By the time the two elves reached Gundabad, Tauriel was nearly in shreds. What would she discover? A horrible mutant of a brother?

"Tauriel?" Legolas asked doubtfully. "Are you sure you can handle this?"

She grit her teeth. "Of course I can. Do you know your way around here?"

Legolas jumped deftly onto rocks and cliffs. "Gilrael took me here, once, long ago. Never at night, though. She said it was too dangerous."

Tauriel leaped after him. "I wonder why…he told us to get here by nightfall."

The Sinda stopped at a high outcropping, and lowered himself into a crouch, peeking above the rocks. "That, we'll have to find out. There it is."

Tauriel crouched down next to him, nearly choking at what she saw. The land was dark and desolate, and the black gates stood between two mountains like a threatening mouth of a monster. The elleth shuddered at this taste of Mordor, and marveled at how Gilrael could have ever survived it.

Suddenly, massive bats began screeching and flapping rapidly overhead. Tauriel flinched. "They're swarming."

Legolas shook his head. "These bats are bred for one purpose."

Tauriel looked at him. "For what?"

"For war."

Both elves suddenly leaped up as a rock was disrupted. The figure was dressed all in black, lithe and thin, whose hood covered his face.

Tauriel gasped. "Valluen…"

The ellon whipped off his hood, his dark hair sweeping over his handsome, determined face as he stared at them with icy blue eyes.

"I am glad you made it." He spoke in a low tone, and bowed to Legolas, who crossed his arms. "Don't be ridiculous."

Valluen quickly turned to his sister, and his hardened face softened as he took her hands into his. She didn't try to remove them.

"Idon'thavemuchtimebutIwantyoutoknowthateverythingI'vedonewasn' ."

Tauriel blinked. "So…you don't have much time…and what?"

Valluen squeezed her hands tighter. "All the crimes that the horrible Azog did was not me. I am continuously disgusted at my evil self, a corrupted version of me."

Tauriel frowned. "But how did it happen?"

Valluen shook his head. "I can't explain, I don't have time! Please forgive me, Tauriel. Do you forgive me? Do you trust me? I did all of this for you!"

The elleth knit her eyebrows. "I can't say. I don't understand. But of course I-I love you, Valluen. My brother."

The ellon looked relieved, and he stepped back. "Thank you, Tauriel. Thank you. Have Gilrael read the papers in the trunk for you."

He turned to the Sinda, who had stood watching quietly. "I don't know how to thank you, cousin. But without you, what I've done to Gilrael…" He shook his head. "She didn't deserve it. She was a sweet soul."

Legolas clenched his fists. "So you did that to her."

Valluen was nearly jumping in frustration. "No time, no time! I'm sorry, I really am. Oh, the papers will explain. Gilrael-"

"You're not worthy to even mention her name!" Legolas glared at him.

Valluen stepped back, drawing his hood. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Go, hurry, warn the others. A horse will meet you at the bottom."

Then he turned and disappeared into the darkness, faster before Tauriel could blink.

"What? He's…gone?"

Legolas crouched down and looked over the rocks. "Look."

Tauriel lowered herself next to him, and widened her eyes.

A figure rode out on a Warg, Bolg, dressed for battle. He raised his mace and shouted out a command. Trumpets sounded, and the gates in the bottom of the fortress opened, releasing rank upon rank of massive orcs, each with a giant spear at least three times longer than the orcs' height.

The massive company began marching away, with the bats following and wheeling overhead.

Tauriel pursed her lips. "That's what Valluen wanted us to warn the others about."

Legolas jumped to his feet. "Yes. He also gave us a horse. Which also," he added as they scrambled down the cliff, "means he's not evil. He's as much of an Eldar as I am."

"Then what's wrong with him?" Tauriel protested. "Why was he also Azog? And why does he never have time?"

The Sinda shook his head. "Gilrael will have to read those papers."

Falluen and Firlowen stood side by side leaning against a doorway along the streets, their arms crossed while they glared at nowhere in particular.

"What're we supposed to do now?" the messenger asked. "Fight? Obey Thranduil?"

Falluen huffed. "I don't want to. But it's the only thing we can do. I hope Gilrael understands."

"She won't," Firlowen muttered. "We'll probably get a lecture from the king and from her. I can't wait."

Suddenly, both elves looked up as a grey, cloaked figure galloped into town on his horse, crying, "Let me through! Make way!"

The ellons exchanged excited glances, and rushed forward. The man dismounted and looked surprised to see men drilling with swords, companies of elves marching by, and two young ellons sprinting towards him.

"Mithrandir, Mithrandir!"

The wizard waved his staff in front of him. "Easy, you two. You're not elflings anymore, unlike the twins. And shouldn't you be sending messages, Firlowen?"

The ellon blinked. "O-oh, yes, right." He grabbed his bow and dashed off.

Falluen smiled. "Ed anaië lû dîr."

Mithrandir smiled back. "Yes, a long time indeed. Oh! Who's this?"

Alfrid sauntered up to him, very upset. "No, no, NO! Oi! Pointy hat! We don't want no tramps, beggars nor vagabonds around here. We got enough trouble without the likes of you. Off you go! On your horse."

Mithrandir narrowed his eyes. "Who's in charge here?"

Bard stepped in front of Alfrid. "Who is asking?"

Falluen stepped up next to the wizard. "This is Mith-, that is, Gandalf the Grey, a wizard who is a member of the White Council. He is a friend, and ally. Tolo, Mithrandir. Nin nauva tog tyë na Thranduil."

