Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from The Hobbit. The late JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and a bunch of other people with a LOT more money than I have do, and I'm just borrowing them to have a little fun and I'll put them back when I'm finished. I'm making no money from this, it's for entertainment purposes only, so please don't sue me. Inara is my creation, as are a few of the other original characters in this series. Please consult me before you use them in your own fics; I'll probably say yes, I just like to know where my babies are.

Archive permission: If you want it, take it. Just tell me where you're putting it so I can stop by and visit. Thanks.

Special thanks to: SerenLyall for all her research into the timeline. Ithil-Valon for characterization. Lindarielwen from Council of Elrond for a sounding board. And PirateColey for encouragement and Dwarf drooling at all hours of the day and night. And ALL OF YOU ladies for brainstorming, tweaking, brainstorming more, and helping me to finally get it right! You guys ROCK!

Dedications: To Evendim, who has given me such great pleasure with her own AU series and graciously given me permission to play in hers any time I wish. She has the same permission from me. Without her, I would never have gotten started; she gave me the courage I needed to post that first story, and for that I am forever grateful. To Ithil-valon, who has provided tireless beta-services and been the best friend anyone could ever ask for… I love you for it, hon, don't ever change. And finally, to my beloved AJ, without whom my life is poorer and less bright. Rest in peace, my darling. We'll see each other again.

Part Nine

(The Wild)

They had trailed Bolg's band for days. Not once had they seen an opening to rescue Inara, and more than once they had overheard more of Bolg's calculated cruelty.

They could do nothing to prevent it while he slowly convinced her that those who loved her had abandoned her. That Dwalin had sought to end her life, not from necessity, but from a desire to end her association with Thorin. That Thorin had sent him with her for just that purpose. That she was no longer wanted in Erebor.

Through it all, she was silent. She no longer responded to the Orc's taunts, and the only way the followers knew she still lived was that one of them forced food into her each night. That, and Bolg's running litany of lies. And the screams torn from her when he decided she'd been quiet long enough.

They were near Erebor, now. The Orcs had been traveling steadily northward, a bit east of true north, on what appeared to be a straight line for the mountain. Perhaps there was still hope.

"If one of us were to go around them, get to Thorin, maybe we could get her back that way," Kili hissed as they made their careful camp that night.

"We'd never make it on time, going around on foot," Fili disagreed. "There would be extra ground to cover."

Dwalin let them talk. They had good ideas, but they were still so, so inexperienced. And the sounds that came from Bolg's camp sometimes, they horrified the lads, made them itch to bury Dwarvish iron in Orc skulls. They had learned patience; but not enough.

Those sounds hurt him, too. The only thing that saved the lot of them was that he had more experience dealing with these situations and he was able to stop them from rushing out to help her.

But the worst was the night Bolg brought something to show her. The three were watching through the trees again, trying to discover a way to get her out, when he held it up and they saw her face blanch. "He will never come for you now, human," Bolg spat as he threw it at her. "Your faith is misplaced. Not only did he renounce you at the end, he is dead. And there is your proof."

She struggled to sit up long enough to examine the object and her face went from pale to white. It fell from fingers slack from grief as she screamed again, a piercing, heart-wrenching cry of agony. She knew that braid, knew it intimately. That it was Thorin's was never in doubt, not to her. Then she fell back, clutching it, holding it close to her heart as she sobbed.

Dwalin had to physically restrain Fili, who in turn grabbed his brother and slapped a hand over his mouth.

They drew away again, Dwalin holding each lad by the arm until he was sure they wouldn't go running back to her side. "I don't believe it," he said firmly. "And if we go charging in there right now, all we'll do is die." He thought he had their attention finally, but his words would hurt them. "We have to wait. If Thorin IS dead, we can't help him. If he isn't, he'll be coming. There's only so long he'll let himself be kept from looking for her. He'll come. And we have to make sure he doesn't come to his death."

Both of them looked at him askance, distrust oozing from every pore. How could he be so calm? Inara was dying by inches. Thorin might be dead as well. How could he not be moved by her grief? Her voice was grating on their nerves, serving only to make them want to go to her side. Those sounds were something that should be made by a wounded animal, not her.

