"Countless choices define our fate ... Each choice, each moment, a ripple in the river of time.

Enough ripples and you can change the tide,

For the future is never truly set."

X-men – Days of Future Past


Bilbo was standing with the rest of the company, hovering slightly behind them as they stood on the ramparts to watch Miss Lizzy walk away back in the direction of Dale with her Elvish escort. The company had been talking in hushed voices since that morning, when Thorin had denied the Master's outrageous demand for gold, and were discussing their options – none of them agreed with Thorin's warlike attitude, but he was the king and they had to follow him. They had been discussing it round and round in circles until Bilbo had volunteered to go and get Miss Lizzy from Dale.

None of them knew what she had said to Thorin, but she had emerged from the throne room and into the entryway with her hair mussed but her face strangely blank, hiding her emotions. Her goodbye had been soft and quiet, giving them a small smile and bestowing quick hugs upon several of them, before she had swung her leg over the rampart and started to climb back down the ladder.

They watched her walk away in silence, then Bilbo became aware of Thorin standing behind him – he was no longer wearing his crown or fur-lined coat, dressed in just his dark blue, faded under-shirt and breeches. "She left," he said quietly, his voice pitched so that only Bilbo could hear – it was not a question.

Bilbo nodded. "There was an Elvish escort waiting for her below the gates," he said by way of explanation.

The others had noticed Thorin's presence among them. "Uncle, what is going on?" Kili asked wearily, sounding exhausted with the whole proceedings.

"Come, we have work to do," Thorin replied, neglecting to properly answer Kili's question; his face was set into lines of grim determination and the light of the sun that was starting to set in the west, far over the Misty Mountains, caught in his eyes. He turned around jerkily, gesturing for them to follow. "Come on, all of you," he ordered sternly, his tone brooking no refusal. "No one rests tonight."

They all followed him with hesitant resignation as he stalked through the dark corridors until they reached a large chamber containing shelves upon shelves of armour and weapons, from chainmail and spears, to shields and maces. Thorin gestured towards the weapons. "Arm yourselves, the best that can be found," he ordered brusquely and the company shared wary looks amongst themselves at this warlike attitude – those looks quickly turned to surprise at Thorin's next words. "Then get the rest of it onto wagons, there must be some to be found somewhere."

There was a brief silence as the meaning of his words sunk in. "Wagons?" Balin asked hesitantly.

"Aye, the Elves are armed well enough, but you saw what the garrison of Lake Town wore: boiled leather and pointed round caps," Thorin said distractedly, busy examining a regal suit of gold-plated armour that stood on an ornamental plinth in the middle of the chamber. "I doubt their blades have even seen a whetstone in years."

"You're going to … give them weapons?" Dwalin said, his usually gruff voice filled with surprise.

Thorin cast him a dark look. "Loan them, there is a difference," he clarified, and it was almost as if the entire company let out a collective sigh of relief – whatever Miss Lizzy had said had clearly gotten through to him.

Thorin then gestured impatiently at them since they were all standing around staring at him and there was a sudden flurry of activity. The company started to gather their weapons and armour, meanwhile Thorin was barking out orders – Oin and Gloin were to examine the walls, to see what remained of the catapults and what could feasibly be repaired before the battle, whereas the Brother's Ur were to begin construction on a new gate.

Bilbo saw Thorin drawing Kili to one side sometime later to speak with him: Kili had been chosen to go down to Dale to speak to Bard and the Elven-king since he had fought alongside the people of Lake Town when Smaug had attacked and, of all the Dwarves, he had a strange affinity with the Elves. He was to invite them to come and discuss terms and a plan for the battle.

The Hobbit watched as Thorin slowly, hesitantly, reached into his pocket and then handed Kili a small bundle wrapped in cloth. Kili frowned in confusion as he flicked the cloth open, and then the young Dwarf's mouth fell open at the sight of the Arkenstone in his hand. He looked questioningly up at his uncle.

