I do not own anything written by J.R.R. Tolkien or in Peter Jackson's movies.

Gandalf turned at the sound of someone using the ladder at the back of the war wagon he was standing on top of. The Dwarvish war wagons were little more than barely mobile forts, stuck in place on the battlefield and would slow down any army other than Dwarves, but they did provide some height for viewing a battle. Not that either Dain or Thranduil were using them for such — Thranduil had his riding stag, and Dain was in the front line and undoubtedly already stacking up Orc corpses.

To the wizard's surprise, the head that poked up into sight belonged to Legolas ... and from his expression, a deeply worried Elf. Without even waiting for Legolas to join them on the already crowded roof, the wizard demanded, "What's wrong?"

Then, before Legolas could answer, he turned and swung his staff. A slash of light arced out, and a half-dozen wobbling Orc arrows dropping down toward the tower were swept from the sky. (There had been some grumbling about crowding from the Dwarves stationed on top of the tower, when he'd joined them. That grumbling had abruptly died the first time he'd done that.) Interference dealt with, he turned back to the newcomer.

"There is another army of Orcs coming over the north ridge. They hadn't started to climb when we saw them, so the Men should reach the ridge line before them — but not by much, and they'll need support."

Gandalf paled. "Another — ! Mount Gundabad."

"That is my thinking, also."

"Have you told Dain?"

"No. The Dwarf in charge of the reserve sent a message, but Dain is already in the thick of the fighting and unlikely to be able to break free even if the messenger survives long enough to find him. Some crossbowmen have been sent to support Bard, but not enough to significantly weaken the reserve."

Gandalf turned to stare out across the battle in front of him then up as movement drew his attention to the higher bench on the north ridge that had earlier caught his eye. He absentmindedly knocked more arrows out of the air, then sighed. "No, Dain isn't going to be able to break free ... a fresh band of Warg Riders are coming straight at him. Find your father and tell him what's happening and ask for what support he can send, I'll seek out Bard."

'Of course." Legolas smiled thinly. "I was on my way to do just that when I saw you up here. Father will be with the reserve, where he should be."

He dropped back down the ladder, and Gandalf quickly followed. He didn't have much hope that Thranduil would be able to send any more troops to Bard than the captain in charge of the Dwarvish reserves, Nuri, had. In fact, I'll have to stop with Nuri on my way and let him know his king is going to need more help — I doubt he could see over Dale's ruins from his location, he won't know about the fresh Orcs charging straight at Dain. And Thranduil couldn't afford to swing his line back, that would pull his left flank away from the river and the Orcs would go around that open flank and swarm him. He couldn't afford to significantly weaken his reserve, either ... if the Orcs broke through his line anywhere and weren't hammered back immediately, it would be just as bad. We'll just have to hope that the Men of Lake-town can hold the ridge line. They have some training, their families are behind them, they've been mostly resting for weeks, and those Orcs will be going straight from a long march into combat and charging up a steep ridge. Maybe Bard can hold.

/\

Sakura stopped and stared at the nine Dwarves jogging away from the bridge head toward the ridge, spreading out as they went, then collapsed forward onto her hands and knees when Tilda ran into her. If she hadn't been walking in front of Bard's daughters, the mob of old men, women, and children she was leading to the bridge might have run right over her. Fortunately, Sigrid stopped and created a safe space.

"Where is the Company going?" Sakura muttered, too curious to be embarrassed as she accepted Dwalin's helping hand to pull her to her feet. With a muttered thank you she picked up her bow and quickly checked it for damage, happily finding none — after bringing it all the way from the Shire it would be embarrassing to have it broken right when she needed it most — then pushed her way back to the front of the crowd and looked around. Well, the Company shy me, Dwalin here, and Ori and Oin waiting at the bridge. She would have thought all of them would have been waiting on the other side of the bridge, to hold it against whatever Orcs came this way instead of Dale and the Elf and Dwarf armies. After all, there was plenty of time for the noncombatants to get across —

She stumbled as she realized ... the bridge without railings. Suddenly, everything made sense. From Dwalin's sudden cursing in Khuzdul (she presumed, she thought some of the words sounded familiar), he'd made the same connection. From the cursing of the girls' bodyguard in perfectly understandable Westron, he had as well.

"Wonderful." She grabbed the girls' hands and pulled them to the side out of the way of the crowd, their bodyguard and brother along with Dwalin following.

A worried Sigrid looked around, and noticed the Company now formed into a line and still advancing toward the ridge. "What's wrong? Where are they going?"

Sakura motioned toward the line of Men above Dale. "Thorin's worried about leakers around the end of the line of your father's men, and there's going to be a bottleneck at the bridge."

