Her hand ached.

It wasn't the sharp, stinging pain that had filled Baylee's hand after slapping Thorin, but a dull, deep ache that made her wonder if she had managed to bruise her bones somehow. Swallowing hard, she looked down at her palm as she slowly closed and opened her fingers. Though they were stiff, they still moved when she told them to. She started to massage her palm with her thumb, hoping that it might ease whatever muscles and tendons were there.

She knew better than to slap a dwarf, but that—that imposter of Thorin had managed to make her feel a kind of anger she had never felt before.

'I should have expected it,' she told herself. Tilting her head back against cold stone, she stared at the ceiling above. 'I should have expected something like this to happen. The sickness had too firm a hold on him…I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up.'

"My Oakenshield is gone," she whispered into the silence.

Her eyes drifted shut and she started to think of Fili and Kili. 'I should have never gotten Fili's hope up. The poor lad…' Biting her lower lip, wrapping her arms around herself. 'No doubt, after we parted ways last night, he went and did his best to console Kili with the same hopeful words I had told him…'

Despite the monster their uncle had become, they had still been willing to defend him and Erebor without question. They had been willing to put their life on the line in order to protect a city that, until now, they had only ever heard about in stories. To defend their uncle's desire to see their ancestral home rebuilt and its glory returned.

But instead, they had been ordered to stand down—to sit idle and do nothing as they were forced to watch others fight their battle.

Standing up, she started to walk back in the direction she had come from. She wasn't exactly sure where in the mountain she was—as soon as she had reached the bottom of the stairs, she had run off in a random direction. And she had kept running and running, until her lungs burned and her legs gave out below her.

She hadn't the slightest idea of how long she had stayed in that spot, crying her heart out and cursing the dragon who tainted Erebor's treasure. For all she knew, an entire day could have passed and the war was now over. Or maybe it had only been a handful of hours.

It was impossible to tell underground.

As she walked, she rubbed the side of her neck only to frown when her fingers brushed against skin instead of metal. She had forgotten that, in her anger and despair, she had ripped the necklace from her neck and cast it away from her. Where it had landed—or at where she had even been when she threw it—she had no idea.

Part of her felt guilty for having thrown it away so haphazardly. It was, after all, a priceless heirloom to the line of Durin and was a sign of her royal status. At the same time, however, it also marked her as little more than an object—as just another 'gem' in Thorin's hoard.

'Even if I was able to find it,' she told herself with a heavy sigh, 'I'm not sure I would be able to live long enough for it to be seen by anyone other than the members of the company.'

She came to a stop when she reached a crossroads, a frown coming to her lips. "Did I come from the left or the right?" she murmured. She knew for certain that she hadn't come from the path directly across from her. Or maybe she had and it was at a different fork that she turned the corner in…?

Seeing movement in the corner of her good eye, she quietly gasped and ducked behind the wall in case it was Thorin. She hesitantly peeked around the corner to find that it wasn't Thorin, but Dwalin, she had seen. Though she couldn't make out what he was saying, she could tell that he was grumbling to himself and, as he got closer, she could see that there was a mixture of disappointment and anger on his face.

She bit her lower lip and pressed herself against one of the pillars that lined either side of the hall. Staying as still and as quiet as possible, she hoped that he wouldn't notice her there. To her luck, he didn't see her and continued on his way, though she remained in place for just a moment longer.

But in that moment, Dwalin suddenly turned to the right and disappeared behind a pillar.

Baylee told herself that she shouldn't go after him—that she should go back to the entrance hall and check on the others. But curiosity got the better of her. Being as quiet as she could, she hurried down the hall and turned towards the pillar he had gone past. There, she saw a ruined archway. There were deep claw marks in the marble and what had once been a stone door lay in pieces on the floor. She took care to not trip over or step on any of the debris as she passed by. Poking her head around the corner of the archway, she blinked in surprise.

Dwalin had entered the throne room, but not from the front. Instead, he had entered from what had once been a well-hidden entrance that couldn't be seen from the front. The throne itself was only a few dozen yards away and, judging by the bit of bronze armor and black fur she could see, Thorin was occupying it.

"Since when do we forsake our own people?" Dwalin demanded as he came to stand before the throne. His voice had a shakiness to it; Baylee knew he was trying to hold back either his anger or his hurt…or both. "Thorin, they're dying out there! Dying to protect us—to protect you!"