Finally Fili saw something in Dwalin's eyes and it gave him a little reassurance. "What did you have in mind?" he asked slowly.

Kili watched him too. What Fili had seen, he now caught as well. And for the first time since finding her, he thought maybe they had a chance to help her.

Dwalin had a plan.

(Erebor)

Thorin was in the map room when Balin found him. There was movement everywhere; armed and armored Dwarves moved about as Thorin and one of the commanders conversed in low tones over the table.

That was encouraging, Balin thought quickly. At least it looked as though he'd forgone the idea of leaving alone.

Thorin beckoned him over and Balin went, trying to get a glimpse into his eyes. Those would tell him what he needed to know, whether or not Thorin had recovered his senses. But when Thorin spoke, he had all his answers.

"We must move, and quickly," he said simply as he drew Balin to the table as well. "The southern scouts have returned. Most of them." It hadn't escaped him that some had fallen to the Orcs, and he would find justice for them as well. Justice, not vengeance.

Long hours in the night had finally cleared his mind. He had spoken to Inara of vengeance, very early in their companionship. He had told her what it would cost, and in the small hours before dawn, he had remembered those words. Had she recalled them to him, from where she waited for him? He didn't know. But he would heed them.

"How bad is it?" Balin was immediately every inch the advisor once more. Thorin had changed overnight, and he welcomed the change. Sorrow still darkened his eyes, anger still lurked in them, but it was being focused now. It no longer controlled him.

"Bad enough." Thorin gestured to the maps. "Orcs are here and here, say the scouts. And with one of those bands is Bolg." The name was a snarl and he visibly controlled himself once more. "We just need to know which one. He commands these Orcs. With him gone, they will be no threat."

"Indeed." Balin looked things over with a practiced eye. "If I were to make a guess, I would say – here." He pointed to the southernmost marker. "If he is as cruel as Azog, he won't risk himself until he's sure you're near. Especially since he took Inara. He will know you are coming, and he will know your fury will be great. He won't risk himself until he can kill you."

"That was my thought as well." Thorin cast another glance over the map. "So we will give him a golden opportunity." He saw the concern in Balin's eyes and sighed. "I'm not going to give them what they want, Balin. I'm not going to deliver myself to them. But I will take a troop south to engage them. They cannot be allowed to threaten our home itself, not without answer."

Balin nodded again. "A sound plan. IF you intend on taking sufficient troops." He knew he wouldn't be among them; Thorin had charged him already with the running of the mountain. He raised a brow.

"Bofur will come, as will Bifur and Bombur. Oin will remain at the rear with the healers. Gloin, Ori, Nori, and Dori will come. Dwalin and the lads are behind them." Thorin regarded his friend with his own raised eyebrow. "The fight will come to him on two fronts. He cannot hold, not with determined Dwarves at every turn."

"Well thought out," Balin returned quietly. He wouldn't say anything about Thorin's anger with Dwalin. It hadn't been forgotten; there was a dangerous glint in his eye when he spoke of the big warrior. "But it seems this plan hinges on Dwalin and the lads being behind them. What if they've been taken?" He didn't want to prick Thorin any further, but it needed to be said. His friend, his King, needed to know what he was walking into. What could possibly go wrong.

"Then we will free them, or avenge them. As we will avenge Inara's death. These Orcs will not leave here alive."

Balin was silent a moment longer. There was purpose behind the rage, now, and that made a huge difference. "It seems you've thought of everything," he said slowly. "Yet I would counsel one more thing, Thorin. Do not take the fight to Bolg yourself. Let him come to you. Use that advantage."

"I intend to use every advantage I can find, my friend, even Dwalin if I must." No, his anger hadn't cooled. "But I made a vow that Bolg would die and I intend to honor that vow. He took Inara from me and I WILL kill him for it."

He raised his head and nodded to the assembled soldiers. "It's time." He grasped Balin's shoulder for a moment, letting the gesture speak the words he couldn't say. "We will survive, Balin. And we will WIN."