There's a few filler-ish chaps coming up... things that kind of need to be said and done, but aren't overly exciting.

Hope you enjoy none the less!

25. The exact situation at the moment may require a little brief explanation

The Hobbit, or There and Back Again – Chapter 1: An Unexpected Party

"The two of you are not going to that venue you mentioned alone!"

The others stare in shock at the two friends as they understand what solution exactly the pair has come up with.

"And why not, pray tell?" Legolas asks calmly.

Once more the council sits in silence, before what seems like all of them begin yelling at the same time, attempting to provide arguments against that idea.

"-No way!-"

"-That is too dangerous!-"

"-What if the orcs find you before our allies arrive?-"

The chaos is impressive, until Thranduil and Thorin jump to their feet just at the same time (Doomsday! Surely it has to be, there is no other explanation!) and the commotion dies down.

"We ought to hear them out, even if we do not like this solution," the King under the Mountain grinds out, and Gimli inclines his head in thanks.

"As you can probably tell, we already discussed that option," he says. "As I am a dwarf and Legolas an elf, we are the best chosen pair to reason with both the leaders of the elves and dwarves. Also, we are used to fighting together, and perfectly capable of holding our own in the chaos of battle. We have lived through much darker nights before, when victory had not even seemed possible, and come out if not unscathed then all the stronger for it."

Before their very eyes, the Elvenking's objection seems to wilt away and his shoulders slump in defeat.

"You are right," he admits reluctantly, and more quietly than any of them ever heard him speak. "It is a good plan. I expect you are more than capable in battle, and perhaps more experienced than most of us – it is not as if I would know." Legolas almost jumps to his feet at hearing the sadness in his father's voice. He is, however, stopped by the older one's crooked smile. "You are few enough to hide should any orcs come your way, and many enough to convince both Marchwarden Haldir and Lord Dáin, and defend yourselves. Also, Legolas will be able to reason with Haldir."

At that Thorin, too, sighs in defeat.

"And Gimli with Dáin, if he takes along a royal command," he adds, no less hesitantly than Thranduil before. His deep eyes find the redhead's, prompting him to be careful.

You are family as much as Balin or Óin, they seem to be saying, and Gimli gulps heavily.

"We send out a raven, then" Legolas breaks the spell of the moment, "with instructions for the both of them. The two of us shall await them at the venue we appoint, and upon a signal from you we will attack."

Thranduil and Gandalf nod in agreement.

Thorin, however, is watching the two time-travellers thoughtfully.

"I would have you at my side when I go to Ravenhill, to kill Azog," he finally says. "I am confident in taking the same as the last time… However, Prince Legolas claims to have battled Bolg before, his experience might be dearly needed. Also, I know Gimli to be an excellent warrior, and I would have one more with me to protect my sistersons."

As the princes open their mouths to protest, claim they do not need protection, the looks to silence them come from both Thorin and Gimli.

Their mouths snap closed, and Legolas cocks his head.

"We could fight our way through. Certainly, it would take quite some time – long enough, for sure, for you to gain control of the battle. You could ready mounts for all of us, and soon as we arrive we move in to kill the enemy leader."

"And if we take too long you take my father and Tauriel instead," Gimli adds. "Glóin's and my fighting styles are much alike, and Tauriel, like Legolas, is quick and nimble."

"Are you sure you can do that?" Bard asks, one eyebrow raised. "Fight your way through? Please do not get me wrong, I mean no offense – I am simply concerned."

"No offense taken," Legolas reassures him. "And I am positive we will manage. As my father said before: Two is a small number of warriors, it should give us the opportunity to take advantage of any holes in the enemy's formation as they present themselves."

Once again, there is a general sigh of defeat as the council gives in.

"Perhaps the two of you should fight this battle alone?" Bilbo jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood. "You might still manage to lead us to victory."

"Of course we would," Legolas immediately retorts. "Gimli would have to do no more than drop his pants, and all would run upon the sight of his hairy arse." (*)

"Better hairy than bald," the dwarf answers quickly as an arrow, and Dwalin grunts in offence, "that goes for most body parts. You could but blind the enemy, with the sun reflecting off your bare cheeks."

"And what would you know of the bareness of my cheeks?"

"No more than you of the hairiness of my arse, I would wager," Gimli easily retaliates. "Unless, of course, you watched me when you should not have?"

"And how would I have seen you? With you crouching your head would have been even closer to the ground, I might as well have stepped on you had I ventured close."