"There are halls beneath halls within this mountain," Thorin replied. Baylee had to focus her attention on him in order to hear him, his voice was so quiet. There was also a distance to it, as if his mind wasn't completely there. "Places we can fortify…shore up, make safe. Yes. Yes, that is it!" A look of surprise came to Dwalin's face as Thorin suddenly stood up and walked down the steps towards him. "We must move the gold further underground—to safety!" he declared, his voice louder and more 'present'.

Dwalin frowned, watching as the king started to go down the walkway that would take him to the treasury. "Did you not hear me?!" he snapped. Thorin turned around to face him; he was unsteady on his feet, but he managed to keep himself upright on his own. "Dain is surrounded! They're bein' slaughtered, Thorin!"

Baylee covered her mouth just in time to stifle a gasp of horror. 'If the dwarves are being slaughtered, then what does that mean for the elves and humans?' she thought, skin paling. 'What does it mean for the refugees in Dale? For da'?' She felt her jaw start wobble, but she forced it to stop by clenching it.

"Many die in war. Life is cheap," Thorin replied, the coldness in his voice making both Dwalin and Baylee shudder. "But a treasure such as this cannot be counted in lives lost. It is worth all the blood we can spend and more!"

Shaking his head, Dwalin took a step back from him. "You sit here in these vast halls with a crown upon your head," he said, voice soft and full of sorrow, "and yet you are lesser now than you have ever been."

"Do not speak to me as if I were some lowly dwarf lord," Thorin growled, taking a few steps back from Dwalin. "As if—as if I were—" From where she stood, it was hard for Baylee to tell if it was a look of pain or of twisted amusement that had come to Thorin's face. "As if I were still…Thorin—Thorin Oakenshield."

Then, in a deep, booming voice, he shouted, "I AM YOUR KING!" Suddenly, he drew his sword and haphazardly swung it before him; Baylee once again clapped a hand over her mouth, muting a squeak of surprise. Flinging his sword in such a manner threw Thorin off his already precarious balance and he nearly toppled to the ground. Yet, somehow, he stayed upright.

Dwalin, however, stayed perfectly still. "You were always my king," he told him, his voice on the verge of cracking. "You used to know that once. But now you cannot see what you have become."

For a tense moment, Thorin was silent as he stared at Dwalin. "Go," he finally ordered, his voice devoid of all emotion. "Get out…before I kill you."

Lingering just a few seconds longer, Dwalin turned away from Thorin, coming back towards the hidden hallway. He shook his head in disappointment and swore under his breath. As he turned to pass through the archway, he looked one last time at Thorin to see him shuffling away from the throne, the tip of his sword dragging along on the floor beside him.

Thinking he was alone, he swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, wiping away his tears before they could fall. When he brought his hands away from his face, however, he came to a sudden halt and frowned. Baylee stood in the middle of the hall, looking as if she had been waiting for him; there was a determination on her face that he hadn't seen before. "Lassie…? Where did—"

"I heard everything," she interjected.

He was silent for a moment, his shoulders drooping ever so slightly. "So you know about Dain's army, then?"

"Yes. And—" She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself for what she was about to say. "And, since I heard everything, I-I know that Thorin's currently unfit to rule. A-as his queen, I-I will rule in his stead."

The corners of his mouth turned just the tiniest bit upwards. "And what says the little queen about this situation?"

Without hesitation, she answered. "I say we fight."

A quarter of an hour later found Dwalin and Baylee back in the entrance hall, both atop the wall and peeking out from behind the merlons as they observed the bloodstained-battlefield. Seeing so many bodies—and pieces of bodies—laying scattered about made Baylee's stomach churn. But seeing those who remained upright and fighting gave her some relief; the death toll wasn't quite as dramatic as Dwalin had made it seem.

"We'd be at too much o' a disadvantage if we were t' climb down the wall," he advised. "It'd be all too easy for goblin archers t' pick us off."

Her brows furrowed in contemplation, she slowly nodded. "Then we either need to find another way out of the mountain or somehow bring down this wall."

"The only other way out o' the mountain at this point is the secret door we got in through," he said. "But it would take us clear t' the northern face o' the mountain. That's not even close t' the battlefield."

She bit her lower lip, moving away from the wall and making for the stairs. "But tearing down the wall would take too long and also leave us as sitting ducks."

