Sing me a song of a lass that is gone,
Say could that lass be I?
Merry of soul she sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye.

Billow and breeze, island and seas,
Mountains of rain and sun,
All that was good, all that was fair,
All that was me is gone.

Robert Lewis Stevenson (version adapted for 'Outlander' TV series)


Lizzy had been guided to sit down in Thranduil's ornate chair and was sitting with her head in her hands, trying to get a handle on her emotions, when she heard Bard demanding 'Who are you?" in a slightly raised voice.

Looking up instinctively and blinking through the tears, she saw Gandalf standing in the entrance to the pavilion, looking drawn and exhausted. She quickly scrubbed at her tears with the heel of her palm, only just realising that both Bard and Thranduil had been attempting to offer drinks. "Gandalf," she said in greeting, her voice a faint hiccup.

"Miss Darrow," Gandalf said, seeming highly surprised to see her there.

"Do you know this man?" Bard asked suspiciously, still standing defensively as if to block his entrance.

Lizzy nodded, and at the same time Thranduil spoke. "His name is Mithrandir, and he is the Wizard that bought her here," he said, his voice melodious. The Elven-king looked curiously in Gandalf's direction, his head tilted ever so slightly to one side as he took in the Wizards' ragged appearance.

"What happened to you?" Lizzy asked, noticing the cut on his face and dirty tears in his clothing, her voice coming out croaky after having been crying.

"That is a long story, one that I do not think we have time for." Gandalf said, stepping past a still frowning Bard and into the pavilion to speak to her. "I did not think to see you here, my dear."

A noise almost like a laugh, a small huff of air, escaped her as she swiped her hands across her cheeks again to get rid of the last of her tears. "I don't think very much has gone the way you planned it."

Gandalf frowned at her, pausing in the midst of pulling out his pipe to light it. "What do you mean?" he asked quizzically, his voice rasping.

"I mean, I don't think very much has gone the way you planned it," Lizzy repeated blandly, looking up at him. "Since you left things have gone remarkably downhill."

The Wizard suddenly stepped forward, his eyes focusing on the faint red mark fading on her neck. "... Things have changed," he said deeply, with growing realisation. He looked troubled, disturbed even, the skin around his eyes tight and pinched with worry as he looked down at her. "Elizabeth … Tell me everything."

And she did so, telling him everything that had happened since him leaving them at the Forest Gate of Mirkwood. Gandalf instantly choked on his smoke when she told him about Thorin refusing to take the Elf-path, instead leading them North to Ered Mithrin.

Realising that their presence wasn't required, Thranduil and Bard tactfully withdrew to the other side of the spacious pavilion, pouring over a large map of the area and speaking in hushed tones. Meanwhile, Lizzy told Gandalf about sailing down the forest river, about being injured in the skirmish with the spiders, Thorin taking them to Thranduil's halls and the deal she had made to get her and Kili out when they had been left behind. She told him about the dragon and staying behind to do all that she could to help the people of Lake Town, then, hesitatingly, avoiding his eyes, she told him of her relationship with Thorin and how his obsessive, possessive thoughts seemed to have latched onto her over the gold.

Finally, she told him about Thorin ordering her – begging her, almost – to leave the mountain, knowing it was because he feared hurting her again.

When she had finished Gandalf's pipe had long since gone out.

There was a long silence, then the Wizard huffed out a deep, resigned breath. "This is a turn of events that I did not anticipate," he admitted, his voice somewhat hoarse.

There was another silence, during which Lizzy opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to think what she could possibly say. "… Why did you bring me here, Gandalf?" she asked eventually, her voice very quiet and sad.

"You know why," he said, frowning faintly at her. "And this is the most crucial time of your quest."

Lizzy looked down at her hands, which were trembling ever so slightly. "I … I almost wish that you hadn't," she admitted, feeling selfish for such thoughts. "A few weeks ago I couldn't wait to go home, and now …" She shook her head. "Now I am so confused."

"You wish to remain here?" Gandalf asked, his deep and rasping voice sounding shocked. He shook his head once. "I cannot allow that." Lizzy raised her gaze to look at him, her mouth hanging vaguely open in surprise. "You have knowledge of future events beyond this tale and that is dangerous," he explained quietly, insistently. "If the enemy were to discover that you are here … no, it is a risk that we cannot take, I am afraid you must return."

