Author's Note: Another one! Now, this is set in Erebor, in an AU where everybody lives and Thorin is with the company exploring the newly opened market places. Oh, now in this Bilbo has claustrophobia and agoraphobia, which is a fear of closed spaces and a fear of crowded spaces.

"The market is so big! Even the ones in the Shire don't compare!"

"Yes, I haven't seen the Dale market place this busy! King Thorin is going to have a lot of merchants to visit!" Ori exclaimed, head turning to look at everything.

Bilbo tried to do the same, but he kept losing sight of Thorin and the others ahead of him. The market was so large,and he was quite unused to such grandeur and noise. So entranced with all of the market stalls, Bilbo didn't really pay attention when Thorin and the others took a turn to the right, towards the weapons stalls. He continued going forward with Ori, chatting and admiring the silks of the fabrics, the richness of the food, and the happy faces of the dwarves of Erebor. They didn't pay attention much, and were soon lost in the crowd of dwarves.

Soon, his focused turned to a certain stall across from him. It made his heart pound wildly at the sight of all the silk handkerchiefs that were gracing the wooden table. Mesmerized by the sight, Bilbo unknowingly pulled away from the chatting Ori. Moving silently through the crowd quickly, he went over and began talking to the merchant. Apparently he had traveled through the Shire and managed to earn their trust enough to learn how they make their handkerchiefs. Tears filled Bilbo's eyes for a moment before he cleared his throat and paid for enough to give each of the Company three. When he turned to show the handkerchiefs to Ori, he realized he was gone.

Then it came to him that he was alone without any of the Company. The realization made his chest start to hurt and Bilbo took in some deep breaths. Just breathe. Thorin will find you. The market is only so big, it would not be long for them to find you. Do you really want to ruin Thorin's trip here? Still feeling the pressure on his chest, Bilbo began to try to trace his steps back to the entrance.

But the crowd was so big, and the pressure from all sides was causing Bilbo's chest to hurt even worse. His battle wound there didn't help matters much either, making an uncomfortable stinging sensation begin to grow to the point he started rubbing the center of his chest. Then a woman pointed at him and began asking him who he was and what he was. Others began looking towards him and the stares made him flinch. "What is that? I haven't a clue!" He turned and saw a small opening between two large dwarves that were bombarding him with questions, each question becoming quite vulgar and derogatory as they continued. He darted out through them, ignoring their shocked shouts.

Running through the crowd, Bilbo looked around wildly for Thorin. Oh, where is that daft dwarf? Where could he be? Ignoring the stares from the others in the marketplace, Bilbo began to take in shallower breaths, feeling the pressure against his chest, before finally stopping and yelling out, "Thorin!"

"Bilbo! Bilbo!"

Turning, Bilbo met a faceful of furs and broad arms. Warm, protective arms that he would recognize in death. His breathing deepened and he relaxed completely. He was safe. He was safe in Thorin's arms.

Half listening to Dwalin's rambling about improved battle tactics brought by the new arrivals, Thorin looked around proudly at the markets. It had taken them a long time to get everything back together enough for the markets to be held daily, but sure enough the durability of the dwarves allowed it to occur sooner than planned.

Ahead of them were the weapons stalls and Thorin agreed to go look at them. After a chat with the merchant, he turned and noticed a thin dagger in a green sheath. As green as Bilbo's eyes. Immediately he went over and picked it up.

"How much for this blade?"

The merchant looked surprised. "That blade, your Majesty? It is nothing more than a simple dagger that my son made a time ago."

"How much?"

Not willing to argue with the dwarf king, the merchant named a price and Balin handed him a pouch of gold. Pocketing the dagger, the king turned to look towards said hobbit. Only coming up with nothing.

Immediately alarmed, Thorin asked, "Where is Bilbo? And Ori?"

Dwalin turned at that and looked around. "I don't see them. Do ya think they headed to the ink stalls?"

"Perhaps. Let's head over there and find them," proposed Thorin, not completely fine with the idea of his hobbit alone in the large market.

"Let the lads enjoy their search, Thorin," Balin said kindly, his eyes crinkling with a knowing glint.

Not wanting to appear desperate, he agreed with a nod and continued to look at the weapons. But in the back of his mind he thought of his hobbit.

Finally, he couldn't take it no more and he informed the others that he was going to go looking for the others. They had checked in with the ink stalls and the book stalls, neither having seen a small golden haired hobbit. When they find Ori, he tells them the last place he had seen Bilbo was near the handkerchief stand before he got lost in the crowd.

The fear didn't seem to fade away with the news. In fact, the pressure on Thorin's chest grew at that. Immediately he sent Dori and Bofur in the direction of the food stalls, and the others in different directions. When he heard a woman call out some rather rude remarks about a hairless face, he turned and saw a growing crowd of dwarves near the fabric stall. Swearing he saw a flash of gold out of his other side, he turned and began heading away from the crowd, only to stop at the shocked shouts of a dwarrowdam.

Turning, he saw a small figure dart out from the crowd. Recognizing the bright yellow vest of his hobbit, Thorin began to head in the direct, increasing his speed when he realized that Bilbo was running in much of the similar way he had back when they were running from wargs. Back when he was in danger.

Confusion filled Thorin for a moment. What did Bilbo have to fear in his kingdom? Surely no one would threaten the Shireling, considering his connections with the king. Anyone that tried would be faced with the fury of the Company, the Durin line, and probably half of the Ereborean population that has become attached to the hobbit. But if it was not danger than what was it?

Ah. Thorin remembered now. The conversation they had had while camping one night. Of the strange constricting ailment that came upon the halfling while he was in large, crowded space. He knew the answer to why the hobbit was running. Bilbo wasn't in danger. It was worse than that. Bilbo was afraid.

Thorin set off even faster, unwilling to let his hobbit suffer alone. The dwarf king was turning the corner in the direction where Bilbo had run when he heard to his left the shouting of his name. Bilbo.

"Bilbo! Bilbo!"

Taking in the hobbit's large, frightened eyes for only a second -long enough to make his heart squeeze painfully- Thorin wrapped him in his arms, burying his head in the bouncy curls. The warm, plump body of Bilbo instantly caused the unwanted tension to ease out of Thorin's shoulders. Bilbo was safe. He was safe while in Thorin's arms.

Where he belonged.