Thorin has recovered from his spotty illness and now he feels he must set about fortifying his home against possible orc attacks. Lostwithiel has offered to help. Will their cooperation be successful or will something be revealed that should have remained hidden? And will the fortification be effective?

.o00o.

THORIN AND THE RAID

PT I

Thorin stood on the roof of his hall, tossing off some of the thatch with a pitchfork. As part of the plan to fortify and improve the defences of farmhouses and cottages in the area against orc attacks, he had started to replace the dangerous and flammable thatch with stone tiles. It was a slow and time consuming business but he had made good progress and, when it was finished, he would no longer have to worry that a flaming arrow would burn down his home.

There were extensive views from his position and he could see up and down the four ways that met at his forge on the crossroads. In the distance, trundling along from the Grey Havens, he could see a large wagon and guessed it was Lostwithiel. He threw aside his pitchfork and, climbing down a ladder, stood waiting for the elf lord to arrive.

When the wagon finally entered the yard, Thorin greeted Lostwithiel cheerfully. The elf leaped to the ground and clasped Thorin by the arm. They were elf and dwarf and yet they had fought side by side against the orcs and felt a special bond. Moreover, Lostwithiel was his wife's right hand man up at the nearby outpost where a troop of elves was stationed whose job it was to keep an eye on any movements in the mountains and the surrounding countryside.

Thorin clapped the elf lord's shoulder and wondered at the change that had come over him in the past year. When he had first met him in the Grey Havens where Lostwithiel was a visiting member of Thranduil's court, he had been slim and pale and elegant with wafting movements that seemed to make him float around the room; he had had a languid manner and a languid voice. Now his hair was bleached and his skin bronzed by the sun. He strode rather than drifted and, after all the hours of physical and military exercise, he had built up a fine physique. He was now someone you would be glad to have on your side, thought Thorin.

"Where's Tauriel?" the elf asked, looking around.

"Dropping off the children with Dis for a week," Thorin replied. "It's somewhere safe so that we can work on the house without them getting in the way."

Lostwithiel looked disappointed. "Don't worry," grinned Thorin, knowing the elf's attachment to his captain, "she'll be back tomorrow. You'll be staying tonight, won't you, so you'll see her then."

Together they unloaded the wagon which contained useful items intended to help isolated properties withstand an orc attack. There were wooden shutters with arrow slits built into them, great bundles of arrows, a stack of spears with long handles, a shipment of stone tiles and supplies of foodstuffs that stored well. "And last but not least...the fireworks!" exclaimed Lostwithiel. With a flourish, he produced a bundle of Gandalf's fireworks. They were large and splendid-looking and were intended to be used as warning signals should the forge be attacked. "And keep those naughty children well away from them," said the elf.

They spent the evening putting up the shutters and then sat down to a meal and a cup of wine. Thorin drank carefully these days. Too much wine had got him into a number of tricky situations in the past. But Lostwithiel enjoyed the local product and drank for both of them. They talked about his life up at the outpost and how much it had changed him – "For the better, I hope," he grinned – and how Tauriel ran a pretty tight ship and how he tried to imitate her when he was left in charge.

"The men think the world of her," said the elf, "and all I want is to have half as much respect from them as they give to her." Tauriel only spent one day a week up at the tumbledown farmhouse these days, but she really kept them on their toes.

Thorin nodded. He knew what a wonderful job his wife had done and was very proud of her. "I don't know how she manages to look after you lot and the children and me and still keep her temper," he laughed. And then he added in a quiet voice: "I don't deserve her."

There was a lengthy pause while Lostwithiel sipped another mouthful of wine. He carefully considered Thorin's words with the laboured concentration of a man who'd had one too many. Like many people teetering on the edge of inebriation, he suddenly felt the need to confess. "You know, Thorin, I didn't think you deserved her either when you both turned up that night at Thranduil's feast three years ago."

Thorin grinned. "Well, I can imagine that most elves would think that a dwarf was an odd choice for a beautiful elf maiden. I felt pretty uncomfortable that night. I remember that you were the only elf lord there who was pleasant to me."

Lostwithiel looked down into his cup. "I'm sorry, Thorin, but I was being pleasant for my own purposes – and I regret it and would like to apologise."

Thorin laid a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. "Confession time, Lostwithiel? Too much wine, I think. Time to go to bed."

