A/N

I am so sorry for keeping you guys waiting again! No I did not forgot about you, nor did I ran out of ideas. The problem was, I had too many ideas to write them down. I actually had to write down this chapter for about 3 times before I was pleased with it.

I know you all want to start reading now, so I only want to Thank my reviewers for their reviews! Thank you!

And So It Begins

Várar watches as Bard rides back to the gates of Dale, a disappointed look in his eyes. Without saying a word, Várar already knows the answer Thorin has given him. And no doubt her father has heard the whole conversation. His keen ears never fail to pick up important information, even he was not meant to know them.

She glances up at her father. His whole posture as elegant and calm as ever, as he watches Bard too. His face nor eyes betray his feelings. Even Várar can't tell how he feels right now.

'He will give us nothing,' Bard says as he arrives, then looks back at Erebor.

'Such a pitty,' Thranduil says, his voice stoic. He already expected the answer. The dwarf being as weak as his grandfather when it comes to the sickness. 'Still, you tried.'

'But why, father?' Várar asks as she looks at Erebor as well. 'Why would he risk war, when there is no need for it?'

In the distance she can see the dwarves dislodge the head of a massive statue, letting it fall to the ground and breaks the bridge. Are they really so set on their treasure? Surely there is enough in it for everyone? So why not give the people of Esgaroth some to rebuild their homes? Is this all Thorin's doing? Or are the others with him in this?

'Because they are foolish and proud, gwilwileth,' is the answer. 'They understand only one thing.'

Várar hears the sound of a sword being unsheathed and turns to look at her father, as he glances at his sword. The he looks at the mountain while addressing to his soldiers.

'We attack at dawn!' Then he turns his elk around and rides into the city, with followed by Várar. 'Are you with us?'

At this question, Bard looks at the mountain in thought. He clearly doesn't want to start a war, but his people have a claim on that gold. And if Thorin is not going to hand it over, then what choice do they have?

Várar is upset about the declared war as well. A war means people will die, innocent people. It always brings more pain and destruction than it's worth. And on which side does she belong? Does she agree with Thorin? Absolutely not!

But she doesn't agree with her father as well! If this war is going to happen all dwarves will probably perish. Fíli will fall. Kíli will fall. And all, because of two pride kings!

No, war is not the answer! She needs to stop her father, but how?

Várar nudges Tálagor, making him ride up to Thranduil. She wants to say something, anything, to make him change his mind. But she can not think of anything to say. What can she say? Her father doesn't care about these dwarves. He isn't heartless, but the fate of those dwarves are of no concern to him.

'You do not agree with me,' Thranduil finally says as they reach his tent. 'You think war is not the answer.'

Várar remains silent as he dismounts his elk and walks over to her. She can only look at the ground in sadness. As she starts to dismount her pony, hands reach out to help her, causing her to look at her father. He never helps her down! So why now?

'I wish it did not have to be this way either, Várar,' he continues, guiding her inside of his tent. 'But the race of dwarves is a stubborn race. Something I have learned first hand by raising you.'

At this Várar looks up in surprise, to see her father smiling at her. She returns a weak smile as she remembers the trouble she has caused him over the years. Sometimes minor things, other times not so minor. But always the result of her having set her mind onto something.

'It is just... I do not wish for more dead bodies,' Várar finally says. 'The people of Esgaroth have had their share already. The dwarves of Erebor have lost everything and barely survived when the dragon took over their home. And you... I can not bare the thought of losing you, ada!'

By now, tears have formed in her eyes and she has to fight them back. There it is, her worst fear. The fear of losing her father. He might be immortal and never grow old. But even immortals can die in battle!

True, what are thirteen dwarves to an army of elves and men. But what if back-up arrives for the dwarves? Enough to hold them back? She has seen that raven fly off, a call for back-up. And if they are to reach them in time, she might lose her father!

But before she can say anything else, someone enters the tent as well. The first being Bard and after him a tall man –though not as tall as her father- with a long beard and grey robes.

'Gandalf!'

'Young lady Várar,' the wizard greets her with a nod, though his eyes are filled with worry. 'I wish we could have met under better circumstances. But alas, it is as it is.'

Then he turns to Thranduil.

'You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves,' the wizards tells, or better said demands. 'And you best bring Várar somewhere save. War is coming!'

'What do you mean, Gandalf?'

'The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied,' he answers as he looks at the female of the company. 'You are all in mortal danger!'

'What are you talking about?' Bard asks, but Thranduil doesn't let Gandalf answer.

'I can see you know nothing of wizards,' he tells Bard as he walks over to Várar, placing his hands on her shoulders. 'They are like winter thunder on a wild wind rolling from a distance, breaking hard in alarm. But sometimes a storm is just a storm.'

'Not this time,' the wizard disagrees. 'Armies of orcs are on the move, and these are fighters. They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength.'

'Our enemy?' Várar asks in confusion. 'What does he mean by that, ada?'