Sigrid paled, but nodded firmly. "Tilda, get across first and make sure no one wanders into the city. I'll join the two Dwarves —" She pointed at Ori and Oin. "— and make sure there isn't a rush to get across, or there'll be people going into the river."

"Good call," Sakura agreed as Tilda hiked up her skirts and took off at a run. For all her complaining, Ingrid really was growing into her so far unofficial role of princess. But she hadn't thought of everything. "Any old men that are armed, send to join the rest of us. We may need every warm body able to swing a sword we can get."

"Me, too!" Bain shouted excitedly, inexpertly brandishing his spear and almost getting it entangle with the bow over his shoulder.

Sigrid's already pale complexion went bone-white.

Sakura winced, but reluctantly nodded. "You too, and any others grown enough to carry a weapon. But when we get into line drop the spear and get out your bow. I hope you're better with that."

He blushed, but nodded. In a much quieter voice he muttered, "Father's given me some training, said I'm good enough to go hunting with him once Sigrid's a little older."

"Bain ..." Sigrid started, then paused, at a loss for words.

Trumwulf spoke up. "I'll keep an eye on him, as best I can." The Man nodded toward the Company. "I'm supposed to be guarding you, after all, and that's the best place to do it. Send my wife across with your baby brother, to help Tilda."

"I will." Sigrid abruptly threw her arms around Bain and hugged him hard enough to make him grunt. She whispered, "Be careful." He hesitantly returned the hug and nodded against her hair, then she pushed him away and turned to hike up her own skirts and take off running. "Slow up, Slow up! Mothers and children first, enough older children to take each younger child's hand! Walk across!"

Trumwulf watched her run, smiling. "She's going to be impressive when she finishes growing up."

"No," Sakura disagreed, "she's impressive already. She'll handle that, we have our own job to do. Let's go." She turned away to start jogging after the Company, her run quickly turning into short leaps.

/\

At the sense of someone beside him Thorin dropped his eyes from the ridgeline, and they widened at the sight of the tiny ruby-haired waif with sparkling lapis lazuli eyes that had slotted into place between him and Balin. Even covered in mithril chainmail and with a sword on her back under her quiver and bow (a bow she was drawing from its sheath and stringing), Sakura's ethereal beauty had no place on a battlefield. He hissed, "I thought you were with the women and children."

Sakura shrugged. "I'm guarding the women and children. And where better to do that than here?"

Thorin struggled for a rebuttal, but was interrupted before he could speak.

"Give it up." Dwalin stopped between his king and Gloin and yelled out, "Spread out! Make room for the rest!" Turning back to Thorin, he continued, "You know she isn't going to hide Under the Mountain when innocents are in danger, and she and the rest might as well fight here as wait to be slaughtered with the women and children."

" 'The rest'?" Thorin turned to look back and froze. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I know many of them are old," Sakura quickly replied, talking so fast her words were almost running together, "but they at least have had some training and some have had real experience against Goblins from the mountains of Mirkwood raiding the farms. And I know how protective you Dwarves are of women but they're already under threat and they don't have children to take across so they might as well be doing something about it as just waiting and —"

"They're children!"

Sakura fell silent at his shout for a long moment, before finally responding, her voice soft, and filled with pain. "I know."

He looked down to find her expression grim, eyes dark with memories. She repeated, "I know. I don't like it, either. But sometimes children is all you have."

Thorin remembered the few stories she'd told of her own war, when she hadn't been much older than some of the children coming to fight — and he knew what she'd told the Company was only the surface of the vein and far from the worst, and no one in the Company had even considered digging for more. Finally he nodded, then turned back around to watch the ridge line instead of the sacrifices approaching from behind. "You're right. We'll just have to do our best."

/\

Tauriel peeked over the ridge again, and sighed with relief — the Orc horde had started up the other side of the ridge but wasn't too close yet, the rest of the Men of Lake-town would have time to scramble into position. She and Legolas hadn't been too late.

"Good, there they go."

What? She twisted to look at Bard beside her to find him looking back the way they'd come. Following his gaze, she saw a few dozen Dwarves just coming into sight on the other side of Dale, marching along the broken-up road toward the Front Gate — crossbows and light axes. And Gandalf. Why are they headed for the Gate instead of — ? She froze in horror, then turned back around and peeked over the ridge again, this time running her gaze along the length of the approaching horde, then the Men of Lake-town. The Orcs overlapped them — not by much, but a little. And ... she lifted her eyes to look past the front of the horde ... and there were Orcs that hadn't even started yet, were being held back. When they realized that the Men were there —

She was scrambling back down the ridge before she could complete the thought.

From Bard's other side, Captain Saewig hissed, "Tauriel, where are you going?"