"No, no," protested Lostwithiel, looking the dwarf earnestly and slightly drunkenly in the eye. "I want to say it. Your betrothal upset me and I told you a load of half-truths about Tauriel and Thranduil. I wanted to cause damage. And I did, because you broke the betrothal. I feel very, very badly about that."

Thorin sighed. "Don't you think I finally worked that one out? The only person who damaged our relationship that night was me. Now, come on. Bed."

But Lostwithiel was on a roll. "There's just one more thing I've got to tell you, something I'm really, really sorry for."

"All right," said Thorin resignedly, "one more thing. And then, bed."

"It happened during those first two weeks of training – when you came up to the farmhouse with that bundle of swords. The men found out for the first time that you were her husband and they were pretty shocked."

"And you want to apologise for telling them," said Thorin.

"Yes. No. Yes – but there's more." Lostwithiel ploughed on. "It's difficult to describe how we felt about the two of you."

"Try," said Thorin, suddenly sitting very still.

"Well," the elf cleared his throat. "It was a mixture of disgust and – er – excitement." Thorin's eyes turned icy and suddenly Lostwithiel began to wish he had never started.

"Explain 'excitement'," said Thorin in glacial tones.

"Well, you know – you and Tauriel – it seemed a very – exotic relationship – and somehow – unworthy – of an elf. And, when I thought about it, it made me feel – sort of – you know –"

"No, I don't know," said Thorin flatly.

"Well, umm..." Lostwithiel wished he had gone to bed when he had had the chance.

"And did you do anything about this – feeling of 'excitement'?" asked Thorin calmly but Lostwithiel somehow seemed pinned to his seat by every syllable.

"Yes," whispered Lostwithiel.

"Tell me," said an implacable Thorin.

Lostwithiel hunched over the table and muttered something inaudible.

"I can't hear you," said Thorin softly.

"I waited until everyone was asleep and then I went to her room and – and got into bed with her."

Thorin was over the table so fast that he caught the elf completely by surprise. He had him by the throat and pinned up against the wall in a fraction of a second.

"You did WHAT?!" he roared and, for a moment, Lostwithiel thought Thorin was going to snap his neck. The elf lord had the advantage of height but Thorin had the superior strength and was driven by rage.

"N-nothing happened," he managed to gasp.

"Were you clothed?"

"N-no. N-naked." Thorin's hand tightened in a spasm on his throat.

"And did you touch her?"

"Y-yes. And – and I bit her lip." Lostwithiel was too terrified not to tell the truth.

With another roar, Thorin threw him across the room. The elf sprawled in the corner and put up his hands defensively. "She kicked me out of bed! She broke my nose!" he cried.

"I'll break every bone in your body!" the dwarf thundered and lunged towards him. Lostwithiel suddenly felt amazingly sober. He realised that this was a serious fight and, rolling to one side, managed to spring to his feet.

It was as vicious as a pub brawl. Furniture was used, thrown and smashed. No holds were barred. Thorin was doing his best to kill Lostwithiel and Lostwithiel was doing his best to preserve his life by whatever method came to hand. In many ways, they were pretty equally matched and they had just got to the point where they were rolling around on the floor with Thorin trying to choke the elf to death and Lostwithiel trying to gouge out the dwarf's eyes when the door was flung open and a commanding voice yelled: "Stop this! At once!"

The two of them froze and, glancing up from their prone position, saw a furious Tauriel standing on the threshold with Dog panting at her knee.

"Get up!" she said in disgusted tones. They both struggled to their feet, looking suitably uncomfortable, and gazed shiftily at the floor. The table had been turned over, several chairs were completely smashed and various items of crockery were lying in pieces around the room. The wine jug had splattered its contents everywhere.

"So?" asked Tauriel.

Thorin compressed his lips and looked away. Lostwithiel cleared his throat and looked embarrassed.

Tauriel figured out the situation immediately. She rolled her eyes. "You didn't tell him, Lostwithiel, did you, you idiot?" He nodded miserably. "What on earth possessed you to do that?" she snapped. "I thought we agreed it was our secret. You might have expected this!" And she gestured helplessly around the destroyed room.

"Your SECRET!" blazed Thorin. "How dare you keep a secret like that from me?!"

Tauriel looked at him coldly and said in a cutting tone he had never heard her use to him before: "And how dare you speak to me like that?" Thorin bit his tongue and looked away again. The elf shuffled his feet and seemed mortified.