"Maybe we should discuss this at another time?" Gimli prompts idly, and his friend agrees upon seeing the mixture of amusement and dread of where the conversation might be leading in everyone's faces. They have, after all, achieved their goal: The mood is a little lighter than before.

"What mounts were you talking of when you described going up Ravenhill?" Balin intervenes in an attempt to guide the conversation back to the upcoming battle.

"Last time you rode mountain goats – I have to admit, though, that I do have no idea where you found them," Legolas explains.

"That should not be a problem," Thorin reassures him. "My people always used to breed them for the sole purpose of reaching terrains we alone would have a hard time scaling. It seems some of them kept around… if I found them the last time, I should manage to do so again. In fact, I will send Nori and Bofur to look for them after this council is over."

"We will find a way," Gimli agrees. "The single most important thing, however, is that those up on Ravenhill do not split up – under no circumstances!"

"I shall make sure of that," Dwalin growls, and that Thorin does not comment on that it is as much as a permission for the bald warrior to drag either of the royal family back to the rest of the squad by force should need be.

Gimli nods, satisfied.

Finally, this – the council, that strategy, their time-travel – is getting somewhere!

"What else do we need to plan?" Legolas asks. "I am well experienced in fighting, but not in making grand strategies and leading armies, that would have been Estel's call – my field of expertise is more improvisation. Thus it is time, I believe, for Gimli and me to return the word to King Thorin and my father."

Thranduil inclines his head in thanks.

"My turn, then," he remarks dryly, before bringing up a sheer enormous number of issues none of them but perhaps Balin would have thought of, judging by the sheepish smiles offered at every new possible problem they would have forgot addressing.

The Elvenking leads the discussion with iron reigns, no matter Thorin's position as head of the council, and it is just as well for Thranduil sets a pace that quite probably saves them from talking all night. With every hour that passes more and more details of their plan take shape, and Ori barely gets a chance to rest his quill. Balin sets up the letters to Dáin and Haldir, and Legolas is the one to draw a map of the presumed battlefield, marking possibly moves using differently coloured ink. Gandalf's experience in anything and everything imaginable proves to be most valuable, Thorin skilfully comes up with strategies for pairs of light elven and heavy dwarven fighters, and Óin, who has been brought in, explains the best escape routes for the women and children deeper into the mountain should need be.

It is well past midnight when Thranduil finally claims their strategy to be adequate enough, and they rise with stiff limbs and whirling thoughts.

There is still much to be done, however, before they will have the chance to sleep.

Thorin marches off to find Nori and Bofur, in order to ask them about the goats, and Balin is left to search for a raven and send those letters to Haldir and Dáin. Bard and Thranduil make for where their soldiers are camped, conveying what information they need to know, and Gandalf vanishes towards the mines-

Gimli decides he does not want to know what the wizard is up to.

Legolas, in the meantime, does not seem to care for his friend's concern – instead he grabs the dwarf's arm, dragging him along.

"Come, we still need to return those weapons!"

Thankful to be moving again (that was one sitting hour too much) Gimli follows the elf without protesting, content to let the older one lead the way. While Legolas may not have lived in Erebor for as many years as his dwarven friend he did come here to visit – before that whole time-travel business happened – and as the elves and men are all camped out in the main entrance hall and the adjacent chambers he easily finds the one he is looking for.

A Mirkwood elf with long, dark hair and soft features perks up as she sees them approach, and abandons the arrow she was apparently fletching as she jumps to her feet.

"Prince Legolas!" she calls, and from her voice Gimli guesses that she is quite young – for an elf. "I have brought the weapons, like you requested." She points at a trunk pushed up against a wall, and Legolas gives her a soft smile.

"I know." He turns to look at Gimli, then. "Help me carry it?"

"I can help you!" the young elf immediately offers, her voice eager and excited (and Gimli wonders whether this might be a time to be jealous. She is certainly looking at his friend with wild admiration written plainly across her fair features…), but her prince smiles at her once again as he shakes his head.

"You should save your strength for the battle. As you are with Maethon's squad you will be placed on the battlements above the gate – closer to the enemy than most other archers. Promise me to take care?"

"I will," she vows solemnly, and Gimli feels her eyes on them as they lift the trunk and carry it away, until they have left the room.

"You seem to like her," the dwarf remarks as they make for where he knows the company to have gathered, careful to keep any jealousy or sadness from his voice.