"To the Front Gates," she murmured, looking back without stopping. "I made a promise to watch over a pair of girls, and I can't keep it from here."

"What?"

Bard touched Captain Saewig's shoulder. "The promise was to me. Worry about the Goblins coming at us, not her."

"All right, but we're going to miss her bow."

She was halfway down the slope when she heard the Captain's bellow, looked up to see the men springing to their feet, shouting war cries as their bows came up and arrows flashed down out of sight, heard the mind-piercing cries of Black Speech as the Orcs cried out in shock.

She turned back and tried to redouble her pace without tumbling head over heels.

/oOo\

"So they were waiting for us."

From the back of his massive white Warg, Atulg managed to keep a triumphant grin off his face as he watched the front of his horde approaching the crest of the ridge come apart under the storm of arrows raining down on them. He'd used the possibility of an ambush as an excuse not to be at the head of his men making the climb — he'd been in enough fights (and had enough Companions backing him) that he could say things like that without having his courage questioned ... much — but having that excuse validated would make the rest of his modifications to the plan easier. With a little luck, he and his companions would be able to seize the Mountain and not fight at all. Then Bolg could go back to Moria and lick mushrooms.

So, how to do this? There's no way that first wave is going to make it — Even as he thought it, the surviving Orcs at the front were scrambling back down the ridge, carrying those behind along with them — so have the archers provide what covering fire they can for another rush to fix the Men in place, while the real thrust goes in on the left. And I'll be on the far left, where we can break for the Mountain while the rest of my boys take the tree-huggers and stone-herders in the ass like the blind man took the goat.

Thoughts settled, he kicked his Warg into motion toward the growing chaos at the foot of the ridge, the rest of his companions spreading out and following. "All right, you puling cowards, turn yourselves right around or I'll give you something to cry about! Archers, to me!"

The retreat hadn't quite turned into a rout so it took only a few lopped heads to get the mob turned back in the right direction, and soon headed back up the slope while those with bows happy for a reason to stay back and fire over their heads. They were firing uphill at Men in a single line, unlike those Men firing downhill with a mass of targets, but here and there an arrow went home and a Man would tumble forward with a cry or fall back out of sight. Still, however ineffective the Orc archers might be (some of the arrow fire actually falling short — Atulg suspected some archers were settling grudges), those arrows flying overhead were buoying his warriors spirits ... this time they'd actually reach the crest, with the greatest mass on the left where the line ended.

Good enough. Atulg yanked on his Warg's reins and again booted it in the sides, kicking it into a full run around to the foot of the ridge on the left flank of his horde. Once there he stared up the slope and grimaced — there was no way the Wargs were going to manage that climb with riders on their backs, and charging down the slope on the other side while mounted didn't bear thinking about. Too bad, the shock of a Warg charge could break armies — slave Races found horse-sized, fanged carnivores unnerving. But needs must, and he called over some of the warriors waiting to begin the ascent to hold the reins of his men's mounts. (Some of those warriors would inevitably become food for the peckish mounts, and served them right for lacking the courage to be in the forefront of the assault.)

Reins all handed over and his Companions spread out on each side of him, Atulg again looked up the slope and sighed, before beginning the climb. He was beginning to have doubts about whether his men would reach the Men, or be able to overwhelm them if they did ... that was a steep ridge.

He pushed the thought aside to concentrate on the ascent as he began to huff. There was no changing the plan now, he'd just have to hope that the cast divining rods favored them.

/oOo\

"I should be up there!"

Sakura fought to suppress a grin — at least this time Thorin had managed to keep his outrage down to a hiss instead of a roar. He had not liked the modifications to the plan (such as it was) when Gandalf arrived with the Dwarvish reinforcements. There hadn't been very many, but enough that they'd been able to form two lines between the ridge and the refugees still filing across the bridge to the Front Gate, one line of the warriors and their crossbows, the other of those members of the Company that weren't warriors along with most of the armed old men and children of the Men. (Including the Master of Lake-town, as it turned out — it may have been years, even decades, since he'd picked up a spear as part of the militia, but he still held his spear with more assurance than most of the young ones.) And — "If I have to be in the second line, so do you."

"You shouldn't be in this line, you should be on the other side of the bridge guarding the Front Gate. The men I sent were not happy to go while you remained here."

Sakura shrugged. "Yeah, well, a few experienced warriors need to be there along with the children we sent ... at least we had an excuse to get some of them out of the line of fire." She hefted her bow, arrow already nocked. "Besides, even as small as I am, I'll be useful dealing with leakers. You, on the other hand, are King Under the Mountain — if one of us should be on the other side of the bridge, it's you. If you die, who'll see to your people's need, get them home from their exile? Fili? Kili? They're in the front line and lack experience, they're less likely to survive than you are."

