Disclaimer: The Hobbit and its characters do not belong to me.

AN: Thanks for your support!


The Trouble with Soulmate Marks: a Hobbit fanfic

By Indygodusk


Chapter 11: The Battle Begins

Billa found her slumber rudely interrupted the next morning by a strangely accented voice snapping, "Wake up, runt." Her eyes popped open.

She looked around, missing Thorin with a bone-deep ache, prodding at the bruise of her emotions with images of his face both sweet and terrifying until she had to suppress them or risk breaking down in front of this rude stranger. Even then, her new tattoo felt tight and sore when she moved. The room was dark except for the light coming in from the hallway. She placed her fingers on Sting where it sat next to her body and glared over at the disagreeable man now standing in the doorway, ready to defend herself if necessary.

A tall man with greasy black hair glared at her from the doorway. She recognized him as the man ordered to find her a room the night she'd handed over the Arkenstone. Billa hadn't liked him then. She really didn't like him now. Wiping the sleep from her face, Billa sat up cautiously.

At this point, she realized that her fingers rested on the end of Sting's scabbard instead of the handle. If she'd tried to brandish it, her sword would have probably fallen out of the scabbard and clattered onto the floor at the man's feet. Thank goodness that hadn't happened! Discreetly she moved her hand to the handle and tried not to blush with embarrassment. Her dwarrow friends would never let her live something like that down.

Of course, they weren't here to see it. They'd never know unless she told them, but who knew if she'd ever even see them again? What a depressing thought. Billa sternly suppressed the quivering of her lower lip.

Looking down his nose at her, the greasy-haired man curled his lip, revealing brown-stained teeth. "The wizard wants you at an early morning parlay called by the elven lords, so get up already."

"I do beg your pardon," she said coldly. "It's Alfred, isn't it?" Billa searched her memory of human gossip from the day before.

Stepping forward, he puffed out his chest, preening at being recognized.

Billa deliberately moved slowly as she stood up and folded the blanket she'd used the night before, refusing to jump at this horrible man's bidding. "I thought I'd heard that you once held a position of importance in Laketown, but obviously I must be mistaken. No one as rude and ignorant of proper behavior as you could possibly be in power over the people here… or is that why you are delegated to the role of a servant now? Kicked you out, did they?"

She would normally not be so openly rude, but she was feeling out of sorts and couldn't quite muster the energy for good manners in the face of his insulting behavior. Instead of calling on the lessons of Grandmother Baggins, she was channeling Great-Aunt Henrietta Took. Her family would be appalled (well, her younger cousins would laugh themselves silly and send her winks, but the rest of the family would be appalled).

Alfred's face twisted into an angry scowl. Beady eyes glared down at her with hateful calculation. "What would you know, a useless-looking child like you? But you aint a child, are ya? You're a stumpy, pig-faced old spinster."

Flinching at his verbal slap, Billa stared up at him in shock.

Smirking, he took a step forward to look down his nose and loom over her with his human height. "Didn't think we'd realize you's a spinster, eh?" he drawled cruelly. "Like anyone would want you, what with that rats-nest topping such an ugly face." He wrinkled his nose and circled to the side. "Likely no one's ever needed a useless bint like you, certainly no one's ever wanted you. Obviously your own people can't stand you, otherwise you'd be back home instead of travelling with dwarrow riff-raff. Even they would rather throw you off a wall than keep looking at your foul face or hearing your hideous little voice for one second longer. And who could blame them? I'd probably throw you off a wall too. You should be grateful that the people here found you so pitiful that they took you in. We're wasting good supplies on you, we are. But at least we don't have to worry about that for long. We'll probably trade you back to that mad dwarf for gold soon and let him strangle you for good this time."

Tears stung Billa's eyes as Alfred's barbed words raked bloody furrows across her still open emotional wounds. It hurt, echoing the voice of her deepest fears and heartaches. All of her insecurities and traumas surged up like acidic bile, choking and stinging.

She'd underestimated this vile man. But she would not let him see the depths of her pain. He would get no more from her. She would not give him the satisfaction.

Although her failures currently loomed large, she tried to remember that she'd also faced down wargs, goblins, orcs, and even a dragon. She'd made good friends along the way and even been claimed as a sister last night by Haeth. What was this stupid little man compared to that? Cruel, yes, but ultimately weak and empty.