"I do," Legolas admits immediately. "Caleth – I met her after you left my father's halls, down the river. She… many guards died that day when Bolg attacked you, and when we told their families- … it certainly was a blow, learning she was alone. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and her father had faded after losing his beloved. Her brother had been the one to raise her, and he had been one of the guards who fell in the attack. When we told her she was heartbroken and thirsting for revenge in equal measure. She would have been too young to come along, but she has extraordinary skill with a boy, and so desperately wishes to avenge her brother. I pleaded with my father to allow her to come, and when Maethon agreed to accept her into his squad father finally gave in."

Caleth.

A pretty name, for a pretty elven maid, Gimli has to admit. Also great skill with the bow… and obviously inspiring a protective instinct in Legolas. Well, he could not fault his friend for liking her – they would make a perfect couple.

It is his luck, he supposes, that they reach the room his company has claimed as theirs then, and he is not expected to say anything on the matter.

A great clamour arises when they step into the chamber, and Glóin barely gives his son the chance to put down the heavy chest before drawing him into a head-butt that has Legolas wince with the sheer force of it.

"So? Did you whip up a plan?"

"Did Thorin not inform you?" Gimli asks, eyebrows raised, and his uncle huffs.

"He came here long enough to grab Nori and Bofur, before running off again with Dwalin – Mahal knows where. Balin has not even dropped by yet, and the boys are not being of any help either," Óin grumbles, and nods towards one of the corners where Fíli and Kíli are sitting, heads together and whispering furiously. Whatever topic they are discussing, judging by their expressions it does not appear to be a pleasant one.

Which is no surprise, really, after everything they had to learn in the last hours. Hearing about their own deaths… has to be hard, and there was no time to think on anything ever since Thorin caught Legolas within his mountain.

He sighs softly, and the look in his father's eyes makes him fear that his expression is entirely too fond. "I am sure Thorin will give you all necessary information soon enough. I only came here to deliver these…"

It is only then that the dwarves even realize the presence of the trunk Legolas is only just opening.

"My ax!" Glóin calls and dives for it, followed by Bombur and Dori.

Carefully the latter returns the weapons to their owners, the princes and Óin watching contently. They did, after all, receive theirs in Laketown when they fled from the dragon's wrath.

"Who is guarding the Gate?" Gimli asks upon seeing his uncle and Bifur here, remembering that before the council began Thorin had instructed them to stand guard.

"Those of the men who still have good eyes but are not able to fight have set up a rotation for the rest of the night, so that the warriors may sleep," Bombur explains.

"Sleep," Glóin echoes longingly. "I wish I could!"

Gimli raises an eyebrow. "You cannot?"

His father graces him with a withering glare.

"Just listen, and tell me how you would be able to sleep with all that wailing going on!"

The time-traveller cocks his head at that, Legolas doing much the same, and it is only now that he concentrates on it that he can hear the soft sounds of small children crying.

Well.

It would not keep him awake, he supposes, considering the chaos and noise he has already slept through, but it is easy to imagine that his father (who once had to calm a wailing babe multiple times every night, for had he woken his wife she might have hit him with the rolling-pin always kept conveniently close) may have trouble falling asleep.

"Do you know why they are crying?" he asks quietly, and Glóin's rough features soften.

"They are afraid, I would wager," he rumbles. "Those who came here barely survived the dragon's attack, and marching up from Laketown with what little belongings they had left, exhausted and heartbroken as they were, must have been traumatizing. Now they are hiding in a cold mountain, those of their mothers who still live probably fearing for their own lives, and even more so for their husbands' who will fight tomorrow – no wonder they are terrified."

"You are right," Gimli murmurs lowly, ashamed that he had not thought of it. "I will go up there, then, and try to calm them… as well as I am able to, at least."

"I shall come with you," Legolas immediately offers. "We will need to occupy ourselves anyway – not enough time to properly sleep, for the two of us."

The redhead realizes his friend's mistake the moment he has made it, for his father squints.

Thorin has not relayed any information yet, so the older one cannot know-

Oh bother.

He really does not want to explain his and Legolas' suicide mission to the man who has sired and raised him, thank you very much.

"And why, Mahal tell, should there be less time to sleep for the two of you?" he asks, dangerously calmly.

What his dark eyes, so similar to Gimli's own, are saying the time-traveller understands only too well:

What foolish thing have you gone off and done this time?

"Perhaps… we should wait for Thorin to return and explain?" Legolas suggests weakly upon having perceived his mistake, but Gimli shakes his head, determination squaring his shoulders.

"No. It was our idea – I ought to tell him myself."

Now Glóin's grim features fill with fear instead.

"Tell me what?" he asks weakly. "What have you done?"

Gimli gulps heavily.