"... Well then," she said faintly, not knowing what to say. "I guess … that … settles that," she said quietly, frowning as she looked back down into her lap, a horrible, gut-wrenching feeling of empty hollowness spreading in her stomach. The idea of returning home frightened her even as she felt the familiar ache of desperation to see her family again: she was changed, she was not the same girl that she was when she had left.

Gandalf relit his cold pipe, all business. "Now then, from what you have told me Thorin is nearly beyond the point of no return. I told you long ago that if he is to succeed and live to be king then he must save himself." He puffed his pipe, sending smoke wreathing around his head. "Perhaps it would be better to focus our energies on Fili and Kili, to ensure that a member of the direct house of Durin takes the crown."

"No," Lizzy said without thinking, staring down at her knees - she couldn't blame, much less condemn, Thorin for any of his actions against the people of Lake Town in the face of the Master's outrageous demand. He was protecting his home and his peoples' future. And yes, he had become possessive of her, frighteningly so, but she had never said she was staying – he must have felt like she was slipping between his fingers, and as such clutched all the tighter.

And she knew that it wasn't just some sickness driving his feelings towards her – he had not told her that he loved her, but she had felt it in every furtive touch of his hand, every rare smile and every lingering look.

Gandalf looked at her sharply. "No?"

They didn't have time, the battle was coming – hours, days, even with her fore-knowledge she didn't know how soon it would be. "No, I'm saving him too," she insisted, her voice surprisingly firm as she raised her gaze to the Wizard. "You told me when I arrived that I was like the wind in the trees, that I could stir the branches but the tree itself would remain untouched." She rose to her feet, swallowing hard as she stared determinedly up into his wise, aged face. "Well I am a gale and I am going to knock this whole goddamn tree down – which means we have a battle to plan," she finished, meeting his eyes fiercely for several breaths - then she hesitated, lowering her gaze. "… Even if I do have to go home at the end of it," she added quietly, before stalking over towards the table where Bard and Thranduil were still looking at the map.

Both men raised their gazes to her as she approached, placing both her hands on the table and taking a deep breath. "Which direction will the orcs come from?" she asked steadily, staring down at the beautifully inked map.

Thranduil pointed to the Southern-most area of the forest. "There has long been an alliance between the orcs of Gundabad and Dol Guldor, I doubt one would go to war without the other. I have sent out scouts to determine their location, but until they return we will not know for certain."

Lizzy nodded, looking intently down at the map. "The two orc armies," she said under her breath.

Gandalf had followed her to the table and was now looking at Thranduil with undisguised shock, his pipe going out in his hand once again. "You are willing to put old animosities to rest and forge an alliance with Thorin?"

Thranduil raised his brows. "I have no cause to war with the Dwarves, not anymore," he added mildly, glancing pointedly in her direction. "The orcs of Dol Guldor, however, are another matter. They have plagued our borders for too long, and to form alliances is to strike out from a position of strength." His pointed gaze remained on Lizzy. "My armies are yours."

"Aye, we are with you as well, lass," Bard put in also.

Thranduil's attention returned to the map and he pointed a single, long finger to the Grey Mountains, drawing it down to the Lonely Mountain. "I suspect that they will sweep down from the North from Gundabad, whereas the other army will come up from the south from the forest," he said, his finger moving to the western boarders of the forest and tapping on the parchment. "They will not march their armies through the marshes, they will cross the river and attack from the East, pinning us between Dale and the mountain."

Bard looked up at Lizzy. "The Dwarves, will they fight?" he asked her.

"No, they will not," a familiar voice said from outside, immediately followed by the sound of Thranduil's guards moving their spears together. Bilbo blinked bemusedly up at the stern Elves blocking his path, looking very small next to their uncommon height.

"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf exclaimed with evident surprise, his pipe now completely forgotten – Bilbo quickly grinned at him in greeting.

"Let him in," Lizzy ordered and the Elves stood aside in unison.

Thranduil raised his brows as Bilbo pattered into the pavilion. "Ah, if I am not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my cells from under the nose of my guards," he said sternly, though Lizzy thought she could detect the smallest hint of amusement in his voice.

