Much Ado About Dwarves: Part One: A Moral Dilemma

[cat2000]

Chapter One
Legolas raced along the bank, bow in hand with an arrow already notched to it. He barely felt the grass under his feet, but he could hear the sound of water as well as the guttural shouts from the orcs. The dwarves were shouting to each other as well, but the exact words were lost in the sound of rushing water.

Legolas didn't know what the orcs wanted with the company of dwarves, but the latter were still their prisoners - and he wasn't going to let the orcs take them without a fight. He could see that the barrels containing the dwarves had stopped at the gates. The elves guarding the bank had obeyed Legolas' directions to close the gates, but there was now one remaining problem - one that Legolas hadn't taken the time to realise.

The orcs would easily be able to attack the dwarves, despite the fact he could see that a couple of them had managed to rearm themselves. At least one orc carried a bow and a quiver of arrows.

Apparently, the dwarves had also realised this; or one of them had, anyway. A young dwarf with dark hair and a small bow and arrows clambered out of his barrel and climbed swiftly towards the gate mechanism. Legolas ran his fingers over the wood of his bow, knowing that he was close enough to fire an arrow. He even reached behind him to pull an arrow free of the quiver.

But although Legolas still grasped one of the arrows, he didn't aim at the dwarf. Despite his dislike of their race, he couldn't bring himself to shoot one from behind, who wasn't even threatening him and was just trying to save the rest of his company.

Legolas heard an arrow whistle through the air and the archer cried out suddenly. Legolas saw an orc arrow sticking out of his leg. Without pausing to think, Legolas leapt lightly over to the opposite bank and let the arrow notched to his bow fly immediately, before he turned to shoot at another orc, sure enough of his aim that he didn't need to see the arrow strike.

By the time Legolas turned back to the dwarves, he saw the wounded one had pulled the lever, forcing the gates to open, and had toppled back into one of the barrels. Legolas hadn't seen how bad the wound was, but he could see some blood on the grass. There was a surprisingly small amount, but he couldn't dwell on it as there were still many orcs now racing after the drifting dwarves.

Legolas fired a third arrow, this time wounding an orc in the leg and sending it crashing to the ground. The orc wasn't carrying a bow, so he knew it wouldn't be able to shoot him from behind. As he passed the prone form, he kicked the blade away so that the orc couldn't stab him in the back.

Other soldiers from the guard were around Legolas, but he only paid enough attention to be sure he wasn't targeting the same foes as they were. He moved fast, but light on his feet as he used the heads of various dwarves as stepping stones to further pursue the orcs, now fleeing from his people.

Legolas followed the orcs as far as he dared, but as the barrels moved to more open water, he knew he couldn't follow further; at least not alone. And his father would want a full report before deciding what to do next.

As Legolas retraced his steps back to the orc he had wounded, he felt a stab of what he recognised as pity. He pushed it quickly away, though. They might have been elves once, but now, they were just wounded animals turned wild. The kindest thing anyone could do was take their lives and hope they would find some form of peace in Mandos' Halls.

The orc snarled at Legolas, speaking in its guttural tongue. "I will never talk, elf!"

Legolas didn't bother making a reply and called two of the members of the guard to come and help him take the orc back to his father. He had no doubts that Thranduil would want to question the creature - and Legolas himself was curious to know why a band of orcs had targeted a specific company of dwarves.

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"Why were you targeting those dwarves in particular?"

Legolas and his father were alone in the halls, the orc restrained in front of them. Thranduil was the one who'd asked the question, but there was an odd tone to his voice - as if he already knew the answer. Legolas glanced at his father as his voice echoed through the hollow place, but made no comment, knowing that it wasn't his place to question.

"I will tell you nothing," the orc ground out.

Threatening an orc with pain - with torture - would do nothing to gain information from one, even if an elf could bring himself to go through with it. Their existence was already torturous enough. What more could be done to make them suffer?

"Give me the information and I will free you."