"We could take down just part o' it," he suggested, following after her. "A corner o' it that we can all squeeze through."

She shook her head. "No. You'd just be using all the strength you would need for the battle." Reaching the first landing, she paused and looked around the entrance hall, hoping to find some sort of answer to magically appear. Instead, she found the others looking up at her hopefully; her cheeks turned red, but she forced herself to ignore the feeling of embarrassment as she continued down the stairs.

Reaching the bottom, she cleared her throat as she approached the group. They no longer wore full suits of armor, instead wearing just bits and pieces of the stuff under their surcoats. "We need to come up with a way to either get over and down the wall without leaving ourselves open to archer attack or a way to tear it down quickly," she told them, having to speak up a bit thanks to the din of battle. "It's the only way out of here."

"Why don't we try makin' a catapult?" Dori suggested. "We can send ourselves flyin' over the wall—that'd be nice an' fast. An' it would have the element o' surprise!"

"Aye, it'd be nice an' fast" Gloin retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "A nice an' fast way t' die, that is." He ignored the glare Dori shot at him.

"We could always climb down on ropes," Bombur offered. "Half o' us go down while the other half cover us with bows."

Dwalin shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "It'd be too risky."

"Would Roäc be able t' help us?" Ori questioned. "He's king o' the ravens, so maybe he can have his flock lift us up an' out o' here?"

"I'm afraid I'd be the only one they'd be able to lift," Baylee said. "Even if you lot were in just your long johns, you'd be too heavy for them."

Bofur nodded in agreement. "The lass has a point," he said. "It'd take at least fifty o' them t' lift even Ori. Imagine how many you'd need t' lift Dwalin or Bombur."

Balin stepped forward. "If we make a large enough batch o' flash-flame, we might be able t' knock at least part o' the wall down," he offered.

"Flash-flame?" Baylee repeated, her confusion evident. "What's flash-flame?"

"You've seen fireworks, aye?" Balin asked. When she nodded, he continued. "It's sort o' like a firework. It's a powder that can be lit either with a fuse or by putting it in a jar and throwing it; the impact is what makes it explode."

"That…might work," she said, a contemplative expression coming to her face. "Do you have enough ingredients to make a large enough batch?"

Before Balin could answer, however, Kili spoke up. "We can use the bell."

Baylee looked over at him, her brow rising slightly. "What was that, Kili?"

"We…can use the bell," he repeated. Turning slightly, he pointed at an enormous golden bell that was laying on its side.

"We could rig up some pulley systems," Fili explained. "One to lift it off the ground and another to pull it backwards t' give it the speed it needs t' slam into the wall. It wouldn't even take us very long; we've got all the supplies we'd need."

Dwalin looked impressed by the idea. "It's certainly got the element o' surprise," he told Baylee. "An' a bell that size would do quite a bit o' damage t' a wall like this one."

She bit her lower lip, looking between the bell and the wall. "But where would we hang the bell from?" she asked.

"Over here," Kili said, beckoning her over. "T' be honest, I think we'd need only one pulley system." When she reached him, he pointed towards the ceiling; Baylee could barely make out what looked like a giant square seemingly floating about a hundred feet above the ground. As she squinted, she could also make out a walkway above it. "That's the yoke—the thing the bell hangs off of," he told her. "In the forges, there are chains large enough t' hold the bell's weight. We get those, wrap them around the yoke, an' then drop them to the ground where we attach them t' the bell."

"Then we use the ringing mechanism up there t' help us lift the bell off o' the ground," Fili continued. "The only thing we'd need a pulley for is pulling the bell back far enough that it slams into the wall."

Baylee smiled at the princes. "I think that may just work," she told them. Turning, she faced the others. "What do you all think?"

Bifur said something in Khuzdul; his voice sounded optimistic and he wore a grin as he triumphantly thrust his hand into the air.

The others copied him, thrusting their hands into the air and letting out a small cheer of agreement. Then, without waiting for Baylee's orders, they took off in the direction of the forges; Fili and Kili remained behind, however.

Dwalin quietly chuckled when he saw Baylee's confused expression. "Bifur said the princes are the smartest pair o' badgers he's ever known an' that it's a fantastic idea," he translated. "An' that they best get started now if they want t' see any bit o' action before the sun sets." He lightly patted her on the shoulder before going to follow the others.

