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Chapter Sixty One # Run For Your Life #

Whistling quietly to himself, Ori unlocked the large, heavy door to Erebor's vast library with the same thrill of excitement he got every time he heard the deep echoing click of the key turning in the lock. Ever since Balin had led him to the cavernous halls filled from ceiling to floor with books and scrolls and tomes and maps and records, Ori knew that he had found his favourite place in the whole wide world. Unfortunately, he had not yet had much time to spend in the library – there was simply so much more work that needed doing to get the city back in shape and it was all able hands on deck.

However, since everything was going so well, Thorin had decreed not two months ago that each dwarf must take one day of rest a week to prevent overworking and to relax the population – though of course in a dwarven kingdom 'rest' meant 'anything but work'. Ori was not the only one who had chosen to spend his time in the library, but he was the only one in the mountain to have a key to the magnificent room, with the exception of Balin, the librarians and – obviously – Thorin himself. There were perks to trekking across the world in the company of a king and killing a dragon, after all.

It was not yet dawn as Ori walked into the wonderful hall, so he was the only one there, but he expected that the librarians would arrive within the next few hours. Thorin had offered Ori a choice between the Keeper of the Books or the Royal Scribe, and though the previous position would give him the opportunity to spend every day among the ancient literature, Ori had chosen the latter. It would give him a more exciting view of the day to day action in Erebor, and besides, as scribe he could still help with the plentiful physical labour every able bodied dwarf partook in.

The three dwarves who currently cared for the library all volunteered for the same two reasons – they each had a passionate adoration of reading, and they were each physically unsuited to the (often difficult) labour that occupied many in the mountain. Two hundred and forty year old Bausi was a book binder, and a rather condescending, unpleasant dwarf in Ori's opinion, though he was incredibly good at what he did. Though the dragon had never caused direct damage to the library itself, after so many long years of neglect many books were in dire need of repair, which meant that Bausi was at work most days – despite the fact that he looked frail enough to fall apart at the slightest breath of wind, with a constant sneer on his lips to remind those around him of his bitter personality.

A much friendlier character was Elias, the one was responsible for examining, double-checking and maintaining the detailed records of everything they held in the library – a mammoth task that the young dwarf undertook with great gusto. Though he had expressed his admiration for Ori and the slaying of Smaug when they met, it was Ori who truly admired the ex-soldier – though he was but eighty years old, Elias had marched with the rest of Dain's troops into the Battle of Five Armies and had lost his dominant right arm and his left leg, from the knee down, in the fray. In defiance of the odds, Elias had survived and know moved around with the help of a specially made crutch and a specially forged iron leg, but despite his impressive speed there was no way that he was capable of heavy labour, which is why he had turned to the library.

The final librarian was a young, enthusiastic dwarven woman who was slightly older, a little closer to Ori's age, by the name of Mette who acted as the eyes, ears, legs, arms and even mouth of the elderly book-binder and crippled records keeper, tirelessly seeking out and retrieving books, ensuring that no one smuggled out anything without recording it and cheerfully directing those searching for information to the significant sections.

The coveted position of Keeper of the Books, the one with all the power and control over all the scrolls and tomes and books and maps and everything stowed in the glorious library, however, remained unfilled – Ori believed that Thorin was saving it for someone travelling from Ered Luin, though he was unsure of who exactly his king had in mind.

Ori knew that the library would likely be empty for at least a couple of hours but he had woken up with the irritating, undeniable knowledge that he would be unable to get back to sleep, so he had decided to head off to continue searching the archived section that most dwarves would barely grant a second glance.

Pushing open the heavy door, Ori slipped into the library and took a moment to stare at the seemingly endless halls of shelves, shelves that stretched all the way up to the enormous ceiling, shelves that were packed full of every sort of document imaginable.

Then he began to move, heading straight for the section he had been exploring recently – there was a book he had laid eyes upon last week that he wanted to have a closer look at. It did not take him long to find it and soon he was sitting at one of the ancient reading tables, pouring through an interesting volume that complied all the knowledge his kin had complied on hobbits and their culture. There was not much more than Ori already knew from Bilbo and Kíli, but he suspected that was because there was not much to know about the deceptively simple race.

I suppose that's what makes them so interesting, he thought. No one ever expects anything from them, so then when they surprise you it's all the more unexpected.

By the time Ori looked up from the books the library was no longer unoccupied and his stomach was rumbling, begging for lunch so he stood up and stretched, returning the book to the shelf before heading for the exit, pausing when he saw a familiar face.