Billa Baggins was not weak, Billa was strong. She was also a storyteller and a survivor. It was time to spin a good lie and then get far away from this man.

"Oh, really?" Raising a somehow steady hand, she flicked her curls behind her shoulder and raised her chin disdainfully, channeling the popular and gorgeous Briony Bracegirdle when Lobelia tried to usurp her social position by spreading unflattering lies and innuendo at the apple harvest dance five years ago. Lobelia still ducked her head and crossed to walk on the other side of the street when she saw Briony coming. Billa would squash this man's ego just as thoroughly.

The slight plop of the two beads in her hair steadied her breathing and gave her strength. "I'll have to see what my dear friend Bard has to say about your opinions, or should I call him King Bard now? He was just telling me yesterday about how he owes me for saving the life of his people, and that I should come to visit him and his family as soon as they renovate the palace. That was during an important meeting with all of the leaders and advisors in the area. I don't remember seeing you there," she looked him up and down dismissively, "probably not a coincidence. Maybe if you're lucky they'll let you clean the palace stables, though probably not the rooms."

Sweeping past him and out the door into the corridor, she called back, "You must be anxious to return to your menial duties. Feel free to clean my room and empty the chamber pot while I'm gone. I'll probably be at important meetings with important people for the rest of the day, so it's unlikely you'll see me."

Billa turned and walked away quickly, only slowing down once she reached the torch-lit dining room. The other people here made her feel safer. By the end of her parting speech, she'd feared that Alfred was going to try and hit her. If he'd tried, she would have swiped at him with Sting. This adventure had made her abnormally violent for a hobbit.

It hadn't managed to armor her feelings very well though. One quivering breath escaped her, followed by another as she kept her head down in the line for food. Sniffling, she rubbed a knuckle across her nose.

At the breakfast table, she grabbing a piece of bread smeared with berry preserves. Each bite made her feel a little bit better. Thank goodness for food, even when the portions were small. It refocused her mind on the good things in the world. If she could just get a large enough portion, she'd be the cheeriest person for miles. But unfortunately there wasn't time to go through the line again for more before her meeting.

Alas.

Telling her gurgling stomach to keep quiet until lunch, Billa went outside in the pale pre-dawn. Her breath fogged in the air. A passing human helped direct her to Gandalf. Scrunching her cold hands into her pockets, she walked out the gates of Dale and saw the wizard standing off in the distance by himself on the hillside overlooking the armies below.

Billa quickened her pace. No one had told her exactly when the parlay was supposed to start. Billa wondered how Thorin was doing.

She missed him. She loved him. She wanted to kick him in the head.

After passing several squadrons of elves and humans, Billa came up next to her tall friend. Pushing thoughts of Thorin away, she mustered up a small smile in greeting. Gandalf smiled back absently. "King Thranduil is about to advance on the gates. For one so old, he is rather impatient," the wizard said as he peered across at the elven leader on his stag.

A haze of soft pink light drifted along the horizon, softly illuminating the menacing armies of elves and men assembling on the plain before the cobbled-together gates of Erebor. Billa wrapped her arms around herself and shifted from foot-to-foot in an attempt to generate some warmth. "I don't understand why this parlay has to take place before the sun is even up. It's still freezing and we could all be warm inside eating more breakfast." Even the small thump of her braid against her ear could only bring her so much comfort in the face of the potential violence. "Why can't King Thranduil just wait until later, or even better yet just go home and leave the dwarves alone?"

Bard marched by and joined Thranduil near the front of the gathering. Billa also noticed healer Nestor near the back in his tanned leathers. He must have somehow felt the weight of her gaze, because he looked up, met her eyes, and gave her a gentle smile and nod before turning back around. Everyone looked so fierce and stern. She didn't like it. At least that awful Alfred wasn't around.

Gandalf smiled crookedly and leaned wearily against his staff. "King Thranduil is a complicated person with conflicting wants," the wizard glanced around beneath his brows to make sure no elves were close by as he lowered his voice and continued. "On the one hand, he doesn't want any of his people to die in battle and is thus willing to parlay and lay siege for weeks, months, or even years."

At Billa's wide eyes Gandalf added, "He's been in battles that lasted for centuries back in the First Age, you know."

