7/03/2020 Author's Note: Hi. So, I know it's been awhile, something like two years (30 of September 2018 if you wish to be exact), since I last posted a chapter for this fic, but I was watching Battle of Five Armies on TV tonight (I still cried, even after all these years) and something stirred me that wanted to post chapters that were already written (and had been written for years) and were jusy sitting on my USB gathering metaphorical dust.

I don't know how many of you are still interested in this fic (or in my others; The Most Precious of Treasures or Home is Behind, the World Ahead - which I updated only a little while ago if anyone is interested), but if you wish to leave a review to let me know, I will see what I can do. But I do understand that it has been a few years and people do move on.

Anyway, thank you for reading these Author's Notes and hope you enjoy this chapter... Anyone remember Athura? We're hanging out with her this chapter.


Chapter Twenty-One

Athura rode ahead of the Iron Hill's army, her eyes set upon the massive lone mountain that rose in the distance before them. From around her she can hear the quiet talk of soldiers, but she does not contribute anything to their conversation, politely turning down offers of inclusion. She knows what most are speaking of and she would rather keep her own thoughts on the matter to herself.

She was, in a way, glad that she had heard about it first in a letter from her father; even if it had been written in a bitter, harsh tone that had made her heart break just that little bit more.

She knew that Thorin had found another, had even suspected that it was his company's burglar who now possessed his heart. But there was quite a difference between suspecting the truth, to being told in a cold, bitter fashion as it had been in her father's letter.

She had cried herself to sleep that night she had received the letter, the night before she and the rest of the Iron Hill's army were to set out to Erebor.

The following morning Runora had patted her arm sympathetically, having obviously received a similiar letter from Dain informing her of Thorin's attachment to the hobbit lass and asked her if she was alright.

And even now, three days on, Athura has no idea what her answer is to Runora's question.

Is she alright?

No, no she isn't but at the same time she feels an immense sense of guilt over the thought that she isn't fine with the idea of Thorin being in love with another, a halfling no less.

She had no right to feel hurt regarding the news that Thorin was in love with another. No right to feel betrayed or rejected.

When they had met again a few weeks ago, she had felt a little ember of hope start to burn in her heart when all he had been able to do was stare at her, unable to properly form words.

And then afterwards simply looked at her with sad eyes, sapphire holding old pain and love. But then the hope had spluttered when Thorin's attention was turned to the hobbit lass, the company's burglar, who was clearly adored by his fellow dwarves.

She had watched him watch her, the way his eyes remained train on her as the halfling had looked around Iron Hill's city with wonder, or the way she shied away when an unfriendly look was thrown her way – his scowl was frightening whenever this happened, his expression clearly showing a desire to protect the fragile little woman with bare, hairy feet.

And in return, the halfling would meet his gaze in an unguarded fashion, a tentative smile playing upon her lips and unquestionable warmth and affection for him filling her bright brown eyes.

Even before Thorin had revealed that there was another in his life, Athura had known it was this woman. But even though she had known this, she had still tried to reach out to him, to show him that she still cared and wanted, oh how she still wanted, from the very depths of her heart, to be his wife and queen.

He had been gentle, surprisingly so, for she remembered his pain and rage when he had been told of the breaking of their betrothal by her father, remembered how he had begged her – and Thorin was one who did not beg, not unless he was utterly desperate – to come with him and what was left of his kin, promising fervently that one day they would reclaim Erebor and avenge all who had been slaughter in Smaug's desolation.

But she had refused, tears streaming down her face, she had refused him, and left him to go with her father to Iron Hills and married another – who was not him, could never be him – and bore him a son before becoming a widow far too early in her life when her husband was killed by a random mining accident. The mines roof had caved in and her husband had received a deadly blow to his skull.

She had cried for a solid week and mourned for a year, but her heart was a treacherous thing.

She had loved her late husband, but not nearly so well as she had loved Thorin.

And now she could not stop herself but wonder if the love she bore for him was far greater than what he had ever felt towards her.

How else could he come to love another while her heart still beat for him?

It hurt and there was a part of her that felt angry, so angry and betrayed but then along would come the guilt, festering within her and she is right back where she started, lost and confused, hurt by actions that she committed against the two of them.

