A Shot in the Dark (Thilbo - Bagginshield)

Chapter 18

"Um, uncle? I hate to interrupt this... moment. But what do we do now?"

Bilbo and Thorin looked up in unison at Fíli. The young prince was carefully looking off to the side while scratching his cheek. It took Bilbo longer than he liked to realize exactly why the Dwarf was avoiding eye contact with him.

"Mmp!" Bilbo pulled himself free of Thorin's embrace and scrambled to his feet. He made a show of fixing his coat and adjusting his shirt and sash; all an attempt to avoid meeting the eyes of the two Dwarves. He could feel his face growing hot and hoped he didn't look too much like an overly ripe tomato.

Thorin got to his feet at a more sedated pace; all while glaring at his nephew. "Speak clearer, Fíli. No matter what Kíli thinks, I cannot actually read your mind."

"I'm talking about the dragon. What do we do with the body?" explained Fíli, gesturing to the deceased Smaug. "And how are we going get out of here? The main entrance is caved in."

The king sighed and looked over the mighty corpse of his greatest enemy. "For now, we can leave Smaug here. It is more important for us to focus on clearing the entrance."

Bilbo thought back to the gates that had caved in and wrinkled his nose. "That will take more hands than we have now. We need help."

"He's right," agreed Balin, joining in on the conversation with Óin and Gandalf. "We will need others if we want to get the gates operational again."

"I'm sure the Men of Lake-town would be willing to help if you pay them," pointed out the wizard as he leaned against his staff. His hat had gone missing somewhere during the fight, and his hair now fell into his face in a mess of silver waves.

Thorin pulled his lips back in an ugly sneer. "Those Men are greedy and will ask for more than they deserve."

"Actually, they're poor and hungry and have a selfish leader," Bilbo retorted, determined to nip the stirrings of greed in the bud. "And in case you didn't notice, you have mountains of treasure here. You can afford to part with some of it for the sake of rebuilding your city."

The king blinked a few times before a hint of shame crossed his face. "You're... You're right. It would not hurt to pay them for their help."

"I can go tomorrow to speak with them," offered Balin, quickly jumping on the idea. "I can also send a letter to Dáin while I'm there. I'm sure he'd be happy to help us."

Thorin nodded. "Do so. Also send a message to my sister. Tell her to begin sending Dwarves and supplies. We will need all the help we can get if we want to rebuild this place."

"Great, are we done here? Because I have a Hobbit to examine," drawled Óin with his arms crossed and one foot tapping.

Bilbo blinked and pointed to himself as everyone turned to stare. "Me? Why do you have to examine me? I'm fine!"

"I'll believe that when I see it," retorted the Dwarf, already moving over to pull on the bottom of his red coat. "Come now, off! Time is wasting."

He scowled and yanked his coat out of Óin's hand. "No, there's no need. I'm fine."

Óin paused and stared at him for a moment with unblinking eyes. Then, quicker than Bilbo thought possible, the Dwarf poked him sharply in the ribs. He instinctively yelped as pain raced through his body and wrapped his arms around his side.

"Still feel fine?" deadpanned the healer as Thorin rushed to his side.

"What happened? Where does it hurt?" asked the king, his blue eyes tracking down his body.