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It had been so close.
The arkenstone weighed heavy in Bilbo’s pocket. He had thrown a rope over the blocked front gate and was ready to make his descent and sneak into the camp of the elves and men.
There was no one around to stop him and someone had to stop Thorin. The king could not see reason, and thirteen dwarves could not defend themselves against these two armies, let alone against the force of orcs that Gandalf had announced were on their way.
He had been so close to leaving.
It had been the ring that stopped him in the end.
His hands ran over his pockets to check that it was there; he would need it to sneak quietly into the tent of the elven king without causing a stir. The familiar bulge of the small band beneath the layer of fabric brought a sense of comfort. And because no one else was around to see, Bilbo pulled out the golden beauty for a quick look.
It had become a ritual habit. Any spare time alone offered opportunity to gaze at the enigmatic ring that had found its way into his possession. As if destiny herself had decreed the two should be together.
The magic ring had become something more than a trinket to Bilbo. It had saved his life on multiple occasions, and the lives of his company as well. It had become something more than a good luck charm. It was a part of Bilbo now. As if part of his very soul were somehow attached to the band. He felt that his own fate was tied to the ring.
And it was with all of these musings, alone on the battlement, that realization hit Bilbo.
The hobbit pulled the arkenstone out of his pocket and studied the large stone.
The incandescent gem was beautiful to say the least. It was not like Bilbo’s ring, but it had its own ethereal charm that pulled one towards it. And the stone meant more to Thorin than anything.
For the very first time, the thought did not dampen Bilbo’s heart.
The two had exchanged many words along the journey, and many more important ones that night in Lake-town. Bilbo was aware of the significance of the mithril chainmail that Thorin had presented him (Balin had described dwarven courting in painstaking detail to him). The gift had been Thorin’s final offering, a proposal of sorts. Traditionally, Bilbo would have presented his own gift in return to show his acceptance and commitment to their marriage. Of course, Bilbo had nothing more than a small acorn in his pocket to offer the king, but they both knew the feelings were mutual.
Bilbo turned the stone over in his hands, running his fingers over the smooth surface. His brow furrowed as he tried to recall why he had grown to hate the rock. He had felt… jealous perhaps? He witnessed Thorin’s obsession in finding it, how the king neglected sleep and food all in favour of his search. Bilbo rathered he spent the time on the hobbit. As he had promised in Lake-town. Showing him around the ruined city, taking him to the expansive library, through the halls of all his ancestors before, the important places that filled his memories.
His eyes slid to his other hand, the one holding his ring. Would he not do the same if it were his magic ring that was missing? Would he not overturn every stone and pebble in this god-forsaken mountain to acquire his possession? Would he not shed blood to protect it? Had he not already?
Of course he would. The ring had come to him by no chance in the goblin tunnels. It was his right. Just as the arkenstone had come to Thorin’s line more than a century ago. And was his right.
Bilbo understood. And he knew what he had to do.
He pulled the rope back over top of the gate and rolled it up neatly. He tucked both baubles into his pocket to keep them safe and then made his way back into the grand halls of Erebor.
It was a close call, but he was certain he had avoided disaster in neglecting his plans to hand over the arkenstone to the elves and men – the enemies.
***
Bilbo made his way past the sleeping forms of his friends.
There was only one place Thorin would be, and it was not in the company of his fellow dwarves.
Sure enough, Bilbo entered the treasure hall and did not have to wait long before he came across the king, sifting through mounds of treasure and mumbling senselessly to himself.
He might have been worried or nervous about this sight before, but now a fond smile grew on the hobbit’s face over his king’s endearing concern for his treasure.
He cleared his throat and Thorin spun around quickly, his expression guarded until he registered who was interrupting his hunt.
“Have you come to aide me in my search? We are so close to finding it. I can feel it.” Thorin’s face lit with excited anticipation. “And then, with full command of all dwarf armies, you will see the true kingdom of Erebor restored. It will be a kingdom worth ruling over.”
“I’m sure it will be. Though I haven’t officially consented to this whole consort business,” Bilbo replied airily.
The smile faltered on Thorin’s lips, and his eyes fell to the ground.
“My apologies, I didn’t realize- I just assumed-”
“Which is why,” Bilbo continued, interrupting the flustered king. “I have brought a gift for you, which I hope you will accept.”
Blue eyes flicked back up to his own and brightened as understanding dawned.
Barely able to contain his excitement, Bilbo motioned for him to come closer. Thorin found himself automatically returning the offered smile with a silly grin of his own.