She let out a small laugh, feeling relieved that they finally had a plan—or, at least, somewhat of a plan. Once it came to actually going out and fighting, however, it'd be entirely up to them. She would be all but useless if she had to come up with an actual plan of attack.

Turning around, she faced Fili and Kili once more. "You two came up with a brilliant idea," she told them, still smiling. "Dwalin's right: It will take everyone by surprise."

"It was Kili's idea, to be honest," Fili said. "He and I had been talking earlier about how t' bring the wall down an' I had mentioned a batterin' ram. But there's nothing in here that would be light enough for us t' carry, but heavy enough t' bring down the wall."

Kili nodded, his cheeks pinkening slightly. "I just hope it works," he said. "I already know that havin' the bell slam into the wall will make an effective ramming device. But whether or not the yoke's in good enough shape t' hold the bell is another story."

"If it's not, then we'll just find another way to swing the bell," she told him. "I'm sure that, between the thirteen of us, we'd be able to come up with something that'll knock the wall down without leaving us as wide-open targets."

"So long as we get out there before the battle's ended," he sighed. "It's not right, hiding away in the mountain like this."

Fili shook his head. "No, it's not. And it's not just our kin we need to get out there and fight for, but for the refugees from Laketown and even the elves."

Reaching over, Baylee set a hand on each of their arms. "We'll get out there," she promised. "We'll get out there and we'll fight our hardest against those wargs, goblins, and orcs. We're not going to let ourselves waste away in here while others fight our battle—I'm not going to let ourselves waste away in here." She watched as a small smile came to their lips before letting out a squeak as Kili suddenly leaned over and hugged her.

"You've come a long way since leaving the Shire, irak'amad," Kili said with a small chuckle. Though she wasn't quite sure, she had the feeling 'irak'amad' meant 'auntie' or something similar in Khuzdul. "You started as a timid hobbit lass just learnin' how to swing a sword an' now you're a queen who's readyin' her soldiers for battle." He gave her a gentle squeeze before releasing her.

Fili took his place, crouching down slightly in order to hug her. "Must be that Took blood of yours," he joked. "That's what you an' Bilbo kept claimin' made the two o' you come on this adventure, right, irak'amad?" Giving her a small squeeze as well, he released her and stood upright again.

"Took blood may have gotten us into this mess," she agreed, "but it's certainly not what's keeping us here. What's keeping us here is how much we care about all of you." She looked up at them, her expression one of mixed joy and sadness. "You've all become dear friends to us—you've become family to us. Quite literally, in your cases. There's no way we were going to let you reach the end without us."

"Well…we're not quite at the end yet," Kili said, his voice sounding just the tiniest bit choked up. "Which gives you a bit of time t' go down t' the armory an' find yourself a bit o' armor."

Nodding in agreement, Fili hooked his thumb through his beltloop. "He's right. You may be small an' can disappear quickly like a mouse, but out there on the battlefield…" He shook his head. "There are some hauberks—mail shirts—down there that would be light enough for you. Even with padding, they'd be more like armored dresses on you, but that's better than bein' without any armor."

"You have a point," she chuckled. "Maybe I could steal the pauldrons from a suit of armor and fashion them into a helmet of some sort. Or maybe I can find an old, metal dinner plate to use as a shield," she joked. She felt some warmth fill her chest as the princes started to laugh.

"You'll think of somethin', I'm certain," Fili laughed. He then made a playful shooing motion at her. "Now go on. Go find some armor for yourself, irak'amad."

She blew a teasing raspberry at him.

The armory wasn't too far from the entrance hall, being just a few corridors away. It was an enormous room, filled from floor to ceiling with armor and weapons of various kinds. Identical suits of armor for common foot soldiers. Small, hexagonal shields for those who wielded swords and axes while those who wielded polearms had larger shields with special notches in them to prop their weapons on. There was even a suit of armor that was crimson in color; its regal appearance told Baylee that its former owner was either Thrain or Thror.

Her curiosity made it difficult for her to stay focused on the task at hand, but she somehow managed, eventually coming across a section filled with mail armor. There were also quilted garments that were to be worn beneath armor, whether it was mail or plate.

'These hauberks look heavy,' she thought with a frown. 'I hope I'll be able to lift one, let alone wear one…' To her great surprise, upon lifting one of the chainmail shirts, she found that it was much lighter than she had been expecting. 'That's not too bad at all…It weighs about the same as a full platter of food and drink back in the Green Dragon.' Setting it back down, she looked at a hauberk made with scale mail instead of chain. 'Hm…what about this?'