Legolas' gaze slanted to his father. He could hear the half-truth in those words. Freedom for an orc lay not in physical freedom, but in freeing their souls and perhaps enabling those spirits to find peace in Mandos' Halls. When the orc remained silent, Legolas spoke. "Does it matter what you tell us? You've failed in your mission."

The orc's lower lip curled. "It doesn't matter. The dark-haired dwarf will soon be dead."

Legolas narrowed his eyes as he remembered seeing the dwarven archer being shot. "The wound wasn't fatal."

"The arrow used was a morgul shaft," the orc answered. "The poison will consume him within a day... two at the most."

Legolas was surprised at how much that bothered him. He knew his father wasn't concerned, but being faced with the knowledge of someone's imminent death - even a dwarf's - disturbed him more than he'd suspected. More so because he'd been there and could have possibly prevented it.

Thranduil studied the orc for a moment or two longer, then simply stepped forward and killed it, displaying no emotion.

"It could have given us more information," Legolas said.

"We shouldn't concern ourselves with a company of dwarves," Thranduil replied. "Recall the guards. Close the gates. Let no one in or out." Without waiting for a reply, he swept out of the hall.

Legolas watched until his father was out of sight. He felt torn - an emotion he hadn't felt in centuries. He had no love for dwarves, but he couldn't shake the image of the archer's courageous actions. Even wounded, he hadn't given up. If not for him, the orcs would have easily slaughtered them.

It wasn't just his conscience that pricked him. Legolas had been fostered by Lord Elrond for a time and had absorbed a lot of the healer's teachings and values. He knew that Lord Elrond would do everything within his power to heal a being who was hurt, whether they be human, elf, halfling, or dwarf.

Legolas only knew the theory of treating a wound caused by a morgul weapon, but he suspected that was more than the dwarves knew. He didn't know for certain where they were heading, but he decided to begin his search in Laketown.

Chapter Two
Kili was only vaguely aware that they were back in Bard's dwelling. Where he'd been pierced by the arrow, the wound throbbed as if it had been plunged into fire. The rest of his leg felt numb; a freezing coldness that was spreading through his whole body. He was supported by Fili on one side of him, but he didn't know who stood on the other side.

Kili must have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing he knew, he was face up on a hard surface. He could hear the crackling of a fire and felt blankets covering him, though they didn't generate any heat.

Someone was holding his hand. Kili knew it was his brother, but he couldn't summon the strength to grip Fili's hand in return. He opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, wanting to ask Fili to leave, so that he wouldn't see his passing.

"I'm not going to leave you, Kili," Fili said, just as if he could read his brother's mind. "Bofur's gone to get some herbs that will help." He paused before adding, "They feed them to the pigs. Can you imagine?"

Kili worked his throat for a while, until he could finally croak out a reply. "Don't give it to me if a pig's been chewing on it."

Fili choked on a half-laugh, half-sob. "If it'll make you better, I'll force it down your throat myself."

"It wouldn't be the first time." Kili had to pause to wheeze for breath, before continuing, "Do you remember... the time I sneaked outside and got caught in a storm?" He paused for a quiet gasp of pain. "I wouldn't take my medicine until you threatened to hold my nose and force it into my mouth."

"I also remember why you were meant to stay inside," Fili said. "I see you still don't know when to hold your tongue."

Kili's chuckle turned into a gasp of pain and he felt Fili's hand grip tighter. "Tell Mother I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise."

"Don't talk like that," Fili said. "You're not going to die. If you pass into the halls of the dead without me, who's going to look after you?"

"I'm a grown dwarf. You don't need to keep holding my hand."

"It doesn't matter how old you get. You'll still be my little brother. I forbid you to leave me alone to explain to Mother and Uncle Thorin why I didn't bring you back."

Kili tried to focus on his brother and felt a stab of despair when he realised that, because of the blurriness of his vision, he couldn't see Fili's face. He closed his eyes - partly to pretend that his eyesight was fine; but partly because he didn't have the energy to try and keep them open any longer. "Even you can't keep death away." He could hear how quiet his voice was. Every word he spoke seemed to get further and further away.