Bilbo waited until he drew near enough, and then finally pulled the gleaming gem from his pocket, placing it gently into Thorin’s hand.
The dwarf stared down at the prize for a few passing seconds, then his eyes flickered up to Bilbo, then back down to the gem again.
“The arkenstone,” he choked out, running a reverent finger over the smooth surface. “You found it.”
Thorin raised the glowing stone to his face and placed a light kiss on it. He pulled Bilbo close next and brushed his lips over the hobbit’s own and placed a chaste kiss there as well.
“My two greatest treasures in my possession at last. One to sit above my throne, the other beside.”
Bilbo grinned up at the king, one arm wrapping around Thorin’s back affectionately, while his other hand tucked into his waistcoat pocket to take hold of his ring.
The rulers-to-be stood basking in all of their wealth, holding each other and their prized possessions closely. And for the first time since Bilbo had left Bag-End, everything felt right in the world.
***
A loud grunt came from the entrance to the treasury – Dwalin, as articulate as ever, announcing his presence.
“Spotted some men coming back again. Got elves with them too,” the warrior announced.
His eyes darted between the two until he finally took in the gleaming stone that Thorin clung to.
“Is that…?”
Thorin nodded and the two old friends exchanged a knowing smile.
Dwalin looked from the stone to Bilbo, making the connection and giving the hobbit a rare smile. “Quite the burglar indeed,” he mused. He turned back to Thorin then. “I imagine they want to talk war and payment. Whether we like it or not, there is an army of orcs coming, and we’re going to need all the fighters we can get.”
Thorin nodded, but his expression didn’t seem to be in agreement with Dwalin’s statement.
“If they think they can use this time, when we are vulnerable, to take our treasure like insatiable thieves… they are sorely mistaken. Go and receive their message, I will join you shortly.”
Dwalin gave a last terse nod and then headed for the main entrance.
Thorin looked around the great treasury, taking in all of the gold, as if he were trying to memorize every last coin.
Bilbo placed a hand on his shoulder and the dwarf looked over at him, as if he were surprised to find he wasn’t alone.
“You should join their war council meeting. Regardless of your possession of the arkenstone, there is going to be a fight. And we must be prepared.”
“I will go. But if those pathetic, cowardly elves, and greedy men think that they can blackmail me into handing over my grandfather’s treasure, they are gravely mistaken.” His eyes blazed as he bore down on the hobbit. “They will never rob me of what is rightfully mine.”
Bilbo’s hand gently stroked up and down Thorin’s arm. “Of course not. I understand and I agree.”
“You do?” Thorin seemed genuinely surprised that the hobbit would take his side on such matters.
But Bilbo only nodded furtively. “Yes, and I might even have a plan.”
Thorin gazed at his hobbit anew, as if he were a gift to the king from Mahal himself.
Bilbo may have blushed under such a heady look before, but now he found himself revelling in it.
He smiled at Thorin, a hand resting gently on his king’s cheek.
“After all, we must protect that which is most precious to us.”
***
The battle came soon after. It was long and bloody. Bodies of both Orc and allies alike littered the field surrounding the lonely mountain.
Bilbo hadn’t expected to be spared from the fighting and he wasn’t disappointed. His magic ring had been as faithful as ever, providing him cover from any intentional attacks, and he had moved through the field with an empty hollowness, as if he were merely watching his actions instead of controlling them.
Sting cut into enemy after enemy with a graceful ease. And though he had no real battle experience, he found that he was not horrified by the actions, he was not fuelled by anger, and he did not crave blood lust or the head of any orc, like Thorin had for so long.
He was motivated by nothing more than the fact that this needed to be done. The orcs needed to be killed so that the battle could be won, the battle needed to finish so that Erebor could be restored, and the kingdom needed to be restore so that he could rule it alongside Thorin.
And there was a curious thought. Because Bilbo had never seen himself as the ruling type to say the least. He was a Took, and so he came from a family of Thains, but never felt the want for political power in the Shire.
He had always been content with his tidy little smial. Never desired for anything grander.
Yet, he could not shake the glorifying feeling of power he had felt when he had stood with Thorin in the treasury. Arkenstone and magic ring in each of their possessions.
It was a feeling that Bilbo longed to taste again. And if he had to cut a few throats to claim that feeling – the head of the orc in front of Bilbo toppled off its body with a heavy thump and the rest followed to the ground soon after – then so be it.
***
Fili and Kili had fallen in battle protecting their uncle until their last breaths. Thorin almost exchanged greetings with Death as well. Azog had come calling for blood but Dwalin had taken the sword for his king.