"That's crazy! Didn't people just get tired of fighting or run out of food and want to go home? I can't even image fighting for days, much less centuries…." Billa hugged herself tighter.

Face dark and sad, Gandalf said, "When everyone lives a long time and the stakes are very high, people forget or are forced to put aside such things. But those dark times are long in the past and no one wants them to return. The wizards in my order all work hard to keep such a thing from happening."

Looking down at her face, he continued softly, "But we were speaking of current events, not the distant past. Although Thranduil doesn't wish to needlessly risk battle, he can also be very proud and greedy, a failing common to those in power. Because he thinks that he has been slighted, he allows the darker emotions to swell within his heart. Instead of checking himself, he acts upon them. Time and tragedy have worn him down from the great leader he once was, but the sturdy roots are still there. I have hope that he will blossom once more into a leader both longsuffering and wise." He paused as a troop of men marched past with loud jangles and thumps, their makeshift armor and weapons ill-fitting and foreign in the hands of men who at heart were fishermen, not warriors.

Once they moved on and it quieted down, Gandalf continued. "In the past, the elvenking had a difficult relationship with the dwarves in Erebor. In addition to the traditional disdain both races carry for the other, the dwarves of Erebor somehow came into possession of a necklace of white gems that once belonged to his deceased wife. Thranduil insisted on their return. When King Thror learned of its provenance, he became greedy. He would only agree if Thranduil gave up several huge concessions that had been in contention between the two races for centuries. Offended at their demands, the elvenking refused and negotiations broke down, but he's been bitter about it ever since."

"Oh," Billa said contemplatively. "I suppose I feel a little bit sorrier for him now. That must be difficult, to lose someone you love and then not be able to get back a memento to remember them by. But all the same, I don't think I'd go to war over something like that. In the end, people are always more important than mathoms, no matter how pretty or storied."

Gandalf blinked at her in surprise for a moment. "The worldview of hobbits keeps catching me by surprise. Most of the other races do not share your priorities, mores the pity. The white jewels from that necklace are one of the main reasons he's demanding a share of the treasure now. He's willing to go to war over it, focusing so much on the memento of his dead wife that he loses sight of what she stood for and the child she left behind, a child more clear-sighted than his father, if what I hear is true," Gandalf finished softly and musingly.

"Are you talking of Prince Legolas?" Billa hesitantly asked.

Clearing his throat, Gandalf resettled his robes and looked around. "Perhaps I've said too much, so don't go repeating any of that," he ordered sternly and waited for her nod of agreement. "Things are tense enough around here as is. Hopefully Thranduil will start listening to me soon. There is a fell army marching this way as we speak that he refuses to hear about. He'll see the truth one way or the other soon enough."

"What?!" Billa practically shouted in fear and surprise. "What are we to do, Gandalf?"

"Survive as best we can," he replied. "The confluence of these armies may prove to be a catastrophe. On the other hand, if what I truly fear comes to pass and if we are very, very lucky, it may prove to be a blessing."

"A blessing!" Billa muttered disbelievingly as she cast her gaze over the lines of armed elves and men. "I don't see how." However, Gandalf stayed silent, not explaining his thoughts any further.

Only a few minutes after Bard and Thranduil arrived at the gate, Thorin and the rest of her dwarven friends appeared at the top of the wall. Billa couldn't help but trace Thorin's features longingly with her eyes. As he spoke, a sharp pain stabbed through her heart, a strange mixture of love and anger.

For a brief moment his eyes cut over to where Billa stood, connecting with her gaze. She could have sworn that he lifted his hand to press two fingers against the center of his mark. Perhaps she felt an echo of his tortured mind. But then he ripped away his eyes and dropped his hand, fisting his shaking fingers against his thigh until the trembling stopped.

Although he wore the magnificent armor and fancy helmet denoting his status as King Under the Mountain, Thorin's face looked haggard and rough. She'd had no dreams of him last night, but perhaps he hadn't slept. He spoke more slowly today, though with no more courtesy or give than before, but with an almost tortured deliberation.

For a few moments she dared let herself hope that this presaged a new change of heart as the sun crested the horizon with golden rays. But her hopes shrank as the light cast deep, unsettling shadows over Thorin's eyes and highlighted the starkness of his face. Thorin squinted away from the light and stopped speaking mid-sentence. Then he began laughing: a loud, triumphant, mad laughter that made Billa's belly twist is discomfort.

