They were awakened in the morning by shouting and bustling people, and Morine wondered for a moment if the war had started while she slept. Tugging her boots on and rushing outside, she found a rather disheveled looking Bilbo outside of his adjacent tent. "'What's going on?" she puffed, heart pounding with adrenaline.
As Romen stepped outside from behind her, Gandalf walked up to them as if on cue. "Guards on the northeastern edge of the camp have spotted Dain's army," he reported. The hollering heard around the camp was from the messengers, and panic was begging to ensue.
"So soon," Morine said softly. "I thought we had another day to prepare."
"They must have marched straight through the night," he said. "The messengers report that they are heavily armed and battle ready."
At that moment, horns sounded to call the camp to arms, and men and elves alike scrambled in all directions and into tents like an angry colony of ants that had been stepped on. Morine ducked back inside to grab her own weaponry and hoped the dwarves had worn themselves out with their long march. As she thought of Thorin's unrelenting search for the Arkenstone and his obdurate party, she doubted it was enough to consider an advantage. She has known little of the so-called second-born in her time in Middle Earth, but they were proving their mettle.
A few of the dwarves crossed the river and approached the camp after laying down their weapons. Bilbo went with Bard to talk with them. As the camp waited breathlessly, Morine fiddled with her bow in nervousness. If the dwarves were allowed to reach the mountain and join the company, then the siege would be useless, for they had brought many supplies with them. As it was, the lake men and wood elves had the upper hand with the coveted Arkenstone in their possession, and without reinforcement, Thorin would be forced to reconcile soon.
The mediators retreated, but nothing could be done to appease either side. While Bard, Bilbo, and the Elvenking debated how to defuse the situation, Dain's army began marching onward to the mountain. "This isn't good," Morine said to Romen, whose face mirrored her concern. Amidst the confusion, the dwarves attempted a ranged attack on the camp, only to be stopped by the frightful and commanding form of Gandalf.
He had thrust himself between the dwarves and the camp, splaying his arms wide and crying, "Halt!" They obeyed the powerful wizard, whose staff was blazing in his tempest. The reason for his intervention—other than to avoid bloodshed, of course—was obvious to them all: a huge black cloud had gathered suddenly at the top of the mountain and was flying toward them, dreadfully blocking all light from their north, and lightning flashed at the peak. It was the arrival of the wolves and goblins, though not a soul knew of their coming. An icy chill raced down Morine's spine and caused an shiver of dread. Gandalf called them all together now—Dain, Bard, the Elvenking, Bilbo, Morine, and Romen—to create a plan of attack and put aside their differences. Their survival depended on it.
Dwarves, men, and elves came together in that last hour before battle in a large green tent near the center of the camp that must have been the Elvenking's, judging by the finer quality of the furnishings. Leaders of each army awaited their instructions outside. The room was filled with graven faces as Gandalf urged them to work together—man, elf, and dwarf—to overcome the evil forces before them. "There is no other option. If we fail to act as one body, the goblins and wolves will tear us apart and destroy us all. They may outnumber us, but we may have time yet to outsmart them," he hinted, hoping someone would come forward with an idea.
"This is no time for words, but for actions," Bard said impatiently, hand on his sword hilt.
The wise Elvenking proposed, "We must lure the goblins between the arms of the mountain and into the valley. If we can take the high ground to the south and east of the peak, we may stand a chance."
Gandalf added, "There may be enough of them to swarm over the mountain and the spurs, attacking us from above, so we must be aware of all of our surroundings. We are out of time, but I think your plan is as good as any and better than none." This seemed to appease Bard, and Morine and Romen nodded in agreement.
The armies had little time to prepare and take their places on the mountain spurs. Bard and Dain would take the eastern spur, while the Elvenking would take the southern spur near Ravenhill. Bard volunteered to go with a few of the nimblest soldiers and climb to the top of the eastern spur to espy the dark army coming from the north. As it was, they had no idea what sort of force they were going up against. Morine and Romen decided to go with him as well.
"How will we lure them into the valley?" the Elvenking asked the hasty council.