Thorin said something softly to him, but Bilbo could not make out the words.

Kili nodded once, covered the stone once more and pocketed it before turning to leave.

Bilbo waited until Kili had departed before going to join Thorin, who was watching his nephew leave. There was a brief silence between them, then Bilbo rocked forward on his toes before speaking. "She gave it to you," he said, referring to the Arkenstone.

Thorin nodded, frowning slightly and seeming to be deep in thought. "Aye, though she did not tell me where she had found it, or why she withheld it from me," he said somewhat dully, still looking down the corridor. His hands were clenched into fists at his side and the tension was evident in his shoulders.

"Does it matter?" The Hobbit asked plainly, looking sideways at him.

Thorin's frown deepened further, his expression growing even more thoughtful. "No, I suppose it doesn't," he allowed eventually, his voice gravelly. "But I still want to know."

Bilbo hesitated, mustering his courage. "I had it," he admitted, almost losing his nerve when Thorin turned to face him, his brow furrowed into a deep scowl. "I took it."

"You?" the Dwarf-king demanded, a queer note in his voice.

He nodded carefully, then tilted his head to one side. "I may be a burglar, but I like to think I am an honest one," he said, looking cautiously up at him and pressing his lips tightly together. "I didn't like to take it, but I was ... afraid for you."

There was another long, tense silence, and then Thorin exhaled a deep breath and looked down at the ground. "And I believe that you had good reason to be," he said, so quietly it was almost inaudible.

Bilbo let out a silent sigh of relief, almost unable to believe that Thorin wasn't furious and raving at him for his actions. He nodded once at the Dwarf and then went to move to one side, leaving him in his brief moment of solitude while the rest of the company bustled around. He was instantly called back. "Bilbo," Thorin said, catching his attention and making the Hobbit turn around once more. Thorin was holding out a piece of fine, bright chainmail in his direction, which he had apparently picked from the shelves upon shelves of armour behind him. "Here, I believe this would suit you well."

"Wha – but -" he started to say, staring with wide eyes at the brilliantly silver links of metal, augmented with a collar studded with pearl and white gems.

"It is mithril, silvered steel," Thorin said, handing the mithril shirt it to him – it was cold as ice in his hands, hard as steel and supple as linen. "No blade will be able to pierce it."

"This is ridiculous, I am not a warrior, I'm a Hobbit," he protested once more, but Thorin simply shook his head, dismissing his protests.

"Consider it a gift, a token of our friendship," he insisted, his voice deep and gravelly. "An honest thief indeed, but also a well-meaning one." Thorin clasped Bilbo briefly on the shoulder, his expression open and genuine. "You did what a good friend would, and for that you have my thanks, Master Burglar."


Lizzy was starving by the time she reached Dale again; the sun was setting and she hadn't eaten or drunk anything since a hasty breakfast before the Master had arrived at the gates, and it had been a trying day to say the least. She was highly grateful to find a meal laid out in Thranduil's pavilion and, unlike at the Feast of Starlight, she had no qualms now about eating the Elven-kings food.

She was also pleased to find her belongings that she had left scattered all over the floor of the guardroom had also been bought from the Woodland Realm; her clothing was neatly folded and resting atop of it were several of the miscellaneous items from her world that she had bought with her. She picked up the purple plastic lighter, smiling to herself as she remembered Bifur teaching her to use a flint and tinder, and tested it, staring at the bright, yellow flame; she pocketed it thoughtlessly and then touched the top of her small first aid kit, thinking of when she had patched up Thorin after their adventure in Goblin-Town.

Bard entered the pavilion about an hour later, finding her slumped in one of the chairs with her legs drawn up under her chin, sipping from a glass of Thranduil's (admittedly excellent) red wine as she stared absently down at the large map spread across the table.

