Author's Note: Hi all, hope you had a merry Easter (for those who celebrate it) and ate many chocolate eggs (for everyone!). I want to take this opportunity to thank you all for sticking with me until this point. It's readers like you that make the writing experience worth every bit of time, energy, and effort that goes into this story. A special thanks to Guest45 for the review(s). I absolutely adored your exploration of bullying and I think you are quite right. Especially in the movie verse, Thorin is made out to be the bad guy, when essentially his hand is also forced in a way by the presence of the Elves. I hope I have done some credit to your thoughts in this chapter. Now, enjoy!

Chapter thirty-eight: War is coming

They arrived back at the lake side by mid-morning – and they were not the only ones. Between the weathered, old, and wounded of Lake-town now stood an army of Elves, their bronze armour and helmets blinking in the autumn sun. With them were two carts of food and medicine, and to Ardhoniel's utter surprise, their King. The Ellon in question was seated regally on the back of a huge elk, and seemed to be deep in conversation with none other than Bard. From the whispers that she overheard as they passed into the large, make-shift camp, he was no longer a simple Bargeman.

'How I abhor that man,' Bruihel grumbled, as their little company made its way to the crowd. Now that an entire army of Elves had arrived, the people from Laketown did not think the presence of them quite as peculiar, she noted, and only a few heads turned at their passing.

'Yet he has arrived here with provisions and medicine, both of which the townspeople will be of high need of in the upcoming days, no doubt. Although you may not like him personally, that must redeem him to some degree,' Neneth argued reasonably.

Bruihel didn't know what to say to that, and luckily she didn't have to say anything for it was at this moment they reached the Man and Elf. It was Bard who took notice of them first, and he bowed his head politely at his acquaintance, and then at her companions.

'Lady Ardhoniel. And these are your friends, I presume?'

'Bard, it is good to see you alive and well. And to see that so many survived the inferno – although from what I have heard, they have you to thank for that.'

'I only did what had to be done,' Bard spoke humbly, then he smiled, 'But I am glad to see you alive as well, although I had not expected to see you here.'

'Indeed,' Thranduil agreed, his cold blue eyes piercing Ardhoniel's. 'When I saw you off from my kingdom with your guards near three months ago, you were headed for Lothlórien, then home.'

'We took a small detour.'

'So it appears…'

'Is there anything we can do to help, master Bard?' Aglaron stepped forward, his expression carefully neutral and voice diplomatic, successfully diffusing some of the tension between the Elven nobility.

'If you know anything of healing, please see to the more seriously wounded. Tell the others we will be departing soon. We have a long road ahead of us, and I want to find shelter before the winter sets in.'

'Where will you go?'

'The only place we can go,' Bard responded grimly, eyes resting on the looming mountain.

It was nightfall when the sound of horns echoed from the mountain walls, the gates and the base of the fortress opened. Out from it marched ranks upon ranks of Orcs and Goblins, all armoured and armed to the teeth and living for the one purpose of defiling and destroying all that is good in the world. Moving over to his friend, Legolas gently shook the Elleth awake.

'There is movement,' he informed her curtly, before moving back to his vantagepoint at the ridgeline. Soon Tauriel joined him, and together they watched as the vast power of Gundabad poured out and started their long march out of the valley and to Erebor. A loud screeching joined the sound of many hundreds if not thousands of feet, and the Elves looked up to find a swarm of massive bats, the likes of which they had never seen, flocking over the army.

'We must warn the others,' the Captain said, her voice betraying her uncharacteristic worry. When he did not respond immediately, she took hold of his shoulder, forcing him to meet her eye. 'Legolas?'

'An army this large cannot move fast; it will take them weeks if not months to reach the Lonely Mountain.'

'All the more reason for us to reach them in time to prepare.'

Legolas's gaze drifted off towards the valley below, his eyes seemingly drawn to the large metal structure that was like a blight on the surrounding lands. He could not explain his reasoning if he had wanted to, but there was something within Legolas that wanted answers – that needed answers. 'Once they leave the valley, I will enter the Red Tower.'

