A/N: I am back for good, readers. Four months have passed since the last update, and I can't apologize enough for it. I lost all my notes - again - and had to start from scratch on the four chapters I had already written for the Battle of Dale, and that took some time. But now I am back, and I won't let you down again.

I come back to you the day after I bought The Battle of the Five Armies Extended Edition, and I must share with you the utter wave of sheer emotion that washes through me everytime that I watch the bonus section. I truly feel that Peter Jackson, for all his faults, has delivered us with a double-masterpiece; and I would have definitely loved to be part of the crew just to be able to thank Sir Ian McKellen for being a goofball; Martin Freeman for being such a talented fucker; and Richard Armitage for giving us the best acting I have seen in ages. And I have known his work since the beginning of his carrier. That is saying something.

But without further ado, here comes the planning for the last stand.

Disclaimer: Any recognizable piece of dialogue or character is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs and/or of Sir Peter Jackson. I only own my two main OCs Baraz and Filí, son of Kilí, and some secundary characters.

Playlist for this chapter: A good omen from An unexpected journey OST; Beyond sorrow and grief from The Battle of the Five Armies OST.

20. Pariah

3019 T.A.

3rd March

As she was making her way through Erebor's halls, still seething, Baraz started understanding the full consequences of her actions. She had denied her father's blood; had forsaken a king that was far too dangerous to be antagonized; and she had taken upon herself to plan a battle that she had no right to take part in.

The Quest had really changed her...

Old Baraz would have hung her head low as she crossed Dwarves on her way. She'd have blushed under their critical eyes on her attire. She'd have shed it, perhaps, in respect for their repulsion towards the Tall Kin.

But now? Now, she was advancing chin held high, one hand on her elven bow even as she muttered quiet curses in the tongue of Durin.

Her father's workshop lay in a deep part of the Mountain, where light was a rare treat. Baraz had to cross several corridors void of any torch, and it was a blessing that her memory served her well, for any other person would have probably cowered away at the pitch black atmosphere of the place.

Baraz knocked once on the wooden door before pushing it open, and her anger faded as soon as her eyes fell on the scene before her.

Bofur's workshop had always been littered with toys, some finished some not, precariously placed on shelves where they waited to be brought to the market in Dale to be sold to the human children who were so fond of them. A small hearth in one corner provided some light and warmth to the place, and a grey-haired Dwarf was sitting in front of it, humming a song as he delicately painted petals on a wooden flower.

"You could at least have tidied up before I arrived, Da." she said in a clear voice, and she chuckled as her father jumped and whirled around on his stool, grey eyes widening as he took her in.

Bofur was swift in placing the toy to the side and hurrying to his child's side. His strong arms encompassed her and he hugged her so tightly Baraz understood at that moment that he thought she would not have come back. Not alive...

"I did no' know ye were comin'!" he chastised as he let her go. His eyes ran over her form, eyebrow lifting as he took in her cloak, bow and brooch. "Yer look...different."

Baraz was graceful for the lack of venom in his voice. Instead, he sounded concerned. A hand shot to grasp his own bigger hand, calloused by years of work. "I have changed, Da, that is true. But let's not speak about it. How have you been?"

He shrugged, a shadow passing in his steely gaze. "Never mind how I 'ave been, Baraz Bofurdottir. Yer were gone on a dangerous journey tha' could 'ave taken yer life! Do not think I don' remember the dangers we faced on our own Quest!"

Baraz chuckled. He was not really angry. Curiosity was seaping through his words, and a mischievous gleam had appeared just as he uttered the last part. She steered him back to his stool and sat carefully on the edge of the fireplace. "I have been through Mountains and valleys and mines and forests. I have lost dear friends and found them again, and I have faced evils that I did not know existed."

"Mines..." was the only word that he echoed, but Bofur did not ask. Instead, he nodded to himself, and when he looked back at his daughter, the seriousness had come back. "Why did ye come back?"

Baraz sighed, her eyes losing focus as she was reminded of the "conversation" she had just had in the Council room. "The Lady Galadriel showed me something in her Mirror. Something that could come to pass. Something that I want to prevent. Erebor's fall." Bofur gritted his teeth, but did not answer. She carried on. "I had to warn Dain."

"I bet he didn' like it, eh?"