"Let me take care of that," Bard volunteered grimly, taking the group by surprise. He explained, "The lives of men are brief compared to yours." He was the only man inside the tent, and dwarves, elves, and Istari live for many generations of men. "With the loss of our town and many of our people, some men have little reason to live. I assure you: I can find a few brave men who will risk their lives."
A few people shook their heads at the somber promise, but the offer was taken nonetheless. It was a foreboding reminder that they must all be willing to give their lives today in battle. Morine looked at Romen as if to say, "I told you so." This time, she hated being right. He patted her on the shoulder in sympathy as the council broke to lead their armies to their respective places. Outside the tent, she noticed the storm had rolled away, but in its wake around the mountain lay a huge cloud of swarming bats so dense that it blocked out any sunlight.
As the siblings marched up the eastern spur with the armies of men and dwarves a short time later, Romen noticed her fancy weaponry. "Where'd you get that?" he asked, pointing at the quiver flung on her back where the sterling silver arrows shone conspicuously in the dim grey daylight.
"It was a gift from Gandalf," she stated.
Romen lifted his brows. "It's an impressive set."
"Thank you," she said as they reached the rocks and places where the majority of the troops would hide. Without him asking, she divulged, "He helped me develop my skills."
"Oh?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and odd smile. "What skills?"
"You'll find out soon enough," she smirked. Though a battle was the last thing she wanted, it would be an excellent chance to try her new techniques. Little did she know that he had some of his own tricks up his sleeve.
Bard lead them and a small group of men and elves higher up the arm of the spur and toward the mountain top. One of the elves accompanying them was particularly fair. He was dressed in green and brown, and she recognized him as being at the impromptu council. Though he had not been introduced to the group, he was clearly of some importance. Morine thought he was perhaps a favored warrior of the Elvenking and admired the speed with which he scaled the mountainside. He was the first to reach the peak of the group, and she saw his fair face grow stony and graven.
As she and Romen reached the peak of the eastern arm and spied over the top at the northeastern plains below, the reason for the elf's icy countenance became clear. A vast army of wolves and goblins stretched from the north as far as they could see in a wide swath that was rapidly approaching. There was little time left, and glancing backwards, she saw that the brave men Bard had promised to use as bait were already stationed in the valley like lambs sent to a slaughterhouse. Looking back at the legion below, innumerous red and black flags bespeckled the moving horde, and her stomach churned. "How are we going to get through this?" she wondered. The threat to her life felt suddenly real for the first time as she observed the endless host of enemies. For a brief moment, she thought she would rather have fought the fiery dragon than face this new threat that greatly outnumbered them.
Looking to Romen for assurance, his face was more serious than she could ever remember seeing it. "I hope you know a few good tricks," he quipped with a straight face. She instantaneously materialized a tight ball of lightning in her palm, causing him to grin. "How'd you learn that?"
Morine had always had a spark of talent with lightning, but it was largely unrefined and useless while she traveled with Romen in their younger days, when their abilities were more like raw materials for the powerful forces they would later become. "Gandalf helped me train."
In response, Romen stretched out his own palm where a ball of water formed and swirled, shocking her. "I got bored and thirsty in the desert," he claimed with nonchalance. She was amazed that while traveling alone, he had suddenly summoned the discipline required to develop his magic without any aid. It was unlike him, or at least unlike the last version of him she had known.
Anything else they wanted to share was put on hold as the sound of battle started from far below them. The onslaught of the goblins, wolves, and wargs overwhelmed the small force of men that had led them into the valley and between the two spurs. As the brave soldiers were quickly felled, arrows rained down from the rocks, taking the black army by surprise. Before long, men, dwarves, and elves rushed into the valley, slaying the enemies and leaving heaps of bodies, though many of them were killed themselves within moments.
The ugly battle began and waged without fanfare. The sound of weapons clashing and cries of pain echoed throughout the hills as they watched from their high perch. "Are you ready for this?" Romen asked, the ball of water in his hand amassing as she wondered what he intended to do with it.
"I don't have a choice." She swiftly notched a silver arrow to her bow and loosed it, a bolt of lightning crackled with a thunderous boom as it pierced the swarm below.
