I tried to warn you.

I wish I could have made you understand.

Bilba woke up with tears streaming down her face. It felt as though she'd been involved in a passionate discussion with someone but, now, awake she couldn't remember who or what it had been about.

She felt a great sense of sadness, however, and the feeling whatever it was she'd forgotten had been vitally important.

She started to move and grimaced as what felt like every muscle protested. She'd fallen asleep after getting cleaned up and it had allowed her body time to stiffen. Not to mention the fact her clothing was still wet from getting cleaned up and the air in the cavern was cold.

Maybe she could borrow Fili's coat. He wouldn't – memory rose again and sadness welled at the thought of her lost friends. The old her probably would have curled up and cried. A large part of her still wished to.

Now she shut her eyes and took a deep, measured breath. She accepted the pain and then got up anyway.

Thorin's sword was still next to her and she grabbed it as she stood.

She looked to the side and saw, to her surprise, Thorin himself seated only a few feet away. He had his legs drawn up and his arms wrapped around his knees. He gave no reaction to her but stared with dull, lifeless eyes and a blank expression at some random spot in the distance.

Thorin Oakenshield diminished, no kingdom, no heirs and no people.

"I'm going to try and find my sword," she told him.

He gave no response.

Bilba stepped over, laid his sword next to him and left him to it.

She retraced her steps slowly and carefully, hoping the creature hadn't found the blade and thrown it somewhere. She finally discovered it wedged in a corner under mushrooms back where she'd initially regained consciousness. She pulled it out in relief and slid it back into its sheath. She really liked that sword.

She looked around for Fili's knife as well, in the faint hope it might somehow be there, but found no sign of it.

She allowed her fingers to go to the empty spot at her back where the sheath and knife had been for just a second. Then she carefully put her arm down by her side, fingers curled.

She didn't need a physical reminder of Fili. He lived well enough in her heart and mind, along with his brother and all the others.

Turning her back on the mushrooms, Bilba returned to the main cavern. She walked along the edges, looking to see what, if any exits, there might be. As she walked she passed a number of piles of bones and skulls. Many of them were small and she soon realized they were probably the skeletons of goblin children. She knelt to examine a few closer and felt her stomach recoil at the sight of tooth marks on some of the bones.

Granted, they were goblin children, but they were CHILDREN nonetheless.

She suddenly felt even less guilt or remorse over killing that creature.

She continued her search and found a number of tunnels leading out but had no way to know where any of them led.

She returned to Thorin and knelt beside him.

"I don't suppose dwarves have an ability to find if an exit leads to the surface do they?"

He continued to ignore her.

Bilba stood up. She reached down, grabbed his arm and started tugging. She set her heels against the rock and pulled as best she could but she wasn't strong enough to move him.

After that she resorted to yelling. She ranted and railed at him, threatening, belittling, taunting.

None of it worked.

A sick feeling settled in her stomach. Had she saved him only to lose him to himself?

It was just like when –

"Aren't you the one who said we paid homage to the dead by living?"

Nothing, he didn't even twitch.

She tried again. "You dishonor your nephews, is that what you want?"

Still silence. Bilba looked out over the lake. Her eyes burned and a lump formed in her throat.

She could stay with him and keep trying. She'd done it once before, too scared to move forward on her own.

If she had, could she have found her way to safety? Could she have found help?

There was no way to know and no way to go back.

There was only forward. The only way to become who she wanted to be was to stop being who she had been and the only way to do THAT was to stop reacting the same way.

No matter how much it terrified her.

She looked back to Thorin then knelt and began brushing the dirt and debris off his coat and clothing. Once that was done she went the few steps to the water's edge, removed her jacket and soaked it in the water.

It wasn't the cleanest water, or the cleanest jacket for that matter, but it was the best she had. Carrying it back she knelt again and began to clean the blood and dirt off his face. Thorin never showed the slightest reaction. Bilba thought back to just after the Trolls when she'd talked to him at the river's edge. He'd taken care of her then; the least she could do was return the favor now.

Before she left, her mind whispered, and her gut clenched at the thought.

She eventually got the blood cleaned off. With it gone it was obvious the cut where the creature had been striking him was indeed shallow, it probably wouldn't even scar. She ran a thumb over it lightly; grateful again she'd been able to save him, from the creature at least.

His hair and braids were destroyed, filthy, the hair matted and tangled. She chewed on her lip for a moment, studying them. She knew hair, beards and specifically braids were hugely important to dwarven culture and held a variety of meanings. She had no idea what the braids of anyone in the Company had meant. It bothered her now that she hadn't asked and would never have the chance.

She knew messing with them was probably some sort of taboo but, then again, what did it really matter anymore?

As gently as possible she removed the beads and began working out the braids. It took multiple trips back to the water before she could clean out the blood and grime. She had no brush so she used her fingers to gently work out the tangles and straighten it out.

Sitting on the cold rock was uncomfortable and trying to kneel quickly had her abused muscles screaming at her.