She let out a dry laugh. "No, he did not." She paused, her hand going to his again. "Da... I have...I have," she took a deep breath, "I have pledged allegiance to King Brand."

Bofur did not respond for a moment, but his face was blank, void of any emotion at all. At last, he squeezed her fingers again and sighed. "I guess it's fer the best. Ye'd be 'appier there."

Baraz did not answer, a strange weight being lifted off her shoulders. That is, until he spoke again.

"I s'ppose yer won' stay here then? Move ter Dale?"

She had not thought about it. At all. But now that he was bringing it up, it was making sense. She could not stay with her father in Erebor when she had so openly gone against its king. She would have to move out. Maybe she could use her old officine in the city... It was not big but she was alone, and smaller than the average human.

"Come then," Bofur said after a moment, standing and holding out a hand for her to follow, "let's visit yer uncle before you leave. Otherwise he'll 'ave our 'eads!"

Baraz followed, a bitter smile on her lips.

The light had begun to fade over that part of the world when Baraz left her father and uncle Bombur in Erebor's kitchens.

Dwarves did not overly appreciate farewells, but even then, at the eve of yet another battle, both males embraces the slender form of their grown-up protégée until she could not breathe anymore.

When she reached the entrance hall again, Baraz felt a small smile form on her lips. Leaning against a pillar in his usual roguish way was Filí, and the sight of him brought memories and regrets to her heart.

The young Dwarf strode to her, smirk on his lips, and his first words were laced with a slight laughter. "Well done, Gazardu. You actually manage to create a rift between our consellors today." Wise-one.

Baraz rolled her eyes even as she embraced her friend - brother, she thought after a moment. "I doubt it."

"No, really," he said, suddenly looking much more serious than he had his entire life. "Some of the men agreed with your tactics. Said that the Elves were probably our best chance. But Dain and Thorin are stubborn. They will not yield."

She looked up to the skies showing through the Front Gate. The sky was a clear dark blue painted with orange. So peaceful for such an atmosphere. "I will do what I can."

"I know you will. I told King Brand I'd escort you to his palace. You are to stay there apparently," he added with a mischievous smirk. "Lucky you."

Baraz stopped on tracks and shook her head. "But-"

"But what, Milady?" came another voice. Baraz looked at the bottom of the stairs, and caught Filí shake of the head as she noticed the other prince standing there as if he owned the place. Bard was looking very interested in everything he saw of Erebor, if the way his eyes followed every citizen's move was any indication. "I think, as my father's most trusted counsellor, you have a right to be there."

Baraz got down the flight of stairs, keeping her childhood friend close. The Prince of Dale's presence had put her on edge ever since that morning when they met, and it was not a feeling she appreciated, since she could not put a name on it. "Your fathe's offer is most kind. But there is a siege to plan."

"And so it will be. Prince Filí, would you do us the honour of accompanying your cousin at dinner?"

Filí's smile was nothing good. He bowed the head. "I will be delighted."

Baraz nudged him in the ribs as Bard contently guided the way to the town again, but the younger Dwarf ignored her pesky move and pulled her forward.

There was no doubt that Dale was under siege. Even as night fell, soldiers patrolled the streets, lit up torches and checked walls for any weaknesses.

Baraz quietly asked Filí if this had been happening since the beginning, and he confirmed that ever since the army had begun camping at their feet, both Dale and Erebor had taken serious measures. Bard nodded his assent.

There was a strange atmosphere between the two princes. Some kind of respect was there even though Baraz suspected they had not properly met before that day. But, in all honesty, Bard was going to be a king one day. Filí was to stay a Royal Prince all of his life.

If his life lasted that long anyway...

King Brand's palace - if it could be called that - stood in the middle of the city, and had been rebuilt on the ruins of the city hall. Baraz had been close to it often before, but she had never stepped inside. Even then, the porch, with its melted stone stairs, looked like a forbidden place. One time, she had asked a woman of Dale why the kings had not replaced the darkened and uneven stairs, and she had answered that it was a constant reminder of the desolation once brought upon the city by the dragon Smaug.

Bard expertly dodged the most uneven of steps and guided the two dwarflings inside. A wide carpeted hall stood before them, a painting of the old Dale welcoming the visitors right in front of the porch. To the left, a long stone staircase flew to the higher levels, and to the right, a long corridors led no doubt to where King Brand received his subjects.