"Kili, open your eyes! Please, brother, stay with me."

"I'm sorry..." Kili wanted to stay, but he couldn't muster up the energy to fight his way back. He clung to Fili's voice, the only thing preventing him from slipping further away. His whole body felt cold; apart from his leg, which burned like fire.

Kili could hear his brother speaking, quietly, but could no longer tell if Fili was talking to him or praying for him. Kili wished he could have seen Erebor - their true homeland that their company had been fighting so hard to get to. But he could content himself with the thought that his brother still lived. His actions had saved Fili - and his own death was a small price to pay to keep his beloved older brother alive.

Kili realised that he couldn't feel his brother's hand in his anymore. A momentary panic went through him, but that faded when he felt a light touch on his forehead - his face was about the only part of his body left where he could feel anything. He scrunched his face up as he felt something brush against his skin. "Your braids are tickling me."

"You sound like you're going away. Don't."

It was as if his head was filled with mist. Kili suddenly couldn't remember why he was lying here, or where he was. When he tried to remember, all he could see was Fili's furious face and hear his voice raised in anger.

"Fili?" Kili whispered. "I'm sorry I went out in the storm."

"What are you talking about?" Fili sounded confused.

"The storm that I went out in. You've just been yelling at me about it." Kili's voice broke a little. "I'm sorry I made you angry."

"Kili..." Fili sounded like he was close to tears. "I wasn't angry with you. I was angry because you scared me so much."

Kili tried to move his hand so he could touch his brother's face, but couldn't even wiggle his fingers. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the sounds of fighting and tried to reach for a weapon he wasn't sure was even there. "Uncle Thorin? Is he safe?"

"Dwalin and Balin are with him," Fili replied, obviously trying to sound reassuring. "He's as safe as he can be with them by his side."

Whatever reply Kili might have made was lost in the sound of a door banging open. He hadn't been able to feel Fili's hand in his, but he felt it when his brother's warmth left him. He tried to will his fingers to move, seeking the comfort of his big brother.

"Help him. Please." Fili's voice sounded far away, but there was a pleading note in it Kili had rarely heard before. His brother never begged for anything. Not even when he was in big trouble with their uncle - though Kili was more likely to get into trouble with Thorin than Fili was.

The new voice sounded vaguely familiar to Kili, but he couldn't quite place its owner. "Step aside, dwarf, and I will do what I can for him."

Chapter Three
The moon was rising in the sky as Legolas reached Laketown. He hadn't yet spotted any orcs, but on the bank where the river had widened, he'd seen some more blood. It could have belonged to another who'd been wounded, but given its location, Legolas felt confident that it had been shed by the dwarf archer.

Legolas was about to enter the town when he saw movement in the shadows. His keen eyesight made out the forms of several orcs and he quickly notched an arrow to his bow. As soon as he let it fly, he was moving, changing position - and not a moment too soon, as an orc archer responded with its own arrow as Legolas' target hit the ground.

Drawing his daggers, Legolas moved to engage two of the orcs. Seeing that more of their company were already in the town, he didn't waste any time in dispatching the orcs. Putting his daggers away and notching another arrow to his bow, he quickly followed the path the remaining orcs had taken.

The orcs clearly knew where they were going. Legolas wondered if the orcs were able to smell the stench of dwarves... and then wondered, if so, how they could smell anything above their own stink.

A dragon's roar sounded from the direction of the Lonely Mountains. The hairs on the back of Legolas' neck rose, but he ignored the instincts telling him to leave, instead finding himself outside a house.

There was nothing obviously unique about the building, but this was clearly where the orcs were headed. Legolas didn't hesitate and released his arrow, drawing and shooting another almost before the first found its mark.

Legolas spotted one of the dwarves hurrying towards them, clutching a sprig of athelas in his hands. Although he was surprised that a dwarf had thought to gather the herb, Legolas sprang forward and grabbed the athelas from the dwarf's hands, ignoring his cry of protest. Spinning on his heel, Legolas quickly entered the house.

