Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit.

First of all apologize to all my readers about the long period of time since the last update but I have a good excuse. I just finish several productions this year on top of helping run a business so my writer's mojo took a dive downwards. I present you with this shortish chapter as an apology (please don't hate on me!) I will endeavor to update more but can't guarantee I will. Please read and review :P

Also I am in the process of planning a new Middle Earth fanfic and in my next update I will be asking you guys about which plotline I should pick.

"Death comes to all."

Oh how those now held too much truth for Marie to believe. She wanted to run as fast as she could to escape it, hide from it, anything to deny the inevitable battle now

The earth was still trembling from the initial attack from the Were-Worms when the first of the orcs flooded out from the giant holes. Their armour was black and jagged like a beetle or a cockroach, their spears wrapped in thorns and ripped black flags.

The first to act were the Iron Foot, who rallied after Dain charging towards the tide of orcs. "The hordes of Hell are upon us! To battle! To battle sons of Durin!" He yelled fiercely and without hesitation. As the dwarves charged, Marie was pulled by Gandalf into the somewhat safety of the human forces. Gandalf pushes his way to Bard with Marie at his heels. "Bowman." He called. Bard was pulling his steed's reigns firmly as the animal pawed at the ground like it was about to take flight. He looked down at the wizard expectantly. Before Marie knew it she had been hoisted off the ground by Gandalf. "Keep her safe. That much you can do for me." He was giving Bard little choice on the matter and had already handed the hobbit to him, seating her in front of him on the saddle. "I have your word?" Gandalf asked.

"Aye, you do."

Once he was sure Marie was secure Gandalf made his way into the ranks of the elves. Thranduil had given no orders and his army remained still even as the dwarves made their stand. Bard wrapped an arm protectively around her as the horse jostled beneath them. "I've got you lass. You're safe now."
Marie knew he wasn't referring to being on the horse but all the same was glad for the comfort wrapped a small hand around his forearm. "The elves." She muttered. "Will they not fight?"

"That is for Thranduil to determine."

"Will you not?" Marie looked up to the man and saw the twisted apprehension on his face.

"I never intended for my people to fight, not monster like those."

The howling of the approaching orcs grew more frantic as they gained speed on the dwarves, who had formed a defensive wall with their shields. Gandalf yelled over the sea of elves for Thranduil to do something but Marie couldn't see the elf's face for his back was to the dwarves.

He could not be so heartless as to let the dwarves stand alone against such a force?

Happily Marie was wrong this time, for with a swift motion of his hand a hundred of his elves broke from the masses. Their speed was unlike anything Marie had seen. Using the dwarves defensive line, the elves leapt and struck the orcs from above, cutting them down like paper. Marie and the Lake Men stared in fear if the orcs and awe at the dwarves and elves combating them, thought the noise of the clashing blades and grinding metals made Marie's ears cringe even at a distance. She wished she could look over at the gates of Erebor, if only to see if Thorin and the company would join their brethren.

Another horn blast came from the air and more orcs appeared out of the holes, this time with trolls, lots and lots of trolls. Though these were not like the trolls from the East Road for they moved freely in the light. Marie noticed that some had what looked like trebuchets strapped to their hunched backs, the rest were dressed in full battle armour. Where was the horn coming from?

Marie looked about where she could and soon spotted what she wanted. On the highest point of Ravenhill there was hastily constructed flag pole with several different types of coloured panels that where pulled into certain shapes. 'So that's how the orcs know what to do.' It looked maned by only a handful of orcs and Marie was sure that Azog was up there giving the commands. Thanduil galloped over to Bard, the Lake Men parting in his way, "Take you people back to the city. There are more of the vile creatures to come."

No sooner had Thranduil delivered his warning the orcs were on the move. Half the enemy's force turned and began to march on the eastern wall of Dale. The arm around Marie tensed when Bard saw what they were planning. The women and children were still in the city. "All of you! Fall back to Dale." He shouted over the battle. "Hold on Marie." He slapped the reigns fiercely and the startled horse took off in a gallop with Marie barely grabbing hold of the saddle pommel in time, with the hobbit casting a last look at the mountain to whisper something.

"Thorin."

Xxxx

Someone was calling his name. Here? Or from far away? It did not matter. Thorin sat deeper into the throne, the armour he was still wearing kept him grounded in the ancient seat. He had to think of a plan, a good plan. The victor of the battle would turn their forces on the mountain, to his gold, and would take it if they dared.

The answer eluded him, tauntingly so.

Safe. Where was safe? No one could be trusted anymore.

The stone was cold under his fingers despite the lit braziers not far from Thorin, but it was a dim light in the cavern that was the Throne Room. Never before had is been so dark, so different. Where was the sunlight's beams, that which made the stone shine bright?

"Thorin."

It was hard to look up for his eyelids felt heavy like he lacked sleep. He did not need it, though he could not recall the last time he had slept.