"There is a messenger from the mountain," he said simply, and Lizzy's head jerked up to see Kili standing in the entryway behind Bard. He was more warlike than she had ever seen him, dressed in heavy chainmail and wearing a new sword at his side, his customary bow slung across his back. He entered the tent, his back straight, and nodded respectfully in Thranduil's direction.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at him from where he was sitting in his ornate chair. "How is your leg?" he said by way of greeting, his voice snide and pointed – Lizzy remembered the last time Kili had been before the Elven-king, when he had been thrown back into the dungeons regardless of his injury, and braced herself for Kili's rude reply.

Surprisingly, Kili was untroubled by his words. "Better, thanks to the kind assistance of your Captain," he retorted mildly, then glanced at Bard to make sure that they were both listening. "I have been sent with a proposition from Thorin, one that will hopefully suit everyone."

The two kings shared a brief look and Bard gestured for him to continue. "First, do you know how close the orc armies are?" Kili asked, all seriousness.

"My scouts have reported that they are a few days march from here, we expect the attack any time two days hence," Thranduil said simply.

"Then we have some time," Kili said, nodding once. He took another step into the pavilion, spreading his hands slightly. "Now, Thorin believes that there is a way that our three races can be mutually beneficial to each other, both on the battle field and with what may follow after. Would you be willing to come to Erebor tomorrow to discuss this and the coming battle in greater detail?" Lizzy sucked in a sharp breath while Thranduil and Bard shared another look, and Kili added, "You are guaranteed safe passage, of course."

There was a brief pause, then they both nodded almost in unison. "Very well, tomorrow, at dawn then," Bard said, inclining his head slightly at Kili.

He nodded in response and then turned to Lizzy for the first time, who had been following the conversation with her lips slightly parted in surprise. "Lizzy, a word?" he asked, gesturing for her to join him.

Lizzy put down her wineglass and scrambled to her feet, trotting out of the pavilion after Kili. She immediately grabbed his sleeve. "What is he planning?" she demanded, unable to believe that Thorin was inviting them to the mountain. "Please tell me it isn't a trick."

Kili shook his head. "It's not," he assured her. "I don't know what you said to him, but he is turning the mountain upside down with preparations." He hesitated, and then dug into his pocket, pulling out a small wrapped bundle. "And … he asked me to give you this," he said, holding it out to her.

She knew what it was even before she took it, nevertheless she unwrapped the cloth to reveal the Arkenstone sitting in the palm of her hand, shining brightly against the tattered material. She looked back at Kili. "I don't understand," she said, shaking her head slightly - she had given this to him barely more than an hour ago, it made no sense for him to return it.

"He said … he said that without you his world may as well turn to ash," Kili explained simply, giving her a small smile at her stunned look. He then glanced in the direction of the mountain. "I had best return. I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, and Lizzy nodded, hugging him quickly before he left.

She was standing outside the pavilion for a long moment and staring down at the stone in her hand when Thranduil spoke behind her. "An interesting position you have been placed in," he said melodiously, his head tilted to one side as he looked at the Arkenstone, the light catching in his eyes. "The one who wields the Arkenstone controls the seven armies of the Dwarves."

Lizzy took a deep breath and then shoved the stone in her pocket, unsure of what to make of Thorin returning it to her. "I think that only counts if you are actually a Dwarf," she told him without looking at him, still shaken and confused.

"As I understand it, you have been accepted into their clans," Thranduil pointed out, and Lizzy remembered the Firebeard pendant that was safely zipped into her other pocket, her hand instinctively reaching down to squeeze it through the material of her trousers.

She turned around to face Thranduil and then found that she simply did not have the energy for a conversation, certainly not one as charged and cryptic as they were wont to be with the Elven-king. "... I am going to go to bed," she said tiredly. "Goodnight."

Leaving the old market square where Thranduil's pavilion had been erected, she went to go and find Tauriel, whom she had been told that she would be sharing a room with upon her arrival earlier. People were spread out all over the city and the red-haired Elf had taken quarters in an old, abandoned house that was partially missing one wall. The beds may be old and rickety, but the blankets that the Elves had bought with them were warm and soft; Lizzy had certainly slept in worse places and she was not about to complain.