The discomfort finally got so bad she moved his hands, pushed his legs down and straddled his lap, sliding her legs along either side of his waist. It wasn't as though he was aware of anything she was doing so the action didn't embarrass her as it might have otherwise. She separated out the hair needed and carefully began to braid them again. It was fortunate Thorin had simple braids as she'd have had no chance of recreating them if they were as complex as some of the others she'd seen in the Company. The thought brought a fresh wave of grief and she bit her lower lip, hard, to fight back the urge to break down and start crying.

The fact she knew the precise location and thickness of Thorin's braids, as simple as they were, as well as exactly where the beads went, showed just how closely she'd watched him and how utterly oblivious she'd been.

It was a wonder the entire Company hadn't known about it.

"It's okay," she said softly. She kept her eyes focused entirely on the hair. "I wasn't enough for my mother either."

She finished the first braid and picked up a bead to slide into place.

"I kind of glossed over how she died back when I told you," she continued, gathering up hair to start the second braid. "The truth is she was hurt, but not THAT badly." She paused, holding his hair lightly in her hand. "She could have lived."

Could have lived, would have lived, should have lived.

If Bilba had only been stronger. She couldn't lift Thorin but she had no doubt she could have dragged her mother if she'd tried. If she had would Belladonna have eventually gotten up and walked on her own?

She split the strands into three sections and began to braid. "But she didn't want to. I yelled and threatened and begged and pleaded but it wasn't enough." The braid was almost done and her fingers slowed, putting off the inevitable. "I wasn't enough," she whispered.

She finished the braids in silence, placing the beads back and settling them gently against his shoulders.

"I'm sorry I'm not enough for you either." She reached up, placed her hands on either side of his face and leaned up to press a kiss on his forehead before settling back.

When she did she was startled to find his eyes on her. Her face flushed hot and she started to move only to have his arms come up and gently grip her arms.

"Why does that feel like good-bye?" His voice was hoarse, but it was more than her mother had given her and she was grateful for it.

"Because I can't stay," Bilba said her voice shaking. "I've spent too much time with the dead already."

She freed herself, got up and made sure his sword was near his hand. She felt his eyes tracking her but he said nothing and made no effort to move so she steeled herself and headed toward one of the exits.

She couldn't look back.

There was no way to know where any of the exits led but she picked the furthest one just to avoid leaving the cavern as long as possible.

Far too soon, however, she found herself in front of the black opening. There didn't appear to be any light coming from it, no sign of the lichen so prevalent in the cavern. There was no light coming from outside either which meant her eyes would have nothing to adjust to. Once she walked into that blackness it would stay black.

The thought was enough to make her want to go back and beg Thorin to go with her as she'd once done with Belladonna.

She didn't.

She wasn't that person anymore, didn't WANT to be that person anymore.

She drew her sword and held it loosely at her side. Then she straightened her back, held her head high and took a step forward.

Only to come to a total stop as a hand closed firmly around her wrist and she was tugged around to see Thorin standing behind her.

"That way doesn't lead out." He started to say something else, stopped and then simply turned and headed in another direction. He kept hold of her wrist pulling her along with him. Bilba went without complaint, to dumbfounded by his sudden action to offer one.

Soon they were standing in front of another exit that, as far as she could tell, looked identical to the first.

"That way?" Bilba said, almost to herself. She started to step forward and stopped again as Thorin stepped forward with her.

She looked at him with a frown and then suddenly noticed his sword back in its sheath.

Hope bloomed like a starburst deep inside.

"Thorin," she whispered. She was half afraid if she gave voice to the hope it would be taken from her. She had no idea what she'd said, or done specifically, to make him get up. As far as she knew he'd simply come to the decision on his own without any impact from her actions.

Regardless, she wasn't going to question it if it meant she didn't have to step into the darkness alone. So, instead, she simply nodded and turned to face the tunnel to hide the grin of relief. "No lichen."

Thorin was quiet a moment. "Why would that be a problem?"

"Because there's no light," Bilba said.

"You can't see?" Thorin said in surprise. "The way looks light enough to me."

"I would imagine," Bilba said slowly and somewhat sarcastically, "it probably has to do with you being a dwarf."

He gave a considering look. "Possibly."

"Are you sure it's that way?" Bilba asked. "You did get lost on the way to my house, twice."

He glowered. "It was hard to find."

"And yet you're the only one who had a problem," Bilba mused.

Thorin glared at her, his eyes still dark with the memory of the lost. "It's this way." He insisted.

He released her wrist and strode forward, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Bilba followed with hesitation, her footsteps slowing to a shuffle as the darkness closed around her. She sheathed her sword, there were no goblins apparently close enough to make it glow, put out a hand to feel the wall and kept it there as she moved forward.

Thorin caught her hand, intertwining their fingers and pulled her away from the wall.

They moved quicker after that. Bilba walked tense and stiff at first, expecting to smack into rock or trip over something at any moment. Thorin led her perfectly, however, tugging her easily to the side at times, presumably when she was about to hit something. A few times he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her against his side to guide her around something, in a different direction or, once or twice, to physically lift her up and over some object on the ground.

She didn't so much as stub a toe.

The darkness pressed in on her like a physical thing and her eyes strained to find something to focus on. Given the amount of twists and turns they'd already taken she had no doubt that, if she'd tried to find her way on her own, she'd have died, alone, in the dark.