"Since when do we forsake our own people?" Dwalin stormed up the steps towards Thorin with a fierce step in his stride. He had removed the battle armour. "Thorin. They're dying out there."

Dain's forces were losing. No, no, no this would not do. The elves, orcs, all of them want whats theirs. "There are halls beneath halls within this mountain." Thorin mumbled on, "Places we can fortify. Shore up make safe, yes." He dragged himself up as the answer finally came to him. "We must move the gold further underground to safety."

"Did you not hear me?" Dwalin growled as Thorin paced around his throne. The warrior caught his arm but quickly pulled away when Thorin turned back to him with a pointed stare. "Dain is surrounded. They're being slaughtered Thorin."

"Many die in war." Said Thorin, his voice devoid of feeling. "Life is cheap. But a treasure such as this can not be counted in lives lost." Why could he not see? Dwalin. Why? He knew of the glory Erebor once held and could be once again. "It is worth all the blood we can spend."

But Dwalin did not see. He shook his head at what Thorin had said with an almost pitiful look. He pitied him. "You sit here in these vast halls with a crown upon your head, and yet you are lesser know than you have ever been." Though he sounded pitiful, his words cut the dwarf deep.

He dare think him less than what he was. He was the blood of Durin. He was ... better. He was not weak, not like ...

Mahal what was he thinking. He was no better than his grandfather, worse. He was not his grandfather, he was not Thor. But he was.

"Marie was right. You can not see what you've become." Dwalin said.

"Never ... say that name before me. Not EVER!" Thorin's teeth ground together. "She betrayed us. She chose the elves she loves so much and ..."

"She did it to save you Thorin. It takes a strong resolve to do what she did."

He would not be spoken down to, never again. "Do not speak to me as if I was some lowly dwarf lord." Thorin staggered back as his mind reeled against him. He could hear her voice in his head as she declared to the world he was not himself. "As if ... I was ... still ... Thorin Oakenshield ..." He pressed his shaking fingers to his brow where his crown cut into his skin.

He was Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror ... Who was Thorin Oakenshield? A prince? A blacksmith? A no one? His head pounded painfully in his skull.

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

"I AM YOUR KING!"

Thorin draw his sword and cut the air wildly and almost threw himself over the ledge. He was seeing red everywhere. There was no trust, no trust at all. All betray, all take for you, no one can be trusted.

"You were always my king."

Thorin's chest heaved as he fought the many thoughts in his head. Dwalin took a careful step towards him. "You used to know that once."

"Go. Get out. Before I kill you." Thorin pleaded, his vision blurred with shameful tears of weakness. He slouched as the left side of his body became too heavy and caught himself on the throne.

He was alright.

He didn't need anyone.

Anyone.

Dwalin was still speaking, repeating himself over and over. Why couldn't he just leave him alone? He snapped his head up and was about to tell him so but Dwalin was gone.

His words lingered though, intertwining with those his brother had said to him by the Hidden Door. Like threads they twisted and knotted around one another until Thorin could not tell where one thought started and another ended, tangling with old unwanted memories of doubts both his and others.

His hand moved of its own accord and let his sword fall to his feet, reaching behind one of his gauntlet to find the small button he had kept on his person. It had been gift, given in a make believe courtship with a light hearted smile. It was fool's hope that it meant anything. Thorin closed his fist around it and raised his arm up, ready to hurl the blasted thing away from him and be rid of her nonsensical hobbit luck. But despite his shaking hand and steely mind set he could not throw it into the cavern below. With each breath in the voices grew louder and faded into frantic whispers as he breathed out.

He thought walking would ease the sounds but it was folly. He could not walk away from his own mind. He walked until he found himself in the centre of the Hall of Kings and its new golden floor. The liquid had long since cooled and hardened once again now giving the massive space a constant glow. The metal of Thorin's boots gave a muted echo with each step. Thorin stopped and looked about at the gold floor.

He was being watched.

Where are they? Where are the traitors that wish to kill him? He would kill them before ….

Marie was standing before him, clear as the very sun in the sky. She couldn't …. She shouldn't be here. Her green eyes shone with her sheer determination. So brave and yet so foolish. She lifted her hands and drew closer to him. Thorin wanted to move away from her outstretched fingers else he might take them and crush her small bones. He recalled the memory of his fingertips brushing over his cheeks with fear and pleasure, even closing his eyes at the sensation.

'You are changed.'

He opened his eyes and found her gone.

Something moved beneath him and Thorin caught sight of a long tail skimming through the gold like it was water. Thorin staggered and turned about himself to watch the tail disappear deeper into the floor. Smaug.

The voices were more persistent with their torment and even his own words were turning on him. Was there anything in this world that would not betray him? They circled around him, as the gold circle around him growing higher and higher.

He was drowning.

He yanked the crown off his head and tossed it away. There was once again air in his lungs and for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime he felt weightless.

He was free.

He was himself.

He was ….

He was sure of what he had to do.