If she had been stronger, braver, she would not be in the situation that she was in now.

Her father's letter tells her that she must try and win Thorin back and though her heart wants this more than anything; her head tells her that this is not possible, not now, not with the halfling woman in his life and within his heart.

The crueller part of Athura does not understand what could possibly have drawn and held Thorin's interest when it came to the halfling woman.

For one thing she was a Halfling, a gentle race of creatures whispered to be cousins of fae-folk, soft and with no useful skill other than a keen ability for growing plants. A tiny thing with large hairy feet that were always bare and dirty, no facial hair to speak of but a mop of wild golden brown curls adorning the top of her head.

Her face was not a thing of beauty, though Athura supposed her expressive brown eyes were noteworthy, the way the colour seemed to shift to different shades of brown with the Halfling's moods. And her smile, even when it wasn't being directed at Thorin – which had been a soft, fond smile, slightly shy and tentative, but true and heartfelt – was a feature that lit up her whole face.

The Halfling woman did appear to be intelligent if nothing else, able to hold her own against others who would consider themselves her superior – and secretly Athura had rather enjoyed the Halfling woman putting her father and several other members of Lord Dain's council in their places – and she seemed to have unquenchable thirst for knowledge.

And while Athura knew from their childhood and early adulthood that Thorin had never been what one might consider a scholar of any kind, he had always valued and admired folk who did possess great intelligence and wisdom.

So maybe it was the Halfling's intelligence that had drawn him to her.

Or she can play an instrument very well, Athura thought rather glumly. Thorin had a great love for music. She did not know how many hours she had spent simply listening to him play his harp. She had tried to learn herself but her fingers were fated to create intricate pieces of jewellery, not playing beautiful melodies upon an instrument.

Athura sighed heavily, the sadness in her chest weighing her down painfully.

But I will be polite, she told herself firmly, I will be gracious and I will not let my pain or jealousy show. I will reserve my judgement on whether she is worthy of him when I know her better.

For the last thing she wished was to cause Thorin more sorrow and pain. She had caused him enough for this lifetime.

She would tell her father to his face that she would have no part in his plot to try and break the relationship between their king and his burglar. If their relationship was not meant to be, then it would end upon its own accord, without outside interference from her Lordly father and his dwarves.

Her coming to Erebor was not to try and ensnare the king, but to aid with the rebuilding of the dwarven city, her home, and to assist with any defences it might require against any enemies who are surely looking upon Erebor with greedy eyes.

Nothing more, nothing less.

She nodded to herself firmly before straightening her shoulders and throwing her head back tall with her gaze set firmly upon Erebor, the mountain growing ever closers with each step her pony took.

888

In times long gone by, Ravenhill had been the proud ancestral home to all the Ravens' of Erebor. But like many on that awful, awful day, when Smaug took the Lonely Mountain for his own, their home was lost, partially destroyed and reluctantly abandoned.

With passing of sixty years, there no longer lived a Raven who remembered a time when Ravenshill was known to them as home. So while they had returned to Erebor eagerly, they were still hesitant to return to the ruin remains of their ancient home.

Instead they had taken to making temporary homes upon the outer city walls of Erebor, until such a time as the dwarven King had fulfilled his promise with the restoration of their ancestral home.

And it was for this reason and this reason alone, that a scouting party, sent ahead of Azog's army were able to hide themselves in the ruins of Ravenshill, to observe the comings and goings of the Lonely Mountain and prepare as they waited for the rest of the army from Dol Guldur to arrive.


Author's Note: So the main reason I never posted this chapter previously is because, as you might have guessed, it's kind of a filler chapter. It has important snippets of info in it as well as some foreshadowing for things to come, but otherwise, yeah filler. And I felt bad for years over the idea of posting a filler chapter after so long an absence, but no matter how I tried to get around it, I need this chapter for the snippets of info and the foreshadowing I mention previously. Anyway, as you can see, I decided to just bite the bullet and posted the damn thing because I am in a weird mood and I need to feel as if I'm accomplishing something in my life right now. And BotFA's has seriously messed with my emotions.

Anyway, once again, thank you for reading. As always, reviews are deeply appreciated