She found that Tauriel had already retired for the night, though she was not yet asleep. Her long hair was plaited into a single braid over her shoulder and she was laying in one of the beds with one arm raised up behind her head.

Lizzy gave her a small smile as she walked in, conscious that she didn't exactly know the Elf very well. "Are you sure you don't mind me crashing here tonight?" she asked, lingering in the doorway.

"Crashing?" she repeated in confusion, a crease appearing between her finely arched brows.

"Um, sleeping," Lizzy explained, then gave a small laugh as she toed off her boots; it had been some time since she had had to think about her other-worldly language, the company being long since accustomed to her sometimes strange way of speaking. "Sorry, sometimes I forget that people don't know the lingo from my world."

"And lingo is … language?" Tauriel asked, watching her with fascination.

"Yeah," she said, shrugging off her Dwarvern coat and draping it over the end of the bed before climbing in fully clothed, having nothing else to wear.

There was a brief silence, then Tauriel spoke again. "I had not realised when we met that you were from another world," she said conversationally, the curiosity evident in her voice.

"It is not exactly something I bandy about," she told her, remembering how determined she had been to keep her foreknowledge a secret from the Elven-king, especially when he had handed her the guidebook her parents had given her. Lizzy sighed and bit her lip, staring up at the ceiling: even just the briefest thought of her parents was causing her to miss them intensely. "Strange to think that I might be back there in just a few days," she said, almost to herself.

"You are reluctant to go back," Tauriel observed, correctly reading the note of sadness in her voice. The Elf nodded sympathetically, her expression thoughtful. "I understand that."

"You do?" Lizzy asked, tilting her head on the pillow to look at her.

"My experiences outside of the forest have been brief compared to yours, of course, but I am still changed by them," she explained simply, gazing up at the ceiling in turn. "I believe that a life that once fit comfortably will no longer do so."

"... Yeah," she agreed, thinking how strange it would be to go back to her old life – a life in which she would never hold a sword or a bow, never cook over a fire or sleep outdoors; a life in which she would simply get a job and a flat, where she would go to a bar with friends and watch TV in the evenings … a life without the company, without Thorin.

And that life, her home and her world, had never seemed more distant than it had in that moment … but no, that wasn't quite right – that life was back within her grasp just as soon as the battle was over, but she had never felt further away from it.

"Get some sleep, you look like you need it," Tauriel said kindly to her and Lizzy offered a wan smile in response before turning over onto her side, putting a stop to any further conversation.

She knew that sleep would be a long time in coming, if it came at all.


The next morning Lizzy, Gandalf, Thranduil and Bard all made their way to the mountain, with Lizzy sitting behind the Wizard on his horse. They dismounted below the gates of Erebor, tethering the horses (or, in Thranduil's case, elk) so that they wouldn't wander off. Bofur's face appeared above the ramparts above them, the sides of his hat flapping slightly, and he waved at them. "Hullo, up you come," he called cheerfully, enlisting Dori's help to lower the ladder down; she couldn't' help but notice that both of them were dressed in fine, chainmail armour, much like Kili had been.

Bard and Thranduil shared a look, meanwhile Gandalf went straight for the ladder. Lizzy was the last to ascend; she was nervous as she swung her leg over the stone at the top of the rampart, not having any idea what to expect.

The feeling was similar to when Thorin had announced that he was not taking the Elven-path at the Forest Gate of Mirkwood – the knowledge that he was changing the path and nothing would be the same. But the feeling was different as well; this wasn't Thorin stubbornly digging in his heels against a path that had already been laid before him, this was him making the conscious decision to make alliances with those that he had once deemed enemies.

Lingering on the top of the walkway, she saw Thorin greeting Bard and the Elven-king with what was not quite courtesy, but rather stiff and reluctant politeness. His eyes flicked up to her up on the ramparts. Their gazes locked and in that brief moment he looked … vulnerable, almost, his hands slowly clenching into fists by his sides.