"Uh… yes," Bilbo admitted guiltily. "Sorry about that," he added, then stepped further into the pavilion, approaching the table where the map was spread out before continuing, "Thorin won't fight, he is determined to wait out the battle in the mountain, he knows that they are near impenetrable in there."

Lizzy was dismayed. "Even if Dain and Lothar come?" she asked.

"After what the Master said he believes that they are about to be put to siege," Bilbo explained, his brow crumpled into a deep frown. "The others don't agree but there is no talking to him. He wants to call his armies, when I left he was still looking for the Arkenstone." He hesitated, and then reached into his pocket. "Which, while we're on the subject …" he said, placing his sadly worn handkerchief on the table and unwrapping it to reveal a shining white stone.

It was the first time Lizzy had ever seen the Arkenstone and it was like nothing she had imagined. It was finely cut, with each facet catching and throwing back the candle-light from within the pavilion, yet it also seemed to hold its own luminous brilliance within. It was as if someone had managed to capture the light of a star and set it within the purest diamond.

"The heart of the mountain," she heard Thranduil murmur beside her, the light reflecting in his eyes.

Bilbo half raised one hand to gesture to the stone. "Now he said that he would price this above a river of gold, I thought perhaps with it you could convince him to fight, or at least get what you're owed -"

"No," Lizzy interrupted, knowing full well what would happen if Bilbo gave the Arkenstone to them.

Bilbo blinked up at them. "No?"

She shook her head, still staring down at the stone. "He would be furious, it wouldn't make him any more likely to help – trust me, I know." Breaking her gaze from the mesmerising stone with surprising difficulty, she turned to look at Bard. "Would you accept one fifteenth of the treasure for your compensation?"

He frowned at her. "One fifteenth?"

"From the tone of your voice I think you're underestimating the size of the hoard," Lizzy explained, and then glanced around the very spacious pavilion. "One fifteenth would easily be more than enough to fill this tent ten times over."

Bard raised a hand in a gesture of peace. "You mistake me, I did not intend to suggest that you were cheating us of fair settlement, but rather … well, I suspect that this is your share of the treasure as the fifteenth member of the company."

She hesitated, and then shrugged, indicating that this was the case.

"My lady, we cannot -"

"Yes, you can," Lizzy said, interrupting the bargeman. "You can't - shouldn't - ask Thorin to give anything up," she entreated, looking between the people assembled in the pavilion. "Please don't think badly of him, but it's not just about gold, it's their home. The Dwarves have lived in poverty since Erebor fell, starting again from scratch, and Thorin has worked so hard to build their lives back up again." She turned to face Thranduil, who was immaculately dressed in a richly embroidered silver coat with an elegant circlet around his brow. "Would you ever swallow your pride and take work as a blacksmith?" she asked the Elven-king, and then slowly shook her head. "Somehow I don't think you would."

She bit her lip in the silence that followed, desperately trying to find the words to explain. "The treasure is not just about hoarding gold and riches, he is their king, the one that they look up to, and it's about giving them a good and secure future." She gestured to her and Bilbo, her voice betraying the smallest hint of hysteria. "And has it even occurred to you that he has already promised fifteen shares of it away to the company? And of course the Dwarves will all put theirs to good use, but it doesn't change the fact that only one fifteenth of that whole treasure is truly his, and that you're asking him to give it up when he needs it for his people -"

She cut herself off, shaking her head and looking down at the floor. "And yet with all that he was still willing to help; he was willing to give you assistance until the Master asked for an entire third."

"So that's why you struck him," Bard murmured, almost to himself.

"Just take it – my share, I mean," Lizzy insisted, her gaze still lowered miserably to the ground. "I won't need it. Not where I'm going."

There was a beat of silence. "Where are you going?" Bilbo asked quietly, looking up at her with innocent curiosity.

Lizzy glanced at Gandalf and swallowed hard passed the lump in her throat. "Home," she said, her voice cracking slightly around the word. "I'm going home … when all this is over."

"You are?" Bilbo asked, his face crumpled in dismay.

She half shrugged, belaying the depths of the uncertainty and regret she felt. "Apparently so."

