Just for the record, I am bloody terrible at guessing how long a planned story sequence will be when it's all written out. I honestly thought that I could get the rest of the story into one chapter, but noooo. But I really, really do think the next chapter should do it.

This is all BotFA set up and the first part of the battle itself. You will note that this is very, very different from what is shown in the movie. (No giant worms!) I actually found the movie battle to be very overblown and overly complicated, so I went back to the book as a template. The basic setup of the different allied armies is all from Tolkien, though I did steal a few bits from the movie, including the dwarf shield wall. I relied very heavily on Karen Wynn Fonstad's fantastic "Atlas of Middle Earth" which is an absolutely invaluable resource if you want to write about canon places and events.

Honestly, I'm afraid this chapter suffers a little from 'middle part' syndrome, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Reviews are greatly appreciated!

Chapter 4

Fíli, Kíli, Bard and Bilbo gazed toward the northeast from their vantage point on the Lonely Mountain's southeast spur. They were too dismayed to speak; an elven scout had first confirmed the size of the approaching orc army a few hours before, but seeing it with their own eyes was even more disheartening. Rank upon rank of orcs and wargs, stretching north as far as they could see, with an occasional troll looming over the smaller creatures. Above their heads swirled a black cloud that the sharp-eyed elves had identified as bats.

The only bright spot in an otherwise bleak picture was a much smaller group of figures rapidly nearing their position from the east, Dáin and his fighters. Bard shook his head in amazement, "I thought they could not possibly make it here before the orcs."

Fíli smiled tightly, "At their previous pace they would not have. But they have been running hard since they received the message about the battle. Dáin knows the situation would be dire indeed if they were to be cut off from the rest of us by that horde," he added, nodding toward the orc army in the distance.

"How long have they been running?" the Lakeman asked curiously.

Kíli glanced at the westering sun, "Since midday, most likely. Why?"

Bard snorted mirthlessly, "That's a long run in full gear. Will they have the strength to fight at the end of it?"

The elder prince glanced at him in surprise, then chuckled, "They are dwarves, my friend. We are not as fleet-footed as the elves, but tough and tireless nonetheless. They will fight, especially when faced by those orc scum."

The bowman nodded, "Good. We will need every one of them."

-ooo-

Bard stared down at the figure nearing them in astonishment, "Lord Dáin rides a…a pig?"

"A boar, specially trained for the purpose," Fíli explained dryly. "Our cousin is a bit…odd."

"That's one word for it," Kíli added with a snort of amusement.

Shaking his head in wonder, Bard asked the princes, "Do you wish me to stay, or would you prefer to speak to him in private?"

"Please stay," the blond told him earnestly, "you lead our allies and Dáin should know who you are."

Bard glanced up at him, brows quirked, "And will King Thranduil likewise be introduced?"

Kíli chortled, barely holding back his laughter. "Ah, no," he replied, "I believe Dáin and Thranduil know each other from past meetings, and I doubt that renewing their acquaintance would benefit our alliance."

Dáin had dismounted and was climbing toward their position on foot. Fíli and Kíli exchanged a nervous look; they did not know whether their cousin had learned of their banishment, but if he had they hoped that he would realize the absurdity of trying to enforce the ban on the eve of a battle that none might survive. Unfortunately, however, it was difficult to predict what their volatile cousin might do.

"Ho, lads!" Dáin called genially. "I would recognize you two anywhere, especially that blond mane of yours, cousin Fíli." The two brothers relaxed; evidently he either he did not know of their banishment or had chosen not to press it. "Of course," he continued, "You were both a mite smaller when last I saw you." He gazed up at Kíli; Dáin was a large, strong dwarf but the brunet topped him in height by an inch or two. "Especially you, Kíli, you were barely to my knee."

The redhead briefly embraced the dwarf princes in turn. Once Fíli got his breath back the replied, "Welcome, Cousin Dáin. As you can see, you find us in not the best of circumstances."

"Aye, that's clear enough," Dáin chuckled. "I was expecting a good scrap with some poncey elves, but orcs are even more to my liking."

"We have much to discuss," Fíli told him, "but first let me make you known to Bard, of the line of Girion." Bard stepped forward and bowed to the older dwarf. "The dwarves of Erebor are in his debt; he slew the dragon Smaug."

Dáin's eyes narrowed, "I could wish for a dwarf to have that honor, but I am wise enough to be grateful that it could be done at all." He held out his hand to the man, "Well met, Bard Dragonslayer, that was a mighty deed. Girion was a good man, and a brave one, and it heartens me that his line has not been lost."

"Thank you, Lord Dáin, for your gracious greeting as well as your assistance in this dark time," Bard responded, taking Dáin's hand and politely ignoring the original motive for Dain's presence.

"And who is this little fellow?" Dain inquired, his eyes falling on Bilbo who started at the unexpected attention.

Fíli smiled, "This is the hobbit Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, our Company's burglar. You would be hard-pressed to find a more able and stalwart companion. He has seen us through many trials."

Bilbo reddened under Fíli's praise, murmuring, "How'd you do, Lord Dáin?"