A grunt left her mouth as she lifted the second shirt, which was much heavier than she was expecting. She quickly dropped it to the ground, the garment narrowly avoiding her toes.

"I'll stick to the chainmail," she mumbled.

Unpinning her cloak from her shoulders, she gently set the jeweled pins on the ground. Then, carefully folding up her cloak, she set it beside them; for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to just toss them aside and forget about them. She felt as if they deserved a bit of respect when handled.

Removing both her belts, she set them atop the cloak. She knew she would need to wear at least a little padding under the hauberk, so she found the shortest haubergeon she could and put it on. The garment reached to her knees, but it was sleeveless and didn't impede her movement very much, if at all.

Baylee was just about to reach for the mail shirt when she paused. Just by looking at it, she knew her hair would easily get pinched and pulled by those thousands of small hoops. She reached back, grabbing as much of her loose hair as she could before twisting it into a single, long rope. Carefully, she wove it around the bun that was already there before securely tucking the ends of it into the braid of the bun. She gave her head a quick shake to make sure her hair wouldn't fall loose and, when it passed the test, she let out a heavy sigh.

'Even with this armor, there's a strong chance I won't survive the battle,' she thought, finally picking up the shirt. Pushing her arm into it, she felt around for an arm hole and found herself more than a little thankful she had grabbed one with short sleeves instead of full-length ones. 'If it were just orcs and goblins out there, then maybe it'd be more likely…but there are orcs, goblins, and wargs. No matter how well I can hide in plain sight, I can't hide from wargs.' She fished her other arm through until it came out the other arm hole before slipping the rest on over her head.

Another grunt left her mouth as the metal rings dropped into place over her body. Like the haubergeon below it, the hauberk reached to her knees, but because it was spread fairly evenly over her body, she found that she hardly even noticed its weight.

'That's good…hopefully it means I won't get worn out as quickly,' she told herself. Picking up her waist belt, she wrapped it around her body and tied it into place. 'I hope, wherever he is, da' is alright…He promised me he would do his best to stay safe. Just like I promised him I would do my best to stay safe.'

The thought made her pause once more, her hand hovering just an inch above the scabbard. Then, after a moment passed, she closed her eyes and exhaled a quaking sigh. "I'm sorry, da'," she whispered, her hand trembling as she grabbed the sword, "but I have no choice. I can't just sit here and do nothing while others die trying to protect the lives of innocent refugees. Refugees that we put in harm's way…"

Fastening the belt into place over her hips, she looked down at herself. Nothing looked right. Nothing felt right. She wasn't a warrior—she was a hobbit and a tiny one at that. Hobbits weren't fighters; they were farmers, bakers, potters…peaceful folk.

And yet, here she stood, alone in the armory of a dwarven stronghold. No longer just a simple hobbit from the Shire, but a queen readying herself for battle.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," she whispered, looking up towards the ceiling. "None of it was."

"Mouse-lass…?"

Her eyes widened and she whipped around only to find Thorin standing a few yards away from her. His crown was missing, as were his fur coat and suit of armor. He was left in just his coat of mail and surcoat.

"What did you just call me?" she whispered.

"I called you Mouse-lass," he answered, his voice quiet. And then Baylee saw them: His eyes. Not a trace of gold could be found in them. They were blue.

"O-Oakenshield?"

He nodded, a small and guilty smile on his lips.

Shock mixed with relief, joy, and hope to create a tidal wave of emotions that crashed through her small body. A soft whimper left her mouth and she started to run towards him. Thorin fell to his knees and opened his arms, catching Baylee as she all but threw herself at him. He wrapped her up in a protective hug and held her close; being in his arms no longer felt possessive or hostile. His embrace was filled with warmth, comfort, and love.

"I'm sorry, Mouse-lass," he whispered. "I'm sorry for all the pain I've brought upon everyone. For breaking my oath and for trying to hurt your father when he tried to help me. I was so weak…I was weak and I let the gold consume me. I was a wretch who wronged so many people. Including you. I'm sorry, Mouse-lass."

"It wasn't you," she choked out. "It wasn't you! It was the Dragon Sickness—it took over your mind and made you do all those things."