Thorin had mourned the loss of his family and brother in arms but found comfort in the presence of the arkenstone, knowing they had died for a glorious cause.
After all, the heart of the mountain was worth every drop of blood spent.
Besides, Thorin was through looking towards the past. Now, there was only the future.
The king stood on the battlement, scrutinizing the few carts that made their way down the road from Erebor to Dale. Bilbo watched his fists clench at his side but he willed himself not to follow the gold.
That wasn’t even the worst part for Thorin.
However, Bilbo had already dealt with the elves. Thranduil received his prized gemstones and would now hopefully leave them alone forever. It was that one hope that allowed Bilbo to sway Thorin into agreeing to hand over the gems of Lasgalen to the elven king.
He walked along the crumbling wall and placed his hands on the tense shoulders of his king.
Thorin did not turn around, but he did relax slightly under the Halfling’s touch.
Bilbo stood on his toes so that his lips may brush across Thorin’s ear. “It is better this way,” he promised. “The elves will be out of the way now. And the men do not know how little a share of the treasure they received. And they do not realize that that portion had belonged to Dale and collected by Smaug anyway.”
He spun Thorin around so that the dwarf was facing him. Bilbo almost laughed at the sullen expression on his face. “Your treasure hoard is still greater than when your grandfather had left it,” he pointed out.
Thorin sighed and his bottom lip jutted out petulantly.
Seizing the opportunity, Bilbo used his grip on those broad shoulders for leverage, reached up and bit down on the protruding lip.
Thorin could do nothing else but gather his Halfling in his arms and reciprocate fervently.
He deepened the kiss and it grew from slow and languid to heated and hungry. Thorin’s hands ran up Bilbo’s spine, knotting into his thick curls and then worked their way back down, grasping the small of his back and squeezing him in tighter until they were flushed against one another.
The hobbit’s lips drew away from his dwarf’s mouth, across his jawline and down his throat.
Thorin groaned in appreciation but pulled Bilbo’s face up so their lips could meet again.
When the need for air became too much they pulled away reluctantly. Though both still came back for light pecks.
Thorin’s hands continued to run up and down Bilbo’s back, and the Halfling shuddered in pleasure at his touch. “It is a pity our chambers are so far away. I would take you right here on this gate if we didn’t need to worry about propriety,” the dwarf stated with a teasing grin.
He planted another kiss on Bilbo’s lips, which broke into a simper.
“You know, the treasure hall is much closer. We shant be disturbed in there,” the hobbit suggested. “And the reflection of the gold in that room always makes your skin look so exquisite.”
Thorin’s own grin grew at each passing word. He laid a final kiss on his consort’s mouth and then led the way through the twisting halls of their reclaimed kingdom.
Thorin walked through the halls gazing around at his accumulated wealth with such reverence. The treasure hoard had grown greatly in the few years that had passed since the reclaiming of the lost kingdom.
King Thorin, along with his consort and love Lord Baggins had brought Erebor to a new age of prosperity, one that had surpassed any in the history of the kingdom.
The dwarf stooped low, running his hands absently over a chest filled to the brim with precious gems.
Bilbo sat on another chest across the room. As the treasure hoard grew, it took Thorin longer to walk through, but he was always willing to put in the time to make sure that everything was still in order.
It was an endearing concern, and Bilbo found himself smiling fondly at his king when he was able to spare a moment to pry his eyes away from his own treasure.
Thorin had seen him caressing the golden band several times, and Bilbo had told him the story of how the ring had found him on their journey and aided him throughout it all. While the dwarf wasn’t certain of the draw to such a simple piece of jewellery, he did understand the love that precious metals could produce. And he admired Bilbo’s faithfulness to the lucky ring that had taken him so far.
The king drew closer to where Bilbo was perched and when he had made his way to stand in front of him he scooped the hobbit into his arms and placed him on a pile of gold to the side. Bilbo was far too used to this to even look up from his ring.
Thorin opened the chest that Bilbo had previously been seated on and rummaged through its contents.
“I think the elves are planning something,” Thorin muttered, rooting through the stones, goblets, and other trinkets littered in the large chest.
“Oh?”
“Yes. That guard captain has visited several times, always wanting to talk to members of the company and explore the mountain.”
Bilbo studied the king for a moment. “Then what will you do about it?”
Thorin straightened and closed the lid of the chest with a satisfied nod. “I will banish the she-elf from this kingdom. We must cut off all ties between our kinds.”
