Nylelyth:
The cold damp air nipped at the end of my nose as I walked up the pathway. The city of Dale was nothing more than a ghost town. Everything looked and felt abandoned, the light snow making it feel like more of a graveyard than a city. A faint glow from a fire reflected off the old buildings, giving it an eerie feeling. The great hall had been the survivors main campsite. The elves had found where ever they could and set up their canvas tents. Voices grew dim as I trudged by, completely ignoring everything but my feet on the ground.
"I'm looking for Bard?" I asked the nearest person, they pointed in the direction of the watch tower. Nodding in thanks, I walked onward. My heart felt heavier than my feet as I trudged up the path way further. Each step further from the mountain was a step further from the happiness that I could've had. I pushed the pain in my heart back down, and I continued on. At the top of the town, right beneath the watch tower, a huge canvas tent had been set up, the tent of a king no doubt.
"I must speak with Bard." The guards outside the tent looked at me wearily, but one stepped in anyways. Bard stepped out of the tent, his eyes concerned.
"Nylelyth. What are you doing here?"
"Bard, it's...it's Thorin. He's not himself any more." Tears threatened to over flow my eyes, but I pushed them back as hard as I could.
"I know, this morning I went to try to negotiate. He would not budge a single inch." He crossed his arms, and sighed deeply. "Please, come in. You must be freezing." He led me inside the tent, and there stood Gandalf and Thranduil, both looking utterly shocked to see me.
"Nylelyth?" Gandalf gasped. I only nodded slightly, to confirm his thoughts. He glanced back at Thranduil who was not very entertained by the situation. "You need to set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves. War is coming! The cess pool of Dol Guldur has been emptied. You are ALL in mortal danger!" Gandalf''s warning had stirred everyone but Thranduil, who poured himself another glass of wine.
"Dol Guldur?" I asked, my pack falling to the ground. "You are sure?"
"What are you talking about?" Bard's brow was deeply furrowed, and concern washed over his face once more.
"I see you know nothing of wizards." Thranduil argued, his voice louder than all of ours. "They are like a winter thunder on a wild wind rolling in, but sometimes a storm, is just a storm."
"Not this time! The orc armies are on the move. These are fighters, they have been bred for war." Gandalf sighed as he twiddled his thumbs together.
"The army of the enemy is on the move." I rested my hands on the nearest table. "We must warn Thorin."
"But why show his hand now?" Thranduil argued again from behind his wine.
"Because we forced him! When the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim the mountain." Gandalf stood at the canvas door, staring upon the mountain, his hands held in front of him.
"When I gave away my location. That's why." I paced the length of the tent. "We were never supposed to reach the mountain, and now the enemy is bringing the hammer down."
"Azog was sent to stop them." Gandalf turned back around to face the annoyed Thranduil and concerned Bard. "He doesn't want the mountain only for the riches inside, but for the strategic position. It is the key to reclaiming the lands of the north! If Angmar should rise again, all shall fall."
"The enemy wants the mountain, but he wants me more." I stood by Gandalf now. "He will stop at nothing to get it, if that's what it takes he will unleash an army on us."
"And these armies, Gandalf," Thranduil answered coldly. "Where are they?" A few stutters came out of Gandalf's mouth before he was rendered speechless. He marched out the canvas door, and I followed.
"Gandalf." I stood next to him as he stared at the mountain once more. He acknowledged my presence with a small nod. There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke. "Thorin is not himself."
"I know, my dear." He deeply sighed. "I know."
"He thought I was my mother, Gandalf." I faced him, my arms crossed. "Why?"
"Like you said, Thorin is not himself. The gold, it is seeping into his mind, it is corrupting him. He may of thought you were your mother out of pure illusion."
"Why? Why my mother?"
"When your mother fought beside Thorin, it was not out of the goodness of her heart." He replied.
"But...What of my father?"
"You're father returned to Aman." He fiddled with his thumbs. "He was only here for a short while."
"You mean to say, Thorin and my mother...?"
