Chapter Text
The funeral for Thorin Oakenshield wasn't the biggest the Lonely Mountain had ever seen, nor was it the most eleborate. All the preparations were done in haste without all the necessary materials, including the amount of a food a feast honoring the passing of a king should have had. However, it was one that would remain in the memories of all those that had attended it, men, elves, dwarves, and the lone wizard and hobbit. Bilbo had originally planned on sneaking off the day before the feast, leaving for home the moment after they'd sealed Thorin away in his tomb amongst his ancestors. But then they'd received some very disturbing news. Kili and Fili were still missing.
The company hadn't given much thought to the fact that, when they charged out of Erebor, the king's nephews weren't with them. They'd all figured that Thorin, worrying for his family's line, had ordered the lads to stay back in the mountain. A few of them had even suspected that Thorin might have locked them up in the rooms he'd taken for himself after they'd reclaimed the mountain. However, when Balin and Dwalin had gone to Thorin's rooms to tell the boys of what had happened to their uncle, they'd found the place empty. Of course, after that, the worst had been suspected. Each dwarven body recovered from the fields of battle was examined and named, dread and relief mixing in the bellies of those in charge of identifying the dead every time a fallen brother wasn't identified as one of the missing princes. Unfortunately, all of the royal rooms had been opened and cleared out by now and there were still no signs of Thorin's sister-sons.
"We're going to be searching the rooms amongst the gold," Balin informed Bilbo when the hobbit had spotted them leaving the throne room after a private meeting with Dain. "Dwalin said that Thorin mentioned moving the treasure underground before he broke free of the dragon-sickness. We fear the boys---" The white haired dwarf cut himself off, too emotional to finish his thought.
Bilbo swallowed hard, but nodded. "Who are you taking with you?" he questioned, his stance saying that he was a step away from volunteering himself, despite his desire to leave the mountain. The hobbit had never felt comfortable in the dwarven kingdom, especially knowing how it'd affected Thorin so.
"The company," Balin answered with obvious approval. "Along with several of Dain's men."
Bilbo frowned at that last bit of information. Although he'd been forgiven by Thorin on his death bed for giving away the Arkenstone, Dain and his men were suspicious of the hobbit. They held their tongues in his presence, but always glared at him whenever he passed them. They were part of the reason Bilbo had been eager to leave Erebor.
"Dain has agreed to hold off any coronation for the next fortnight out of respect for the lads," Balin continued, recognizing Bilbo's (very reasonable) distress. "He's giving us time to finds Fili and Kili, which is more than he has any obligation to do. There aren't many who wouldn't blame him if he chose to simply take the crown."
"But Kili and Fili---" Bilbo started to argue, but Balin held up a hand to cut the hobbit off.
"Even if the lads were here, Bilbo, there's no guarantee they would be crowned. Fili might be of age---and Kili, too, by the scrape of his beard---but they are both young, without a single large battle under their belts," Balin explained. "Many from Ered Luin would insist that Dain take over rulership of the Mountain, at least until the lads are a bit older."
Bilbo's hands curled into fists at his sides. "Thorin wouldn't have wanted that. Erebor is---was---his legacy, meant to be passed down to his nephews."
"Aye, laddie," Balin sighed, eyes sad and worn. "But Thorin is no longer with us."
Bilbo flinched at the hard truth, his mouth going dry and tears filling his eyes.
Balin reached out, squeezing the hobbit's shoulder. "Come, laddie. Let's get the others and start our search."