"Now, clear up this room," she said. And for the next hour they cleared up the room in silence. When they had finished, Tauriel sent Lostwithiel off to the guest rooms. "And clean yourself up too! There's a pump in the forge," she said.

Thorin stood sullenly by the fireplace. "I wasn't expecting you back until tomorrow," he said.

"There's a full moon tonight – plenty of light. I thought I'd travel home early and give you a nice surprise," she said grimly. She made him sit down and got a bowl of water. "This is the second time in as many months I've had to do this," she said, dabbing viciously. "I can't tell you how angry I feel at the moment, Thorin."

"And I can't tell you how angry I'm feeling too," muttered Thorin.

.o00o.

PT II

Thorin and Tauriel lay side by side in bed, not touching. She had been looking forward to surprising Thorin with her unexpected arrival. The children were staying with Dis for a whole week and she had kept herself entertained on the long ride home with thoughts of herself and her husband enjoying their time ALONE together. And now he and Lostwithiel had totally spoiled things between them.

She couldn't believe that the elf lord had thought it appropriate to confess his sins to Thorin; nor could she believe the dwarf's overreaction to what, after all, had only been a bit of foolishness. But, perhaps she could. Thorin's passions were extreme and it was impossible to know sometimes which way he would jump. And he had certainly jumped all over Lostwithiel. If she weren't so angry, she could almost laugh.

Thorin wasn't laughing. He hadn't felt so angry in a long time and his emotions were proving almost impossible for him to contain. He kept on re-playing in his mind the image of the handsome elf sneaking into his wife's bedroom, then STRIPPING OFF and getting under the coverlets with her. He could see his TALL, elegant, well-honed body pressing up against hers, his long, beautiful fingers touching her, his cupid's bow mouth moulding themselves to her mouth and his sharp, white teeth biting her lip.

He wondered if Tauriel had enjoyed it. He wondered if she had responded. How could any normal woman not feel some attraction for the good-looking elf lord? Had she really broken his nose or had it been broken by the orcs when they found them having fun in bed together? Deep down, Thorin knew that his thoughts were running amok along the wrong track once more - that this was a bit of over-indulgent self-torture - but he still wanted to leap from his bed and finish the job he had started on Lostwithiel.

And he was so angry with Tauriel. She was his wife and yet she had kept this from him, had made it a dirty, little secret between her and Lostwithiel. He had been shut out and he wanted to know why. He wondered if they laughed about it behind his back. And, for the one hundredth time that night, he wondered why she had married him, what it was that he and his forge had to offer her, when so many others had sought out her hand – her hand AND her other bits.

Neither of them slept. When dawn came, Tauriel was the first out of bed. "Where are you going?" asked Thorin as she swept out of the room.

"To tell Lostwithiel that I'm about to make breakfast," she said, heading for the front door.

Thorin leapt up and yelled after her: "You just make sure he's got some clothes on before you go in there!"

But Tauriel just knocked on the door of the guest suite and called to the elf to get up before returning to the house where Thorin was struggling to get dressed. "Well?" he said.

"Stark naked," she said and disappeared off into the kitchen, leaving her husband to wonder whether she was joking or not.

Breakfast was a difficult meal. Nobody spoke but the elf and the dwarf eyed each other sideways trying to estimate the amount of damage they had done to each other's face. "I'd say it's a draw," commented Tauriel seeing their glances.

"Thank you for the food," said Lostwithiel stiffly. "I'll be off, then."

"No, you won't," snapped Tauriel. "You're supposed to stay today to help Thorin with the roof." They both opened their mouths to protest but, seeing her look, shut them again, sighed and went outside to fetch the stone tiles and the ladders.

It was quite difficult working together on the roof without talking to each other but, somehow, they managed. It was a hot day and, in the end, they both had to strip to the waist, where the damage from the previous day's fight became obvious. And Thorin couldn't help but examine the details of the elf's fit body and entering that information into the scenario that still kept on replaying in his head. He would have been happier if Lostwithiel had been skinny or overweight.

By late afternoon, the roof was nearly finished and both had had enough. Lostwithiel came down first, apologising to Tauriel that he had to return the wagon to the Grey Havens before going up to the outpost. She helped him with the horse and then he got ready to mount onto the seat. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused," he said. "I only wanted to apologise to Thorin because I felt so badly about you-know-what."

She sighed. "He'll get over it. Give him some time."

"Do you forgive me for yesterday, then?" he asked.