"Do you think we could find our way back up to that platform?"

"Why?" Thorin's voice sounded stronger.

"Maybe..." Bilba hesitated. "I was thinking...the others--"

"They are dead," Thorin said shortly, "or soon will be."

"If we could get back," Bilba said, "maybe we could--"

"We would simply join them in death," Thorin said, his voice tired. "Trying to rescue them would be even more insane than facing the dragon with just thirteen."

Fourteen, Bilba thought. It was part of why they wanted her, or so Kili had said.

Speaking of which –

"We still could finish the quest for them," she said. "Go try and get the Arkenstone I mean."

It was what the others had died for after all.

Fourteen or two, the quest was no less insane. She had been the one intended to go inside, after all, and she was still there. Of course they had no supplies now. Most had been lost with the rest of the Company. The pack Bilba had been wearing had been torn off on the way down the chute into the goblin caves and she had no idea what had happened to Thorin's pack. Maybe there was a town nearby or somewhere they could forage for food and fresh water? Of course there would be no way too carry the water with them --

Thorin came to a stop, breaking her train of thought.

"Thorin?"

"The quest is over." There was a finality to his voice, as if more than the quest was over and Bilba felt the same fear she'd felt earlier when she couldn't get him up.

He moved suddenly to the side and then her hand was being pulled down as he sat.

"Thorin?" Fear must have colored her voice. He tugged her down next to him, close enough that they were touching.

"We've been walking for three hours and we have at least another three ahead of us. We'll rest and then move on."

"Oh," Bilba said, relief that he wasn't slipping back into the despondency from before, "good." Now that he mentioned it she was tired. She'd also had nothing to eat or drink since the morning, whenever that had been, and her mouth was parched, her stomach gnawing on itself. She thought of the water back in the cavern but then immediately rejected the notion, it had been stagnant and had Eru knew what in it.

They sat in silence for a while until it got to be too much for Bilba. Earlier the quiet had been broken by the scrape of Thorin's boots on stone, now there was nothing. Combined with the dark, it was as though the rock itself was pressing down upon her.

"What are you going to do now?" She asked.

Thorin shifted beside her but didn't answer.

Bilba drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. Walking at such a brisk pace had kept her temperature up but now her body was cooling and the cold from the tunnel, and the rock pressed behind and under her, started to leech in.

"If you aren't going to continue the quest," she said, "what will you do? Go back home?"

"I have no home to go back to," he said, his voice flat. "But I will return to face judgment."

Bilba looked toward him, startled, even though she couldn't see him. "Judgment? Judgment for what?"

He gave a bitter laugh. "What do you think? You said yourself the quest was given to me in the belief I wouldn't be insane enough to go on it. I did and led those loyal to me straight to their deaths."

"It was their choice," Bilba insisted.

"It was out of loyalty!" Thorin snapped.

A noise came from him and she realized he had slumped against the wall.

He was silent for a long time.

Finally, he spoke again.

"I shall return and atone for my crimes." His voice was tired.

Bilba felt trepidation race up her spine. She shivered, the cold coming from more than just the tunnel now and drew her legs in tighter. "What exactly does that mean?"

"I will return and face the families of those I have lost," he stated, his voice flat. "If I am lucky, and they choose to show mercy, I will be shaved of my beard and hair, branded as one who has brought dishonor to the very name of Mahal and cast out as an exile."

Bilba gaped in his direction. "And if you are not lucky?"

"I will be executed."

"But they were all adults!" Bilba insisted. "Do they take no responsibility for their own choices?"

"They do not," Thorin whispered. "I am their King and they followed me when I asked, even when the quest was one I am sure they considered as insane as you did. The punishment will fall on me, as it should."

Bilba had never seen a dwarf with no beard or hair. And a brand...she didn't even want to ask what that would be.

"Where will you go?" She asked. "If they exile you?"

"I don't--" His voice broke and he fell into silence.

Bilba heard him inhale sharply and realized he was struggling not to cry.

Thorin Oakenshield...crying.

Her mind went to her nightmares. Thorin crying over the bodies of his nephews.

The nightmare had had her waking up screaming so many times.

She would take it a thousand times more over the reality.

Hesitantly she got up and crawled into his lap, sitting sideways. She wrapped her arms around him and drew his head down to her shoulder.

He wrapped both arms around her and struggled to get himself under control.

She was glad it was dark because she doubted very much he would ever want anyone to see it and she knew absolutely she didn't want to. Thorin was strong and powerful and a leader and just the sound of him fighting not to break down rocked the foundation of everything she knew to be true.

When his breathing finally returned to normal he didn't make any attempt to move, even though the position must have been at least slightly uncomfortable for him.

"You can come with me," Bilba said finally.

Thorin went completely still.

"What?"

Bilba shifted until she was straddling his lap again, though it was a thousand times more awkward when he was aware of her. In the back of her mind she heard Lobelia's shrill voice lecturing her on propriety when with males but she ignored it. The last thing she ever wanted to hear, or listen to, was Lobelia. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him forward until she could press her forehead against his.