Bilbo opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for his words. He glanced briefly at Thranduil and Bard before returning his attention to her. "Will you speak with him though? To Thorin, about the battle?" he asked. "I think you're the only one he will even consider listening to."

"I can try, but …" Lizzy trailed off, doubting herself. Thorin had frightened her, but he wasn't going to get any better and she wasn't going to be able to save him if she just sat here wallowing in self-pity. The battle would be starting soon, they didn't have time to consider other options. "Yes, I'll come."

"Now?" the Hobbit pressed.

Lizzy nodded and went to step around the table to join Bilbo – she was stopped by Bard holding out his arm. "I don't like it," he said, scowling deeply.

"You don't have to," she told him, frowning faintly at him in turn.

He drew her gently to one side, pitching his voice so that the others would find it hard to hear. "When you arrived earlier you were shaking, near tears, with marks on your neck," he said bluntly, his face set into grim lines. "Were you my daughter I would not let you go."

"Bard is right," Thranduil said, clearly having heard what had been said with his Elvish hearing. "Will you accept an escort?" he asked Lizzy, his voice both insistent and melodious.

She exhaled gustily. "Fine, but they won't be able to come into the mountain with me."

"And you return to Dale tonight," Bard added sternly. He raised his hands innocently when Lizzy glared at him in exasperation. "I don't mean to be overbearing, I am simply concerned for your safety."

"Tauriel will prepare a bed for you," the Elven-king offered in turn, picking up a crystal decanter to top up his wineglass. "And if you do not return by sunset we will be sending a force to the mountain," Thranduil added with deceptively mild nonchalance.

"That won't be necessary, but still … thanks," Lizzy said, strangely touched (though not a little exasperated) by their obvious concern.

Gandalf stopped her as she went to join Bilbo, his old and weathered face betraying how anxious he was. "You are sure of this course?" he asked, his eyes searching all over her face.

"Positive," Lizzy responded – she may doubt herself, but she couldn't doubt that she was doing the right thing in trying to save Thorin.

The Wizard nodded. "Very well, off with you both," he said. Bilbo hesitated, and then scooped the Arkenstone off the table, wrapping it hastily back up in his handkerchief.

The two of them left the pavilion and started to make their way out of Dale, flanked by two of Thranduil's Elven guards, who respectfully walked several paced behind them.

"Here," Bilbo said as they left the ruined city, holding the loosely wrapped bundle containing the Arkenstone out for her to take. Lizzy half-gaped at him, unable to believe he was giving it to her, but he still held it out insistently. "You probably know best what to do with this," he pressed determinedly.

Cautiously, she took it from him and placed it in the pocket of her cargo trousers.

There was silence between them as they walked, and Bilbo eventually broke it as they approached the mountain. "What are you going to say to him?" he asked softly.

"I don't know," she said honestly, walking with her hands in her pockets, her fingers curled around the Arkenstone.

There was a brief pause, then Bilbo spoke again, the words seemingly bursting out of him. "Are you really going to leave?" he demanded, sounding distraught at the idea.

Lizzy kicked at a loose stone in her path. "Gandalf says I have to, and …" she paused, trying to make sense of the roiling mess of emotions flooding her head and heart, the strange mixture of elation and complete and utter misery at the idea of going home. "And at the moment I do not quite see how staying will make me happy." This was the truth – she had been half-considering staying in Middle Earth before arriving at the mountain for the first time, but now, with Thorin acting the way he was, she couldn't help but wonder if her going home would be best for everyone involved.

"You cannot just – just run away because you're afraid," Bilbo said, shaking his head violently.

The look Lizzy shot in the Hobbit's direction was almost a glare. "I'm seeing this through to the end and I am damn well going to do my best to save each and every one of them," she said firmly. "But that doesn't change the fact that I had a decision to make at the end of this quest and I have -" she paused, looking down at the floor and taking deep, shuddering breath - "and I have made it."

Bilbo shook his head slowly. "It doesn't sound like you have," he observed, then his tone turned conversational, as if he was commenting on the weather. "I think you're making a mistake. We've all seen you and Thorin together, Miss Lizzy. I think every day about how much I miss my home, but I think on this quest you have found yours," he told her, his head tilted to one side as he peered up at her. "And that's not to say that you love your world any less, but you fit here."