"Well, I do not know to what extent their relationship blossomed, but there was an undeniable attraction." My head was spinning, the ground beneath me refusing to stay still. The pieces of the puzzle in my mind were beginning to fit together. There was more silence, the thoughts in my mind racing faster than they ever had.
"I was to ride to Rivendell tomorrow." I finally said, folding my hands together.
"Lord Elrond would welcome you with open arms. And I'm sure Lady Arwen would be happy to see you." He replied, his gaze still on the mountain.
"They would not survive this war, Gandalf. And I could not forgive myself if I left my friends behind." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small smirk appear on his lips.
"This is a war they cannot fight." Bard's voice washed over us. "They will have to surrender." Out of no where, the small pitter patter of footsteps sounded behind us, and Bilbo came popping out of the shadows.
"Bilbo Baggins!" I rushed over to him, pulling him into yet another hug. "I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life!"
"If you think the dwarves will give up, they will not. They will fight to the death over this mountain." Bilbo informed the three of us. "I need to give you something."
"Bilbo, are you sure?" I asked him, I knew he was doing the right thing but he was jeopardizing his trust with the company, if any of them had found out he would be dead by morning.
"Yes, Ny. I need to give it to them." We led Bilbo back into Thranduil's tent, and not to surprising, he was sitting in his chair enjoying more wine.
"If I'm not mistaken, this is the hobbit that stole the key to my dungeons under the nose of my guards." Thranduil pointed out in an annoyed manner.
"Yes, uhm." Bilbo shifted uncomfortably. I bit my lip to hold back my laughter. "Sorry about that. I came to give you this." He pulled out the Arkenstone, wrapped in a dirty cloth and set it on the table. Slowly unwrapping it to reveal it, everyone's eyes grew wide with astonishment.
"The heart of the mountain, the king's jewel!" Thranduil exclaimed, his eyes not parting with the strange glowing jewel.
"And worth a king's ransom." Bard glanced over at Bilbo. "How is this yours to give?"
"I took it as my fourteenth share."
"But why? You owe us no loyalty."
"I'm not doing it for you!" Bilbo practically laughed. "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. 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!" I smiled at Bilbo, the tears almost falling from my eyes. How I wanted to rush back into the mountain, to see Kili at least once more.
Kili:
The night had been cold, the damp kind of cold that made your bones shiver. I sat on the gate, my shift on the night watch had been utterly useless, but I volunteered anyway. I needed the alone time. A dark silenced loomed over the halls, the silence before war. We knew in our hearts that we could not win this, that there was no way Dain's armies could get here in time for battle. We accepted that some of us would not make it. The chilled breeze went straight through my tunic, right into my core.
"Kili." A calm voice sounded behind me, I turned to find Fili standing at the top of the stairs. He sat next to me, silence filled the space between us.
"She needs to quit leaving all the time." I whispered, sliding the dagger across the stone.
"She has her reasons, Kee." He stared out into the night, a small glow from Dale lit up his face.
"Why? Because Uncle forced her?" I slid the dagger off the stone harshly. "She said it herself, she didn't want to leave."
"Kee, it's much more complicated than that." My jaw clenched in rage.
"How? How could it be more complicated? She left because of Thorin, because he forced her to. It's not much more complicated than that." I resumed sharpening my dagger, anger fueling me. Fili put a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"When Thorin comes to his senses, he will explain." Without another word he got up and went back down the stairs.
The armor sat heavy on my shoulders. With the sun barely on the rise, the company of Thorin Oakenshield stood atop the gates of Erebor. The wind chilled beneath my armor, the golden chain mail underneath the steel plated armor. The vibration from the Elven army marching towards us could be felt from the ground. They stood in perfect rows. And when the Elven king, and Bard came riding up, the armies stepped out of the way in a fluid motion, almost looking like a dance. On the back of Bard's white horse sat a familiar figure. The familiar oak hair, the olive toned skin, her chocolate brown eyes with the tiniest bit of gold in them stared up at me. Nylelyth sat behind Bard, along with the army that we were going to war with.