"Your demands are done. Any chance you had of wresting some morsel from me has passed. Behold dwarven might and let despair fill your greedy, maggot-ridden hearts!" Thorin yelled as he gestured exultantly at the horizon.

Billa looked over in confusion only to catch her breath in shock a moment later. Cresting the hillside to the west marched a group of fierce, hairy warriors bristling with metal: an army of dwarves! They came closer until stopping at the top of the hill in ordered rows.

A red-haired dwarf on a scary-looking armored boar rode halfway down the hillside before stopping. He carried a large red axe and a matching red warhammer. Two dwarves rode beside him in a small chariot pulled by large horned goats. It took Billa a minute to recognize the other figures as Haeth and Dis. Both were wearing heavy armor. The glares they sent the elves were full of anger and aggression.

The tension made Billa's stomach lurch and acid rise up her throat. She swallowed hard. Things seemed to be accelerating towards a fight. It scared her. She didn't want any of her friends to fight, old or new, dwarf, elf, or human.

Gandalf rubbed his forehead as if pained. "That's Dain Ironfoot, lord of the dwarves of the Iron Hills and Thorin's cousin."

"Maybe he can help Thorin see reason?" Billa asked weakly.

Gandalf grimaced. "I've always found Thorin to be the more reasonable one between the two."

Billa looked up at him in disbelief, but before she could ask, Dain started shouting. "Excuse me! In case you blighters failed to notice, an army of dwarves has just arrived! This land and this mountain belong to the dwarves! We're ready to have a rowdy reunion with our kin, so all of you lily-livered, tree-shagging, poncy-princesses can just shove off before we chop your heads off and use 'em for mead cups!"

"Oh, dear," Billa swallowed before saying faintly, "I see what you mean."

The elven army turned as one to face the dwarves. A tense standoff ensued. Insults spewed back and forth. Levels of aggression rose quickly. Warriors unsheathed weapons and placed arrows to bowstrings. The air fairly vibrated with tension.

Afraid, Billa stepped closer to Gandalf's side. He placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. However, a few seconds later he yanked it off and snatched something out of the air. Billa looked up in confusion. Gandalf held his hand up to his ear for a moment. Then he went pale.

As he opened his fingers, Billa saw something small fly off into the sky. It looked like an insect. Before she could ask about it, Gandalf strode forward and down the hillside at a rapid pace. Billa scrambled to keep up.

Coming out into the open between the bickering leaders and their armies, Gandalf raised his staff to the sky and shouted, "Cease this fighting at once! As you bicker an army of orcs, goblins, and wargs are marching from Dol Guldur. They are now but a few miles away and will be here within the hour, if not sooner! If you value your lives, you will put aside your petty bickering and unite to defeat this common foe."

Dain spit off to the side in disgust, but turned to Dis and Haeth to confer.

Gandalf locked eyes with Thranduil in a silent battle of will. A muscle ticked in the elvenking's jaw, but finally he nodded his head and looked away. "Prepare for engagement!" Thranduil called. "Send out scouts and warn the humans in Dale. Make sure the borders of the Mirkwood remain unviolated."

Looking over his shoulder at Dain, he added, "We'll defend this side of the Valley for now. You dwarves may array yourselves however you like as long as you stay out of our way. However, I might suggest that you mass on the other side, thus trapping the dark ones between the vice of our armies." He flicked his eyes up at Thorin, but turned away dismissively without saying anything. The elves quickly moved in some complicated pattern that hopelessly confused Billa, but somehow ended up with them arrayed in new lines along one side of the valley.

Dain, Dis, and Haeth didn't look happy about it, but after a brief conversation together they took Thranduil's advice. The dwarven armies gathered a bit farther down the crest of the hill. In the chaos, Billa lost sight of her new brother.

Because of the repositioning of the two armies, the dwarves were now closer to the ruin of Dale than the elves. Although he looked unhappy about it, Bard firmed his lips stubbornly and rode a horse over to where Dain sat directing his forces. A few minutes later her rode away and ordered his humans to mass up on the hilltop with the dwarves.

A small part of Billa felt relief that the elves, humans, and dwarves weren't going to fight each other. But a larger part of her mind boiled with fear and apprehension that a battle was about to happen anyway and that she was the smallest person on the battlefield. She kept the handle of her sword near to hand as she scrambled after Gandalf.

