Calm The Fire

37

"Are you mad?" Were the only words which Bilbo could surmise, after a moment of silence that is. Náriel looked at him while putting all the armour into a pile, picking it up, she moved it away from herself and took to sorting out a bedroll for herself. "Náriel? Excuse me...but...h-how do I go about that..?" Bilbo asked awkwardly while stuttering and fidgeting. He honestly didn't want to think about leaving the Lonely Mountain to hunt out those who had it in mind to storm the barricade.

"I'm not mad. I'm being sensible."

"You call...that...being sensible?" Bilbo asked while narrowing his eyes curiously at her.

"What would you call it?" Náriel shot at him while folding up her cloak to act as a pillow. "Being mean, cruel, unjust, double crossing, backstabbing? Do not think that I'm suggesting this out of ease; I am not. Thorin asked one thing of me once, and that was to be honest with him. Do you honestly think, while keeping this in mind, that lying to him about this thing is easy for me?" Náriel shook her head. "I hate lying, least of all to him. Going against him, arguing...anything which would warrant hurt, or upset...but you have to see it this way, Bilbo, he can't have it. He just can't. Surely you've seen already what this is doing to him?"

Bilbo gave a small fidget on his own bedroll and looked to her then to the fire. "But to them."

Náriel leaned close to him and looked at him calmly. "Bard has done no ill will. It's Thranduil that has." She whispered lowly and seriously. "Bard is a good man, you can trust him." Bilbo nodded and went to reply only to get beat to it. "No," Náriel smirked. "I wouldn't trust my uncle if I were you." Blinking she looked to the fire and sat up straight. "If you have any other suggestions though, I'd be glad to hear them." Náriel looked at him with a sidelong look. "Giving it to them is the only way to get it away from him." Náriel said while frowning, it all sounded so confusing. Though Bilbo just nodded, he was following along fine. Looking around, Náriel sighed, "Where even is Thorin?"

"Exploring still." Bilbo replied while crossing his arms. She nodded, exploring really meant trying to find the Arkenstone, they both knew it. If it wasn't, then it'd translate to looking around the grand wealth which they were all surrounded by.

"He won't give up." Náriel said after a moment of silence, Bilbo looked at her quickly. Náriel hung her head and looked to him. "Stubbornness...the things I could say, it's an annoying trait that's for sure."

"If he won't give up, what's-"

"The point of hiding it?" Náriel smirked. "Are you joking? Does swanning off and leaving his friends in confusion, without aid, and in trouble, sound like the Thorin you've grown to know? Did Smaug not tell you that there was a sickness which lays over this horde? I'm sure he'd have more than enough pleasure in telling you."

"He did mention something, yes." Bilbo confessed remembering full well what Smaug had said. "He...he said that he was tempted to let me get it." Bilbo said quietly referring to the precious jewel in his pocket, he distantly looked at the darkness which lurked in the surrounding corridors. He wrung his hands and looked to Náriel. "Only to see Thorin suffer." Náriel's eyes darkened and she nodded slowly. "Watch it destroy him, corrupt his heart and drive him mad..." Bilbo trailed off slowly. "But wouldn't keeping it from him have more of a devastating result?" Bilbo questioned, he couldn't help but think that. This situation worked both ways. Sure, Thorin had held a blade to him when Bilbo had dodged the questions which revolved around the Arkenstone. But either way he couldn't see this ending well.

He agreed with Náriel, it needed to be hidden, yes. But Thorin would never give up looking. And the ever lasting looking could have more of an affect on him than having the jewel in his possession. Putting his hands on his head, Bilbo groaned quietly. This was all too much to think about. Náriel shook her head. "I don't know, my friend...I honestly don't." Her eyes looked up at the tall carven ceiling and then down at him. "We should rest though. I believe that we may have a long day tomorrow."