Thorin winced as she spoke his own deep fear for his nephews, his gaze seeking out the pair bracketing the Elf that had joined them — Tauriel. He'd have wished he could keep them back and take their place, even if it was beside a blasted Elf! And Gandalf beside them! (Even as Thorin glared at him, the Wizard waved his staff and several Goblin arrows were knocked out of the sky — the odds of archers as poor as most Goblins actually hitting the two lines were poor, but those arrows were high enough that they might have plunged into the mob of women and children behind them.) But the situation was desperate and Thorin's nephews had to gain the experience to go with their (admittedly excellent) training some time. But while they made adequate representation of the House of Durin at the front and Sakura was ... mostly right about how important Thorin was to his people's future (Dain would be accepted easily as King Under the Mountain if the last of the House of Durin fell, but could be ... parochial), Thorin could not bring himself to seek refuge in the Mountain while a battle raged on its doorstep. And if I admit that, Sakura will simply reply that she feels the same. So rather than try to come up with some feeble excuse she would easily see through, he simply fell silent as he kept watch on the crest of the ridge.

Sakura was doing the same. "Here they come," she murmured as the first Goblin infantry appeared among the bowmen at the ridge's crest, at the far right beyond the end of the line of Men.

/\

"Now! Swing now!"

Captain Saewig's shout cut through the ringing of steel on steel, battle cries of the wave of Goblins hammering into the line of Men, and answering battle cries of the spear- and sword-armed Men facing them, the screams of the wounded and dying. Trusting the spearmen in front to keep the Goblins charging up the ridge away from him, Bard glanced along the back of the line even as he reached over his shoulder for another arrow — all the ones that he'd surreptitiously stabbed upright into the ground while lying flat waiting for the order to spring their trap, then replaced after the first wave was beaten back, were now gone. (He forced himself to ignore the fact that the bodies that were dropping with his arrows in them were human-shaped rather than deer ... his memories of what Goblin raiders out of the Mountains of Mirkwood had left of some farmers' families — and of the Goblin corpses when his party caught some of them — helped, but now there were so many!)

Yes, Captain Saewig was at the end of the line guiding its swing, making sure it stayed a swing like a door instead of becoming a rout straight down the ridge into Dale's ruins, and a third of his men-at-arms were taking position at the hinge on the top of the ridge, the most experienced fighters holding where they could be hit from both sides of the angle. Now it was Bard's turn to implement the plan Captain Saewig had come up with on the fly and had ordered passed down the line — and that Bard prayed to Tulkas the barely-blooded Lake-town militia would remember and follow.

So let's find out if my prayer is answered.

Bard fired the arrow he'd just nocked, then stepped back. "Group One follow me! Group One follow me!" Continuing his shout, he snatched up the extra quivers he'd brought with him and scrambled down the slope. He and (hopefully) half the bowmen needed to get to the end of the line now swinging down the ridge. Partly that was to keep Goblins from flanking the bottom of the new line, but mostly ... yes, already he could see a scattering of Goblins on the flat ground below the ridge, ignoring the Men to trot toward Dale's broken walls. The Dwarves could (hopefully) handle a few stragglers charging into Dale and the rear of Dain's lines, a flood was another matter.

He paused for a moment to nock an arrow, fire, another ... grinned as two of the leading Goblins stumbled and fell forward. Startled shouts arose from the other Goblins, and some turned to stare back up the slope. One of them stumbled and fell backward, another of Bard's arrows in his chest, and the rest charged back toward the Men screaming bloody vengeance. Bard smiled grimly. Good. He waved forward the rest of the archers that had followed him and had hesitated when he stopped. He shouted, "Keep going! Get in position! I'll join you when you're there!"

They still hesitated for a moment, until one of Bard's neighbors shouted, "Save some for us!" He resumed his own scramble down the ridge. "Come on, boys, we can't all be as lethal as Bard the Bowman, not at this range. So let's get closer!"

Bless you, Sabert! Bard continued firing over his men's heads, Goblin after Goblin dropping or grabbing at arm or leg. He hoped Sabert survived the battle, afterward he was going to need men that could take the lead.

Part of this chapter was inspired by the scene in The Two Towers when the old men and boys are arming for the defense of Helm's Deep. That scene, along with Theoden's question of "How did it come to this?" always bring a lump to my throat. Jackson made his share of mistakes with those movies (though not as many as with trilogy), but that was spot on.

And yes, the chapter title comes from the New Testament, referring to the likely result of trying to come up with new plans on the fly after getting caught with your pants down.