"Oh, good morning, Miss Elza."

The woman looked up from the book with a friendly smile. "Oh, Lord Ori! Good morning!"

"What are you reading?" Ori asked curiously, dropping formalities as usual while his curiosity piqued.

A few random encounters and interesting conversations had led to an unexpected friendship between Ori and Elza and the young scribe appreciated it greatly. Elza had a habit of allowing her mouth run away with her, which was wonderfully refreshing for a young dwarf who had gone from a scrawny, timid nobody to a revered dragon-slaying Lord in a matter of months – Ori was still adjusting to the position of Lord and the simpering of those who had once been far above him in the social scale and he appreciated having someone as frank and friendly as Elza.

To his surprise, Elza blushed and covered the page slightly with her sleeve. "Oh, it's just… just a..."

"You know, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Ori smiled warmly, tugging absently on the end of his sleeve. "I hope you're doing well…?"

"I am very well, thank you." Elza's smile grew a little stronger, more like the bold smile the dynamic woman usually wore. "And yourself?"

"I'm well…" Ori replied, gesturing to the door vaguely. "I was just going for some lunch; would you care to join me?"

After a moment's hesitation the woman smiled and nodded, closing the book and tucking it under her arm carefully. "I'd be delighted."

"How's Dustan?" he asked as they left the library.

Elza rolled her eyes. "As obnoxious and difficult as he's ever been. You'd think an injury in so embarrassing a place might knock him down a peg or two but oh no, he's still a pompous ass."

Ori laughed, though he was glad that Elza's brother had not been too badly wounded in the recent mining accident. "That's good to know."

"I suppose it is…" Elza smiled wryly. The woman was a good few decades older than Ori, though she certainly did not look it, and since her mind was as sharp as a razor it did not take her long to realise that Ori's curiosity would not be diminished, even if he did not have the audacity to pursue the matter as his eyes flickered to the book beneath her arm. "It is a simple book, Ori, on the basics of reading and writing Westron, for I can only read Khuzdul. I have never had need of writing before, or the time to learn, but Daren suggested that we each use our free days productively, so he and Darben are learning to cook, Dastan and Dalen are trying to master archery and Dustan is lounging around bed mourning the temporary debilitation of his-" the woman paused with a suggestive, mischievous grin and Ori laughed. "Well, Dustan has succumbed to sloth, and I am learning to read."

"That sounds like a brilliant idea." Ori commented, leading the way to the slowly growing market.

Elza smiled. "As I said, it was Daren's idea – more of the good ones are."

Soon enough the pair had purchased two hot meat pastries and as they sat to eat their meal, Ori hid his smile behind his food and commented lightly. "Oh look, there's Dwalin!"

His companion stiffened slightly, a faint blush spreading to her cheeks even as her jaw tightened and she glanced over her shoulder for but a second. "Oh, indeed it is. Did you hear of the news from Ered Luin?"

"About the new mine they found? Yes, yes…" Ori recognised her attempts at changing the subject and frowned. "Dwalin doesn't look happy at all."

"That's a shame." Elza commented stiffly, stubbornly refusing to turn around and Ori was only just able to stop himself from sighing in exasperation.

As the young scribe watched, Dwalin looked up and made eye contact with Ori, smiling warmly before stiffening slightly at the sight of the woman. The scowl fell back onto his face and the warrior stormed towards the other side of the hall.

"What's wrong?" Ori quizzed his companion, who sighed.

"I do not think Lord Dwalin likes me very much." She commented wryly. "His glares are quite… impressive."

"He glares at everybody!" Ori insisted immediately, smiling shyly. "Are you sure there isn't something more?"

Elza gave him a sidelong glance and raised her eyebrows at him. "Lord Ori, you are not insinuating what I believe you are, are you? For if you are I will tell your Lordly brother that you miss your afternoon naps!"

Ignoring the friendly jibe at his age, Ori tugged at his mittens and smiled sheepishly. "Are you avoiding my question?"

"Yes, I think I am." Elza nodded, returning her attention to her food.

At this point Dori would have badgered the woman for answers while Nori would have subtly manipulated her into confessing, but that was not the way of the youngest brother so he resigned himself to waiting for her to tell him, choosing instead to finish his own food.

"Besides, even if we hypothetically supposed that I harboured some faint feelings for Lord Dwalin, it would not be worth dwelling on, for nothing could come of it." Elza added after a long moment.

Ori shook his head. "Why would you think that?"