The black-haired archer lay on a table with a blond dwarf next to him, clutching his hand in a grip that was tight enough to turn his knuckles white. The dwarf turned quickly, though, focusing on Legolas, his gaze going to the herb held in the elf's hands.

Legolas half-expected the blond dwarf to attack him; or at least hurl curses at him. Instead, he cast a desperate look towards the wounded archer before turning back to Legolas. "Help him. Please."

The pleading note was one Legolas had never expected to hear from a dwarf. He took a step forward as he spoke, trying to emulate Lord Elrond's reassuring tones. "Step aside, dwarf, and I will do what I can for him."

Before the blond dwarf could do or say anything, an orc burst in from the window. Legolas was about to grab his weapons, but he realised there were more orcs behind him. As he turned to do battle, he saw the blond dwarf throwing himself over the other's body, shielding him from harm.

Legolas couldn't spare a further thought for the two dwarves as he stepped smoothly back and drew an arrow from his quiver. Notching it to his bow, he fired at one of the orcs, before dropping his bow and taking his two daggers from his belt, swiftly engaging the rest of the orcs.

By the time Legolas had slain the remaining orcs and turned back to the two dwarves, he saw that the orc that had come through the window was dead on the floor. The blond dwarf still lay over the other's chest, but the dark-haired one had an arm thrust out. His fingers were wrapped just below the hilt of a sword, the blade dripping black orc blood.

The blond dwarf pushed himself up, looking from the archer to the orc's dead body and back again. "Kili!" he cried as the archer slumped back on the table, the sword sliding from his limp grasp.

Legolas had never expected to see these kinds of actions from dwarves, but didn't allow himself to dwell on it. He hurried over with the herb still clutched in his fist. It hadn't been in the best of shape before, but now, it was even more wilted and drooping. Still, it wouldn't have lost its effectiveness and Legolas stopped by Kili's side and began to treat the wound, hoping he wasn't too late.

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Even in his cell, Bard could hear the roar of the dragon. Every other prisoner quietened at the sound, as if silence could protect them. Bard only allowed himself a moment to feel the sense of dread, before he began banging on the bars and shouting out. He didn't care about the Master of Laketown and his cronies, but for his children's sake, he would do everything within his power to save their home.

There was the sound of footsteps approaching and Bard saw Alfrid step into view. Although the man still wore his perpetual smirk, there was still something like fear on his face. "What do you want, Bard?"

Bard leaned forward as much as he could on the bars. "If you don't let me out, Laketown will be destroyed."

Alfrid laughed. "And what would you do about it? Your ancestor was the one who failed to destroy the dragon."

Bard refused to let the taunt affect him. "Listen to that!" he said harshly as the dragon roared again. "The last time the beast came through Laketown, it destroyed most of it. I'm the only one with any hope of destroying the dragon." When Alfrid still hesitated, Bard pushed on. "What do you really have to lose? Either I kill the dragon and Laketown is saved, or we will all die anyway."

Alfrid hesitated still more, but as the beating of wings joined Smaug's roars, a look of fear quickly passed over his face. Without another word, he took the keys from the guard and unlocked the cell.

Bard didn't waste any time. As soon as the door was open, he raced out, knowing he needed to find his son as quickly as possible.

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Bilbo raced up the stone steps, his bare feet slapping against the stone, but when he reached the path leading down the Lonely Mountains, it was too late. Smaug was flying towards Laketown, the beating of his wings echoing back to Bilbo's ears. Aware that someone was standing behind him, Bilbo turned swiftly to see Thorin.

"You need to show me where the Arkenstone is," Thorin said.

Bilbo frowned, shooting a quick glance towards Laketown and then back at the dwarf. "How can you care about a mere jewel when there are so many lives at stake?"

"It's not a mere jewel!" Thorin snapped. "It's my birthright."

Balin approached, drawn by Thorin's raised voice. "The dragon's left its hoard. Fili and Kili are still down there with Bofur. Surely you want to make sure they are safe."