"Nothing… yet." He takes a deep breath, looks his father straight in the eye. "We decided that all of our forces would remain close to the mountain, while Haldir and Dáin's armies should attack from behind… together. Someone… someone needs to go there and-"

"-convince them to fight together, instead of each other," Glóin finishes quietly. "So you are going out there alone, to meet them at some venue they – I presume – are being told by raven?"

"If that were it, he would not be so reluctant to tell you," Balin's dry voice barges in from behind the two time-travellers, and the elderly advisor moves around them to peer into the trunk still waiting at Legolas' feet. "My sword!" he exclaims, reaching for the trusted weapon. "Wherever did you find it?"

Raising an eyebrow Gimli nods in the direction of his pointy-eared friend, and Balin hems sheepishly.

"Of course, of course. You already announced that you would return them," he remembers, clearly embarrassed. "My thanks!"

Fortunately, he is saved by his cousin's impatience.

"Come tell me, Balin – what are they planning on doing?" Glóin demands to know, obviously having come to the conclusion that the elderly advisor will offer the information more willingly than his own son.

Gimli is not about to complain.

"Oh, as soon as they have attacked with the elves and dwarves coming to our aid they are planning on fighting their way through the enemy army, in order to ride up Ravenhill with Thorin where they will attempt to kill the Pale Orc," Balin explains as if he were recounting what Panicle Took's youngest has gotten up to now, over a nice cup of tea.

(Bilbo, surely, would have enjoyed the stories Pippin had always had to tell about his father's oldest sister and her wild, unruly daughter who had grown up with four ridiculously mannerly brothers.)

"You are planning to do what?" Glóin yells, shock and fear twisting his features into a mask of horror. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Why?" Óin, who is standing next to his brother, asks quietly.

"For two reasons," Legolas answers softly. "For one, we are perhaps the only pair who would accomplish the task of convincing both Lord Dáin and Marchwarden Haldir to work together but are not needed before the Gates. While I believe King Thorin and my father might accomplish it too, they will have to be here, to command our forces. And second, your King has required our presence upon his attempt to take out the enemy leader."

"We can do this, 'adad," Gimli adds, giving his father a tiny smile. "We have been in worse battles… none of which we have fought without each other. There are no two warriors more attuned to each other than us-"

"-about that," Balin suddenly interrupts them, uncharacteristically impolitely. "You still owe us an explanation or two, Gimli Glóin's son!"

The time-traveller's eyes widen, and he exchanges a nervous glance with his dear friend.

"Perhaps… the night before a battle is not the best time to discuss such things?" he offers weakly, and his uncle snorts unceremonially.

"I think the night before a battle is an excellent time to discuss such things!"

"Not too long ago you were whining about not being able to sleep!"

"Well, now we are no longer," Óin huffs. "Besides, my ability to sleep is hardly compromised by some noise!"

Gimli stares at him, thinking about what else he might say, before suddenly deflating. Those who are asking for his story… they are his family, who want to know what happened. They wish to find out how the barely adult dwarf they had left behind in the Ered Luin might have become him – a warrior in his own right, the friend of an elf, a time-traveller. All here are his family, some by blood, some not – if they do not deserve to hear this tale, and ask their questions, then who does?

Sighing, he inclines his head in defeat.

"I… alright. You deserve to know. However… the others will want to hear this too, and I promised that I would try and calm the children. Thordis had me vow that I would come and find her…" (he ignores Legolas' soft laughter) "… so I shall go and fulfil my promise, and when I return, you may ask your questions. Is that acceptable?"

"Perfectly," Balin agrees, obviously having realized how they must have ambushed him. "I will personally make sure that our King and everyone else is present then, so that you will not have to tell this story twice."

"May…" Legolas clears his throat. "May my father, and Tauriel, also attend?"

Glóin squints, and Óin looks ready to say no, when – to everyone's surprise – Fíli interferes. (Although, Gimli realizes, he does not seem to be particularly excited about Tauriel's announced presence.)

"Of course," the blond prince agrees from where he is still sitting with Kíli. "Your father, at least, deserves to hear this as well, and what is one more elf in a meeting of dwarves and a hobbit?"

Gimli offers his friend a rather wide, thankful smile, before grabbing Legolas' sleeve and almost pulling him out of the room.

It is time to run… the inquisition will be upon them soon enough.

TBC

(*) After having read the wonderful scarletjedi's Comes Around Again I couldn't help but add a thing or two about Gimli's hairy arse :p

If you haven't read this incredible fic you so should!