"I know my place, my Lord, and it is not among the nobles. It is strange enough that I sit here now with you." Elza admitted.

"Why isn't your place here?" Ori asked calmly.

Her eyes narrowed. "You know why…"

"Why isn't your place here?" Ori repeated with a small smile.

"Fine," she sighed with a faint smirk. "I'll bite. I am a commoner."

"Why are you a commoner?"

"Why are you acting like a child?"

"Why are you a commoner?"

Elza sighed once more. "Because of the political and economic position of my family."

"According to the political and economic position of my family, I should be in no higher class than that of the merchants, or perhaps a minor noble. Thorin cares much for tradition and lineage, but he cares equally for the dedication of individuals. Look at the company – few of us were nobles before – everyone has a new start in Erebor and the King meant what he said when he declared that hard work and loyalty would be rewarded." Ori smiled, but Elza shook her head, smiling wryly at him.

"That may be true but you deserve your title and your status. You came when your king called."

"So did you – few families had the determination and loyalty to come to a kingdom when it was as weak as it was when you arrived. The first few months of resettling were always going to be the hardest and we are still in them, so we all knew that those families who set out immediately were families prepared to work hard. What's more, you saved my life and took a knife yourself. Your family is no longer 'common', Elza, even if you are not titled." Ori promised.

The woman paused, staring at her hands for a long moment. "I have not thought of it in such a way before…"

Ori smiled, glad that his point was across. He took a chance. "You should talk to Dwalin."

"What?" she looked up sharply and shook her head. "No, Ori."

"You were getting on so well!" Ori protested, pouting like a child as he thought back to the day when Elza had first shown up for work after leaving the Healing Halls.

"We had but three conversations or so." Elza said firmly. "While I will admit they were… enjoyable… conversations, we have not spoken for weeks, and to do waltz up and talk to him out of the blue would be most inappropriate."

"Why does that matter?" Ori pressed gently. "Do you think Dwalin has much care for propriety?"

"I think he has care for the social spectrum."

"You should talk to him." Ori repeated quietly.

Elza opened her mouth before pausing and she closed her mouth slowly, realisation dawning in her eyes as a smirk spread across her blushing cheeks. "They may say your brother is as sly as Varg the Night-Thief but you! You are as sneaky and manipulative as a snake, though you look as timid as a mouse!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Ori widened his eyes innocently.

Her smirk deepened and he could tell that she was more amused than angry. "Don't play the fool with me, Ori, I may be illiterate but I am not an imbecile. You act very coy and innocent with little questions that seem of little importance but you use them to manipulate people into wanting to do things they truly should not do, all the while looking at your victims with big puppy dog eyes and playing with your mittens. You know full well that by the time you are finished I will be in the right mind to march right up to your friend Dwalin and say-"

"Good afternoon."

Elza froze at the familiar voice, her cheeks flaming with a bright red blush as she turned to bow slightly at the imposing dwarf standing before her. "Good afternoon, Lord Dwalin."

Ori tried very hard not to grin widely as he greeted his friend with a nod. "Hello…"

"I hope I'm not interrupting…" Dwalin directed at Ori, his eyes flickering almost despite himself at the woman.

"Not at all." Ori beamed before Elza could say anything, gesturing to the empty bench beside him.

After a moment's hesitation Dwalin sat down next to Ori, looking almost awkward.

Trying to strike up a conversation, Ori turned to Dwalin. "I hear the training arena is finally usable?"

"Aye, that it is." Dwalin grinned slightly. "It'll make my life a whole lot easier, that's for sure."

When no further conversation sprang from that, Ori tried again. "Wasn't Daren helping with the training arena?"

"He was." Elza nodded.

Ori was barely able to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but then he spotted a familiar face on the other side of the hall and he got a spark of inspiration. "If you'll both excuse me for a minute I have to speak to my brother shortly, I'll be back soon!"

Before either Dwalin or Elza could protest, Ori darted away to his older brother, grinning at Dori who frowned.

"What are you up to?" he asked, sounding more amused than worried.

"Nothing at all." Ori smiled angelically and Dori glanced over at Dwalin and Elza.

"You don't still think it's Elza that Dwalin likes, do you?" Dori scoffed.

Ori shrugged slightly. "I think so, yes."

Dori's frown of concentration deepened and he glanced back at the two dwarves, only to give a little start. "They're talking…"

"Are they?" Ori looked around excitedly, and sure enough the pair appeared to be beginning a conversation. "Excellent!"

"You're very fond of that lass, aren't you?" Dori commented.