Dáin's eyebrows rose, eloquently expressing his surprise at such an unprepossessing figure being described thusly. He bowed, "At your service, Master Baggins." Glancing from the hobbit to the man and back again, he chuckled, "I can see there are some tales to be told when this is over. I shall look forward to it."

Sensing that Dáin wished to speak to the brothers alone, Bard and Bilbo excused themselves.

As soon as the others were out of earshot the red-haired dwarf asked bluntly, "What of Thorin and the rest of your Company? Thorin still lives, does he not? I have not heard from him since I received the initial message."

"Thorin is well," Fíli told him blandly. "He and the others are seeing to the defense of the mountain in case you are forced to retreat there."

"Hmph," Dáin said thoughtfully. "Seems a bit risky to send both his heirs to the front line. He is planning to join us, is he not?"

"Of course, when the time comes," Fíli assured him. It took all his willpower not to glance at his brother—they hoped fervently that Thorin would not abandon Dáin, but they had no guarantees given their uncle's mood the last time they saw him.

"He sent us first since we are more comfortable negotiating with the other races," Kíli lied smoothly.

The older dwarf gazed at them for a moment, clearly not completely convinced by their explanations. Finally he nodded, "Very well. Now how do we plan to deal with all these bloody orcs?"

-ooo-

Dáin saw the sense in the battle plan devised among the allied leaders earlier, with a few modifications. Thranduil's troops would be positioned along the southwestern spur of the mountain, the Iron Hill dwarves and the men of Laketown on the southeastern spur. This gave their fighters the advantage of the high ground and the ability to attack the orc army from both sides. At Dáin's suggestion, most of his dwarves would form a shield wall on the level ground in front of Erebor's gate to hold the enemy in place for the flanking attacks. All agreed that this was the best chance for them to prevail given that they were so greatly outnumbered.

The brothers had chosen a spot at the eastern end of the shield wall where the plain met the rocky slopes of the mountain, reasoning that some of the orcs would try to maneuver around the end of the dwarven line. With them were the men of Laketown arrayed along the mountain spur, ready to harass the flank of the enemy. Bilbo as well; the hobbit had stubbornly refused to leave the battlefield despite Bard's offer for him to shelter among Laketown's non-combatants. The dwarf brothers had finally agreed to his presence, (much to Gandalf's irritation) after wresting promises from the burglar that he would try to stay out of the thick of the fighting and use his magic ring if he could not.

Fíli held his breath as the advancing orc line struck the dwarven shield wall with a crash. Dáin's men held fast, and the casualties piled up quickly on the enemy side, further impeding their progress. The blond watch his kinsmen with pride in their skill and strength, but all too soon the orcs thwarted by the dwarf shields and spears surged toward the ends of the line looking for an easier route. He met them with a cry, slashing fiercely, anchoring the line of Lakemen to the shield wall. Kíli was a few paces behind him, steadying the Esgaroth archers as they raked the orc ranks stalled in their advance. In the distance across the battlefield Fíli could see the Mirkwood archers doing the same; their massed fire spreading death and ruin into the orc ranks.

Fortunately, the press of the enemy against Fíli's position was not so constant that he was unable to keep track of the overall progress of the battle. When he spotted a troll lumbering toward the dwarf shield line, a quick signal to his brother had the Laketown archers targeting the beast, which fell before reaching the dwarf line. Bard's men at first had been wary of the two dwarves, but that caution quickly disappeared when they saw how quickly the enemy fell in their presence.

The blond dropped back from the battle line to catch his breath, all the while watching Dáin's men admiringly. Their training and discipline was impressive; wounded dwarves could be replaced on the front line quickly and efficiently, and all the shield bearers were substituted regularly to give them a chance to rest.

An arm slid around his shoulders and Kíli said warmly, "I thought I'd join you, nadad."

Fíli looked at his brother inquiringly, "Don't the archers need you, Kíli?"

The brunet made a face, "I'm almost out of arrows, and the ones the Lakemen use are too long for my bow. I thought I'd try some sword work instead," he grinned.

"You're more than welcome, nadadith," Fíli assured him with a smile. As they readied themselves to join the line again the blond murmured, "The battle plan is working admirably so far." His eyes were drawn to the ranks of orcs still filling the plain in front of Erebor.

"But there's just so bloody many of them," Kíli added, finishing his brother's thought. It was true; attrition was much slower among the allied fighters, but it was constant. Despite the long hours of fighting, some troops on the enemy side had yet to see combat. As inexperienced as the two young dwarves were with this kind of conflict, it was clear this was to be a battle of endurance.

Suddenly, above the din of battle cries of alarm could be heard; in Westron and Khuzdul both, behind the dwarven shield line. The brothers could plainly see an increase in activity there, but not its cause. They exchanged an uneasy glance and Kíli bit his lip pensively, declaring, "We need to know what's happening. I'll go."

Before Fíli could respond they were startled by Bilbo's voice. "No, no, Kíli, you're needed here. I'll go."

The older prince had all but forgotten Bilbo's presence, but smiled at him gratefully, "Could you, Bilbo? But…just be very careful."