"They made their choice." Thorin spoke harshly with a gleam in his eyes Bilbo hadn't seen before entering the Lonely Mountains.

Bilbo looked uncertainly at Balin. Thorin wasn't gentle, but Bilbo had seen how close he was to his nephews. Before now, the possibility of Fili and Kili being in danger would have sent Thorin running to their aid. Bilbo uneasily remembered how he'd reacted when he'd lost his ring and thought he saw echoes of that obsession now.

Balin stepped closer to Thorin. "The Arkenstone will still be here when we return. Fili and Kili may not survive the dragon's attack. Do you want to explain to their mother why they've not come back to her?"

Thorin hesitated, the gleam receding, though not fading completely. "We will go to Laketown," he declared. "Once Fili and Kili's safety is assured, we will return for the Arkenstone."

Chapter Four
As Bard sprinted away from the prison, the noise of beating wings was almost right above him. Fire struck the ground in front of him and he swerved to one side, changing direction as he searched frantically for his son.

"Father!"

Bard turned and saw Bain rushing towards him, the black arrow grasped in his hand. As he saw Smaug beginning to turn, Bard grabbed his son, pulling him out of the fire's path. "Go home!" he ordered, taking the arrow from Bain.

"I want to help you!" Bain protested.

"You can help me by going home and taking care of your sisters." Bard gave him a little push in that direction. "Go. I will take care of the dragon."

Bain looked like he wanted to argue further, but the dragon was circling ever lower, breathing out flames and knocking buildings down with wings and tail. With one final glance at his father, Bain began running, dodging to either side to avoid falling debris.

Bard watched only a moment to ensure his son was out of immediate danger before he bolted towards the wind lance. Climbing up the tower, he quickly notched the black arrow and turned to aim the device at Smaug.

The destruction the dragon was causing was devastating, but Bard knew that he had only one chance to get this right. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart before he focused fully on the dragon, hoping that the legends had got one thing right - that his ancestor's aim had been true enough to create a weakness in Smaug's hide.

As the dragon turned once more, Bard saw it. The hole was a tiny target - and Bard only had the one arrow - but he drew strength from the thought of his children and aimed, hesitating to make sure he didn't fire out of hand. As the dragon passed overhead, he released the bowstring and the arrow shot into the air. Bard watched, holding his breath and praying to the Valar that his own aim would be truer than his ancestor's.

The arrow hit true and the roar Smaug gave was deafening. The dragon fell from the sky and Bard could see the fletching of the arrow protruding from between the scales. The next moment, he had to leap out of the way as the dragon's body crashed through the street into the lake below. Bard jumped down from the tower as the wind lance shattered, landing heavily on his hands and knees and scraping them, though he didn't hurt himself any worse than a few cuts and grazes.

Bard slowly pushed himself to his feet, taking a moment to look at the dragon's corpse. He might have killed Smaug, but he didn't feel any elation. For a victory, it was a hollow one. He could hear people crying and the screams of those who had been wounded. He wanted to stay and help them, but foremost in his mind were his children.

Turning away from the massive hole in the street, Bard limped away. The stench of smoke clung to his clothes and skin and he coughed, raising a hand to waft away what he could of the smoke so that he could clearly see his path.

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As Thorin reached the foot of the Lonely Mountain, he saw Smaug fall from the sky, slamming into Laketown. The sight of that drove the lingering thoughts of the Arkenstone from his mind, to be replaced by worry for his two nephews, remembering how grievously Kili had been wounded.

As he reached the border of Laketown, Thorin began to run, inwardly cursing his decision to leave Fili and Kili behind. He couldn't be certain, but he suspected Kili had been taken to Bard's dwelling.

Thorin was only vaguely aware of the other dwarves and Bilbo following him. He tried to force away the images of threatening Bilbo with his drawn sword. He couldn't understand what had come over him. Bilbo was his friend more than just his ally and had proven himself more than once on this quest.