He spoke briefly with an elf, stopped a human for a quick word, and then looked around impatiently. "Billa, where have you gotten to?"

"Right here, Gandalf. I've been right behind you the whole time," she said, tripping forward to stand by his side.

He looked displeased. "Foolish girl! What are you still doing here, instead of somewhere safe and sensible?" the wizard demanded. "You're just a hobbit, not a warrior."

Billa felt her shoulders tighten. "And just where should I go? I don't want to be a burden. Show me somewhere safe and I'll go there, but everywhere seems dangerous right now." Placing a hand over her heart, she said, "I know I'm not a warrior. However," and suddenly words poured out of her mouth without her thinking them through, "I am your friend. Until we find somewhere safe, I'll watch your back." She was simultaneously terrified and proud of what she'd just offered.

Gandalf tousled her curls, "Dearest Billa… very well. I would be honored to have your protection and help. Stay close to me for now," he drew his sword Glamdring as a horn sounded. "Although as soon as we find a better place you are staying put where you will be safe and can't get into any trouble." He sent her a warning look.

"Yes, Gandalf," she said placatingly.

Sending her a quicksilver smile, he faced north and let his face fall to seriousness. Billa soon heard a menacing thrumming, the sound of a thousand marching feet approaching. Warg howls filled the air. She told the quivering of her stomach to stop. A minute later, the black ranks of the enemy appeared. Her knees momentarily lost their strength. They looked terrifying.

Flights of arrows darkened the sky like flocks of migrating birds. The front ranks of goblins fell in great swaths, but more kept coming, along with packs of wargs. The armies of elves, dwarves, and men advanced, forcing the enemy to fight on two fronts. For several long minutes the battle seemed like a stalemate, with neither side advancing or retreating.

Billa clutched her sword in sweaty hands and waited behind the lines with Gandalf, guiltily glad not to be close enough to actively fight. She kept glancing towards Erebor, looking for Thorin and her friends to come out to fight, but for some reason the gates stayed closed. No one came out. It worried her, but she only had so much attention to spare with the imminent threat of being attacked.

Despite their large numbers, the goblins and wargs were slowly being pressed back. Everything seemed to be going well. They were going to win!

Then another pack of wargs crested the hillside with hideous cries. It made Billa realize that she'd naively assumed that she'd already seen all the fighters that the enemy had to offer. Gandalf's lack of surprise at their appearance told her that he'd known better than to be so optimistic.

The cries of the wargs almost hid a strange grumble and squeal of tortured rock coming from underground. Gandalf had seemed relatively stoic up to this point. But at hearing the new sound he whirled around to stare at the hillside with a pale face. He reached out and grabbed Billa by the shoulder. The sounds became louder and more dissonant with every passing second, until finally with a great explosion of rock several giant holes appeared in the walls nearest to Dale. The heads of giant were-worms hovered in the openings for a moment before disappearing with a clatter and hiss.

The dark holes gaped black in the hillside like punctures from a poisonous snake bite. Before she could find the breath to ask Gandalf what was going on, hordes of orcs, ogres, and even armored trolls came lumbering out like pus leaking from a septic wound. Billa cried out in horror as the monsters broke through the ranks of dwarves and men, slaughtering everyone in their path.

"Come," Gandalf called urgently. "We have to get to Dale." Swallowing hard, Billa unsheathed Sting and followed him.

Months of training, soul-deep stubbornness, and a bucketful of luck got her into Dale with only a few new bruises and nicks to show for her trouble. She didn't want to think about the goblins she'd just killed and wounded. She'd deal with that later. At least she'd managed to protect Gandalf from getting a goblin's blade in the back. Between Gandalf and Bard, the humans managed to rally their defenses long enough for elven reinforcements to arrive.

Out of the blue, Billa suddenly felt an amazing rush. It felt as if a great weight had lifted from her shoulders so she could stand up straight for the first time in weeks. As if the sun came out from behind a cloud and made everything clear and bright. As if all the dust had settled so the air rushed clean and fresh into her lungs. She didn't understand it. But it felt wonderful.