He dropped his gaze and gestured for the others to follow him, and they vanished through one of the passageways that lead deeper into the mountain.

Lizzy descended to the entryway, frowning to discover several of the Dwarves working away at a huge, thick slab of wood, hammering in nails and fitting hinges. "What are you doing?" she asked curiously, recognising their work as a door.

Bombur nodded towards the old gate, which was now barricaded with stone. "Well, we can't exactly be climbing up and down ladders during the battle now, can we?" he said, gesturing with his hammer.

Then she saw another shape in the gloom, the dawn light not having fully penetrated the mountain yet: it was a wagon, the wood cracked and faded, but still sturdy, filled with stone and rubble, clearly waiting to be hitched to a horse. "Is that a wagon?" she asked somewhat redundantly, fumbling her words – she could see that it was a wagon, what she meant was 'why is this wagon of stone here?'

"Aye, all ready to go," Balin said, nodding.

Lizzy walked passed the rubble and found another wagon, this one filled with armour and weapons – she rested one hand on the wood and took a deep breath; she almost hadn't believed it, had been frightened to hope, but now, seeing it before her, she could not deny the truth of Thorin's change of heart.

She quickly turned and looked down the passageway that Thorin and the others had taken, seeing no sign of them. Following her searching gaze, Balin put down his tools. "He will have taken them to the old council chamber," he explained, dusting off his hands. "Follow me, lass."

They walked in silence down several corridors and up a flight of stairs, then Lizzy heard Thorin's deep voice ahead of them.

" … with a battle coming there is little time to hammer out the finer details of an alliance, but Lake-Town is in dire need of materials for repairs, primarily stone and timber," she heard him say. "If the Elves agree, timber can be cut from Mirkwood and floated down the river as rafts."

Lizzy and Balin entered the chamber, which contained numerous stone seats set into a circle around the walls and a large stone table in the centre, unnoticed by the rest of the room who were seated on the stone chairs. She hovered unobtrusively by the door as Thorin jerked his chin in Thranduil's direction. "If I remember correctly, you have an affinity for silver and emeralds," he worked his jaw briefly, seemingly biting out the words with difficulty. "We can include some of the hoards finest pieces within the share of the treasure already promised to the people of Lake-Town, which can be used to pay the Elves for their assistance."

The breath Lizzy had been holding rushed out of her audibly – this was real, he was actually making alliances with them.

Bard had one elbow resting on the arm rest of his chair, his hand lightly covering his chin. "And where will we get the stone?" he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

"From Erebor, of course," Thorin replied.

The former-Bargeman frowned deeply. "In exchange for more gold, no doubt," he said with a hint of anger. "It seems we are being rewarded only to have it snatched back from our fingers."

"No, the stone will be given freely as a gesture of good faith," Thorin told him plainly – an announcement that was met with silence. Lizzy raised her hand to her mouth, her roiling emotions almost overwhelming her – he was actually fighting it, he was forging alliances and making plans.

Even dressed in his muddied and worn travelling clothes, she thought that he had never looked more like a king than he had in that moment.

The Elven-king was almost lounging in his own seat. "You mentioned mutual beneficiary, I cannot see the profit for the Dwarves in this scheme," he pointed out after a long moment, his voice deep and musical.

Thorin hesitated a moment, thinking through his words, and then spoke slowly. "Dwarves will be coming back to live in Erebor. We grow little of our own and in times of old we relied on the people of the area for food-stuffs," he explained. "Much of the farmland area around Lake-Town was highly fertile, growing food that was bought by the Dwarves. If the people of Dale and Lake Town prosper, so will we."

"Farmland that has long since been razed by dragonfire," Thranduil countered.