Somewhere below the surface, Thorin knew he hadn't been acting like himself since they'd come to Laketown. As he reached Bard's house - and saw that it was still standing - he knew he would never have abandoned even one member of his company.

He would be fortunate if Kili still lived.

Thorin saw Bard approaching the building from another direction. He hurried to cut the human off. "Does he still live?" he demanded.

"He was still breathing when I last saw him," Bard answered shortly. "The dragon is dead - but in no way thanks to you."

Thorin immediately felt defensive. "Smaug would have awakened eventually. It was foolish to continue living here after he came."

"I warned you not to enter the mountain - and now most of Laketown is destroyed because of your actions."

The guilt that had been pricking at Thorin was beginning to recede. He should have retrieved the Arkenstone before coming back down the mountain. He would have responded to Bard's words, but he realised that the human was looking at something over his head and turned to look at Bard's house.

A fair-haired elf was stepping out through the door, his bow held in one hand. He paused and his gaze fell on Thorin.

Rage spiked through Thorin, pushing the concern about his nephew to one side. "What is your business here, elf?" he snarled. He could see blood on the daggers tucked in the elf's belt, but he could see it was the black blood of orcs.

The elf paused, eyeing Thorin insolently before replying, "I tracked a pack of orcs here."

Thorin recognised the elf as one of those who had captured them in the Greenwood and felt himself bristling. His hand went to his sword. "There are no orcs inside that house." If there were, then the elf wouldn't be this calm.

"The ones I didn't kill have fled." The elf studied Thorin a moment or two before speaking again. "Your archer will live. I have seen to that."

"Do you expect gratitude?" Thorin sneered, even though that small part of him was relieved to hear that Kili lived. "I saved your life when an orc would have taken it on the bank of the river. You owe me a debt."

The elf's face didn't change. "Then consider that debt now repaid. I didn't expect a dwarf to know what gratitude is anyway."

Thorin said nothing, just watched to make sure the elf was leaving. He didn't trust the word of any elf and once he could no longer see him, Thorin thought about walking into Bard's home to assure himself that his nephews were safe.

Fili walked out of the building just as Thorin was preparing to enter. Thorin looked over his eldest nephew, but couldn't relax even when he saw Fili was unhurt. "How is your brother?"

"He's safe. The elf healed him," Fili replied. "Oin seemed fascinated by it."

"He would be," Thorin muttered. "The dragon is dead. We're going to retrieve the Arkenstone."

"Will you come in and see Kili before you leave again?" Fili asked. "He's awake enough to be coherent."

"As long as he's out of danger, I don't believe that's necessary until after we've reclaimed Erebor," Thorin answered. "You can tell your brother that Smaug is dead - unless you'd like to come back with us."

"Kili hasn't recovered enough to travel yet," Fili replied, looking as if he wanted to say something else. "I'm not going to leave him."

"Then, when he is recovered, you may bring him to Erebor, along with Bofur and Oin."

Fili frowned, but remained silent and merely nodded.

Deciding that there was nothing further to be said, Thorin turned to hike back up the mountain, ignoring the glances the other dwarves and Bilbo were sending his way.

Chapter Five
As Fili walked back into the house, followed by Bard, he tried not to think about the strange gleam in his uncle's eye. Truth be told, Thorin had been acting strangely since they'd arrived at Laketown. It hadn't been that long ago that he would never have abandoned Kili - or indeed either of them - if they were hurt or sick. And Kili's life had been in danger.

Inside the room, Fili's eyes were drawn to his brother. Although Kili was much less pale, he was still obviously weak, but was currently trying to argue with Oin about being well enough to get off the table.

Fili walked over and placed a hand on Kili's shoulder. His brother cut himself off mid-tirade and looked pleadingly at him. "Fili, you know I'm healed. I want to go to the Lonely Mountain. I want to see Erebor."

Although he could understand how desperate Kili was to see their true home, Fili also knew his brother well. As much as Kili tried to hide it, his brother - his little brother - was weak, even if he was no longer sick. "You need to rest some more." Fili squeezed his shoulder gently.