"She's a lovely woman." Ori shrugged slightly, grinning madly.

Dori continued to observe the pair carefully. "It looks like they're relaxing a little…"

"I think they are." Ori admitted.

"You think who are what?" Glóin asked as he approached their conversation.

"Look!" Ori pointed across the room to where Dwalin was now visibly smiling, and though Elza's back was to them the scribe would have put any amount of gold on the wager that she was smiling too.

"No, I don't believe it!" Glóin muttered. "They're just talking, that's all. Nothing more, no insinuation there at all!"

"Oh, really?" Ori smirked as Dwalin's smile strengthened and lit his eyes in a way that was usually reserved for his closest family members.

"By my beard…" Glóin murmured, clapping a hand onto Ori's shoulder. "Perhaps you were right, lad. I thought you were crazy, but he doesn't smile at any other lass like that…"

"No, he doesn't…" Dori agreed reluctantly.

"She likes him too." Ori confessed quietly. "But she's just as stubborn as he is about it – I'm sure of it."

"We should lock them in a closet together, or the like." Glóin schemed with a wicked grin and Ori shook his head fervently.

"No, just let them talk!" he insisted quickly. "It never helps to get involved in other people's love lives; it only ever makes a big mess."

Glóin raised his eyebrows, clearly amused. "And what experience do you have on that matter, lad?"

"I read, Glóin."

"You read romances? That's adorable…" Glóin taunted, prompting Dori to hit his arm as Ori rolled his eyes.

"And that's not the point. I've read enough romances to know that the last thing you should do is get involved." Ori said decidedly.

Glóin sighed, holding up his hands reluctantly. "Fine, fine! Are you sure we can't even arrange for them to 'accidentally' meet in the same place at the same time?"

Ori hesitated. "I suppose that could be alright… Oh, have you heard anything from Ered Luin recently?"

"Aye, I received a letter from Dana a few days ago…" Glóin nodded, delving into the news his wife had sent him from their old home.

It was half an hour before Ori spared another glance to Dwalin and Elza, and to his delight they seemed to be getting along very well. Dwalin caught him looking and raised his eyebrows, so Ori tugged on Dori's sleeve and began taking their conversation back towards the warrior.

"That was a long minute, Ori." Dwalin commented as they came closer and Ori widened his eyes in a 'who, me?' type expression.

"Was it? I barely noticed a second go by."

"Hush up, you!" Elza rolled her eyes as Glóin laughed. The woman stood up and straightened out her dress. "Well, I think I will take my leave of you-"

"My Lord Dwalin!" a desperate voice rang out loudly, disturbing everyone in the very busy hall. "Dwalin?" Dwalin stood up instantly, his hand flying to the knife on his belt and the guard's wide, fearful eyes fell upon the warrior. "My Lord Dwalin, you are needed, now!"

Ori felt ice chill his insides as Dwalin began to run out of the room and he followed automatically with Dori and Glóin.

"What has happened?" Dwalin grabbed the guard's shoulder as they reached the door and the lad swallowed.

"It's the king…"

"What about the king?" Dwalin asked slowly.

The guard's eyes flickered to Glóin, Dori and Ori before he swallowed once more. "He has been shot, my Lord."

"What?" Dwalin breathed sharply, his eyes going wide with fear and fury as Ori's stomach collapsed in on itself. "Is he alive?"

"I don't know…" the guard shook his head and ice slid into Dwalin's heart. "I don't know what happened, I was told to fetch you-"

"Where is he?" The warrior demanded, the anger in his voice disguising the fear in his heart.

"In the Royal Healing Halls. Lord Balin wants the rest of the company to assemble in the War Room immediately!"

Dwalin took off at a run without a second's hesitation, his heart beating painfully fast in his chest as he sprinted towards the direction of the Healing Halls.

No, no, Thorin, no...

If Thorin had died while Dwalin had been talking to a woman, the warrior would never forgive himself. He did not think he could lose another brother.

The battle was raging around him and Dwalin was certain that he was going to die. Frerin fought beside him, his friendly face contorted with fear and ferocity and Dwalin's father stood before both of them, fighting mercilessly to protect the son and young prince that had a little shelter behind him. They had been driven down towards the Mirrormere and they were outnumbered now.

Dwalin had never been so scared in his life.

Nevertheless he fought with all the skill and strength his small body could muster, unfailing until the blunt side of a flailing orc axe caught him on the side of the head and knocked him to the ground. He cried out in horror and Frerin twisted around, throwing a knife that came from nowhere into the head of the nearest orc.

