The Journey

The Lonely Mountain, Pt. 2

     Bilbo awoke in darkness, a haze of warmth surrounding him as he lay curled against Thorin, the dwarf lord curving around him in sleep, the blankets weighing comfortingly upon them. He lay still, breathing quietly and enjoying the rise and fall of Thorin's chest and the secure press of his arm around his shoulders, the room quiet around them. Wondering what time it was, Bilbo decided he didn't care and snuggled farther into Thorin, letting out a sigh as he closed his eyes again.
     "Are you awake?" Thorin asked sleepily.
     "Mm," Bilbo murmured in reply. "A little."
     "I hope I didn't wake you," Thorin said.
     "You didn't."
     "Mm."
     They lay quietly, trying to return to sleep, but nothing came. Finally, Thorin sighed deeply.
     "Still awake?" Bilbo said quietly.
     "Yes." Thorin sighed again, shifting around slightly. Bilbo turned over and placed his hands on Thorin's chest, resting his chin on his fingers and watching him fondly through half-closed eyes. Thorin's dark hair spread across the pillows, the curve of his shoulders peeking out above the rich blankets, the muscles of his neck flexing as he tilted his head down to look at him, the shadows flowing gently across his face, the dim light catching on his strong profile and dark eyelashes as they fluttered open, his face moving in a gentle smile as he gazed at him.
     "What?" Bilbo prompted.
     "You," Thorin replied simply.
     Bilbo raised an eyebrow, then closed his eyes again, laying his cheek against his hands. He tried to relax, but he could feel the weight of Thorin's gaze upon himself.
     "Thorin," Bilbo mumbled, "close your eyes."
     "Why?"
     "Because...because I know you're watching me!"
     "And that affects you how?" Thorin smiled.
     Bilbo looked up indignantly. "Just close your eyes!"
     "You were the one who decided to sleep shirtless!" Thorin laughed gently, "but I will, if you insist."
     Bilbo smiled shyly. "Well, maybe I don't insist." He leaned forwards on his chest, reaching for his lips. He pressed his lips to Thorin's, gently tilting his head to work his mouth, the soft kiss a wonderful wake up call. Thorin played with his lips, brushing them with his tongue, reveling in their softness and eager press. He let out an involuntary sigh as Bilbo's tongue met his own, and he felt the hobbit smile against his mouth, his hand sliding up Bilbo's spine to cradle the back of his head.
     A gentle pounding at the stone door caused them to draw apart, the door opening slightly to let a beam of light fall into the room. Balin poked his head in.
     "Thorin, it is dawn," he called quietly, "We have much work to do."
     Thorin nodded respectfully. "Right—I'll be there soon." Balin bowed slightly in reply and ducked out of the room, deciding to ignore the two shirtless figures and the question of whether they had pants on or not.
     "I guess it is time to get up," Thorin sighed, looking over at Bilbo.
     "I guess so," Bilbo said, then snuggled back up to him, closing his eyes once again.
     "What are you doing?" Thorin asked.
     "Going back to sleep."
     Smiling, Thorin leaned back on his hand and ran gentle fingers through Bilbo's hair, feeling the delicacy of his scalp and the softness of his curls.
     "That feels good," Bilbo murmured.
     Thorin smiled down at him, admiring the line of his profile and the curve of his jaw, the color of his lips and his slender fingers. He bent down and smoothed his hair back from his forehead, then leaned down to kiss him, long and hard, his brow furrowing with passion.
     "Good morning, Bilbo," he murmured against his mouth.
     "Good morning, Thorin," Bilbo replied, then slowly leaned into the kiss, pulling Thorin farther into him and sighing as the dwarf lord slid a hand across his bare chest. It was a wonderful way to wake, pressed up against his chest, their lips on one another's, safe in his arms, Bilbo thought happily to himself. He heartily wished he could stay in bed all day, and he said so.
     "As do I," Thorin agreed, but he slid off the bed and started to search for his clothes on the floor, leaving Bilbo to sit up, stretching and yawning, the blankets falling away from his smooth shoulders.
     Thorin watched him from the corner of his eye, sneaking glances at his bare back as he himself pulled in his shirt and tunic. They both dressed quickly, belt buckles clinking as they cinched them around their waists, Thorin pulling on his boots as Bilbo adjusted the fit of his coat.
