Chapter Text
Dragon Sickness. That's what they had called it.
Though the sickness, not known to be contagious, was leaving a rather grave effect upon the mind of Bilbo Baggins.
Now, standing in one of the great halls of Erebor, Mister Baggins found himself rather helpless as his short figure stood, overshadowed, beside the mountains of gold.
Standing before him, appeared the familiar figure of the new King Under the Mountain, and yet in all his awe and glory, Thorin, son of Thrain son of Thror, had a despicable ailment upon him. This, said ailment, had left him a changed dwarf. A dwarf who seemed to show a lack of emotion throughout his whole existence.
Bilbo, on the other hand, was seaming with feelings and emotions, but mainly he had developed a rather nasty anxiety which had seemed to coarse through his veins as if they were molten-gold through the canals of the forge.
Despite how dark the room was, the gold almost seemed to shine brighter than the visible sunrise from the highest peak of the mountain. And yet despite how luminous and sovereign the room seemed to be, only callousness and inhumanity appeared to grow throughout it's depths.
The hobbit stood observing the physical changes in his acquaintance's face. The dwarf-king had become much paler than he had remembered, his skin much like a porcelain doll that could be bought back in The Shire. His fierce blue eyes were now left cold and empty, his soul seeming to no longer shine in them. Bilbo gulped and let out a strangled sigh, there had been many-a-times where he had longed to share such joyous moments with the company; their reclamation of the mountain would be a story told for ages to come, but yet now the only feeling Bilbo seemed to feel was that of inequity.
"Master Burglar." The familiar coarse voice seemed to echo throughout the room.
The pure fear that Bilbo felt within that moment quite easily surpassed many of which he had felt throughout his journey. He croaked, "Yes?"
"Approach me." Thorin turned his head to face Bilbo. His cold blue eyes showed no longer expression, no feeling, no light into the Dwarf he had once been.
The hobbit shook his head and let out a small laugh, "No no, I'm quite alright," He paused for a second and with a panic quickly added, "your grace."
Thorin didn't seem to make the attempt to correct Bilbo, but instead turned his being back to the heaps in front of him. "That is an order, Master Burglar."
Bilbo quite disliked the title of "Master" as it almost seemed to make him feel inferior, but he knew Thorin meant no malice by the act, and so with the many racing thoughts in his mind, he found himself approaching the king. He questioned whether to add a bow upon his arrival but Thorin had already turned away from him now, meaning his gesture would hold little to no value.
The pair seemed to stand in silence for eons, the increasing anxiety seemed to shake Bilbo to his core as the Arkenstone lay buried deep within his breast pocket.
"What do you desire?" Thorin spoke at last, breaking the silence, his voice sounding smooth yet sharp.
Bilbo looked around the room and merely shrugged, "Well, there isn't anything here that I desire."
The king turned his eyes towards Bilbo and seemed to study his face.
"There are many treasures within these halls, are you certain that there is nothing here to please you?"
As Bilbo went to reanswer, he became very conscious that the dwarf had reached into his fur coat and had pulled out a necklace; from which a large emerald hung from it. It's polished surface allowed the ambient-glow from the rest of the treasure to reflect off of it.
Bilbo took into account that this necklace was silver, and not gold. It's contrast to the rest of the room was almost impeccable.
"I am quite sure, thank you very much." He squeaked, watching Thorin walk behind him. The dwarf-king was now standing so close to him that he could feel his cold breath on his hot neck. "In truth, I only desire my little armchair and my books."
Bilbo watched as Thorin raised the necklace to his neck. He felt himself ease slightly.
"Does this not suit you, Master Burglar?" The king purred, fastening the necklace.
Bilbo sighed quietly in relief as the sick fantasy that Thorin had intended to strangle him to death slipped from his mind.
"It's- It's very nice." He awkwardly laughed.
"It was my mother's. She died long before Smaug took refuge in our mountain. My father gifted it to her from his mother, and she gifted from his father. It has been in my family for centuries." He was now walking away.
"Thorin! I-" Bilbo squawked out, now rather upset that he was leaving so quickly.
The Dwarf King turned slowly to reface him, his face almost seemed paler than moments before. "What is it, Master Baggins?"
The hobbit found himself rather thrown off by the use of his own name, despite the wrong title, and he had to take a moment to recover himself, "I can't wear this!"
Thorin's expression didn't change, he only stared at him with more intent, waiting for him to continue.
"This obviously has much more value than anything else here… I think… you cannot give this to me! For your mother's jewellery is something you ought--"
"I will have no protest from you, Master Baggins. I do not want to hear your futile complaints about my mothers jewellery. If you do not like it, take it off and leave."
"No! It isn't that!" Bilbo cried out, his voice so desperate and panicked he thought it might stop working, "You see, it's far too beautiful for a lowly Hobbit like me. I am no dwarf, I do not slave away all day at a forge - i have not earnt this. I am not royalty, I do not rule over many. I have not earnt-"
Thorin was walking away, he seemed to have no care for the Hobbit's flustered pleads.
Bilbo was panicking. A spark of determination ignited inside of him - it was simply unfair that he had spent the last week living in the shadows. He finally had Thorin's attention.
"Have you yet to sit down? You spend many hours in here, you ought to sit elsewhere for a bit." He blurted out.
The king turned slowly once again, "Now why would I do that? Unless you are forgetting, the Arkenstone is still missing. I will not rest until it is returned to me."
Bilbo bit the inside of his cheek, "I have not forgotten, but my mother often said that lost things were often found by fresh eyes. You have been staring at all this gold for days now - surely you need a break-"
Thorin's expression seemed to darken, pure rage flashed across his face within an instance, "Who do you think you are? You are not my adviser. This is not your place to speak."
Bilbo seemed rather taken aback. His face seemed to fall and he found himself rather lost. "My apologies, I'll- I'll see myself out."
And with that, Bilbo found himself pacing away from the hall and all who stood inside, he wiped his eyes with the base of his palm as he ascended the stairs.
About halfway up he passed Dwalin and Gloin. They began to speak to him about Thorin but with a pained voice, all he could say was, "Don't bother!"
Besides the passing of his parents, never in his life had he felt so much grief.