"Get up, Dwalin!" the prince yelled, ducking a blade and grabbing Dwalin's shoulder, pulling him up onto his feet so that he was not lying vulnerable underfoot. "We're gonna be alright!"

As he swung the axe that was far too big for him into the face of a nearby goblin, Dwalin almost believed Frerin.

Then came the most horrendous sound yet, and he whirled around in time to see Frerin fall to the floor, a huge spear sticking through his stomach.

Dwalin's eyes widened and his heart stopped even as his body continued fighting. "Frerin!"

Frerin's eyes flickered up to him and the young prince's mouth opened but blood was all that trickled out from between the child's lips.

"Frerin!" Dwalin called again, stumbling sideways to protect the young prince in any way he could.

That was when he saw his father fall, and to the absolute horror of the child, Fundin's eyes were void of life before he even hit the floor. Dwalin turned his wail into a battle cry even as it tore from his throat and he threw every ounce of strength in his body into protecting his friend, his cousin, his brother, from anything that came anywhere near to him.

When the battle was over and their enemy fell away, Dwalin fell to his knees and finally realised that he had been protecting a corpse.

"No…" his lip trembled treacherously as he looked between his brother and his father and he looked up at the nearest dwarf, a stranger. "Help him, you have to help him, he's the prince!"

The stranger's eyes filled with pity and he slowly shook his head. "He's gone, son. I am sorry. Someone must inform the king…"

Dwalin's heart shattered and his stomach swooped as he looked back at Frerin and he dropped his head and sobbed, uncaring of who could see him cry.

Dwalin was only a child. What child would not cry after witnessing such horror?

"No, no, no!" a new scream of terror rose into the air and Dwalin looked up, tears streaking down his face, to see Thorin standing as still as a statue. Horror was carved into Thorin's youthful features as he saw the corpse Dwalin knelt before, and the older prince staggered forward, falling to the ground and crawling to his brother's side. "No, no, Frerin, no! Frerin, Frerin, Frerin!"

Thorin's broken wails rang in Dwalin's ears as he raced through abandoned corridors towards the Healing Halls. It was not uncommon for this part of the mountain to be unoccupied, for the walkways had not yet been completely stabilised.

He had to get to Thorin - that was all that mattered.

The heavy footsteps of the warrior and the guard behind him were the only sound until the second pair of footsteps stopped and a strange, cracking noise broke through the quiet. Quite suddenly the floor beneath Dwalin's feet fell through and he yelped in shock as he fell through the air. After a terrifyingly long fall, Dwalin landed painfully on a cold, stone floor and cried out despite himself as horrific pain shattered through his left leg.

Shaking his head to dispel a sudden wave of dizziness, Dwalin glanced at his leg, his eyes bulging at the sight of the bone now jutting out through his skin. The sight of it made him feel slightly ill so he looked away at the huge, black stone walls that rose up more than fifty feet into the air on any side of him. If he leant against one wall, he would barely have room to extend an arm fully before his fingers brushed the opposite wall – it as like he was in a tube – or a column.

A sudden thought sprung to mind and he suddenly felt a huge sense of foreboding.

"…and there were walkways in Erebor, the likes of which you will find in no other dwarven kingdom. Do you know what is so special about our paths, Dwalin?" Fundin asked as he settled his ten year old son into bed – or at least tucked him under the blankets of the meagre bedroll he shared with his rapidly growing brother.

The innocent little boy concentrated intensely. "Were they more goldener?"

"No, no…" Fundin laughed. "Balin, do you know?"

The older boy shook his head. "I don't remember. Did they move?"

"No, they did not move." Fundin paused for a moment, leaning down closer towards his sons to explain in a hushed voice. "They protected the city from traitors on the inside!"

Dwalin gasped, hanging onto his father's every word. "How'd they do that?"

"Most of the columns supporting the walkways were solid stone, as is the norm, but on some walkways there were extra support columns – columns that were hollow inside."

"Hollow?" Balin frowned.

"Aye," their father nodded. "If there were traitors marching inside the castle, the guards needed only to pull a secret lever and a section of the floor would fall away, sending the traitor falling down into the hollow column, where they would be trapped until a senior guard came to deal with them! And sometimes when they fell they got hut so badly-"

"Fundin!" their mother looked into the tent. "Do not go telling Dwalin of traitors and their ugly ends before bedtime, he is but ten years old!"

"I'm old enough!" Dwalin yawned in protest.