They were suddenly interrupted by the Dwarves on the gate, who had caught sight of them below. "It's Lizzy!" she heard Bofur say, while at the same time Ori exclaimed, "She's back!"

Bilbo looked up at her as they lowered the ladder for them, as if his point had been proven. "And I am certain that you can convince Gandalf of that," he finished, and then stepped up onto the first rung of the ladder to re-enter the mountain.


Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
Say could that lad be I?
Merry of soul he sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye.

Give me again all that was there,
Give me the sun that shone!
Give me the eyes, give me the soul,
Give me the lad that's gone!

Robert Lewis Stevenson (Original)


Thorin was standing atop of the dais in the dim throne room, staring grimly up at the ruined throne and the empty hollow where the Arkenstone should sit. He had crowned himself with his Grandfather's crown, but it was sitting heavily on his head – it bestowed no wisdom, nor did it do anything to dispel the nagging doubts and insecurities he had about not being worthy.

He heard footsteps on the long walkway behind him and cocked his head to listen without turning. Dwarvern boots, so it was not Bilbo approaching, though the steps were too light for anyone in the company but Elizabeth.

He turned and saw her walking slowly towards him, watching him carefully – her throat was bare and the necklace was gone.

"Elizabeth ..." he said, taking a single step down the dais – that single word, her name, was at once a plea and an apology.

She stopped warily a few steps short of the dais when he moved towards her, keeping out of his reach; he swallowed hard and made no move to approach her further, fearing - knowing - that he had frightened her with his actions earlier. She was looking up at him on the steps with a small frown. Her eyes lingered on the heavy, fur-lined coat he wore and over the crown upon his head. She licked her dry lips once, seemingly trying to decide what to say to him. "Take off your crown," she ordered quietly, gazing up at him. He frowned at this, but she spoke again before he could request clarification. "Please, just – just do it," she asked, almost urgently, gripping her elbows as if to hold herself together.

He did so, lowering it to the floor to rest it gently on the step beside him.

"Now the coat," she said softly.

"Elizabeth -" he started to say, unsure of why she wanted him to remove these augmentations of royalty, but she spoke over him.

"Please, Thorin," she said, and he could detect a faint catch in her voice; her eyes were also faintly rimmed red, and he wondered if she had been crying. Without another word, he shucked off the heavy, ostentatious coat, letting it drop down to the floor beside the crown of Thror.

She was still watching him expectantly, her eyes wide and stark, and so, grasping the back of the collar, he pulled the richly embroidered tunic over his head as well. He was now dressed in just his trousers and his old, travel-stained dark blue under-shirt from the road - she smiled faintly at him, the first one he had seen of her in some time.

"What is it?" he asked confusedly, the tunic held loosely in one hand.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were still under there somewhere," she said simply, relaxing slightly and half stepping towards the dais.

He took her movement towards him as a hopeful sign that perhaps she was not as fearful as he thought. Cautiously, he took another set down the dais and, when she did not retreat, simply watching him through her lashes, he stepped down onto the walkway with her.

There was a long silence between them, and then, slowly, unthreateningly, he raised his hand. "I did not think you would return," he said, his voice rasping as the very tips of his fingers just brushed against her bare collar-bone. The mark he had left on her neck had faded; there was no visible sign that she had ever worn the necklace he'd given her.

His fingers lingered on her skin and he felt her take several breaths. "I need you to know that I didn't do any of this to hurt you, Thorin," she said, her voice low and earnest. "I made a promise to Thranduil and I had to keep it." Then, taking another deep breath, she purposefully took a step back, breaking the contact between them; his hand dropped instantly back to his side. "I came to tell you …" She frowned deeply, clearly thinking hard, gripping her elbows once more. "That you need to think about what you want, Thorin," she said simply, staring entreatingly at him. "There is a battle coming, and at the moment it's like - like you're not choosing a side."