     "Ready?" Bilbo said, standing patiently by the door and watching Thorin swing on his heavy coat.
     "Ready," the dwarf lord replied, shaking out his hair and striding to the door. "Wait," he said quickly, as Bilbo made to step out, and bent down to kiss him. Bilbo rose up on his toes to meet Thorin's mouth, his breath warm on his cheeks as their lips met, firm and simple, a loving press to start the day.
     Thorin said nothing as he pulled apart, his eyes shining into Bilbo's own, then turned down the hallway, gently brushing his hand against Bilbo's as he strode off towards the others.
     Bilbo stood, breathless and pink-cheeked, for a moment in the doorway, then quickly ran to his pack, making sure that the Arkenstone was still tucked safely inside. It would not do for anyone to find it. Satisfied with its secrecy, he hurried off down the hallway after Thorin's retreating back.
     "Morning," Thorin said, striding into the arched room at the end of the hall.
     A chorus of cheerful "morning"s answered him, the rest of the dwarves awake, curls of smoke rising to the ceiling, boots propped up lazily on the long stone table, Bilbo padding into the room behind him.
     "Everyone's night was fine?" Thorin asked, leaning across the table to rifle through one of the food packs for a piece of cram.
     "Yes, thanks," Bofur replied, puffing out a large smoke ring that sailed to the ceiling.
     "It was much better than last night," Ori piped up.
     "How was yours?" Bombur asked respectfully.
     Thorin hesitated for a moment. "Wonderful."
     "If he got much sleep," Kili whispered to Fili, and they both dissolved into silent laughter.
     Bilbo pretended not to hear them as he snatched a piece of cram from the table as well, fighting the blush in his cheeks and sliding onto the stone bench while Thorin strode to the head of the table.
     "We have much work to do," he mused, turning the piece of cram over in his fingers.
     "Aye," voices echoed around the table.
     "We should look over the defenses that we have," Bofur advised, twiddling his pipe in his fingers, "we don't know how much time we have before Smaug returns."
     "True," Gloin agreed, "and we should definitely look over the front gate. That will most likely be the place our...visitors...will go to."
     "Aye, but we should also scope out the damage inside, too," Dori said, "We don't know how much of this place Smaug has gutted."
     "Thorin? What say you?" Dwalin grumbled, looking over at him.
     Thorin raised his eyes from the table. "It's all very well, but you are forgetting one thing." He paused, his gaze searching the company. "The Arkenstone. It lies here, in these halls, and it must be found. We can look through the rest of the treasure—we will find weapons and armor, and tools we can use in our defenses. But we must find the Arkenstone."
     Bilbo did his best to keep his gaze steady as murmurs of assent echoed around the table, the dwarves' curiosity and longing for the gold downstairs aroused. He thought of the stone tucked in his pack and laced his fingers together under the table so he wouldn't start drumming them nervously, worried thoughts flashing through his mind.
     "Then gold it is!" Fili said, looking around the table excitedly. Immediately, the rest of the company swung their legs over the side of the benches and clambered to their feet, pipes snuffed out and clothing straightened, the sound of merry voices echoing through the hall. Thorin flashed a quick smile at Bilbo, then led the way down the corridor, the group following excitedly, jostling each other and reminiscing upon the rumors of the riches of the treasure.
     "Excited to choose your fourteenth share, Master Baggins?" Kili grinned, coming up beside Bilbo.
     "Oh, yes," Bilbo said truthfully, smiling, his hands in his pockets.
     "Oh, I can't wait!" Fili sighed, glancing over at his brother, "Great coats of shining mail, necklaces seeming to be made of sunlight, golden helms—"
     "And silver harps, and gems the size of eggs," Kili continued, "and long swords set with jewels—"
     "What are you going to take?" Fili asked Bilbo curiously.
     "Oh, I don't know, probably just a few handfuls of coins and a necklace or two, if I find one I like," Bilbo said honestly. "I haven't thought about it, really."
     "I'm sure you'll find lots of things you like, besides our uncle's company in bed," Kili said slyly, elbowing him. Bilbo opened his mouth for an indignant reply, but Fili laughed and interrupted.