Bard stopped a maid on his way to the stairs. "Please tell my sister our guests have arrived." The girl nodded and hurried to a side door. "Follow me," he added, gesturing both Baraz and Filí forward and up.

The stairs led them to yet another corridor, and though it was carpeted as well with a thick woollen burgundy fabric, it did not feel regal at all. But that, Baraz thought, was the way of Bard Ist. When he had risen to power, it had been a people's choice, not his. And he had wished to keep as humble as possible.

Bard led the two to a dining-room where sat King Brand, alone safe for a servant standing some respectful paces behind him. He was studying what looked to be a map. "Father?"

The King raised his head and a look of relief passed over his face. "Ah, Lady Baraz, Your Highness, please do come in. I am glad you are here. Come," he beckoned them both to the table.

Baraz did not really know what to do with her bow and quiver, and discarded both on the table. If it was not proper to put weapons there, she did not know, and doubted it was, but she was not a Lady and still refused to be mistaken for one. "Your Majesty."

"Please, Milady, we have known each other for too long to call each other so formally. Do call me Brand, as in the old days." Baraz did not miss the look of interest in Bard's face, nor the slight smirk of Filí, but she nodded nonetheless.

"Only if you call me Baraz, as in the old days."

He smiled, and gestured her to sit at his right. Filí took place next to her, and Bard went to sit at his father's left, putting his own longbow on the table next to the slender elven one of Baraz.

"I am glad you both are here, for I was made aware that the army at our doors is stirring. We fear they might attack soon." Brand pointed at the map before him, where small flags bearing the seal of the Haradrim lay in sand colour.

Baraz nodded. "They have been waiting for a long time." She paused. "King Thranduil promised twenty archers. They should arrive promptly."

"And you will lead them." Brand said without skipping a beat. "Prince Filí told me you have a certain gift with the elven tongue, and that will be an advantage." He paused as well. "If you do not mind."

"Brand," Baraz sighed, "I pledged allegiance to you and your House. I will do whatever you order me to."

"Let's agree that you have more experience and life for the sake of this argument." Brand smiled. "Where do you think we shall post our troops?"

Baraz looked down at the map. As she had seen when she arrived that morning, the enemy's troops were gathered all around the city, blocking any possible retreat. "I think we should lure them to a certain point. They will no doubt try to kill our generals first, to drain the spirit. You, of course, and King Dain, will be the point of focus." All three men nodded. "How many men do you have?"

"A thousand archers, two thousand swordsmen, and another thousand spikemen."

Baraz nodded. That was not much compared to the numbers that would be thrown at them, even with the two thousand Dwarven soldiers that would eventually join the fight. "Post two hundred bowmen at the Western and Eastern gates along with one hundred spikemen and one hundred swordsmen. Post the rest at the Southern gate. And post yourself there as well." She looked briefly at the prince facing her. "I shall take Prince Bard with me. His bow will be useful."

Bard was going to protest, but his father raised a hand. "And he will go." He looked down at the map. "What about their fire? Catapults, rams?"

"Dale has catapults of its own, and if I remember correctly, my forefathers supplied you with quite a few archebuses," she smirked.

Brand mirrored her smile. "Yes, and dwarven iron never fails."

"I will post the elven archers here," she pointed at the left ranks of the enemy's army. "If we force them to regroup, it will be easier for your archers to take a larger number down."

"Indeed."

There was a moment of silence, and then Filí leaned forward. "Have you thought about the food and water supplies?"

Brand looked at him, tight-lipped. "Water will not be an issue, with the river running straight from the Mountain. But food...we have already been under siege for two weeks. We will not last longer than four more."

Baraz nodded gravely. "Ration the portions evenly. No one will be given more food than they deserve. Treat every citizen equally, even more so those who will be willingly giving their lives for you."

Brand looked at her with a look she could not quite place. He remained silent for a moment, then said, quietly and steadily, "You would make quite the leader, Lady Baraz of the Shire."

Baraz felt like blushing. She was no leader, and had not been raised as such. But battle, and the Quest, had told her that no life mattered more than any other.

At that moment, the door creaked open, and a young lady of about fifteen years of age trailed inside, dressed in a plain but beautiful white dress. Her brown hair was plaited and pinned to her head, and intelligent grey eyes fell onto the company at once.

