't deal with us first, brother." Ever the optimist, Balin eyed his brother and then the rest of us. "Once we have made work clearing the halls, we can summon our relatives back from the Blue Mountains. It'll be good to have a full mountain again."

His words made the stew catch in my throat. Clearing? I had thought my commitment over with the recapture of the mountain and the death of the dragon. I had not considered that I'd have to stay for the housekeeping.

"How bad is it?" Fili asked. He sat beside his brother, across the table from me. "We saw what was left of the entrance hall."

"It's not much worse than that," Balin replied. "The rubble just needs removing. I'm thinking more of the smaller halls. Where our people left behind belongings, food - where some of our people remain."