But Thranduil ignores her question, asking why this enemy is showing his hand now. Though his voice is emotionless, Várar can feel his hold on her shoulders tighten. It makes her wonder about this enemy even more.

'Because we forced him! We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland.' Gandalf looks at Várar now, as he continues. 'The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor.'

Várar gasps as she suddenly realises something. Though she still doesn't know who this enemy is they are talking about. But she does know why Thorin was never to reach the mountain.

'This enemy,' she begins as she looks at the wizard. 'He wants to have the mountain for himself, doesn't he? I mean, Erebor used to be the centre of trade, because of its position. So it would be the perfect position to attack and control his enemies.'

By now they are outside, having walked to a spot where they can see the gates of Erebor.

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

'And where is this army you speak of, mithrandir?'

Várar looks at Gandalf, waiting for his answer. But the wizard stays silent.

'Since when has my council counted for so little? What do you think I am trying to do?'

Várar stops braiding her hair for a moment, surprised at the sudden outburst of the mithrandir. The past hour he has tried to convince her father to stop the war. But up until now it has been in vain. And after her comment about her father being a stubborn as a dwarf, Thranduil had dismissed her from the conversation. Stating this wasn't for ladies to be concerned about.

Still, she had to stay inside of the tent. Thranduil doesn't trust those fishermen outside. And while there are enough guards outside as well, he stated he simply didn't want her to leave his side. So to pass the time, Várar has decided tot braid her hair for war, trying to think about a way to prevent it.

'I think you're trying to save your dwarvish friends,' she hears her father answer. '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.'

With that said, he exits the tent, asking one of the guards if the archers are in position. The elf confirms it.

'Give the order. If anything moves on that mountain – kill it!'

Then Thranduil walks back inside. He glances at Várar for a moment, seeing the anger in her eyes. He knows she doesn't agree with him. But she has kept quiet and he is thankful for that. After her confession, he had almost given up the war. To let those dwarves keep those gems. But then the mithrandir had come and it had sparked up his fire again. He has to let those dwarves know who is in charge!

Something moves on the other side of the tent, making Várar turn her attention to the grey wizard as he stalks out of the tent, followed by Bard. With only her father inside, a long silence is followed. Várar refuses to look at her father, furious with her father. It is bad enough for him to have declared the dwarves war, but to dismiss the mithrandir like that? That is just foolish and rude!

'You need not to worry about what the mithrandir had said,' Thranduil finally says. 'Sometimes he gives words of wisdome, sometimes his words...'

But he stops when the wizard walks into the tent again. Behind him a small creature with hairy feet and slightly pointed ears.

'Bilbo!' Várar cries out as she runs over to the hobbit, pulling him in a tight embrace. 'I feared you had perished!'

'No, I'm still here,' he answers with a grin, glad to see the dwarrowdam as well. 'It takes more than one dragon to get rid off me.'

Várar chuckles at this, releasing the small creature. Though she doesn't know him as well as she knows Thorin and his nephews –who she doesn't really know that well as well- she is glad to see him alive and well. He has helped her a lot when she helped the dwarves escape.

'If I'm not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards,' Thranduil says as he eyes the hobbit next to his daughter.

His piercing eyes stare at Bilbo, who in his turn looks extremely uncomfortable. As he mutters an almost audiable 'yes', Várar turns her attention to her father again, a little shocked. How does he father know about Bilbo's hand in the escape?

'Sorry about that,' Bilbo mutters, before he steps forward to place a wrapped package on the table. 'I came... to give you this.'

Várar looks at the package, curious for what Bilbo has brought. And as soon as the hobbit has removed the wrappage, Várar gasps in surprise. Never has she seen such a beautiful gem! Is this what lies inside that mountain? No wonder Thorin is so set on wanting to keep it for himself!

'The heart of the mountain,' her father breathes, as he rises from his seat. 'The king's jewel!'

Gandalf and Bard approach to look at it in awe as well.

'And worth a king's ransom,' Bard states as he looks at Bilbo. 'How is this yours to give?'

'I took it as my fourtheenth share of the treasure.'

Várar rushes to the frontline after she had seen Bilbo almost being pushed off the rampart. Something has gone wrong and she needs to reach the frontline, before anyone gets hurt. Elves move out of the way as Tálegor makes his way through the lines of elves, not wanting to get run over by the fiery stallion.

'Are we resolved?' Bard asks as Várar reaches the front line. 'The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised.'

Várar looks up to see Thorin breathing heavily. Thinking his options over in his head. Then he turns his head to look at the ridge in the distance. Almost like he is looking for someone, or perhaps something? Does he really hope his reenforcement will arive on time? With so little time?

'Give us your answer! Will you have peace or war?'

Thorin bows his head, and even from where she is standing, Várar can see the worry and conflict in his eyes. Time is running out and he knows it. But she also sees something different, something strange in his eyes. Some kind of greed that makes him not wanting to give up the gold.