"Are fields not burnt to make them fertile for the next years crop?" Bard put in, spreading his hands slightly – he seemed wary of Thorin's offered olive branch, but was unwilling to look a gift-horse in the mouth. "Farms can be rebuilt along with Lake-Town and Dale, some of the townsfolk might welcome the opportunity to own a farm."

"And I hardly need point out the boost in the economy that Lake-Town will no doubt experience in the next few years," Thorin said, and she remembered what he had said at the feast about how the rive had run with gold, how Dale and Lake-Town were the centre of trade in the North.

"Aren't we jumping the gun a bit here?" Lizzy couldn't help but point out from her position at the door – she was elated that they were cooperating, but she thought that they had greater issues to be discussing than crops and farms. "I mean, first we must get through a battle."

Thorin looked up at her, his gaze inscrutable. Then he nodded once, gesturing for her to come and join them, including her in their discussion. "Aye, but discussing these terms, however briefly, gives us a foundation of good will from which to work from," he explained as she tentatively sat on the stone seat beside him. "I wish for this to be a lasting alliance, not one simply born out of necessity." Again, he sounded like the words were slightly bitter in his mouth, but it was what was being said, rather than his tone, that was important.

"But Elizabeth is right," Gandalf said from his corner of the room, where he was stood smoking. "We must discuss the coming battle."

Thranduil stood and spread the large, rolled-up map that he had been holding across the stone table in the centre and they all stood to gather around. "We suspect that the orcs will sweep down from the north, passed Ravenhill, as well as attacking from the East," he explained, pointing his long fingers down at the parchment.

Thorin tapped the ink drawing of the mountain, then the city. "So we have Erebor and Dale as two strongholds, while the battle will no doubt take place on the planes between," he surmised.

"Dale is weak," Bard said, resignation clear in his voice. "The walls are ruined in places, we have started fortifying them but we don't have the stone."

The corner of Thorin's mouth tilted up ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. "I thought that would be the case, and it just so happens that Erebor is not lacking in rubble," he said. "You saw what our company did with the gate, they can easily give you guidance. There are some old wagons in Erebor, which have already been filled with stone. Send for some strong horses and, with your permission, my people could get started instantly." He straightened up, one hand resting on the table as he looked at Bard. "The walls will be crude, but they will hold for some time."

The former-Bargeman looked surprised, but he quickly schooled his expression. "We would be grateful," he said simply, genuinely.

Thorin looked at Lizzy, almost as if to gather his strength, and then continued, "Erebor also holds many weapons, shields and pieces of armour," he said, folding his arms over his chest. "These can be loaned to the people of Lake Town on the condition that they all be returned afterwards."

The conversation continued between the three kings and Gandalf drew Lizzy quietly to one side. "Well done, my dear," he said, his voice rasping faintly.

Tearing her gaze from Thorin, she looked up at him in confusion. "Me? I didn't do anything."

"You befriended both Bard and Thranduil by keeping your promises to both, and you spoke with Thorin earlier," Gandalf reminded her, looking over towards where the three of them were leaning over the map. "Do you really believe that this is not your doing?"

Lizzy hugged her arms around herself, staring at Thorin standing beside those who he had once considered his enemies, and did not reply. They were not out of the woods yet – hell, there was still so much that could potentially go wrong, but she couldn't help it – she felt hope.


It was late in the morning when their discussion, which had dissolved into battle plans and tactics, drew to a close. They had discussed everything, debating numerous ideas back and forth, from the placement of Elven archers along the walls of both strongholds, to food rations, to the safest place for the women and children during the battle. Thorin had surprised everyone by suggesting the mountain as a safe place, being both strong and fortified, but Bard was hesitant and it had yet to be agreed upon.

With the conversation winding down, Thorin asked Balin to take both Bard and Thranduil to show them the battlements, to further discuss the placement of arches and to see the old catapults, deciding what could be prepared in time.

They left the council chamber and Thorin turned to Elizabeth. "Elizabeth, a word?" he asked, then glanced at Gandalf, who had not followed the others and was lingering in the doorway. "In private," he added pointedly.