"Sorry for my lateless, Father. I was down in the city with Ma." She hurried to the king's side and planted a kiss to his cheek before she came to stand by Baraz' chair.

She stood hurriedly to bow the head at the young girl. "Princess Sigrid. You have grown quite beautiful since the last time I saw you."

"That is because I was only a babe when you did, Lady Baraz," the young girl chuckled. "I am glad I get to finally meet you. My mother sends her greetings. She is currently busy tending to people's wounds."

Baraz nodded, remembering Queen Talia when they first met. The then-princess had her dress covered in blood as she dressed a pretty nasty wound sustained by a man who had had a boulder fall on top of him. "I am grateful."

"Father," Sigrid said, turning to her father again, "are you quite finished? Lady Baraz surely needs to refresh herself a bit. She has been on the roads for a long time, after all."

Baraz then realised that she was, indeed, long overdue a bath, and that her overall appearance should not have been as tidy as she wished it to be.

Brand nodded. "Do go on, darling. We will, in the meantime, show Prince Filí around. I blieve it is your first time here as well." The Dwarven prince nodded, a glint in his eyes Baraz recognized at once as being curiosity.

So the princess grabbed her arm, and pulled her out of the room and towards the guest rooms.

"You must have seen quite a few horrendous things on your travels, Milady," Sigrid said as she poured hot water into a brass tub.

Baraz, who had been laying her cloak on the simple bed prepared for her, turned to the young woman, and her expression turned grim. "I would not talk of such things with you, Your Highness."

"Please. Sigrid. You have, after all, helped bringing me into this life, and I will not forget." The girl moved to place a screen in front of the fuming tub. "And I have known of the horrors of life for some time now." Her brow furrowed, and she suddenly looked much older. "My older brother Helion in is Minas Tirith as we speak. And people say that is where the Enemy will make its stand."

"I am sorry to hear that. But," Baraz said with a small smile, fingering the ring around her neck as she said so, "even if I too have loved ones sent to war, we should not lose hope. Ever."

"That is true," Sigrid said with a smile. "I will leave you now. My brother will come fetch you later for dinner. Nothing grand," she added, "we are rationed after all."

Baraz was grateful for Brand and his family. So far from the grandeur of their rank. They had a few servants, but barely treated them as such; Sigrid had poured her bath herself without batting an eyelash; and they were willing to sacrifice their comfort for the sake of their people. Such an example.

The night had fully fallen when Baraz emerged from her room, fresh clothes on. She had plaited her hair back, but not with Filí's braids. Those times were gone. Instead, she had used her father's family braids and beads, in a small attempt to remember her origins even as she forsaked them. The Elven brooch Lady Galadriel had given her shone at her shoulder, and she felt stronger for it.

Prince Bard was, as expected, waiting for her as she exited the room. He took her appearance with a strangely appraising look, then smirked and gestured her forwards. "My lady."

"Your Highness."

"I would like to thank you," he began, and she looked to the side at his serious look, "for trusting me and my bow. I will be honoured to fight at your side."

"Do not say this as if I was a famed warrior, Prince Bard. My only achievements thus far have been to take part to a Quest and to alienate my king."

He chuckled. "Aye, but that, perhaps, makes the best stuff for legends."

She once again felt rather exposed under his gaze, and when they reached the dining-room again, she was grateful for the distraction Filí would provide.

Queen Talia greeted her warmly, and if the two women had not seen each other in more than a decade, their common love of healing soon proved to rekindle their companionship. Princess Sigrid, who was schooled in the art by her mother, often joined the conversation.

Although the meal was simple and nothing ominous, the evening was a pleasant one. One devoid of any judgment or discomfort. Baraz almost felt as if she was in Rivendell again.

That is, until a guard erupted in the room with an arrow and a letter in hand.

Baraz immediately recognized the arrowhead. She had seen it so many times on her friend's Legolas' aim that she could not mistake it. "King Thranduil has sent us his men."

King Brand looked solemnly at her. "Then it is time." He took a deep breath. "We shall deploy our troops at sunrise."

A/N: I know that Professor Tolkien made the siege begin on the 17th March, but let's for argument sake say it latest even longer. :)