Dwalin had discovered several of the trapdoors with Thorin and Balin in their initial exploration of the mountain – the levers were hidden well among the patterns on the walkways, with some hidden on walls, doors or even on the side of the path itself. The memory faded away as Dwalin supposed that the trapdoor for one of the 'traitor traps', as he and Balin had dubbed them as children, had been damaged during Smaug's occupation and he threw his head back, looking up at the small light up above him.

Seeing the guard's face peering in, he called up commandingly. "Go get a rope!"

"You mean you're not dead?"

The annoyance in the guard's voice made Dwalin's heart plummet, but he disguised his growing trepidation with anger, as was his way. "You get me out of here right now, or so help me-"

"You'll do what?" The guard taunted. "I think I'll leave you down there, thank you very much. Accidents happen, and though you were supposed to die on impact, I think I'll still be able to explain to people how horrific it was when another slab of rock crumbled away from the path and hit you on the head. The king will be most disappointed to know that his bodyguard was stupid enough to fall into a hole in the ground."

"There's nothing wrong with the king at all, is there?" Dwalin growled, trying to get to his feet only to collapse back against the floor in pain. "It was all a ruse…"

"That it was." Dwalin could see the guard's mocking grin from the bottom of the pillar. "I played my part spectacularly, don't you think?"

"You won't get away with this!" Dwalin threatened furiously.

"Oh, I think I will." The guard crooned, standing up. He must have stamped on the cracked edge of the pathway, for more rock fell into the hole, striking Dwalin's arms painfully as he used them to shelter his head. "Are you dead yet?"

In response, Dwalin roared half the curses in his Khuzdul dictionary

"I'll take that as a-"

Dwalin frowned as the guard was cut off and he looked up, seeing nothing at all. He growled in frustration, looking around for anything to help him get out, but the fake columns were not made to be escapable.

A different head peered down and a more familiar voice called out. "My Lord Dwalin?"

The warrior frowned in confusion and suspicion. "Miss Elza?"

"Yes, it's me. Are you injured? What happened?"

"My leg." Dwalin replied through gritted teeth.

"I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I cannot hear you."

"My leg!" Dwalin called more loudly, staring angrily at the blasted thing. "It's broken, badly! I fell through the damned floor."

"Hold on, I will be back soon!" the woman promised, and then she was gone and Dwalin was left in a hole in the ground, wondering that the devil was going on.

Why had Elza been there? Had she been in on it – whatever 'it' was?

It's an assassination attempt. He told himself gravely even as his stomach churned.

The idea that Elza had been involved was strangely – horribly - uncomfortable. Ever since he spoke to her in the Healing Halls while she lay so weak and vulnerable and feisty on her sick-bed, Dwalin's feelings towards Elza had developed in a way that he did not much like. He had never expected to fall in love and marry and have children – it was a life he had never dreamed of, but when his mind turned to the beautiful woman he found himself wondering what it would be like to have a companion of that sort.

When he realised that he may have stronger feelings than a causal interest, Dwalin had pulled away from Elza quickly, but each time he glared at her it felt like he was betraying himself, which made him even angrier, which only made him glare more. Today, however, he had spoken to her once again, and when the awkwardness seeped away it had been easy, so easy, to speak to her, to laugh with her. He was starting to realise that the feelings he held towards her could be defined as love, and that scared him more than his broken leg did.

However, if anyone else had appeared like that, Dwalin would suspect their involvement in a heartbeat, a ploy to get close to him to finish him off, perhaps, and thinking of Elza in that way hurt him as much as the broken bone.

Mere minutes later she peered over the edge again. "Dwalin? Are you still there?"

"Where else would I be?" he snapped angrily.

"Oh, I don't know, dead perhaps?" she replied sarcastically, before freezing. "I'm sorry-"

Dwalin laughed despite himself. "Don't be. Do you have a rope?"

"I have something better, I hope!" she replied. "The workers left it in the next hall from where they were working on the base columns."

Dwalin frowned as something heavy looking was slowly lowered down the hole until it reached him. To his surprise, she had retrieved one of the miner's chairs, one that would usually be lowered miles underground to allow the user to dig deeper with more comfort, but she appeared to have modified it.

"Will that help?" Elza called worriedly. "You said your leg was broken, I thought if I lashed that plank under the seat you could rest your leg on that, do you think that would help?"

"Aye, it will." Dwalin nodded slowly. "Is there anyone else there?"

"Nobody except the guard you were speaking to, but he's not doing all that much right now. Are you in?"