He opened his mouth to retort, but she sighed deeply, and scuffed the walkway beneath her with the toe of her Dwarvish boot, looking down at the floor. "I'd always planned to just get you to forbid Fili and Kili from fighting in the battle to keep them safe, but … I don't think that will work," she continued, sounding worried and tired. "We know that the path, that fate, reasserts itself, we've seen it happen, and I can just feel it in my heart that something would go wrong." She looked at him once more, seeming much older than her young years. "I think that the only way we have a chance is to change the entire battle. In the story everyone, Elves, Dwarves and men, were all – all squabbling like children right up until the orcs attacked, but if you stop hiding here in the mountain then we have time, we can be prepared, we can make a plan of attack," she said, her voice practically begging him to listen to her.

"Hiding?" he repeated, anger flaring once again. "I am not hiding, they intend to put us to siege," he said furiously, gesturing in the vague direction that the gate lay.

Elizabeth almost laughed, a short, hysterical noise. "No, no they don't," she told him, shaking her head and staring at him with wide eyes. "By giving Thranduil the necklace I have essentially bought peace between the Elves and Dwarves, even though it was a high price." Her hand fluttered to touch her bare throat at that, then she lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze. "And you don't need to worry about compensating the people of Lake Town either, I've decided to give Bard my portion of the treasure."

He frowned at that. "Why?" he asked deeply.

She half shrugged, favouring her uninjured shoulder. "It's not like I can take it with me," she said quietly. "And I know how important the treasure is to you, I know that you need it for your people, to give them a prosperous future."

Thorin's lips parted. "Take it with you?" he repeated in a slightly strangled tone. "Where are you going?"

Elizabeth visibly hesitated for a long moment, glancing briefly at him before returning her gaze to the floor again. "Thranduil has sent out some scouts to find out how close the armies are, and he and Bard are making battle plans, so I'm going back down to Dale, for now," she said matter of factly, then she half shrugged again, her expression abjectly sad. "And then …"

And then she was leaving, returning to her own world.

"You have a place here, by my side," Thorin said urgently, fearfully. He stepped closer to her once more, raising one hand to lightly cup her face, being careful not to hurt her. "Stay with me." It was not quite an order, nor was it quite a request, but rather a mixture between the two.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head to press her cheek briefly into his hand, then shook her head. "You can't ask me to choose, Thorin, you just can't," she said with a catch in her voice, making no move to back away from him again. "It's not fair, you're asking me to give up everything while you give up nothing, while you potentially gain everything that you've ever wanted and fought for." She looked down at the floor between them, almost gasping for breath, pressing her lips into a tight line. "This journey has been - has been so long, and I'm … tired," she admitted, sounding exhausted. Her voice dropped to a faint whisper. "I think a part of me is actually ready to go home."

"Elizabeth -"

She shook her head, not looking at him. "Don't worry, I won't be leaving instantly, I'll stay until I know that Fili and Kili are safe, as I promised, but after the battle …"

"No …" he said, his voice breaking. He reached up his other hand to cup her other cheek as well, urging her to look at him, his hands cradling her face gently for fear of hurting her again. "Elizabeth, do you love me?" he demanded in a whisper, his face so close to hers.

He felt her take a sharp breath, her hands coming up to grip his wrists, her nails leaving crescent-moon shaped indents on his skin. "This –" She swallowed hard. "This is not what love should be like," she breathed, her wide eyes staring into his, their faces so close together. "This hurts, Thorin," she admitted painfully, her voice cracking, her breath hot on his mouth. "It's - it's raw and aching and it pulls me in different directions."

"The hottest fires forge the hardest steel, does it not stand to reason that the greatest trials forge the strongest love?" he put to her, tilting his head to press his lips once, briefly, to hers. "Stay with me, please," he entreated, leaning forward to claim her mouth once again.

They kissed for a long moment, his hands sliding back into her golden hair to hold her to him, before she broke away. Breathing heavily, she pressed her forehead into his, her hands tightly fisted in the material of his under-shirt – she seemed as unwilling to let him go as he was to release her. "And … " she was breathing heavily, seemingly struggling to find her words. "There is... something about the story that I never told you," she whispered to him, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. "I think … I think I have always been afraid to."

He waited for a long moment, holding her to him, and she eventually opened her eyes, still clutching him tightly in turn. "You die in the battle as well," she whispered wretchedly to him.

