Chapter 28. The Battle March

"It is he who has brought this upon us, He who murdered his own father in cold blood!"

Kyni whirled round wildly. Geise was stood upon the podium where he himself had recounted the story of his battle with the dragon. Geise's sword was raised above his head, as he shouted down to the roaring Dwarves below him.

"This pretender would have us believe that he had no choice, that the dragon played some trick," shouted Geise. "But I think not. I think that this usurper wants the throne of Erebor to himself!"

"No!" cried Kyni, running forwards, past the angry Dwarves to join Geise on the podium. "I truly had no choice. It was kill or be killed. You have to believe me!"

The Dwarves continued to roar at him, like lions whose pride had been threatened.

"Please," begged Kyni in a quiet voice.

"Enough!" Rumbled Geise, silencing the Dwarves. He then turned to Kyni. "draw your sword, 'your highness'."

"W-What?" stammered Kyni, backing away from Geise.

"Let us settle this the old fashioned way," said Geise, drawing his own sword from its scabbard. "Let us see if you really were strong enough to defeat your own father, or whether you stabbed him in the back. Like a coward."

"I don't want to fight you, please," pleaded Kyni, backing up further until his back hit the wall.

Geise laughed. "I'm afraid you have no choice." And he charged.

Kyni just had enough time to move sideways and draw his sword before Geise was upon him. His blade slid down Kyni's, sparks flying everywhere.

"Geise, stop it! This is no way to settle this!" shouted Kyni, shimmying away from the advancing Dwarf.

"It is the only way to settle it," snarled Geise. He took a swing at Kyni. He ducked in time, and slashed back with his blade, causing Geise to take a step back.

A laughter could be heard in the back of Kyni's mind. A quiet, throaty laugh that sent shivers down his spine. The sound grew and grew until it was all Kyni could hear. Geise continued to advance towards Kyni, experimentally swinging his sword this way and that. Kyni blocked, parried, and ducked each stroke. The laughter now echoed around the hall, rumbling through the very foundations. It was a deep, evil laugh, one which sounded familiar to Kyni.

Geise took a swing at Kyni's midriff. He brought his blade up to parry it away but he found that his sword had vanished. Instead, he now held a thin piece of wood. Geise's sword sliced clean through the wood and cut deeply across Kyni's stomach. He cried out and fell to his knees, his hands moving instinctively to his stomach to quench the flow of blood.

The laughter grew louder and louder, ringing in his ears.

"Make it stop," he moaned, scrunching up his eyes against the pain of the laughter.

"Gladly," came the deep, growling voice of Smaug. Kyni looked up. Geise was still advancing towards him, blade raised. Yet behind him, the shadowy face of the dragon could be seen, looming out from the wall, his eyes burning bright. He leered down at Kyni.

"Kill him."

Geise raised his sword in two hands, the point directed at Kyni's neck. Kyni bowed his head again and shut his eyes.

"Forgive me, father," he whispered, before the blade plunged through the soft flesh of his neck.

Kyni woke, the memories of his dream still fresh upon his mind. He shuddered, reliving the despair he'd felt. He knew it had just been a night terror, yet he could not help feel a certain worry that some Dwarves may blame him for his father's and Thorin's deaths. He would have to be wary today.

Geise had not marched on the Grey Mountains straight away. Hrafen had managed to convince to at least wait a day before striking, giving them the needed time to make preparations. The battalion of Elves, led by Thranduil and IdrĂ­l, had been stationed in one of the deep caverns, well out of harm's way it seemed to Kyni. Dwarves still did not trust the Elves, especially not Thranduil, who some Dwarves still held a bitter regard for. The story of the history between Thorin Oakenshield and Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm had been passed down generation to generation. Though friendship had been kindled, some resentment still remained. Some Dwarves, those whose ancestors had perished in the wrath of the dragon blamed Thranduil, for he had refused to help, letting turmoil rain down in Erebor. Kyni was sent down to rouse the Elves at dawn, but to his surprise, the cavern was empty. He returned to inform Geise, who merely grunted.

The Elves were all marshalled outside the main gate. Clad in gilded silver armour, they shimmered impressively in the early morning sunlight. None shined more brightly than Thranduil, who was adorned in silver battle armour. Tiny sparkles could be seen glinting out from within the breastplate. On his head sat a silver circlet, inlaid with green emeralds.

"Are they-" began Veorza, staring at the circlet.

"The emeralds of Girion, yes," replied Thranduil. "They were forged anew so that we may never again forget the closeness between Men, Elves and Dwarves."

"The people of Dale certainly do not forget it," came a voice from behind the Elves. They parted, allowing a collection of people to walk forwards. To Kyni's surprise and delight, he noticed Bard leading the procession, clad in leather armour, his black bow clenched in his hand.

"It is good to see you, Kyni," said Bard, smiling at Kyni.

"And you, my liege," replied Kyni, stooping to bow.

"I am sorry to hear about your father, my friend," spoke Bard softly.

"Thank you," said Kyni, smiling thinly at the Lordly archer. "How did you know our plans?"

