Hours passed in unanimous silence which draped over the two dwarves unconditionally. Death could have come and claimed both and neither one would have noticed. Balin continued to gaze out into the hallways or crack in the wall every so often to reassure himself that he hadn't fallen into a tomb, or become a permanent effigy of the vicinity. Thorin remained stubborn as per usual and so he had gone quiet, his sight fixed on the Front Gate for reasons presumed yet unknown to the elder.

The calm atmosphere was beginning to have its toll on Balin, who snapped his attention to the intersected corridor. In the growing stillness, he began to tire. Thankfully, after what felt like an eternity, he noticed a figure leaning past a corner into view. Balin's face brightened slightly upon seeing the young dwarf in the distance. Fili paused then motioned with his left hand that he held onto an invisible object, and brought his right up to his mouth in a continuous gesture, signalling that it was time for dinner.

Balin responded with a curt nod before addressing the dwarf king sitting idly in front of him. "We should head for supper. No use in sitting around like this any longer."

He stood, stretching his legs as he did so. The dwarf was beginning to notice his bones growing old and stiff.

"Go on, I would prefer to remain here a little while longer." Thorin spoke without deterring his gaze from the adjacent wall, to which Balin searched around his being in irritation.

"Why put yourself through this?" He came around to Thorin's side, unconcerned with the king's varying temper. "Staring at a wall will not bring Éla back, nor will it resolve those who are camped on our borders."

Thorin sighed. "Éla's…What would you have me say? That I will pay gold for the Arkenstone, a gem that I should rightfully own?"

"I try to understand your reasoning for this mess." Balin blurted out, interrupting his moment of pause. "You protect yourself from feeling anything other than the cold world life has dealt you thus far. Then you make ties with a female companion Gandalf deemed worthy for this quest, only to fall in love with her and then let her go."

"Balin, you know the causes against the hosts in the valley." Thorin warned.

"I state what's obvious." He swung his arms uneasily, rocking on the heels of his pointed boots. It was not intimidation which made the dwarf tense. While Balin had been cautious not to overstep personal boundaries between the two lovers, perhaps that's what Thorin needed in order to see unseen possibilities already laid at his feet. "What really happened in the town of the Lake?"

For half a second Balin believed Thorin would respond, instead he tensed in reluctance to look at the dwarf.

"You claim Éla as your own despite matrimony, an affair shrouded by secrecy that is no more. How will you explain this to Dain when he arrives?"

With a scowl on his face, Balin shook his head in dismissal and turned on his heel. He might as well have been talking to a wall. There would be no answer verbalized at this time. So Thorin was left alone to contemplate what needed to be done not only for the sake of the mountain, but also his heart.

A terrifying screech pierced the cool air. A body lay wilted in the center: dark, red fluid merged onto the blackened level, coating the surrounding perimeter with life's last breath. Distant cries resonated and stirred alarm among the shadows.

Heavy limbs dragged along the surface like lead, the weight breaking a run into a sluggish pace unparalleled against time.

Éla blinked away the darkness, but it prevailed. She saw nothing but a thick fog as shadowed figures danced around her. It began slowly until her head started to spin, her knees crashing on the ground she could not see. As her stomach protested the spinning motions that could not be felt, everything paused.

Waiting, she listened to the rhythmic heartbeat in her chest that faded, consumed in silence. She felt nothing until she went to stand, her legs coated in a viscous substance which trickled down the fabrics of her clothes. With a finger, Éla made a path through the liquid solvent. Panic seized her body into a stationary mould as eyes settled on the crimson red fluid that glued her to the floor.

Where it came from, she did not know. She was not wounded nor were there others in this strange place.

In the blink of an eye, her weight shattered the gravity holding her atop. Éla suddenly dropped into the black oblivion, falling and falling to an intermittent doom.

Éla woke the next morning in a cold sweat, heart palpitating with each breath. It was just a dream. A really bad dream and nothing more. As she calmed her breathing, her hand adversely raised to the belt resting off to the side. Reaching over, disappointment struck her features as Éla remembered that her dagger was left behind in the mountain.

She had rendered herself weaponless.

Over and over, Éla convinced herself to hold on because it was a short realization to grow strong in times of need. In that moment as her hand rested midair above where her weapon should have been, she accepted her guarded feelings for the dwarf king. She felt the need to go back to the mountain, to be with Thorin, her friends…to finally be home.

Home.

That's all they ever wanted to go back to, yet they were so far from where they had started. The elves and men refused to give up the Arkenstone as long as Thorin remained barricaded within, consumed by gold. Éla had tried everything to prevent herself from succumbing to the want for treasure. It was truly a magnificent sight to behold; such mounds of gold, treasures anew, gems carved and crafted into items of beauty.

Such thoughts always led to Thorin. He had referred to her as his treasure. So what was she now, a discarded piece of iron? No. Thinking such thoughts would never help. Éla grabbed what little belongings she had and exited the tent in search of a particular hobbit.

Weaving through the groups of elves and men gathered by fires was no easy task. Éla would've gotten lost if it hadn't been for Gandalf's pointed grey hat towering above everyone else. She gallantly maneuvered between bodies twice her height

"Ah, Élarinya." Gandalf greeted her with a warm smile.

"Good morning." Bilbo nodded, taking a piece of bread and popping it in his mouth.

"The weather may be grim," the wizard turned to the sky clouding over, "but the men and elves are hopeful for a parley."

Éla was hesitant in believing Thorin would counsel with the elves still currently present, but she would trust Gandalf's judgement for the time being to see events unfold. She then set her sights on the hobbit, his small, little self had inspired her quite frequently since their journey began. It was only fitting that she express herself with words.

"Thank you, Bilbo."

"For what?" Surprise and curiosity marked his visage. He hadn't felt at all deserving for any recognition as of late. He was dubbed a 'burglar' after all.

"Everything; you left your home to help complete strangers reclaim theirs. Above all, you sacrificed your life against a dragon when others didn't deserve it." Éla wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him for the second time since she'd left the mountain.

"Really, Éla, it's nothing." Bilbo stumbled, he wasn't sure what to say or how to react but returned the kind gesture.

"Your courage and loyalty have spoken highly of your character." She praised. "For someone so small, you have proven yourself a worthy companion to us."

Bilbo sunk on a log he'd been using as a chair, his ears tinted with color as he resumed nibbling on a piece of bread. Moments later, the bowman found them gathered by the fire. He surveyed the three individuals, resting on the female dwarf a little longer before addressing Gandalf.

"It's time."

A little short, but I'm planning for a longer one very, very, very soon. The dream sequence was partially taken from an earlier chapter. It could symbolize a prelude to what is to come, or how our minds imagine things to be.