"Give me a moment!" Dwalin replied, lifting himself up with his arms and awkwardly dragging himself into the chair, unable to stop a wordless snarl of pain.

"Are you alright? Dwalin?"

"I'm fine!" he snapped angrily, before remembering who he was talking to. "Forgive me, I did not mean to snap. However, I must ask – why did you follow me?"

"Oh… I saw a strange axe on the guard's belt, it's not uniform issue. I know from Dastan that guards are only allowed certain blades on duty and I got suspicious, especially since he sent Lords Ori, Dori and Glóin in a different direction. The library's in that direction anyway so I thought I'd return there, but then I saw the guard pull some kind of lever, and I assumed that would not be good." Elza replied calmly as Dwalin lifted his leg onto the plank, hissing in pain.

Normally he would have reluctantly waited for the healers, but he was not convinced that they would not be receiving more unsavoury company, so he ripped off his belt and bound his thigh to the plank. After a moment of staring at the ghoulish injury, Dwalin reluctantly decided that he had been bind the lower half of his leg to the plank as well, a task that was no mean feat with the sheer amount of pain it caused him. He let out a long, jagged cry of pain as his arm grazed the injury, before calling up to her.

"I'm in, Elza. You should get out of here – if that guard is expecting company you could get hurt, you should get help."

"There's no time for that." She argued tightly. "If they do come back you're a rabbit in a trap. Hold on!"

With that the chair was hoisted about an inch off the floor and Dwalin grabbed at the rope in shock. "What the- you're not pulling me up by yourself, lass?!"

There was no verbal reply but Dwalin jerked up about a foot, and when he looked up he could no longer see a face above the hole. There was a pause and then the chair was yanked up again and he hissed as his leg screamed in agony.

"Really, Elza, you should get help!" Dwalin protested, uncomfortable with his life being in the hands of someone he barely knew, even if he liked (loved?) her.

Once again there was no reply and the chair swung worryingly in the air for a moment before jolting up again, a pattern that continued for the rest of his ascent. By the time he was almost all the way up, the floor must have been over fifty feet below him, and though Dwalin was not afraid of heights his stomach churned as his seat swayed and he looked up.

Jutting out into the hole was a small, broken pipe and what appeared to be a makeshift pulley, which appeared to be what was being used to hoist him out. After a painstaking few minutes he was able to reach the top and a cry of exertion escaped Elza's mouth as a final tug pulled Dwalin up onto the walkway again, smashing his leg painfully against the side.

"I'm sorry!" Elza panted as Dwalin screamed through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry…"

"No need to apologise…" he growled, lifting his head up and fighting through the pain. "We should get out of here…"

"Agreed," Elza nodded, breathing heavily. "But it does not look like you can walk and I cannot carry you. I mean no offense, my Lord, but it was difficult enough with a pulley."

Dwalin nodded distractedly, staring at the unconscious guard on the floor. Sure enough, a large, ornate axe hung from his belt, one that was certainly not uniform. Dwalin cursed himself for allowing his panic for Thorin's wellbeing to blind him. "What happened to him?"

Still breathing heavily, Elza raised her eyebrows at the dwarf on the floor. "Him? He may have had a run in with a book."

"A book?" Dwalin frowned, his eyes falling on a simple book lying on the floor behind her.

The girl blushed and shrugged. "It was all I had."

A faint smile played at the corner of Dwalin's lips. "I see… no candlesticks in the general vicinity?"

She grinned and laughed. "No, no candlesticks to be found, my Lord. Oh my…"

"What?" Dwalin frowned, only to see that her wide eyes had looked at last to his leg wound and he grimaced. "Don't faint on me now, lass."

The queasiness flashed out of her eyes as irritation replaced it and she walked closer, kneeling down carefully by his leg. "I thought I told you when first we met, the sight of blood does not make me swoon like a damsel in distress."

I'm more like the damsel in distress in this case, Dwalin thought with a surge of pure horror and embarrassment. He hated admitting to needing help in the best of times, and this was certainly not the best of times. Normally he would snap at her to get her hands off him right now or to leave him alone because he would do it himself, dammit, but something stopped him from growling when her hands hesitantly peeled his bloodied trousers away from the wound a little.

"This is very bad," she commented, though her tone was remarkably light. Then again, she was used to dealing with stubborn, snappish, injured dwarven men. "But if you see the healers I have no doubt that the bone will heal properly."

"And what makes you say that?" Dwalin raised his eyebrows, his face betraying only physical pain, though there was a war more complicated than the Battle of Five Armies raging within his mind.