"I sent word as soon as Geise had his little outburst," put in Hrafen. "I thought that the Men of Dale would understand the danger we face."

"Wouldn't want to miss a fight like this now would we, lads?" came a call from one of the men within the Dale company. There came an answering roar from the Men.

Bard shook his head. "Blood-thirsty, the lot of them."

"Good. We need men longing for their swords to be stained with the blood of the enemy." said Geise, walking out from the shadow of Erebor. "Kyni, are you ready?"

"I think so," said Kyni, firmly.

"Then let us depart. Dwarves!" called Geise back towards Erebor. There came a rhythmic sound of heavy footfalls and clanking metal. Out from under the great doors, came an army of Dwarves, all clad in chainmail. They each had a sword girt at their sides, as well as a halberd slung across their backs.

"Don't Dwarves usually don helmets?" enquired Bard.

"Change of plans," answered Geise, grinning wickedly. "I want our enemies to see the eyes of every Dwarf before they plunge their blades into their hearts. Come, onwards! Veorza, why are you not clad for battle?"

The solitary figure of Veorza had only just been noticed by the company. Thick bandages were wrapped around his leg, and he hobbled towards them, grimly shaking his head.

"I can scarcely walk, let alone fight."

"I understand, my brother," said Kyni. "Know that your war has already been fought, and that no more is expected of you."

Veorza bowed his head in gratitude.

They turned to leave, before a voice came crying out from inside Erebor. "Kyni, wait!"

Kyni turned, to see his mother and father hurriedly moving towards him.

"Freda, Elboran! What are you doing here?" Exclaimed Bard, utterly bemused.

Kyni's parents ignored him. Instead, they embraced Kyni, hugging him tightly.

"Be careful, son," said Elboran softly.

"Make sure you return to us, won't you?" pleaded Freda, looking Kyni dead in the face.

"I will, mother," promised Kyni, smiling up at her. She kissed him on the forehead, before standing back.

"Go, your friends are waiting for you," said Freda, gesturing the awaiting companies.

"Goodbye," said Kyni. He turned and left. The last thing he saw was Elboran wrapping his arm around Freda, as she turned into his chest, tears running down her cheeks.

And so the three races of Middle-earth departed. The Dwarves, clad in their rattling chainmail; the Elves, in their dazzling armour of silver; and the race of Men, in their outfits of boiled leather.

"There's no turning back now," sighed Hrafen, turning to look at the Lonely Mountain one last time.

"You'll see it again soon, don't worry," comforted Kyni, slapping Hrafen on the back.

"I hope so. Aye, I hope so, lad. For all our sakes."

Veorza's words slowly sunk into Kyni: it was not only their lives that were at risk. If they were to fail, if they were to lose the ensuing battle, then there would no home to return to. No home for the Elves in Mirkwood, no home for the Men in Dale. And no home for the Dwarves, in their ancient halls of stone.

If they were to fail, Erebor would be destroyed for a second time.

The cave was eerily quiet. The only sound that could be heard were the soft footfalls of a harried Orc. Grukk was concerned, a feeling he wasn't all too familiar with. He briskly walked down the tunnel, taking a left and then another left. He'd grown up in these tunnels; he could never take a wrong turn, even if he tried. The green light of the torches cast a glow, guiding Grukk's way. His eyes had grown accustom to the darkness of the caves many years ago. He smiled, remembering the panic the Dwarf had shown when trying to navigate his halls.

Grukk took a finally right turn, arriving in a cavern much larger than any other part of the Grey Mountains. In front of him, curled up on the floor, was his leader.

"Your Magnificence," said Grukk, bowing low.

"What is it, worm? You disturbed my slumber," growled Smaug.

"Apologies, my liege. I have news that I thought may interest you."

"Oh? And what news is this?" asked Smaug, raising his head to look at Grukk.

Grukk swallowed. "The Dwarf, Kyni. He lives."

"This does not come as a shock. I trust you have not disturbed me just to share this unsurprising news?"

"Well, your malevolence, my scouts report that he's marshalling an army."

Smaug uncurled himself, and began to slowly crawl towards Grukk, who took a few hurried steps back. Smaug moved right up to him and engulfed Grukk in smoke.

"Good. Good," mused Smaug. "tell me, who else is in this army?"

"The D-Dwarves, Elves an-and Men," stammered Grukk, his eyes as large as saucers.

"History is repeating itself..." said Smaug, more to himself than the terrified Orc. "Very well. Grukk?"

"Yes, your Lordship?" replied Grukk, standing to attention.

"I want you to rally your kin. We will meet them on the field."

"Very good, my Lord. May I go now?"

"Yes, go now. Get out of my sight."

Grukk turned to leave, before Smaug called after him. "One more thing."

"Yes, O Smaug the tremendous?" said Grukk, turning back with dread.

"Bring yourself and nine of your best fighters to me afterwards. I have something special planned for you pitiful creatures."

Grukk bowed, and half ran, half walked back down the tunnel.

Smaug chuckled to himself.

There would be no dawn for the free people.