"And use my ring if necessary," Bilbo added with a wry smile. "Yes, yes, I know. I won't take any unnecessary risks."

Kíli and Fíli returned to the fight but they could see that whatever had caused the disruption was taking its toll on the dwarf defenses.

Finally Bilbo returned, winded and grim, "It's…it's bad, I'm afraid. Orcs have found a path over the mountain spurs and are attacking the rear of the dwarf line. On Thranduil's side as well. Dáin is regrouping, but…"

Fíli swore, and felt the first tendrils of despair creep into his heart. They were barely holding on as it was, how could they possibly hope to prevail while being attacked from both sides? He swiped his hand over his brow, "Mahal, Kíli, Dáin will need us." The two princes had intentionally positioned themselves far away from the dwarf lord, hoping to avoid awkward questions about Thorin's continuing absence from the field.

But they both knew where their duty lay; Kíli heaved a deep sigh before nodding reluctant agreement. At that moment Bard joined them, anxiety marring his handsome features. They quickly explained what they had learned and his frown deepened, clearly aware how precarious their position had become.

Just as the brothers were about to tell Bard of their intention to join Dáin, the long, echoing note of a horn rang off the stone walls near Erebor's front gate. The rubble that the Company had laboriously stacked to form a barricade spilled outward as they watched in surprise. Figures emerged from the now open gate, led by the unmistakable shape of Thorin, King Under the Mountain.

Kíli grinned gleefully, tugging excitedly on his brother's arm. "See, I told you he wouldn't abandon our kin!"

"I couldn't be more glad you were right," Fíli chuckled, feeling as if a great weight had lifted from his heart.

A great roar went up among Dáin's men, crying, 'Thorin Oakenshield', and 'King Under the Mountain!' and the brothers' hearts swelled with pride to see Thorin leading the Company to the front line. The dwarves on the shield wall turned neatly, shields raised in salute, to let the newcomers through. Their friends crashed into the enemy line, the momentum the orcs had gained with their surprise attack gone in an instant.

The younger prince sighed as he watched them, and his brother, understanding with no words needed, draped an arm around his shoulder. "I know, Kee. I wish we could be with them, too." As one they turned to join the battle once again.

-ooo-

For a while Thorin's charge seemed to have turned the tide of battle, the orc advance reversed by the fierce attack. But too soon the allies began feel the weight of the overwhelming orc numbers once again. The pressure against their position began to grow steadily stronger, until Bard, whose height allowed him to see more of the battlefield, brought their attention to an even more unwelcome sight: a fresh wave of orcs let by none other than the massive figure of Azog, riding his white warg. They were heading right toward the center of the line where Thorin and the Company were fighting.

"Mahal save us," Fíli breathed, glancing over to meet Kíli anxious eyes. But he had no time to say more, for a new group of orcs threw themselves against the Lakemen and it was all the two dwarves could do to hold their position.

Sometime later the older prince fell back to take a drink from his waterskin and catch his breath, one eye on Kíli in case his brother needed assistance. Just about to rejoin the fighting, he was startled by the feeling of something passing close over his head. He ducked and swore, looking up to see a large raven landing on the ground in front of him.

"Kíli!" he called. "A raven!" A quick glance told him that there was nothing attached to the bird's leg as would be the case for a written message, so he addressed the raven as he had been taught, asking calmly, "Do you have a message for us, my friend?"

The raven took flight, cawing in agitation. At first the blond thought it might fly away, but at that moment Kíli approached, and to Fíli's surprise (and the younger dwarf's alarm) it promptly landed on the brunet's shoulder. "Fíli," he whispered, eyes wide, "what does it want?"

"I…I don't know," Fíli began, only to be interrupted by an impatient squawk.

"King. Hurt," the bird croaked.

Kíli jumped at the unexpected sound near his ear, causing the raven to dig its talons into his shoulder to keep from being dislodged. "King," the bird repeated, this time grabbing a lock of the brunet's hair and tugging roughly.

"Ow! Stupid bird!" Kíli cried, swatting at the raven.

"Kíli, Kíli, it must mean…" his brother began excitedly.

"Mountain. King Hurt," the bird cried, for all the world sounding impatient and annoyed at their slowness.

The brothers' eyes met, "Thorin!"

"Raven, can you take us to the King?" Fíli asked, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

The bird leapt from Kíli's shoulder cawing loudly, and took off westward, toward the center of the battlefield where Thorin had last been seen.

Alerted by the excitement, Bard strode up to them, "What is it? Do you have news?"

"Thorin is injured," Fíli told him gravely, "the raven will lead us to him."

The bowman stared at them in surprise, "You would aid him after he banished you?"

"He is our king and our kin, we must go to him," the blond replied, his voice soft but resolute.

Bard opened his mouth to argue, but instead shook his head resignedly. "Go then, we will hold here."

The dwarves clasped his arm in turn, and then moved to follow the bird, which was circling impatiently overhead. Their eyes and hearts focused on what lay ahead, neither brother heard the soft sound of bare feet behind them as they ran.