Nani's wandered the halls of Erebor for two days without any of the dwarves seeing him, which wasn't a hard task considering the sheer size of the place. But even when he returned to the smaller dining hall where they had left the packs for food he was not seen. The black of his fur and the gloom of the stone worked well to keep him hidden and his soft paws were silent. He explored the city from the mines below, to the carved rooms that must have served as living quarters above. He wandered through massive forges still filled with half finished projects. Armouries filled with skeletons and rubble. A partially caved in library which would have been more interesting if the books weren't mostly in dwarfish. The cat could squeeze through holes in the rubble that would have blocked the dwarves and climb up to places they couldn't reach. It was all great fun even if everything stank of decay and dragon.

During his time exploring things had happened. He listened from the shadows as Thorin ordered for the gap in the gates to be sealed against the survivors of Dale and any others who were aiming for the mountain. It was a pitiful sight, for them to be afraid of starving people. Namir didn't watch very long before turning away. He slunk down into the abandoned living quarters. There were still belongings in the rooms, coated in dust. He bushier himself with shifting through them until he found a bag where he could stuff some supplies. A blanket and two pairs of trousers that hung wide on the waist and only came down to his calves. He didn't want to stay here, not with Thorin slowly going mad.

The only thing that was stopping him from leaving was the gift. He had yet to find the perfect cutting gift for Legolas. There were many beautifully crafted weapons, but he doubted the elf would want a dwarf forged weapon. The Prince favoured his bow and dwarves were no known for their bows. They were known for their swords and axes and machines of war. Not things that Legolas would love. Gold was also out of the picture. Why would a Prince want gold? So Namir was stuck and it was beginning to frustrate him.

It was because of this, that he followed Thorin back down into the treasure halls later the same day. The gates were barricaded shut and night was falling above. The treasure halls sparkled as the candle light bounced off the metal and Namir watched the dots of light reflect off the ceiling, fighting the urge to try and chase them. Watching as they flickered was an amusing way to pass the time and he curled up on a broken set of stairs that hung over the gold below like a snapped branch. Thorin was pacing around under him, too lost in the gold to notice the cat above.

"The white gems of Lasgalen", the dwarf's voice echoed. "I know of an elf Lord who will pay a pretty price for these". Those words caught Namir's attention and he tore his gaze away from the lights. On a stone table was a pile of white gems no bigger than beads, all glinting like starlight. Thorin dropped a beautiful necklace onto the pile and some of the jewels cascaded over the edge. Namir's tail flicked with the urge to pounce as he watched then bounce and roll across the floor.

Thranduil wanted those gems, Thorin had said. They must be important to him, though why elf heirlooms were deep within Erebor, he did not know. Either way, those jewels would make a better courting gift than anything else he could find. The mental image of Thranduil's face when Namir presented Legolas with the gems, not the king, would surely be entertaining. Decision made, he stood up and walked away to find another bag. 

It was night when he returned with a leather bag to steal the gems. Normally this meant that everyone would be asleep but Thorin had taken to spending his nights pacing over his halls of gold with a silent but mad gleam in his eyes. Namir made sure that he was in another hall that night. The clinking of coins as the dwarf walked echoed enough for him to keep track of the other's movements. There was barely any clinks of coins as he stepped out onto the piles of gold. Extraordinary balance and stealth keeping him steady and silent as he hopped across to the table. 

Before he filled the bag, he took a second to hold up the necklace. It was a beautifully made piece, starlight shining gems sparkling in the light as he admired it. It was a necklace that one could imagine kings going to war for. Not that they would, if Namir could help it. He pulled open the small leather sack and dropped the necklace inside before scooping up as many of the white gems as possible. Some had rolled off the table and were lost in the piles of gold underfoot. They were so small that they were easily lost and he didn't have the time to search for them. Once the gems from the table were all in the bag, he tied it closed and swung it over his shoulder  before reaching for a second empty bag. Might as well take some gold back to the saviours of Laketown since he was stealing anyway. Also, he had no love of wealth, but he did like shiner things. The large clear crystal at his feet was indeed, very shiny. How could he resist?

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Dawn rose and with it came a golden army of elves. Namir had climbed up the cliff face above the gate of Erebor and found perch on a wide ledge there. His three bags rested neatly at his side as he watched the company line the battlements below. The wind tugging on his will hair and the material of his shirt. (It was a shirt he had stolen from Erebor, which was also too small on him. It exposed too much of his stomach, so he ripped it down the middle to make it almost a short waistcoat instead). The wind was even slightly chilly to him, so he was glad that he had grabbed the second layer. 

Down below, a horse galloped towards the gate. Bard astride it's back as it came to a halt at the steps of the city. "Hail Thorin, son of Thrain!" His voice echoed over the mountain. Namir leaned slightly over the ledge to see better and for a second, Bard looked up and his eyes met his. Namir grinned, waved, then held a finger to his lips in silence. The man below turned away as if he had never seen the skin-changer high above. "We are glad to find you alive beyond hope", he continued to Thorin. 

The king under the mountain's voice was cold. "Why do you come to the gates of the King under the mountain armed for war?" Namir looked up over to the ruins of Dale and the elves lined up along the walls, bows drawn and golden armour shining in the sun. He wondered if Legolas was there. 

"Why does the King under the mountain fence himself in?" Bard shot back. "Like a robber in his hold?" 

"Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed". Thorin's glare was almost loud enough for Namir to hear it. He rolled his eyes and his gaze caught on a small stone which was resting near the edge of the ledge he was sat on. It was only a small stone, about the size of an acorn but it was only about ten centimetres away from the drop. So tempting. 

"We have not come to rob you", Bard called. "But to seek fair settlement. Will you not speak with me?" Namir gently nudged the stone closer to the edge with the tip of his finger. 

Below, Thorin turned away from the battlements and Bard dismounted to walk closer to the wall. Namir could not hear their ensuring conversation, spoken quietly through a gap in the stone. His attention was later focused on the stone. Another nudge, if he had a tail, it would have been swaying. One more nudge and the stone clattered over the edge. He leaned over and peered as it bounced down the cliff and across the battlements. It rolled and stopped shy of Fili's feet. The blonde dwarf looked down at the stone then glanced up with a frown.  When he looked up, it was to catch a quick glimpse of a sly grin and cat slit eyes. The blonde dwarf chuckled and turned back to watching Dale. 

Namir watched as Bard stormed back to his horse and rode away. Thorin had broken his word and soon there would be war. Not that Namir would let him. He waited as the day moved on and night began to fall before he picked up his bags and began to climb his way back down the mountain. 

unedited