Turning his head, he kissed her temple. "It was me, though," he murmured. Leaning back somewhat, he cupped the side of her face in his palm; he smiled as he watched her take hold of his hand to keep it in place as she nuzzled into it. "It was my greed and my anger that made me do all of those things. Everything that's happened since we reached this mountain…it all happened because of me. And I can never be sorry enough for what I've done."

Before Baylee had the chance to reply, he tilted his head forward and pressed his lips against hers. It was such a gentle kiss, filled with the tenderness and affection that she had been yearning for. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she brought herself against him, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

When the kiss came to an end, she pressed her forehead against his. "I've missed you," she whispered, unable to speak any louder for fear of being silenced by the sobs stuck in her throat. After all the fear and uncertainty she had faced since arriving, having Thorin—the real Thorin—here and being held in his arms felt like a dream. "Yavanna help me, I've missed you so much."

Thorin kissed her again, shorter this time, but with no less tenderness. "I don't deserve you," he murmured. "I've done such monstrous and terrible things and yet, you've come back to me."

Taking one of his hands in both of hers, she brought his palm to rest over her heart. "I know you and you're no monster, Oakenshield. The Dragon Sickness poisoned your mind and made you do horrible things, but you defeated it," she told him. "You defeated it and I know you'll right the wrongs you made while under its influence." Though her jaw was wobbling, a loving smile came to her lips. "And, as your Mouse-lass I'm going to be at your side to help you. Because you're my Oakenshield and I love you."

"And I love you," he whispered. "No dwarf could ask for a better wife." He then leaned back slightly and it was then Baylee realized he had been holding something in his other hand. As he opened his fist, she saw the queen's necklace resting on his palm, neatly folded in half. "Nor could a king ask for a more loving queen."

She looked at him, both confused and relieved by the necklace's presence. "Wh-where did you find that?"

"I was coming back from Hall of Kings," he explained, unfolding the necklace. He moved his hand away from her heart so that he could set it around her neck. "I saw it in the middle of the floor, so I picked it up." Fastening it into place, he kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry." Her cheeks burned with shame and she glanced down at the floor. "I…I had been so angry, I tore it off while I was running from you."

"There is no need for apologies. I don't blame you in the slightest." After kissing her forehead one more time, he stood up. "I…did something similar to my crown when I came out of the Sickness. I couldn't get it far enough away from more, nor could I get out of that armor fast enough." Taking her hand in his, he pressed a kiss against her knuckles before starting to lead her towards the room's exit.

She gave his hand a small squeeze as she walked alongside him. "The others took their full suits of armor off as well," she told him. "They're still wearing some, of course, but not full plate."

"…How are they doing?" he asked, some guilt returning to his voice.

"They're…" She hesitated for a few seconds, suddenly feeling a bit nervous about what she was going to tell him. "They're following my orders and readying a battering ram to take down the wall."

Thorin glanced down at her, his brow rising in confusion. "Your orders?" he repeated.

"Yes."

"I remember telling you all to stand down." The corners of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly.

"Yes, well…" She cleared her throat and glanced away, her cheeks reddening. "I declared you unfit to rule and took over in your stead." When she glanced up at Thorin, she found an amused grin on his lips.

"You did well, my love," he assured her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "What is going to be used as the battering ram?"

"A bell."

He paused. "A…bell?"

"Yes. Kili came up with the idea. They're going to string up that large bell in the entrance hall and swing it into the wall to knock it down. We all agreed it had the element of surprise while also being a method that wouldn't leave us as wide-open targets."

A quiet chuckle left his mouth. "I shouldn't be surprised, and yet I am. Kili's always had rather strange ideas, but this one…This one may be the most outlandish yet."

"But outlandish is exactly what we need." Looking up at him, she felt another surge of emotions course through her; part of her couldn't believe that Thorin was himself again. That he had broken free of the Dragon Sickness. "Outlandish isn't what the enemy is going to expect from us."

He nodded in agreement, though his expression turned grim. "Are the elves and humans still fighting against us?"

She shook her head. "No. They've formed a temporary alliance to fight off the armies of wargs, goblins, and orcs. Though, I do think the humans retreated to Dale to protect the refugees." She bit her lower lip at the thought of all those people hiding away within the walls of the city.

"Dale's walls and buildings are strong and solidly built," he told her when he saw her biting her lip. "Even if the city lays in disrepair, the walls will hold fast and keep them safe."