Keeping her in the circle of his arms, Thorin drew back ever so slightly, his gaze sweeping over her face. His thoughts were not for himself or his fate, but rather he wondered if this was the reason she would not cleave to him: she thought him doomed.

Elizabeth was breathing deeply and quickly as she continued, clearly distressed. "You, and Fili, and Kili - the whole line of Durin, and in that respect, Azog wins," she told him bleakly. Then, seemingly unable to stop herself, she pressed her lips to his once more, quick and desperate – a gallows kiss, he thought. "And I definitely can't stay if there is no one to stay for," she breathed against his mouth.

"You … told me back in Rivendell that we succeeded, that we reclaim the mountain and I become king," he reminded her – it was not an accusation of falsehood, rather he was somewhat bewildered by her words.

She smiled: a small, sad smile that fairly pierced his chest. "You're king now, aren't you?" she asked him, nodding down at the crown that rested on the floor. Then she slowly released her fierce clutch on his shirt, disentangling herself from him and taking a step back. "And I guess … this is the time that you decide what kind of king you want to be."

He watched her as she made to leave him, but then, seemingly remembering something, she turned, digging her hand in her pocket. "Oh, and one last thing ..." she said simply, walking passed him and climbing up the stairs to the dais.

Bracing one knee on the stone seat of the throne, she absolutely stunned him by reaching up and putting the Arkenstone into its proper place.

Thorin exhaled shakily as he stared at it – the Arkenstone, the Kingsjewel, the heart of the mountain – shining brightly and brilliantly in its pride of place, casting its light down on the throne below. It was a thing of complete and utter beauty, clear and shining in that ruined, desolate and dark throne room.

Breaking his gaze from its mesmerizing brilliance, he turned and saw Elizabeth half-way down the hall, her shoulders hunched as she walked away from him.

He made to call after her and then paused, remembering what she had asked him. What do you want, Thorin?

He glanced at the Arkenstone, remembering the image of his future he had been shown at Rivendell in which he was standing before the throne, in this very spot even, with the Arkenstone above him, with his nephews and his son by his side and his daughter running into his arms. And suddenly he imagined more, he imagined the conversations – Kili telling him about trade with the Woodland Realm, his daughter babbling in his ear about their trip down to visit the markets of Dale with her mother. He imagined turning with his children in his arms and beside him and seeing Elizabeth approaching the throne, a soft and beaming smile on her face.

It was a possible future he had been shown, and that meant that there was a way they could win, that his nephews could survive and Elizabeth would stay.

He was one of the few in the world who was free to decide their destiny, and he had been choosing to drive her away – she had told him before not to ask her to choose where she would make her home, but still he had pushed and demanded it from her anyway.

He'd been so selfish, he realised suddenly. Battle was coming, a battle in which he knew his nephews died, and he was being utterly selfish, barricading himself in the mountain, choosing to pay attention to the enemies he had believed were before him as opposed to the enemies that he knew were coming. One greedy and sycophantic man had demanded more than his due and he had condemned the entire town for it.

No more.

He was stronger than this, better than this. He could rise above the Master's demands, swallow his pride and fight alongside the Elves. He had the Arkenstone, he was truly a king.

He remembered telling Elizabeth back in Ered Mithrin that she was a fierce diplomat – she had nearly forged an alliance between the three races of Middle Earth, if only he would now do his part.

Fortune favoured the prepared; she was right about that, they needed a plan of attack and they needed to form these alliances if they were to be victorious.

But she was wrong about one thing though - it was not prosperity his people needed, it was peace.

And, somehow, the treasure didn't even come into it.


Dun dun DAHH!

I want to say such a BIG thank you to all you guys – over 2000 reviews, with over 100 of those on the last chapter alone. I am so happy and just want to love and squish you all in massive glomping hugs!

Massive thank you to Gem for proofing once again – it was a bit of a job this time, my spelling and grammar were somewhat atrocious in the first draft, I was just too excited to get this chapter out.

Let me know what you guys think of the chapter, and remember if you have any questions you can either PM me on here or on my tumblr ~kindle-the-stars, where you will find lots of other nerdy spam :)

Also, sorry if the quote format threw anyone off - I wanted to use both halves of the poem at the top on either side of the page but the site freaked out and messed up all my formatting, hence separating the quote between the two sections instead.