True to his word, Falluen brought both Gandalf and Bard into Thranduil's tent. It was yellow-golden, with flags on the outside and two, silver-armed guards at the entrance. Inside were bronze braziers flickering with fire, and torches all around. Tapestries hung on the walls, and a throne was at the far end of the tent, with animal skin blankets draped on it. The floor was covered in soft furs.

After they arrived, Falluen quickly dashed out, lest Thranduil find something else wrong with his presence there. The last thing he wanted was to be sent back to the palace.

Thranduil stood with his hands clasped in front of him, as Gandalf passionately told him, "You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves. War is coming! The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You're ALL in mortal danger!"

Bard frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Thranduil dramatically sighed as he walked over to a side table to pour some wine. "I can see you know nothing of wizards. They are like winter thunder on a wild wind rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm. But sometimes, a storm is just a storm." He gave the glass of wine to Gandalf, who took it and held it in his hands.

Gandalf shook his head. "Not this time. Armies of orcs are on the move. And these are fighters! They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength!"

"I know what the armies of orcs look like!" snapped Thranduil. He more calmly asked, "Why show his hand now?"

Gandalf cried, "Because we forced him! We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland. The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor; Azog the Defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control of the mountain. Not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies, its strategic position."

As the wizard talked, they left the tent and walked outside to a spot from where they could clearly see the gates of Erebor.

Gandalf said, "This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north. If that fell kingdom should rise again, Rivendell, Lothlorien, the Shire, even Gondor itself will fall!"

Thranduil glanced at him. "These orc armies you speak of, Mithrandir - Where are they?"

They walked back into the tent as Gandalf frowned. "How am I supposed to know? They're trying to be secret, and they're doing a good job of it!"

"Gilrael would know," Thranduil muttered.

The wizard lit up. "Yes, exactly! Where is she?"

"Falluen let her run off without my knowledge."

"If it helps," Bard spoke up, "she was in Lake Town the night before Smaug came. She saved the lives of my children from a sudden orc attack."

"That was meant to find Thorin!" Gandalf exclaimed.

Thranduil frowned. "But where is she now? She knows we need her help!"

"We must trust that she is doing something more important," Gandalf urged.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "I really don't know what to think of you."

"Since when has my council counted for so little?" the wizard protested. "What do you think I'm trying to do?!"

"I think you're trying to save your dwarvish friends," said Thranduil calmly. "And I admire your loyalty to them, but it does not dissuade me from my course. You started this, Mithrandir. You will forgive me if I finish it."

The king walked past the wizard and exited the tent. He called to a guard, "Are the archers in position?"

"Yes my Lord."

Thranduil said, "Give the order. If anything moves on that mountain - kill it. The dwarves," he announced, "are out of time."

Outside the tent, Gandalf asked Bard, "You, Bowman! Do you agree with this? Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of dwarves?"

Bard firmly said, "It will not come to that. This is a fight they cannot win."

Suddenly, the halfling Bilbo appeared, out of breath. "That won't stop them. You think the dwarves will surrender…they won't. They will fight to the death to defend their own."

Gandalf exclaimed with surprise, "Bilbo Baggins! What in the world are doing here? 'Fight to the death to defend their own' means killing you if they find out you have deserted them!"

Bilbo frowned. "I haven't deserted them. I'm trying to help them! And if you let me speak to the king, I might actually succeed!"

The wizard blinked, but Bard held open the tent flap. "The come in, brave hobbit."

Thranduil was sitting on the throne in the regal position he was known for. He frowned. "Is this the Halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards?"

Bilbo looked down, extremely uncomfortable. "Oh, um, yes. Sorry about that."

Thranduil raised a hand, and an elf from outside stepped in. "Hir nin?"

"Get Falluen, please," he requested in Sindarin. "I don't know where my messenger is, so I apologize that you have to serve as one."

The guard bowed. "Yes, my lord." Then he hurried out.

There was a silence for a while, when finally Bilbo stepped forward and put a wrapped package on the table. "I came...to give you this." He unwrapped the package to reveal a sparkling stone, shimmering with many radiant colors.

Thranduil rose in surprise. "The heart of the mountain! The King's Jewel."

Gandalf and Bard approached it in awe.

The man nodded. "And worth a king's ransom." He looked at Bilbo. "How is this yours to give?"

The hobbit simply declared, "I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure."

Gandalf smiled slightly.

Bard shook his head, mystified. "Why would you do this? You owe us no loyalty."

Bilbo smiled. "Oh, no, I'm not doing it for you." Silence.

He continued, "I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult, suspicious and secretive…with the worst manners you can possibly imagine, but they also brave and kind, and loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can."

Gandalf smiled. It was touching how the hobbit put his words.

Bilbo finished, "Now, Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you are owed. There will be no need for war!"

Falluen slowly looked in. "My lord?"

Thranduil spread his arms out. "Well, I wish everyone a good night. We go to the mountain at dawn."

As they shuffled out, Falluen shuffled in. "Yes?"

"Did you know about the escape of the dwarves?"

Falluen shook his head vigorously. "I assure you, I did not. Everything was chaos, Tauriel and the guards, but I don't know. Gilrael might have slipped in between."

"Gilrael?! What is that elleth doing!"

Falluen pursed his lips. "I have no idea, my lord. Is that all?"

"Why the rush?"

"I, uh, need to, um-"

"Oh, just go," Thranduil conceded, waving a hand. "But make sure Firlowen comes back. What's the point of having a messenger if he's always absent?"