Bilbo nodded thoughtfully. The others may not be happy about it, but sacrifices had to be made to ensure the security of the kingdom.
“That is a good start,” he replied thoughtfully. “But you are thinking too small. It will only stem the current problem.”
Thorin’s eyes flickered to Bilbo’s inquisitively.
“There are dwarves inhabiting mountains all around here in the northeast: Erebor, the Iron Hills, the Grey Mountains. But if we were to fully surround those greedy wood elves, they wouldn’t dream of launching an attack. It is time that we look west. It is time to take back Khazad-dûm.”
Thorin’s eyes grew as Bilbo’s words sunk in, and he was nodding in agreement. They needed those lands again. They needed to show the elves who really had power throughout all of these lands.
***
The dwarf bowed deeply and even from his seat on the dais Bilbo could see his hands shaking. A wide smile spread across his face as he drank in the sight.
His king, seated beside him, did not seem to share Bilbo’s amusement. Rather, he glowered down at the thief, eyes burning with hatred.
“Thieving is intolerable amongst anyone in my kingdom, scum. But to steal from the royal treasury itself… You will wish there was still a dragon there to show you mercy. For a dragon would be more gracious to such a criminal than I would be.”
The dwarf cowered and lowered himself further if possible, crying about his hungry wife and kids he had to provide for. Thorin only let out a dismissive snort over the pleading.
One of courtiers stepped forward then. It was Nori. And Thorin’s eyes narrowed minutely.
“If it’s all the same to you, I would like to vouch for his character, your Majesty. I do know this dwarf. And while he is prone to making foolish mistakes, he is an honourable dwarf still.”
The company member looked up at the king with hard eyes, unreadable as ever.
“Fine,” said Thorin. “Then I will give him an honourable death, short and swift – by decapitation.”
He gave a dismissive wave and two guards came forth to take the dwarf away.
Bilbo raised his own hand then, to stop the guards. They paused, looking unsurely between the king and his consort and their conflicting commands.
The hobbit turned to his king then, his eyes almost sparkling in excitement.
He leaned in to whisper into the king’s ear. “Let’s have the execution done here. It’s been such a slow day after all. We could use a little entertainment, no matter how brief.”
Thorin looked at his Halfling in stunned silence for a moment and then pulled him forward to place a quick kiss on his forehead. “Anything for you, my love,” he whispered, issuing the guards to bring the criminal back.
He called another soldier forth and assigned him as executioner.
The condemned dwarf was forced to kneel down while tears fell down his dirtied face and disappeared into his red beard. The third guard walked forward slowly, withdrawing his sword, and stood behind the thief.
He looked up at Thorin one more time and the king nodded.
The sword rose slowly into the air and came down lightening quick. Silence filled the room so that the heavy thump of the head echoed through all of the rooms.
The guards dragged the body away, leaving a trail of crimson behind, while another servant collected the head to be reunited with its counter part for burial.
Bilbo eyed the blood smeared across the floor and sighed.
“I do hope that doesn’t stain.”
***
The door to the royal quarters was slammed closed and Bilbo glanced up from his seat at their couch as Thorin stormed through the receiving room.
He had just returned from a meeting with Balin. He rarely returned as anything other than furious from these. Balin had apparently decided to take on the role as royal nagger.
He made no attempt to hide his opinion about Thorin's command to re-take Khazad-dûm. He had told Thorin it was a greedy fool's quest. Thorin told Balin that he would be leading that fool's quest.
Erebor had grown beyond the fortress she once had been. Dwarves were kept busy in the mine, or in the trade market once restorations had been completed. And though Thorin was often content with just the arkenstone near, Bilbo repeatedly reminded him that there was so much more out there for them. He told Thorin the importance of expansion.
After all, why settle for a kingdom, when you could have an empire?
“Balin says there has been much talk from the citizens. Rumours spread of the madness that plagues the royal line.”
Bilbo set aside his book and tucked in his legs in time for Thorin to collapse on the other cushion.
“Of course they are,” Bilbo said, as he stretched his legs out again and placed his large feet in Thorin’s lap. “And it is true.”
Thorin’s brow furrowed and his lips parted in thought, but Bilbo continued on before he could voice anything. “Of course the people will say we are mad. All of the greatest leaders are mad. It’s the only way to accomplish great things.”
He meets Thorin’s eyes and finds the king staring back incredulously.
“You did set out on a quest to slay a dragon with an army of twelve dwarves and one hobbit. And no real plan for actually killing the beast.” Bilbo pointed out wryly.