'What? Legolas, surely you are not serious about going in there? Who knows what still lurks behind those walls.'

'I am not asking you to come with me, Tauriel. But in all these years, I have only been able to guess what happened to my mother. This place may contain the answers I have been looking for, for so long.'

He heard the Elleth sigh deeply, 'And I suppose there is nothing I can do to make you change your mind?'

'Not this time, my friend.'

'Then I shall go with you.'

He turned his blue eyes on her with startling intensity, hoping that would make her see reason if his words would not. 'No Tauriel, I forbid it. I will not see you come to harm on my behalf.'

A small smile played at the corner of her lips, 'Don't think I know not of the sacrifice you made on my behalf, Legolas. I am coming, whether you wish it or not.'

The going of the caravan of people was slow, and the month had nearly drawn to an end by the time they reached the ruins of the city of Dale. On Bard's orders, the people of Lake-town spread out between the dilapidated buildings, trying to find shelter in the less affected ones and search the others for anything that may be of use. The people of Lake-town were a hardy folk, used to the cold and a precarious existence. Most of them had known hunger and cold for at least some time in their lives – and they could only hope that that hardiness would save them now.

As his people settled in the ruins of the ruins of the great trading post, Bard and King Thranduil prepared for interrogations with the King under the Mountain. Noticing the Bargeman mounting his horse, Ardhoniel quickly stepped in and took hold of the reins, effectively delaying their departure. 'What are you doing?' She demanded, eyes flashing to the Elven King who was observing her from on top of his elk with an obvious air of disapproval.

'Asking for the compensation that was promised. We will need it if we are to survive the winter.'

'Thorin will think it an offense,' she started in a half-whisper, enunciating every word carefully, 'If you arrive on his doorstep with an army of Elven warriors.'

'Thranduil came to our aid with provisions without question. I do not know what business he has in that mountain, but I shall not send him away, Ardhoniel. Thorin made a deal with the people of Lake-town, that should not change with the presence or absence of the Elvenking.'

She had let go of the reins with no small degree of annoyance, knowing the Dwarf in mountain and knowing exactly how this would play out. Of course Bard would think the presence of Thranduil would make no difference, but she knew better: any hope of a fair trade may be ruiined by the the Elvenking's presence – let alone the presence of his entire army. But not entire, she suddenly realised. She had not seen the red-haired Captain among the ranks – solidifying her previous suspicion that the Elleth had ventured out alone – but not completely alone it appeared, for neither had she seen the King's son.

'Lord Thranduil,' she called out, just as they were about to ride off. 'Where are Captain Tauriel and my lord Legolas?'

The Elvenking's eyes steeled at her question, sniffing in disdain at her nerve to question him so openly about personal affairs, and for a moment Ardhoniel thought he would not deem her insolence worthy of a response. 'Not here, as I am sure you have noticed. The Captain is no longer welcome in my realm. As for my son, he will recognise the folly of his actions soon enough.'

That evening, Ardhoniel slipped out of the camp under the cover of darkness. Much like she had expected, rather than working to ensure the Dwarves' cooperation, Thranduil's presence had only put Thorin more on the defence. Negotiations had ended soon after. Although she had known the Dwarven King to be utterly stubborn and proud – and in this particular case, could not entirely fault him for not holding up his end of the deal, no matter his word – she had been taken back by the news that he had threatened to shoot if they did not leave at once. And it left a bad aftertaste in her mouth. The Thorin she knew would have never shot an innocent and honourable Man like Bard, in threat or for real. Whatever had happened in that Mountain, it was high time she interferred.

As she snuck through the encampment of the Mirkwood Elves that lay between Dale and Erebor, Ardhoniel felt for the first time ever since leaving Imladris that she had no trouble blending in with the crowd, and so she was left in peace as she made her way to the mountain. When she neared the fortified front gate of Erebor, she was surprised to find a rope already dangling down from the piled stone – and Fíli and Kíli sitting at the top, looking ever so skittish.

'I am surprised at your foresight, my friends.'

'Ardhoniel? Is that you?'

'Sssh,' Fíli hastily shushed him. Then, in a lower voice, 'We thought you had gone home.'