     "Come on, let's go up ahead! If we get there first, we get first pick." And ducking under Oin and Gloin's arms, they darted away, Bilbo left behind. He laughed to himself and shook his head. They would joke all they liked, and Bilbo would let them—after all, they were Thorin's nephews.
     A collective murmur of astonishment flew through the company as the great hall, filled with gold, hove into view, the treasure shining invitingly in the dim lighting. Then a cheer rose up, and thirteen pairs of heavy boots ran down the stairs, the company spreading out as they strode across the coins, staring down in awe. Fingers cautiously fondled necklaces and bracelets, coins spilling through hands, gasps and shouts of wonder punctuating the silence. Thorin, Balin and Dwalin crossed the hall to the other side, making their way to another set of room that they knew held armor and weapons. Thorin gazed around himself. It was every bit as magnificent as he had dreamed it would be—and all of it was his, finally, and rightfully, as the King Under the Mountain. Part of him wanted to hang back, to fall on his knees and rake his fingers through the coins, the metal falling in streams from his hands, the ringing of gold filling his ears, but he turned away and continued walking, fighting the impulse, searching the coins at his feet.
     Bilbo trailed behind them, feeling rather self-important for being the only one to have seen this place beforehand, and yet the magnitude scared him a little; the last time he had seen the treasure, the hulking figure of Smaug sat atop it. And with all this gold, where would he start looking? It seemed quite impractical to just start at one corner. Wondering mildly what to do, he kept a little ways behind Dwalin, staring interestedly around himself.
     Climbing the stairs on the other side of the wide hall, Thorin, Dwalin and Balin began speaking of weapons and defenses and the rooms in which they might best be found, and Bilbo paused on the balcony overlooking the hall while the they passed through the arched entrance and into the next hall. The gold stretched out before him like an immeasurable carpet, the individual coins and jewels indistinguishable in the fluid rise and fall of each hill of treasure, dotted only be the small figures of the dwarves, leaving small cascades of gold in their wakes, like so many small boats on a large lake.
     Drumming his fingers on the balcony for another moment, he peered after the three that had gone ahead of him, then caught sight of them turning around a corner to his left. Deciding to do a little exploring of his own, he turned right, passing two or three rooms filled with gold only to enter another, connected to its counterparts by elegant arched openings.
     This chamber had fewer coins and more jewelry, neater than the rest, but still jumbled, as if run through by hasty fingers before a quick retreat, which was most likely exactly what happened, Bilbo reminded himself. Rich cloaks hung about the walls, fur-trimmed and embroidered, gold and silver thread adorning the dark colors in intricate patterns. Still rather nervous about touching anything, Bilbo glanced around himself before withdrawing his hands from his pockets and carefully fingering the fabric and turning it over to admire the seams and the handiwork, the stitches more fine than the best embroidery he had seen back home.
     He pulled the fabric back and let it fall against the wall, admiring the way it fell in elegant waves against the stone. Humming to himself and shoving his hands back in his pockets, he turned to the gold, walking around the center plinth and picking up pieces that caught his eye, the occasional surprised shout echoing from the treasure hall behind him. He fingered a silver necklace, small sapphires glittering in teardrops along its length, then laid it carefully down to pick up several gold chains, hooked together at the clasps and so fine you could hardly make out the individual rings. Letting it slide satisfactorily through his fingers, thick gold and silver rings studded with large stones blinked at him out of the shining heap, wide bands of cut metal arching out, the bracelets breaking the monotony of the other jewelry. Bilbo lifted a heavy pair of silver cuffs, turning them over, searching the elegant shapes cut into them. Maybe he would take these—they seemed like they would fit him all right.
     Setting them on the corner of the stone table to make them easy to find for later, Bilbo stepped into the next room to find much of the same, fine garments hung on the walls or fallen to the floor, every shape and shade of jewelry heaping around the room. Unconsciously, Bilbo quickly set down the goblet he held and stepped away as he noticed an approaching figure.
     "Thorin," Bilbo said in relief, smiling as he stepped into the room. The dwarf lord's raiment was quite changed from before. His dark hair spread over a rich red cloak, clasped at the shoulders with gold, a silver breastplate shining upon his chest, richly wrought armguards peeking through the folds of his cloak. Thorin smiled when he saw Bilbo's rather awestruck expression, fabric draped over his arm.