"Oh, get on with you," she grinned and she patted his hand and rose on her toes to peck him on the cheek. Thorin was just coming down from the roof at that moment and he could quite willingly have impaled him on his pitchfork. He glowered as his wife waved Lostwithiel goodbye.

They went into the house together and Tauriel pointed to the table. "Sit down," she said, "and let's talk about it."

Thorin sat down sullenly and said, "Hasn't it all been said?"

"No, I don't think so," said Tauriel. "You start."

He was silent for some time and then said: "I feel I have the right to kill or, at the very least, seriously injure, any person who has forced himself upon my wife." Having stated the obvious, Thorin sat back, folded his arms and looked righteous.

"And what if the wife has talked it through with that person and has accepted his apology? Doesn't that count?"

"No," growled Thorin, "because you're my wife and any assault on you is an assault on me. And if I want revenge then I shall have it."

"And so, my opinion counts for less than your dignity," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Could that possibly be because you think of me as your possession and, therefore, have fewer rights?"

Thorin could see himself being cornered. "Well, you are my wife," he said at last.

"Yes, and you're my husband," she retorted, "but you certainly don't act like you are sometimes."

"But shouldn't a husband be angry over this?" he asked, beginning to look confused. She always wanted to kiss him when that confused look appeared on his face, but she held off for the moment.

"Not if the wife feels she has resolved the issue and is happy with the outcome." He still looked stubborn so she continued: "Look, when we got married, so many elves and dwarves and men found that they couldn't come to terms with it. Lostwithiel felt very muddled and that's why he did what he did. He apologised; it's over. I think he now loves us both more than any other of his friends and that's why he got this urge to apologise to you. He couldn't bear for there to be secrets between us." She let out a breath. "I'm glad you know about it. Now I just want you to get over it."

Thorin stared at the floor for some time. In the end, he raised his eyes to her and gave her that special little-boy-lost look up through his long, dark lashes that he always affected when he wanted his way. "Well," he said in a husky voice, "perhaps a kiss would help me get over it." She laughed and, bending forward, seized him by his plaits and kissed him. He stood up and, sweeping her into his arms, made for the bedroom. "I think I'm out of practice," he murmured. "Now that the children aren't here, I can think of lots of things that might help me get over it." And he kicked the bedroom door shut behind him.

.o00o.

The next morning, after hours of very solid practice, Thorin was roused from his sleep by Tauriel getting out of bed. She began to put on her captain's uniform and he was immediately awake. "What are you doing?" he said.

"It's my day up at the outpost," she said. "I'm afraid I won't be back until tomorrow morning. I've got to go with the men on a night patrol."

Thorin hated her going on night patrols, especially as the danger of orc attacks became more likely. But he tried not to make a fuss and helped her get breakfast ready.

As she mounted her horse, she bent to kiss him one last time and then grinned. "I'll be back at dawn tomorrow. Keep the bed warm!"

.o00o.

PT III

As Tauriel rode up to the outpost, she couldn't help but feel that it held a very special place in her heart. It was something that was all hers, something that she had created and something that she could be proud of. Borondin was on guard duty and saluted her gleefully and soon the others came out to meet her, saluting and helping her from her horse, taking it to the stable and carrying her pack. They all looked so pleased to see her and she was genuinely pleased to see them. Like Lostwithiel, her troop glowed with strength and health because of their active, outdoor life. They were such a fine, good-looking body of men and, although they had bulked up, they still retained their grace and speed.

As she was about to enter the farmhouse, Borondin called out and they all turned to see Lostwithiel riding up from the Grey Havens. As he got nearer, they were shocked to see his battered and bruised face. "Had a run-in with a pack of orcs, sarge?" asked Rostrel with concern. Lostwithiel looked embarrassed and glanced at Tauriel.

"No," she said in a concerned voice. "Worse than that. He was helping Thorin to rebuild our roof yesterday and he slipped and fell." There were exclamations of sympathy and lots of tips offered on how not to fall off a roof.

"You might have been killed, sarge," said Lithin.

"Yes, indeed," said Lostwithiel, fingering his injuries gently, "there was a moment when I thought I had breathed my last." He looked at Tauriel and they both grinned at each other. Thank goodness, Tauriel thought. Things seem back to normal.

"How's Thorin?" he asked her in the office later.

"Getting over things," she smiled. "Don't worry. He will have forgotten about it soon enough and we can all be friends again."

"You know," he continued, "I really don't understand what came over me that night. I feel so ashamed. I just can't imagine any reason why I would want to get into bed with you."