Thorin huffed, “Well, you came along on that foolish quest, willing to face the dragon having never even left your home town before.”
“Truly mad rulers,” Bilbo stated and Thorin laughed in agreement.
***
The doors of the throne room were thrown open, interrupting the light conversation between king and consort.
It was their open audience day where any subject could present a pressing problem before the king and have their case judged. It had been a long tradition for the kings of Erebor to hold such a court once every month. And while the number of waiting dwarves seemed to deplete each time, today was the first time it was completely empty.
Bilbo exchanged a victorious smile with Thorin because no subjects meant no concerns, and no concerns meant a successful kingdom.
Some of the ruled citizens seemed apprehensive about the harsh verdicts given at the beginning. But Bilbo was a gardener, and he knew that in order for a stalk to thrive, there were sometimes branches that had to be pruned.
And in less metaphorical terms, sometimes it was important to remind charismatic subjects who had ultimate power, and dwarves rarely listened to words. But a severed limb, imprisonment, or capital punishment seemed to work as a reminder just fine.
And as proof of their great ruling success, the number of problems coming to them had exponentially decreased.
This left Bilbo and Thorin to chat easily throughout the morning. But now, there were two guards approaching the dais where the large thrones were erected. Between the guards stumbled a beaten and weathered looking dwarf.
“What is the meaning of this?” Thorin barked.
“One of the captains sent to Khazad-dûm,” the soldier answered.
Both royals scrutinized the dwarf in front of them, whose eyes remained on the floor, but he could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze bearing in on him.
“We have not heard word from Lord Balin in some time,” Bilbo mused thoughtfully.
“I doubt there is anyone left to send word,” the dwarf answered shakily.
Thorin sat forward in his seat. “Report. What happened to the resettling of Khazad-dûm?”
The captain gave a deep bow and lifted his head, though his eyes never trailed above the foot of the imposing thrones. “Everything had been going so well,” he began slowly. “We had killed so many orcs on arrival. We thought those that had retreated into the shadows were few and had run far away. But we were wrong.”
His voice wavered and his hands shook, but the dwarf continued the tale anyway. “They rallied their forces and came at us, beating drums and waving axes and scimitars. I barely made it out of there with my life. And I fear that I may be the only one that did.”
“So Balin has failed us and Moria is lost again,” Thorin murmured, and Bilbo pressed his hand on the king’s forearm in comfort.
“We don't know for certain,” Bilbo murmured.
The hobbit turned his attention on the guard captain then, leaning forward in his comfortable chair. “Did you witness the conclusion of the battle before you made your cowardly flight back to us?” He asked, his voice ringing sharp and clear and echoing through the spacious room.
The dwarf winced but reluctantly shook his head.
“So you deserted your comrades because you thought that they were doomed?”
The dwarf’s shoulders were shaking now. “I saw the number of orcs coming for us, My Lord. It was all but another army and we were so few in number. There was no hope for our victory.”
“The same could possibly be said for a company of fifteen, setting out to slay a dragon. Yet that didn’t dampen the heart of your king, Captain. The fact remains however, that you abandoned your company rather than risk spilling your own blood. And we do not welcome deserters in this kingdom.”
Bilbo glanced over to his king, but the approving smile on Thorin’s face, encouraged him to go on.
He called forward the guards that had first brought the captain before them. “Take him away to the dungeons. If he is so sure that the blood of his company was spent, I want him to join his fellow dwarves. Bleed him dry.”
Bilbo gave a wave of his hand and the guards dragged away the condemned dwarf who was screaming now.
Bilbo relished in the sound and his hands moved to the pocket of his finely tailored robes. His fingers danced over his lucky ring and he smiled at his husband next to him.
The dais was wrapped in the soft glow of the arkenstone mounted above the king’s throne. Bilbo took a moment to marvel at how the light made Thorin’s blue eyes sparkle darkly.
His eyes then darted upward to the source of that radiance, to the arkenstone itself, and then returned to his husband who was gazing back.
He took Thorin’s hand in his own and kissed the knuckles. “You are never more beautiful than when you are sitting beneath the glow of that stone.”
Thorin smiled and pulled their clasped hands to him, placing his own kiss on Bilbo’s knuckles this time.
“And you are never more brilliant than when you issue commands with such certain authority.”
They smiled at each other for a moment more, drinking in the feeling of love and sovereignty that wrapped around them while they were seated on the dais.
“We should send more dwarves to Khazad-dûm,” said Thorin, and Bilbo nodded his agreement.