The Wizard huffed out a breath of smoke, gave Elizabeth a piercing look, and then turned to amble out of the room. Thorin waited until he had vanished through the archway before tentatively holding his hand out Elizabeth. "Will you come with me?" he asked, his hand outstretched – he wanted her company right now: these alliances and discussions were trying and difficult, it had been scant hours ago that he had considered these people to be his enemies.

Wordlessly, trustingly, she slipped her hand into his own much larger one in lieu of a reply and allowed him to lead her from the chamber. They walked in silence along several corridors and then down a staircase that lead them into the treasure chamber.

"What are we doing in here?" she asked, pausing on the steps and casting a small frown in his direction when she realised where it was he was leading her.

"I have a request to make of you," he said honestly – now was perhaps not the most ideal time, but with the battle in which he could very well die looming mere days away, there was a strong and worrying chance that he might not be able to ask it of her afterwards.

"Which is?" she said, still scowling faintly.

Thorin hesitated, wondering if she would argue with him over this, but then pressed on. "Before anything is sectioned off, you must pick at least one thing that you want for yourself," he told her simply.

She cocked her head to one side, glancing at the veritable sea of gold and gems below them before returning her gaze to him. "... Why?" she asked, sounding genuinely confused.

He took a breath, taking the time to weigh up and phrase his next words carefully. "You no longer have the necklace," he replied, making a conscious effort to keep his tone devoid of any accusation. "It would … please me if you had some token." He dropped his gaze, finding himself unable to look her in the eyes. "Even if it is simply something to take back to your own world," he finished quietly, aware of her scrutiny.

There was a long silence between them. "... Alright," she agreed eventually, and then she laughed, breaking the tension that was thick in the air. "I don't know how I am meant to choose from all of this though," she said, smiling as she started to descend the stairs again.

He followed her silently as she stepped out onto the gold, which clinked and rang beneath her feet, watching her as she looked curiously down at the myriad treasures within the hall. The vast majority of the treasure was made up of golden coins, cast with his grandfathers' likeness, but there were numerous jewels and augmentations to be found.

With her lips pressed tightly together in obvious amusement, the first item she picked up was a large long-sword, encrusted with jewels at the hilt. She could barely lift it, she certainly couldn't swing it, but nevertheless she turned expectantly towards him as if to seek his opinion.

Fighting a smile, Thorin shook his head.

With a shrug, she tossed the sword away, sending coins scattering.

The next item she picked up was a highly ostentatious cross between a crown and a headdress – he found that he could not help a small chuckle escaping him when it instantly slipped down over her eyes. "What? I think it is very elegant," she said demurely, holding it in place with both hands and grinning at him.

"And I think that you are not taking this seriously," he retorted, schooling his expression.

"No, I am," she said, dropping the headdress and giving him a mock-serious look – and in spite of the looming threat of battle and death, Thorin could not help but feel his heart lift slightly: this was the first time he had seen her truly teasing and playful since Mirkwood. He needed these moments of innocent companionship and levity before the battle and the dark days that were coming, he realised … he needed her.

Wordlessly, he gestured for her to continue looking and then silently followed her as she explored further into the treasure chamber for some minutes. He knew instantly that she had found something that she liked when she paused and slowly bent down to pick it up, facing away from him.

"You have found something?" he asked, stepping closer – she glanced over her shoulder at him, her gaze inscrutable, and still he could not see what she held, whatever it was she had found was concealed in the palm of her hand

Slowly, with her eyes lowered, she turned around. Then, carefully, with the chain looped around her fingers, she lifted it to show him.

It was a fine, delicately wrought mithril chain, upon which hung a single, small pearl – a rarity, since they were so far from the sea. In fact, there was probably little over two dozen items that contained pearl in some shape or form in the entire treasure hoard; as such, pearls were valued and cherished above many other gems that could be mined from the earth.