"Keep digging, sergeant," she said.

He blushed: "You know what I mean."

"Do I?" she asked innocently. "Perhaps you can explain yourself, soldier."

"Well, sir, it's not that I don't find you attractive or anything... because I do..." He spluttered to a halt.

"Now, don't let Thorin hear you say that," she said with mock severity, "or you might find yourself just about to breathe your last again."

He caught the twinkle in her eye and gave a laugh of relief. "I thought you were being serious there, sir."

"Oh, but surely I was?" said Tauriel. And then, seeing the bemused look on his face, she felt sorry for him and added with a smile: "OK, sergeant. At ease."

They spent the rest of the morning studying maps and discussing rumours of orc movements. Over the past few years, there had been only a few insignificant raids with the capture of Tauriel and Lostwithiel from the outpost being the most serious. No man, elf or dwarf had lost their lives, mainly because the number of attackers had been so small. But, now, news came in daily of the orcs gathering in groups of thirty or forty and this is why the fortification of farmhouses was currently considered so important. Tauriel set out her route for the night manoeuvres and then they retired to the kitchen for discussions with the rest of her men.

The kitchen had become a desirable place to be. The old table had been cleaned and polished and the chairs had been repaired skilfully and added to. The big iron stove was always lit and glowed comfortably; the flagstones were well-scrubbed and scattered with rugs; and, surprisingly, there were flowers and decorative branches everywhere. It gave the room a feminine touch but all elves love plants and growing things and delight in their fragrance.

They ate their mid-day meal, then sat around the table sharing information and experiences. Everyone was concerned about the increasing number of orc tracks they had found in recent weeks, although these were not numerous and there had been no sightings.

That afternoon, Tauriel instructed them on cooking over an open fire. This was a popular lesson since they got to eat the meals they created that evening and there was much fun and laughter as they either made a hash of things or achieved top culinary status.

They ate well that evening and, as darkness fell, Tauriel, Lostwithiel and four more of her soldiers set out on their night trek. It was a full moon but, although clouds were coming and going across its face, their keen eyesight allowed them to see the countryside effectively. They headed for the area between the farmhouse and the crossroads where there were steep hills of crumbling shale and gorges, providing potential hiding-places for the enemy. Tauriel and Lostwithiel took up position in the shelter of a group of trees and sent off the other four to check out the gullies and ravines. "Report back in two hours," she said. But in less than two hours, they came hurrying back with the news that they had found a group of twelve orcs making its way through one of the gorges.

"Two each," grinned Lithin. "We couldn't miss them - they were making such a racket." His eyes were bright and excited at the thought of the first piece of action since the raid on the outpost. They moved with the silence of elves until they found the orc band, marching and stumbling along one of the rocky gullies. They took up position on the slopes above; Tauriel organised them with a few gestures and each marked his man. At a signal from their captain, they loosed their arrows. The first six fell and, as the other six ran for cover in a panic, a second flight struck them to the ground as well.

They ran to check them out, killing knives at the ready, but they were all dead. "Well done, lads," said Tauriel. "Excellent work." But Lostwithiel was concerned.

"They're not carrying much," he said as he examined the bodies. "They were obviously intending to travel fast and light. Perhaps they're scouts."

"Then, I wonder where the main party is – and how big it is?" pondered Tauriel.

Just at that moment, there was a whoosh and an explosion as one of Gandalf's rockets burst in spectacular fashion above them, illuminating with its flowering stars the countryside for miles around.

"Well, there's part of your answer," said Lostwithiel grimly. "The main party appear to have launched an attack. But, I'm afraid that the rocket was coming from your forge!"

.o00o.

Thorin was spending a very lonely day. It was the first time he had been completely on his own in more than two years. Usually, the children kept him company when Tauriel went up to the outpost but they were still with Dis. "I've only got you, Dog," he sighed, looking down at the animal stretched across his feet. "But I suppose you're better than nothing." Dog sighed too. He was also missing everyone.

After Tauriel had gone, Thorin had fetched the ladder from the forge to complete the work on the roof but, after only an hour in the hot sun, when his bruises and the sunburn from the previous day were making him feel sorry for himself, he decided to come down and work on his commissions in the forge. Dog was pleased about that because he could lie on his feet and they could be miserable together.

