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“Thorin please, I need to speak to you.” A distant part of Thorin’s mind noticed that the burglar was speaking to him and had tugged on his arm. He jerked the arm back, focusing on the current pile of gold and jewels.
“I’m busy.” What right had the burglar to distract him from his search for the Arkenstone? None. He would not allow some minor burglar to keep him from what was his. “You can either help look for the Arkenstone, or get out of the way.” He knew it was close. He could almost feel it. The pull of the Arkenstone was all consuming, his soul burned for it, his mind dreamed endlessly of it. It was his everything and he would not rest until he found it.
“Please, just listen to me!” The burglar shouted as he tugged on Thorin’s arm, trying to pull it away from his treasure. Thorin growled and whipped around, hand colliding with the side of the hobbit’s face, sending him crashing down to the gem laden floor. Thorin watched him fall, heard him shout in pain, and felt himself shatter. His mind awoke in glorious clarity from the haze he had been living and he looked down to find his Bilbo, his wonderful, incredible Bilbo staring up at him with an expression he had never known to dread, but would haunt him forevermore. Fear.
Bilbo was trembling on the ground, the side of his face bright red from where Thorin had attacked him. There were other marks on Bilbo’s face and arms, but Thorin did not know how those came, nor how long ago they were incurred. The blue coat from Laketown was in tattered shreds and there was a bandage wrapped around his left calf. In his haze he had not thought to care for Bilbo, had not noticed him at all. He could still feel the gold lust at the edges of his mind. A horrendous, treacherous beast that knew he could hold it off for only so long. Bilbo stood up slowly, swaying slightly, and pressed a hand gingerly to his face. Tears swam in his eyes and he stared at Thorin in silent sadness.
“Thorin, I don’t understand what’s happening to you.” Silent tears were streaming down the side of Bilbo’s face and Thorin ached to reach for him, to wipe those tears away and promise that everything would be okay. But it wouldn’t be and he could not lie.
Those tears were his fault. Bilbo was crying and it was all because of him. He’d thought he could control those demons, his fears, but it wasn’t working. He knew he was falling, there was little time left. He had dreamed that once the mountain was reclaimed they would finally have a chance at happiness. Bilbo would be his. Those eyes would shine with happiness and his golden curls would carry the most beautiful delicate gems, ones Thorin would make for him personally, to show the world of their love. They were supposed to rebuild Erebor together, side by side. And it wasn’t going to happen. His own darkness was going to ruin all his dreams, and there was nothing he could do.
“You should go,” he said. His voice shook, but his gaze remained steadily focused on Bilbo. Bilbo had to leave. There was no other choice. He had protected Bilbo with body and sword, but he could not protect him from himself. Bilbo had to go, it was his only way to stay safe.
“Thorin-“ Bilbo made to move closer, hands outstretched.
“No,” Thorin flinched, “don’t come closer.”
Bilbo froze, arms still hanging in the air, diamond tears still shining on his beautiful face. Bilbo’s gaze was locked on him and he desperately tried to find the words to explain. Bilbo’s soul was so clear through those eyes. His kind, beautiful spirit was so visible, could he not also see Thorin’s soul? Could he not see the darkness within? How he had let Bilbo down? Thorin had promised that he would be strong, that he would be able to resist the gold-lust. Yet he had failed. The darkness was closing over his mind again and he fought desperately to have a few moments more, a few seconds more, to look into those beautiful clear eyes of the one he loved.
Then darkness closed around him again and Thorin found himself standing beside his gold, staring at the burglar. He turned around and walked away.