The anger and fury that usually poured from him when he was hurt, threatened or humiliated was battling his fondness for this beautiful, strange little woman, and somehow the fondness (love?) he held in his heart for Elza was winning, despite the fact that he was very hurt, rather threatened and extremely humiliated. Part of him yearned to trust her unconditionally, to learn more about her, to do whatever he had to for her to love him, but a part of him was desperate the escape now before her hold over him got any stronger. Part of longed to doubt her and part of him ached to kiss her. As a result, his words to her seemed to be gentler than they would be with most in such a scenario, though his anger and mistrust appeared to be escaping in short snaps. It was most confusing and most uncomfortable and Dwalin did not like it at all.

You like to think you have the emotional range of a teaspoon, Dís had told him once. But actually you're far more complicated and romantic than you'd like to believe.

To his disgust, Dwalin realised that Dís may be right.

"Dustan was kicked by a donkey once, and his arm broke in a similar manner. Now his arm works just fine, though it still pains him occasionally." She promised, biting her lip as she surveyed the wound. "There's nothing more I can do though, for I have no skills of healing to speak of."

"You saved Ori's life." Dwalin pointed out gruffly and she raised an eyebrow.

"There is a difference between healing and stopping someone from bleeding to death. It is not that complicated." She argued, before breaking off and looking up, her smile slipping from her face. "Do you hear that? Footsteps?"

Dwalin listened intently, and after a moment he heard them too, several sets of footsteps heading their way. Automatically he tensed for a fight; though the very tensing of his muscles made his leg scream in anguish. He glanced up at his companion who looked paler than usual at his reaction.

"Do you think they're friendly?" she whispered.

"I think you're developing a dangerous habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time." Dwalin commented gravely, unsure of whether the approaching footsteps were friend or foe.

Elza laughed, but it was not the laugh that did funny things to Dwalin's stomach. Instead it was a nervous, hesitant sound, and it made something in Dwalin's heart yearn to rise up and protect her. "The story of my life…"

"If they're not friendly, you jump across that gap and you run, do you understand me?" Dwalin ordered harshly. "It's not a large gap, you'll make it."

Elza looked at him, her mouth falling open slightly. "You want me to leave you here?"

"I cannot protect you from the floor," Dwalin pointed out testily. They were running out of time. "And you cannot fight with an axe, can you?"

Shaking her head slowly, Elza looked down at him, and for the first time Dwalin saw true, undiluted fear in her eyes. The footsteps drew closer and Dwalin drew a knife from his belt, passing it up and pressing it into the woman's hand.

"Here… If the worst comes to the worst you stick them with the pointy end." He informed her, meeting her dark green eyes with his own. "You'll be alright, lass."

She swallowed and nodded, prompting a rogue curl of dark brown hair to fall in front of her face. As her fingers brushed it back to tuck it behind her ear, Dwalin noticed that her fingers were trembling and the anger in his stomach roared.

He looked up and saw three large, burly dwarves rounding the corner to stare at Dwalin and Elza, and his heart sank. He recognised them all, they were newcomers to the guard, but furthermore he recognised the elaborate, fanciful axes they carried – axes almost identical to the one carried by the unconscious guard by his feet. These were no friends…

"Elza, go." He said quietly.

"You again?" one of the dwarves called out indignantly, looking to Elza who froze. "Can't you keep your abnormally small nose out of other people's business, whore?"

"Run, now!" Dwalin ordered stiffly, his heart pounding as he realised that they recognised her.

"What?" she cried, shaking her head and looking down at him desperately. "I-"

"Go!" Dwalin hissed.

"No, don't go, woman." Another of the strangers drawled. "Just wait there like a good girl so we can kill you quickly and kindly – you don't want to be dragged into this for longer than you have to be."

Desperation began to claw at Dwalin's heart. "Elza, run, run now and don't look back! Leave me behind, you'll make it, go!"

Elza shook her head slowly, fear shining in her beautiful eyes as she looked down at the desperate dwarf by her feet.

The traitors charged, and then Elza finally made a decision.

And that is where I leave you for today. I hope you enjoyed that chapter, it was a bit of a monster. Reading back on it with the last ten chapters or so in mind, it seems like I really have it in for Dwalin but I really don't, I promise! I love him to pieces :P Hopefully it should all make sense when I tie these threads together.

So yes, I really hope you liked it, do let me know if you'd like, I love knowing what you all are thinking :) Thank you for reading!