Curious, Billa climbed to the top of the wall to look out over the valley. But nothing out there could explain it. Things were not going well outside the city. People were still being slaughtered. The hordes of goblins and orcs seemed endless. As she watched, a group of tired dwarves and humans were slowly pressed back until they became trapped up against Erebor's walls. It seemed like her side was losing.

Suddenly, the repaired gates of Erebor exploded outward in a shower of rocks! Out of the clouds of dust charged Thorin and his company! Billa screamed with delight as their charge broke the lines of orcs and turned the tide of battle in the valley.

As she watched with her heart in her throat, Billa noticed that Thorin had taken off the ostentatious golden armor. In fact, there wasn't a stitch of gold anywhere on his body. He wore a simple suit of armor. His movements seemed fierce and sharp and present in a way she hadn't seen since before they'd reached the mountain. She wanted to hope that his madness had broken, but she couldn't be sure. How could she know without speaking to him? Without seeing his face?

After routing the enemy in front of the gate, Thorin and Dain conferred together. They gestured up the mountainside to Ravenhill, where a series of strange flags had appeared during the battle. Gandalf joined her just in time to see Thorin, Dwalin, Balin, Kili, and Fili get into a wagon pulled by mountain goats and charge up the mountainside.

"Azog is probably up there, coordinating the troops," Gandalf said darkly. "If they can destroy those flags, it will be much easier to route the enemy." A sudden shower of debris heralded the approach of a rock-throwing troll accompanying a squadron of orcs. The weary humans down in the courtyard scattered. "Stay out of the way," Gandalf ordered before running down the steps.

Seconds later, several elves appeared out of nowhere to surround her on the wall, making her jump several inches into the air. They began firing down at the orcs. Bard led a squad of humans into the courtyard to back up Gandalf. Feeling useless, Billa pressed back against the wall.

However, Billa had to do something when she saw an elf hit by a thrown dagger. The female elf reeled back and hit her head on the wall going down, dislodging the dagger. Billa ran over to pull her out of the way of the other archers. The elf's head wound bled fiercely, matting her lovely blond hair. "You are going to be fine," Billa comforted as she grimly bound the female's wounds.

"Thank you, little one," the elf whispered faintly through pain-tightened lips. Several orcs gained the walls and the elven archers turned to engage. Patting the female elf's leg soothingly, Billa stood up and brandished her sword in defense, just in case. She probably wouldn't last long against an orcs and trolls who could defeat Gandalf and the rest of these elves, but she would surely try, even if her hands were trembling. Luckily, the enemy was defeated without the need for her help.

It took a few minutes more for the elves to gather back together. One came up to Billa with a nod of thanks and lifted the injured elf into his arms. "I saw healer Nestor over there about ten minutes ago," Billa said, gesturing west. The elf thanked her and strode off with his injured friend.

Billa looked down at the blood underneath her fingernails and released a shaky breath. Hobbits were not meant for battle. She didn't want to be here, she wanted to be home.

Wetly she laughed when she realized that she could disappear if she just put on her ring. It was very tempting. Perhaps she'd take Gandalf up on his offer of finding a safe place and then she'd literally disappear for a while. She didn't want to die.

But what if everyone got slaughtered but her because she was invisible and she ended up alone in the middle of a mass grave? Would she even be able to escape by herself? Unable to bear such imaginings any longer, she looked around for Gandalf.

She saw him down below talking gravely to several elves and humans. Warily Billa made her way down, stepping gingerly around the dismembered arm of an orc at the base of the staircase. Two dead humans lay against the wall with their bellies and faces chopped open. She recognized one of them from breakfast. Billa almost threw up. Holding a hand over her mouth she swallowed hard.

Breathing in and out of her nose in an attempt to control her uneven breathing and roiling stomach, Billa reached into her pocket and desperately clutched at her acorn. It focused her, helped her to calm down. Life will go on, she reassured herself. Even in the midst of these horrible things, there is always hope. This evil is but a momentary, horrible shadow, but the clouds will pass, sunlight will return, and green things will grow. Life will go on. It will.

Thranduil rode by on his elk, but stopped when hailed by Gandalf. He didn't look happy. Billa missed the start of their conversation, but it looked like an argument. She quickened her pace.

"You can't leave. The dwarves are about to be overrun. Thorin is up on Ravenhill where the second army is about to arrive. Send your forces to halt their advance. Warn Thorin," Gandalf demanded.