"It's not the walls I'm worried about," she quietly admitted. "It's the rotten wooden gates."

"They also have the bridge aiding them," he reminded her. "The enemy will have to cross that in order to get into the city, which will then force them to funnel into a straight line, making it easier to defend the gate."

Her head tilted slightly. "But wouldn't they try to get in through the other gates?"

"Not when they're so far out of the way," he explained. "The orcs and wargs want Erebor and the gold inside it, so they're not going to leave the most direct route into the city." They came around a corner, stepping from the smaller passageway into the entrance hall. "If they were to split up their numbers like that, then they wouldn't have such a strong advantage and that's what they're relying on to win: Overwhelming us with their numbers."

She nodded in understanding. "That makes sense…though, I doubt they were expecting to find three other armies here."

"They might have been. Word would have spread quite fast once it was known that Smaug was dead."

"How is that?" she asked, her brows furrowing as she looked up at him. "Smaug was killed in Laketown and, other than Mirkwood, there isn't another civilization around for hundreds of miles."

"Ravens aren't the only creatures that can carry messages," he said. "There are all sorts of—"

He was suddenly interrupted by Dwalin, who came sprinting over and who only saw Baylee at first. "There you are, wee lassie," he said. "We've got a bit o' good news for—" He suddenly fell quiet and came to a halt when he saw Thorin at her side. "Thorin…?"

The other dwarves, who had been working on readying the bell, stopped what they were doing when they saw their king and queen. A tense silence fell over the area, punctured only by the sounds of the battle raging outside. But then, Fili pulled himself away from his task and started to storm towards his uncle.

"We are not going to keep hidin' behind a wall of stone while others fight our battles for us!" he cried. "It is not in our blood—It's not in my blood, Thorin! Innocent people are dying because of us and yet you would rather we hide ourselves away like cowards! I won't stand for it! We're finished standing down!"

"Fili, stop!" Letting go of Thorin's hand, Baylee darted forward and stopped the prince just a couple of yards from his uncle. "Fili, he's better now." She looked up at him, a reassuring smile on her lips. "He defeated the Sickness."

Fili glanced down at her in confusion before looking at his uncle, who nodded. "What…?"

Baylee stepped out of the way as Thorin started to come towards them. "We are the sons of Durin," he said. "And Durin's folk are not oath breakers, nor do they flee from a fight," He stopped just a foot from Fili. "Nor do they let those that helped them in a time of need go unrewarded."

Fili swallowed hard, but a smile came to his lips when he realized that Baylee had been telling the truth. He nodded and, reaching out, clasped his uncle by the shoulder. Thorin mimicked his action, taking hold of his shoulder before leaning forward to press his forehead against Fili's for a few seconds.

Kili started to come forward. "Then you intend t' go out there an' fight? No more hiding away an' cursing all those who aren't your kin?"

"I do," Thorin replied as he released Fili's shoulder. "And when this battle is won, I fully intend to right the wrongs I've made. Every single one of them."

Though he tried to keep his expression stern, Kili was unable to stop the smile that came to his lips. Then, as Fili had done before him, he took hold of his uncle's shoulder and pressed their foreheads together. When they parted, Thorin kept his hand on Kili's shoulder before reaching over and taking hold of Fili's once more.

"I couldn't be more proud of you both," he said. "I will admit I had my reservations about bringing you both on this journey because of your age, but you have proved time and time again to be valuable members of this company." As he looked at Fili, he gave his shoulder an extra squeeze. "And you, Fili…You've proven that, one day, you'll make a fine King Under the Mountain. There is no doubt in my mind that Erebor will flourish under your rule." He suddenly pulled both his nephews against him in a hug.

Baylee felt warmth spread through her chest as she watched the princes hug their uncle in return. A small smile came to her lips; seeing Thorin praise his nephews brought a few tears to her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away so they wouldn't spill. But as heartwarming a sight as it was, it also left her feeling somewhat jealous.

Thorin had his family again.

She had no idea whether or not her father was even still alive.

Taking a deep breath, Thorin walked past his nephews, making his way towards the rest of the group. "I have no right to ask this of any of you," he said to them, "but will you follow me one last time?" He watched as the rest of the company exchanged glances with one another, silently debating whether they trusted him or not.

Balin took a step forward, a smile filled with both relief and pride on his face. "You're our king, Thorin," he said. "We'd follow you into the Halls o' Waiting if you asked us to."