'Give us your answer!' Bard demands. 'Will you have peace or war?'

Thorin bows his head, clearly in doubt. If only she could reach to him, say something. But what can she say to prefent war? Várar notices a small but hopeful movement as Thorin glances at the hill and she knows what he is hoping for.

'Thorin,' she begins, causing the dwarf to look at her. 'Don't be a fool. There is no need for blood to be shed.'

He is about to say something, when a large raven flies up to him, perching beside the king under the mountain. The two stare at eachother for a moment, apealing to have a small confersation. Then Thorin looks at the crowd below, giving them his answer.

'I will have war!'

'No!'

But no one pays heed to her cry, as rumbling is heard in the distance. On top of the hill an army has arrived. An army of heavily armoured dwarves, lead by a huge dwarf on top of a battle pig.

It apears Thorin's reinforcement has arrived just in time.

'Who is that?' Várar asks as she looks at the leader.

Her whole life she has never seen dwarves before. And now they seem to come no end to those dwarves. Through the loud cheering of the dwarves of Erebor, Várar can barely hear someone anser her question.

'Ironfoot.'

'Rush the shield-fence!' her father orders his soldiers, riding through his army as everyone turns away from the gates of Erebor. 'Várar, return to Dale. It is not safe here!'

But she disobeys, following anyway. Something she has been doing a lot since her first encounter with the dwarves. But that is not of the matter right now. She has to do something! Something to prefent war between three races. A war where the dwarves will be outnumbered, where she could lose her loved ones. Where she could lose her father.

'Father please,' Várar begs as she follows him as they face the oncoming dwarves of the Iron Hills. 'Do not start a war! Please let me talk to them.'

'I would start a war just to protect you,' is his answer, pulling the reigns to halt his elk. 'So why would I allow you to talk with that stubborn dwarf king?'

'Ada...' Várar tries again, but then the leader of he dwarven army begins to speak.

'Good morning,' he begins, adressing the army before him with a polite sneer. 'How are we all? I have a wee proposition, if you wouldn't mind giving me a few moments of your time. Would you consider...just sodding off!'

His eyes scan the crowd, and behind her Várar can hear people clutching their weapons and taking a step back in fear. While others – the elves no doubt – pull out their sword and step forward. A few of the soldiers even move in front of Várar, wanting to protect their princess.

'All of you,' the dwarf continues threatning. 'Right now!'

Then his eyes land on Várar and he smirks, before sending a glare to her father. Immediately the elves point their spear at them.

'It seems you elves really do let females fight your battles,' the dwarf taunts as he looks as Thranduil again. 'But at least you know the good females warriors from the bad.'

Várar glares at the dwarf after his remark. She doesn't really like this one. Is this the true nature of dwarves? Where the ones she had encountered back at home an exception? If this is the true nature of dwarves, she wants nothing to do with them again!

'Come now, lord Dain,' a new voice speaks up and Várar can see Gandalf approacing, Bilbo following closely. 'There is no need for war between dwarves, men and elves! A legionella of orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down!'

But Dain refuses. Stating he will not stand down before a 'faithless woodland sprite' as he called Thranduil, earing a glare from the said elf. Várar glares at Dain as well. No one has the right to insult her father! No one!

He might not always be most tactfull in his manners when it comes to other races. But he deserves respect.

'He wishes nothing but ill upon my people,' Dain continues. 'If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I'll split his pretty head open! See if he's still smirking then!'

'I'd like to see you try!' Várar threathens as she nudges Tálagor, but the outstreched hand of he father stops her.

She looks at him in confusion. Why would he stop her? Wasn't he the one who wants this war? But to her surprise she sees her father smirking at the dwarf's statement, confusing her even more. Why is he smiling, while she herself is becoming more and more agitated by the minute? Why is she even agitated? She wants to stop a war, not join it!

After a remark from Thranduil, Dain rejoins his army, preparing for an attack. He yells out a command and the dwarves raise their weapons and cheer. Behind her she can hear the elves do the same, as their armour clatters.

But it is not the Iron Hills dwarves, nor the army behind her that Várar is looking at. No, her eyes are trained at the mountain. While all the dwarves where cheering for Dain, only one seemed to be holding back his cheering. The only fair-haired one. Fíli.

While the others had been cheering, Fíli had a look of dissapointment writen on his face. And even now, he looks dissapointed. So perhaps not all these dwarves want this war... And suddenly a thought hits her. She has found her way to prefent this war!

But before she can even move, a rumbling is heard and Várar looks at the foot of a distand hill. The ground is shaking violently and Tálagor shakes his head nervousely. She tries to calm down her pony, whispering to him, while she keeps her eyes on the hills. Whatever is coming, it isn't good.

A/N

I'm going to leave you now. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, thought not much has happened. Only Várar's attitude seems to have changed. Seeing as she is pushed to her limits right now, her dwarven heritage seems to take over, making her really agitated easily.

Anyway, feel free to review and I hope to see you next time.