Kili shrugged Fili's hand off his shoulder, his face dark. "Send a message to Uncle. He'll say I can go, now that I'm healed."

Fili didn't want to tell Kili that their Uncle had already come from the Lonely Mountain, only to return there without even taking the time to see both of his nephews. Fili would have lied about it, but he knew Kili could recognise when his brother was lying to him. "You need to rest."

Kili stared at Fili before lowering his gaze. "He came back already, didn't he?"

"He made sure you were healed before he left," Fili tried.

Kili turned away, rolling onto his side and staring at the far wall. "I don't want to talk to you. Go away."

Fili knew his brother as well as he knew himself - and he knew that Kili didn't mean that. Dragging a chair up to the table, he sat down and wrapped an arm around Kili's shoulders, pulling his brother close when Kili tried to pull away. "I think something's wrong with him."

Kili's struggles ceased, though he didn't turn to look at Fili. "What do you mean?"

"Both of us have been hurt before," Fili pointed out. "In the Blue Mountains, Uncle Thorin would never have left us alone. Don't you remember? We used to complain about how stifling he was." While they secretly appreciated the show of concern from their usually stoic Uncle.

Kili went quiet before saying in a voice barely above a whisper, "What if he's ashamed of me for getting hurt?"

Fili immediately tightened his embrace, silently cursing Thorin. "You saved us. Uncle knows that too."

Kili shook his head. "We were caught because of me."

"Your leg gave way. You were wounded. It wasn't your fault." Fili glanced towards Bard, who was talking to his children, not sure if the humans could hear them or not. He lowered his voice anyway. "Since we came to Laketown, Uncle Thorin's been different. I think he might be sick, but not physically so."

"In the same way Mother said Great-Grandfather was?"

Fili nodded. "I think the King's Jewel has too great a hold on him."

"Maybe we should speak to Balin," Kili suggested. "He might have a suggestion about what to do." He frowned, as if trying to remember something. "I dreamed of the elf who insulted Gimli."

"That's because he was here. He saved your life."

"Where is he? I should probably thank him."

"I believe Uncle Thorin sent him away," Fili answered. "He left the house and when I went outside, there was no sign of him."

Kili sighed and watched Bard with his children. "What if he is sick?"

They were back to the true problem, then. In a way, it would be better if Thorin was sick. Fili wasn't sure how they would handle falling out of favour with him. "Then we might need to enlist the aid of a burglar." But he wasn't sure merely removing the Arkenstone would be enough. If it truly had a hold on Thorin, they needed to either destroy it - or send it far enough away that its power over him would shatter.

"Do you think Master Baggins will help us?"

"He's part of our company now. If we explained the situation to him, I'm sure he would be willing to offer his aid." After all, he had put himself between Thorin and Azog. Fili assumed that meant he cared in some way about what happened to them.

Kili might have been thinking the same thing, because he said, "We can't keep asking him to risk his life."

"We won't be asking him to. We'll just be asking for his help."

Kili changed the subject. "Do you think that elf is still around?"

"Why? Do you want to repay the debt we owe him?"

"He didn't have to save me. Maybe we're wrong about all elves being untrustworthy."

Fili had been glancing around the room while they'd been talking. Something was missing, but it was only now that he realised what. He glanced over towards Bofur and Oin. "Did either of you move Kili's bow?"

Oin shook his head.

"Maybe the elf took it?" Bofur suggested.

"What would he want with a dwarven bow?" Fili asked.

Bofur shrugged. "To show off to his fellow elves? As a trophy?"

"A trophy for what?" Kili said. "I doubt he'll be bragging about saving the life of a dwarf."

Fili walked over to Bard and the human glanced at him as he approached. "Did you move my brother's bow?"

"I have not touched any of your weapons," Bard replied. "If it has gone missing, I had nothing to do with it."

Fili was about to question the human further, when he heard a commotion outside the house. Bard left his children and walked to the door.