'I will – after we are done here,' she smiled. 'Would you let me up, I have important news for Thorin.'

At the mention of their uncle, Ardhoniel could see both of the Dwarves' faces fall even in the limited light that the moon provided. 'You cannot speak to Thorin,' Kíli answered abruptly.

'I know he's angry with me, but the news I have cannot wai...-'

'It's not that. Ever since we neared the mountain, Thorin has been acting… odd,' Fíli explained vaguely, his voice filled with an emotion that she couldn't quite place. Concern perhaps, or fear…

'We think it's the gold, that it is affecting him. He will hear no reason, has had us searching for days for the King's jewel,' his younger brother added.

'I have to see him,' Ardhoniel insisted.

'He might try to kill you,' Fíli said, his voice completely serious as he spoke those six words.

She hesitated for a moment, then took the rope in both hands and nimbly climbed up the rock wall. When she reached the top, she swung herself over the edge, landing on the small platform next to the two brothers. 'Tell me, where can I find him?'

Thorin was anxiously pacing back in forth in front of the throne. The nerve of that bowman to show up at his doorstep with an army of Elves and ask him to honour a forced deal. If that Man had any honour himself, he knew not to ask for that which he had no claim nor right to. Thorin knew why they were here, that they were after the famed Dwarven treasure, and he would swear now on the lives of his forefathers that he would not share one piece of that treasure with honourless snakes, liars, and thieves!

He stepped down from the raised dais onto the golden lake that stretched to the corners of the Gallery. This treasure. This gold. It was worth every life lost in the Quest to reclaim it. Lives of mortals would come and go, but this treasure… It was his, passed down from his grandfather, to his father, and then to him. Why should he have to share it? Very soon, his kinsmen would find the Arkenstone, the proof of his right to rule, and he would take his rightful place on the throne. Then, no one would ever dare question him again.

'Thorin.'

The Dwarven King turned with a start at the familiar voice. Even though he recognised her voice, he was unprepared to find the Elven lady herself standing in the middle of the golden lake, only several feet away from him. She was exactly like he remembered her, and yet more beautiful, radiant in the warm light of the gold beneath her feet. 'Ardhoniel…'

The She-Elf stepped closer, and now he could admire each of her fair features. The way the golden floor reflected off her fair hair that was twisted back in a simple braid, the way her silver eyes shone bright and warm as they gazed on him. Her high brows, sharp cheekbones, and sweet lips that his fingers ached to caress. She had traded in the light green dress she had worn at their last meeting for a silvery tunic, instead of the deep blue from his dreams. His dreams…

Eyes flicking down, his eyes burned holes in her empty hands. 'The Arkenstone,' he rasped, frantically searching her person for any sign of the precious gem. Stepping in, he roughly grabbed hold of her shoulders, 'Where is the Arkenstone? Where are you keeping it?'

Her eyes widened, pupils dilated as she struggled to get out his grip in vain. There was something entirely intoxicating about it, Thorin found himself thinking. She was afraid, he realised, she was afraid of him.

And that's when Thorin realised that this was not a dream. She was not a figment of his tortured mind. This was the same She-Elf that had helped them escape out of Rivendell, the same She-Elf that had offered her help without asking anything in return – the same She-Elf that had lied to them, that had betrayed them, and that had endangered his company not once, but twice. He tightened his grip on her tunic, pulling her face down to him, as he growled in her face, 'What are you doing here, Elf?'

'I need to talk to you, Thorin. I…-'

'You should have learned to know when you are not welcome, Ardhoniel of Rivendell, and have stayed away. When I said I had nothing further to discuss with you, I meant it, and wished I would have never had the misfortune of looking upon your treacherous face ever again. Leave my sight at once if you want to avoid harm to befall your person – consider my mercy a recompense for your "services".'

When he released her, she quickly scrambled to get away from him. The She-Elf ran towards one of the arched exits from the Gallery of Kings, while Thorin made his way back to the throne.

'War is coming,' he heard her say, the sad tone in which she spoke lost on him in his current state. 'Please do not forget the value of your own life and that of your kin when it comes.'