     "I thought I might find you here," he said, stepping closer. "Did you find anything you liked?"
     "Uh—well, yes," Bilbo said, trying to wipe the surprise off his face and regaining some semblance of normalcy, "A few bracelets, a necklace or two, but nothing much. What did.." but he trailed off as Thorin proffered the cloak that was draped across his arm.
     "For you," Thorin said, his steady gaze watching Bilbo's reaction.
     "Matching?" Bilbo said in surprise as he noticed the clasps, identical to the ones adorning Thorin's own cloak. He blushed slightly as Thorin nodded. 
     "You do like it?" Thorin said, anxiousness creeping into his voice.
     "Oh yes," Bilbo laughed, smiling and taking it from him. "Besides, I've been told I look rather good in red."
     "And so you do," Thorin smiled, helping him swing it around his shoulders and fasten it to his satisfaction. "And so you do," he repeated, gently holding his shoulders as he gazed down at him, the cloak trailing the ground, much like his own.
     "And now that I have helped you put something on, I want you to do something for me," Thorin said more seriously, looking into his eyes.
     "Of course," Bilbo replied, staring steadily back, his brows creasing slightly. Slowly, Thorin reached over to the table and picked up something that he had carried in with him; a crown, black and gold, shining in many facets, different from the rest of the gold in the room. It made the other things look cheap and flimsy, the great crown held carefully in his grasp.
     "This is the crown of my grandfather, Thrain, the crown of the King Under the Mountain. It would seem selfish and...not right if I were to crown myself. It would...it would do me a great honor if you would set it upon me."
     Bilbo paused, searching Thorin's face and measuring the depth of sincerity in his voice. His eyes were clear and steady, and Bilbo knew how much it meant to him. As if he would ever refuse.
     "I would be more than happy to do so," Bilbo said firmly, then reached carefully for the crown, his fingers brushing against Thorin's as he took to full weight of the metal upon himself, the gold unsurprisingly heavy in his grasp. Turning it to face towards him, he slowly lifted it higher, rising up on his toes as Thorin bent down slightly to he could reach, bowing close to him as the hobbit gently placed the crown upon his head, making double sure it was centered.
     "There," Bilbo said a little breathlessly, taking in how well it sat upon his brow like it was crafted solely for him, his raven hair flowing from underneath it, his clear eyes looking into his own, the points of the crown perfectly framing his face. Bilbo didn't realize he was holding his breath until it came rushing out in a long sigh. Smiling suddenly, Thorin bent forwards to kiss him, their eyes closing as their lips met, Thorin's hand coming up to cradle the back of his head.
     It was a long and slow kiss, breaths warm on the other's cheeks, the other's lips so wonderful and delicious that they both regretted pulling apart.
     "Thank you," Thorin said, catching his hand and bringing it up to his mouth, letting his tongue run along his knuckles as Bilbo blushed pink, staring up at him with ardent love shining in his eyes.
     "Now come," he said, gently pulling him out into the hall and back towards the others, "we must find—"
     "Thorin!" came a worried shout from down the corridor, Fili rushing into view. Bilbo gave Thorin's hand a quick squeeze before sliding it out of his grasp and stepping up close beside him.
     "What is it?" Thorin asked suddenly, Fili skidding to a halt in front of him.
     "I ran—up—upstairs to get—get something," the younger dwarf gasped, motioning upstairs, "and I thought I would—check—check outside—" he paused again, leaning forwards for a large breath. "People moving this way!"
     "Survivors from Laketown, no doubt," Thorin growled to himself, quickly striding forwards, Fili and Bilbo hurrying along behind him. "We must fortify the front gate!"
     Well, that puts an end to the treasure hunting for the day, I suppose, Bilbo thought to himself as he ran quickly behind Thorin, and so begins the defense of the mountain, for better or for worse. He glanced at the band of gold encircling Thorin's temples and hoped that all this wouldn't get out of hand. He trusted Thorin completely, though—things would turn out fine in the end. But as he stepped into the room lined with armor, swords, and shields in which the other dwarves were already gathered, Bilbo knew that things might change, and not entirely for the better.