"If you want him warned, go ahead," Thranduil said curtly, his elk taking dancing footsteps from too tight a grip on the reins, "but too much elvish blood has already been lost to this place. I will give it no more." Turning away sharply, he left.

"Thranduil!?" Gandalf cried desperately, but the elven king did not heed him.

The wizard clenched his fists for a moment and then turned to focus grimly on Bard. "You have to make sure your men don't break when they see the second army appear. The chance of victory is already slim against such odds, but if they turn and run they will most certainly be slaughtered and what remains of this town razed to the ground! I have more allies coming to help, but we need to buy them more time."

"What is going on?" Billa demanded, looking back and forth between Bard, Gandalf, and the disappearing Thranduil.

Bard rubbed his forehead, overwhelmed, and flicked a hand to Gandalf to answer. The gray wizard's shoulders stooped as he turned to Billa. "Another army of orcs and goblins is coming from behind that peak," he gestured to the high point holding the enemies' flags. "It is led by Bolg, son of Azog, and will be here any minute."

"But that's where- that's where Thorin's going. He and the others, I saw them going up there to try and take down the flags. Thorin's up there," Billa repeated anxiously, starting to understand what Gandalf and Thranduil had been arguing about.

"They are riding into a trap," Bard said bleakly. "I am sorry, but I cannot spare anyone to go and warn them either. It seems death will find us all today, some merely sooner rather than later. There is no hope."

"No," Billa said on a huff, "no I refuse to believe that. I- I won't." Falling to her knees, she scrambled over to a raised patch of earth surrounded by a rough, cracked circle of bricks. Using her bloody fingernails, she clawed at the cold ground until she'd scraped out a hole a few inches deep. If some of her own blood mingled with the dirt, well, it seemed only fitting, a spilling of her choice rather than the theft of her lifeblood soon to occur.

"What are you doing?" questioned Gandalf as he and Bard gave her looks of concern that she'd cracked and gone mad.

They might be right. She felt a little mad. Billa's breathing was too fast, but she couldn't seem to care. She pulled out her acorn.

"What is that?" Bard asked.

Billa held the acorn up between her thumb and forefinger. "This is a promise. This is memory. This is life. Long after we are gone and this day of evil is forgotten, this tree will grow and sprout leaves in the sun. It will provide shade for the weary and house generations of birds in its branches to sing and love and eat and grow. There is not only death. Life goes on. There is hope. This is my hope."

Wiping away her tears with dirt-stained fingers, she placed the acorn in the ground and tenderly patted the soil back over it protectively. Life would endure. She would hold to that. Sniffing wetly, she stood up and wiped her face again.

Just then, she heard a twitter. Jasper, her little thrush friend, flew up. Blood spattered his beak and claws. She'd seen birds attacking the eyes of goblins and wargs. Jasper must have been one of them. He hovered over her newly planted acorn and with a dainty lift of his tail, pooped right on top of it.

"Fertilizer," he trilled. "I have hope for life and new trees too." Then he flew off.

There was a hush of silence. Then Gandalf let loose a large guffaw. All three of them began laughing, though if it was touched with a hint of hysteria, no one mentioned it. It only lasted a moment, but Billa felt much better.

Gandalf sighed and slapped his thighs in resolution. "We all needed that, my dear hobbit. But come! Let me get you to the great hall before the next big battle starts. It is the best I can offer for now. You can wait out the rest of it with the other women and children."

Blowing out a steady breath, Billa looked up at Gandalf straight in the eyes. "I'm going to go and warn Thorin about the other army."

"Don't be absurd," Gandalf shook his head firmly, "you'll be slaughtered."

"I'm not asking for permission, Gandalf," Billa said with a faint smile.

He looked down at her, face creased unhappily. "I am needed here."

"I know," she nodded. "But I won't be seen, don't worry. Luck to us both, and to you Bard." Turning, she jogged away down the lane and around the corner. The enemy's base of operations was closer to Dale than to Erebor, so she still had a chance of catching her friends before it was too late. Nevertheless, she'd have to hurry. Looking up at the looming Ravenhill, Billa took out her ring, put it on her finger, and disappeared from view.

TBC


AN: Chapter cast images up on tumblr. post/138625553815/chapter-cast-for-chapter-11-the-battle-begins