“Yes. We need to find out the fate of Balin’s company.”
“And if they were overcome by orcs, then we will need someone to take care of that problem.”
“The treasures there will be ours, and we will have control of the entire east lands after.”
Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s hand while the other stroked his cheek reverently. At times like this, when they both had the same thoughts and plans, they never felt more powerful.
Their gazes remained fixed on each other, until the throne room doors burst open for the second time that day.
The guards surrounding the throne grabbed their weapons, but stood uncertainly as a familiar figure clad in grey stepped into the room.
“Gandalf!” Bilbo called out joyously, though he made no move to leave his seat or release Thorin’s hand.
The wizard only raised an eyebrow at the two royals before him and then he marched forward quickly.
“Tharkûn,” Thorin greeted with a deep nod. “What can we do for you, old friend?”
“There is nothing to be done for me, King Under the Mountain, but rather what you can do for yourselves, and for your kingdom.”
“I do not wish to hear your riddles, wizard. Speak clearly or else don’t speak at all.”
“Rumours of the Moria massacre have already spread through the lands. I warned you what would happen if you went near that fell place again. You sent those dwarves to their doom,” Gandalf accused harshly.
Thorin let out a derisive snort. “There are veins of mithril in that mountain worth the blood of every one of my subjects. It was important that we seize those riches before others took it from us.”
“And who would dare take that from you? There are none in Middle-Earth foolish enough to delve into the pits of Moria.”
Bilbo straightened at the finger that Gandalf was pointing at his husband. The wizard had always been one to lecture everyone else for their foolishness.
He spoke up for the first time in that conversation. “Not all of us mere mortals are bestowed with powers like yours, Gandalf. For us, power is something that must be sought after, and won with blood and sacrifice.”
“But why must it be obtained at all?” Gandalf challenged. “You have won the mountain back. Is that not enough?”
“Power is the way to order. And one can never tell when another enemy will rise and cause chaos. It is important that we seek control when times are peaceful, so that we may be prepared for when times are not so generous.”
The wizard let out a sigh and for once the many centuries he had lived through could be seen on his face. “There are no enemies in these lands, except that which you create yourself.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand these matters,” Bilbo replied dismissively.
Gandalf studied the hobbit in front of him, so different from the one he had found sitting on his front bench all those years ago.
“You’ve changed, Bilbo Baggins,” said the wizard. Bilbo raised his chin in defiance of the scrutiny. He most certainly had. He was no longer so simple or weak a creature.
“You said similar words to me in my smial all those years ago to get me to go on this adventure. And again during our journey. It seems I will never be good enough for your standards,” Bilbo answered coolly.
Gandalf released a tired sigh. “It is not about being good enough, Master Baggins. Just about being good. I fear my own meddling to push you out your door may have pushed you down a path I did not intend.”
Bilbo laughed now. And even Thorin turned in surprise at the sound. It was loud and high and turned into more of cackle by the end.
He stood then, pacing on the dais, but never stepping down. He preferred this overhead view of the room, and it allowed him to look down at Gandalf for the first time ever.
“I never thought I would live to see the day when you, Gandalf the Grey, admitted to being wrong. But I care not what path you originally intended me to go down because I have become something much greater than anything you could have made me.”
He glanced back at Thorin, at the arkenstone that assured his rule over all dwarven kingdoms, and his hand moved to his pocket, to the ring that assured his own rule and fuelled his quest for power.
“I have become a ruler of the greatest kingdom in all of Middle-Earth. I have achieved power beyond the comprehension of any simple hobbit. And not even you, wizard, can take away these things which are most precious.”
Gandalf’s eyes widened just slightly, and his eyes fell to the hand that still rested in the pocket containing the magic ring.
The wizard shook his head slightly, as if chasing away a bad dream. “These actions of both of you will bring ruin to your people. This madness has surpassed even the time of your grandfather’s reign.”
Gandalf looked to Thorin now, and the king smiled back beatifically.
“But I am not my grandfather. I have surpassed the greatness of Thror and built my own legacy.”
Gandalf’s eyes fell to Bilbo, pleading with him desperately. It was an expression the hobbit wasn’t used to seeing on the wizard, but one that he found rather amusing to see.
“You were always more sensible than this, Bilbo. Do not forget, that you come from a proud and sensible family of Baggins.”
Bilbo blinked and his eyes crinkled as his lips pulled into a wide smile.
He sat back in his throne and reclaimed Thorin’s hand possessively.
“But I am also a Took. And we’ve been known to do some… rather mad things.”