As Thorin worked on a gold belt buckle, he pondered how he had once lived for years on his own and had rather enjoyed it but, ever since Tauriel had come into his life, he had felt lost without her. He remembered that dreadful year – entirely his own fault – when he had stormed out of the forge and she had gone off with Thranduil. His pride and his overheated imagination had stopped him from going after her and he had suffered needlessly because of it.

He had made her suffer too, accusing her of being in love with the elven king and breaking off their betrothal. He had taken her to his bed one last time and then had cast their betrothal rings into the flames. But she had loved him so much and understood him so well that she had waited for him in Rivendell, knowing that, in the end, he would come to her. And there had been no harsh words. She had kissed him and forgiven him and given him a beautiful son.

He had learned a bitter lesson.

Or had he? Thorin fidgeted guiltily on his seat as he thought about the events of the previous day when he had been so overwhelmed with jealous images that he had nearly killed a friend. And then he had somehow tried to pass the blame onto Tauriel, treating her like the piece of gold he was working on, a beautiful object to be shut away and safeguarded from the eyes of the world, like the valuable pieces that he kept hidden in his forge or in the vaults of the Grey Havens.

"Right!" he said, standing up abruptly, startling Dog. "Today is a new day. No more jealousy; no more bad temper. From now on, I shall be the husband and the father that Tauriel and the children expect me to be! When I see Lostwithiel next, I shall apologise for my stupidity...Even though I think he was in the wrong and deserved it," he added. Dog looked unconvinced.

The rest of the day dragged on slowly. He and Dog ate an evening meal together and then went around the hall testing out the new anti-orc shutters. He bolted and barred them all - there were two at the front, two at the back and one on the end gable – and tested the arrow slits, which could also be opened or closed. He then barred the door with the strong strips of metal that he had recently forged for the purpose. After that he went to the stash of bows, arrows and spears and shared them out and stored them beneath the five windows. Gandalf's rockets he placed next to the fireplace along with the tinder box. Orcrist and his long-handled axe he propped in a corner.

He didn't mind being shut in like his, with no natural light, although he was sure the children would object but, for the moment at least, if they wanted to live at the forge, these were the precautions they would have to take nightly.

He got himself ready for bed; if he went to sleep, the dawn and Tauriel would come all the more quickly... if he went to sleep, of course. Before he went to his room, he tried one final thing: a bit of Dog training. "Guard!" he said firmly to Dog, and pointed to the door. Dog looked at him as if he were mad, jumped onto the bed and snuggled under the coverlets. Ah well, thought Thorin, he would have to put that on his list of Things to Do, along with the roof.

Against all expectations, Thorin fell quickly to sleep, helped by the shuttered darkness of the room. But it felt like only a brief moment before he was woken again by Dog, whining quietly and snuffling around the front door. He was immediately awake and, pulling on his breeches, he moved swiftly and silently across the room to one of the front shutters. Carefully, he opened the arrow slit and gazed out into the night. The moon was shining brightly and, amongst the trees and bushes that surrounded the forge, he could see large, moving shapes. Orcs! And a lot of them! An attack was happening at last and he was only glad that neither Tauriel nor the children were here to share it with him.

An orc broke away from the main group and slunk towards the house. It approached the far window and seemed to be trying to peer in through a gap in the shutters. Thorin moved to the window, picked up a spear and, silently releasing the catch on the arrow slit, thrust it with all his strength out into the dark. He felt his spear strike home; there was a terrible scream and then silence. Well, that had given the game away, he thought. Now they knew that he was home too. Then he sprang to the fireplace and quickly set fire to the tinder inside the box. It caught immediately and he held it to the tail of the rocket. The chimney stack was large and wide, and you could see the stars if you stood in the hearth and looked upwards. The rocket shot straight and true up the chimney and burst in a giant explosion of beautiful flowers into the darkness. And Thorin felt more than a small amount of pleasure that one of his plans had worked. Now, all he had to do was hold them at bay.

The orcs suffered a few moments of panic, startled by the death of their comrade and also by the firework bursting above them. He guessed they had never seen anything like it before. Then, before they could gather their wits, he ran to each of the front windows, firing off a number of arrows from each of them into the group behind the trees. From the yells, he reckoned he had got at least four of them.

Then they spread out and began to surround the forge and he ran first to the gable end and then to the rear windows, firing volleys of arrows from each. Not only did he catch them unawares so that a few more went down, but he was confident that they thought, at least for the moment, that the house must be manned by half a dozen men. And every time he caught one slinking up to the windows, he speared him in the same way as he had done the first orc.