It suited her, he thought - far from its place of origin, simple, delicate but also strong and lustrous – yes, it suited her well. More so than the white gems of Lasgalen had – they were beautiful, to be sure, gems fit for a queen, but they had also been ostentatious, contrasting to her faded cotton shirts, her leather Dwarvish coat and her loose, nearly constantly tangled hair.

Plucking it from her fingers, he gestured for her to turn around. She did so, lifting her hair out of the way with one hand so that he could fasten the chain around her neck. He noticed that she was also wearing her Firebeard pendant again, which hung low on her décolletage, the ring he had also given her nestled on the chain alongside it, whereas the delicate mithril and pearl necklace was close to her throat.

They looked well together, the pendant that showed her acceptance into the clans, the ring he had given to her to mark his intention to marry her, even though she had not known what it meant at the time, and now this delicate pearl necklace – a token, not a possessive brand as the other necklace had been.

Unable to help himself, Thorin dropped a quick kiss on the side of her neck, just above the fine chain. "Ma gisherva," he breathed against her skin.

She instantly tensed, turning around to frown at him. "I told you not to call me that," she said sternly, the playful glimmer fading from her eyes.

"You are that which I treasure most in the world," he told her honestly. "I do not seek to claim and possess you any more than I wish for you to claim and possess me." He paused, trying to find his words, and then reached out to lightly take both of her hands. "I was wrong before - I will not ask you to stay, to choose, but you need to know that I want it with every fibre of my being." His thumbs swept over her palms and he heard her breath catch. "And if you do decide to stay then I will endeavour every day to make you happy."

Elizabeth's eyes were very bright, even while she was still frowning at him. "You're making this very difficult for me, you know," she told him almost reproachfully, a faint hitch in her voice.

"That is my intention," he admitted, keeping hold of her hands. "So long as your choice is not yet made I still have hope."

She cocked her head at him. "And what if it's … not my choice to make?" she asked seriously, looking slightly sad.

He didn't understand – of course it was her choice, it had always been her choice; he had known that there would never be another for him from the moment she had reciprocated his kiss in the cells of Mirkwood. Seeing his confused look, she half shrugged and elaborated. "Gandalf has said that I can't stay. And he is right, I know things about the future beyond this quest, it's dangerous."

He wanted to say he would protect her, that he would always keep her safe – but he could not pressure her. "Gandalf cannot command you to go, no more than I can command you to stay," he settled on saying, trying to find hope in the fact that it seemed that it was duty, rather than desire, that was causing her to lean towards returning to her world. "Your choices are yours, and yours alone."

She gave him a small, grateful smile – but the moment between them was broken when they heard the faint sound of a horn. Both of them looked towards the main entrance to the treasure chamber, wondering what was going on. They then glanced at each other quickly and silently made the decision to go and investigate. Releasing one of her hands, but keeping hold of the other, Thorin pulled her along as they half-jogged to the entry-way.

Most of the company was up on the ramparts, looking out at the plains before the gates and muttering amongst themselves. Thorin dropped Elizabeth's hand and hastened up the ladder to see for himself what had caught their attention – then his breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked, scrambling up the ladder slower than him due to her injured shoulder.

"It's ... Dain," he said simply, looking out at the army of Dwarves before his gates.


Phew, this chapter is finally complete – took a little longer than usual since my muse was taking a holiday in 1940's America. For those who have not seen Agent Carter yet, I heartily recommend that you go and watch it. I am currently sailing on the good ship Cartson (yes, he is a sexist arse-hole but I am a sucker for character development and I love what he has the potential to become) so you might well be seeing a few more AC one-shots from me, though I am refraining from doing any multi-chaptered stories until STL is finished, this is my priority :)

Speaking of which, only a few more chapters to go - Eek!

As always, reviews are loved and appreciated, and you can follow any updates, sneak peeks and general nerdy spam on my tumblr ~kindle-the-stars

Love and hugs to you all! x