Thorin was beginning to enjoy himself. He reckoned he had killed or injured at least fifteen of the thirty or forty orcs gathered outside his forge. Keep on coming, he grinned. But suddenly they withdrew and it went silent. What were they up to? And then he heard a banging and crashing as they forced their way into his forge and a screaming of horses as they broke into the stables. There was a thunder of hooves as his two horses burst out of the barn and galloped away. No escape on horseback, then, he thought.

After that, it went silent again and he wondered what they were doing in the forge. Then he saw some of them emerging with ladders and he knew what they would do next. He ran to the kitchen pump and began to fill buckets and containers with water. Soon, a whole hail of fire arrows began to rain upon his roof and he cursed himself that he hadn't finished replacing the thatch with the stone tiles. It wasn't long before the straw caught.

Thorin dragged his table to the centre of the room where the great beam ran the length of the house. He built a platform using a second table from the kitchen and a chair, climbed this makeshift ladder and, with a bucket carried in one hand, managed to reach the beam. He walked along the beam and drenched the smouldering thatch. The fire was extinguished and he returned again and again until both beam and straw were thoroughly soaked.

But then he had to dash to defend his door as a group began to batter it with a large log they had found in the wood. He managed to kill one with an arrow but spear thrusts through the arrow slit in the door proved the most effective form of defence.

A crashing above his head distracted him. They had climbed to the roof and were pulling away the remnants of the thatch. At the same moment, he realised that they had set his forge on fire. Well, that would have to wait. He could see an orc face peering through the hole in the roof and a host of them would come at him from that direction if he didn't stop them. He climbed back onto the great beam once more, axe in hand, and confronted an armed orc who was edging towards him from the other end. Thorin was very agile and, using the long handle of his axe to help his balance, he rushed the orc and struck him from the beam before the creature had the chance to go more than a few steps.

Then he climbed through the hole and emerged out onto the roof to face the other invaders. His forge was in flames and, soon, the main house would catch too. But now, with his back to the hall's chimney stack and his axe in his hand he felt he could make a good stand against the last group of orcs. Twenty to one! Well, he was in with a chance. He bestrode the ridge and it was impossible for more than one of them to come at him at any one time. He roared in a battle fury as, one by one, he struck them down.

But then, a large orc, armed with a bow, and standing on the roof at a safe distance from the reach of his axe, fired an arrow that struck him in the arm so that he dropped his weapon. The creature grinned in triumph and, coming closer, raised his bow to shoot him through the heart. Thorin saw his death. But, suddenly and unexpectedly, the bowman collapsed with an arrow through his neck. He heard a great whoop and there was Lostwithiel waving his bow in triumph as Tauriel and her men ran into the clearing.

The end for the raiding party came very quickly. The elves soon wiped out most of them with their arrows and knives, though a few escaped into the woods. Tauriel was the first up the ladder and onto the roof whilst Borondin and Rostrel attempted to put out the fire in the forge. She cradled Thorin in her arms and he could see the tears glinting in her eyes.

"Gandalf's rockets worked then," he said.

Three of them managed to lower him down from the roof while Lithin climbed inside the house and opened the door. Dog was barking in frustration because he had been unable to get out and join in the fun and fussed over Thorin as they carried him to his bed.

"It's only a flesh wound," said Tauriel as she cleaned and bound Thorin's arm.

Her troop cleared away the orc bodies and got them ready for burning. "That was an amazing feat," said Lostwithiel. "You killed twenty-five out of forty of them singlehandedly."

"But all that effort would have been pointless if you hadn't arrived to shoot down that bowman," acknowledged Thorin. And he leaned forward and grasped Lostwithiel by the arm. He didn't have to say any more. The elf knew that everything was all right between them again.

The forge was nearly totally destroyed but the valuable commissions and Thorin's other possessions were still safe and undamaged in their hiding place. "We'll catch your horses tomorrow," said Lostwithiel.

.o00o.

"Well, you didn't keep the bed very warm," said Tauriel as she got in beside her husband.

"Warm enough," he grinned.

"Warm enough for what?" she asked. "You're a wounded man, remember."

"It's only a wounded arm," whispered Thorin in her ear, "not a vital organ." And he lowered himself over her and kissed a sensitive spot behind her pointed ear.

"Well, I'm very relieved about that," she murmured, and she tugged his plaits gently and pulled him down upon her breast.

.o00o.