I'm back! Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I'm glad that lots of you seem to like Elza, I know that the fandom (myself included) is generally rather critical of female OCs in particular, so it means a lot :)

Guest 1) Sorry! I'm not really evil, I promise, haha :) I'm glad you're hooked, though!

Guest 2) Thank you so much, I'm so glad you like the way I'm writing Dwalin! It's been quite a challenge to keep him himself, if that makes sense, so I'm so glad you're enjoying it!

Forgive any mistakes I make in this chapter, it's a long one!

Read. Enjoy. Review.

Chapter Sixty Two # A Series of Unfortunate Events #

To say that Elza was terrified was somewhat of an understatement as she evaluated her situation within a second. If she ran, the chances were she would be outrun, or taken down from behind by a throwing axe. Even if she did escape any help she found would be too late for Dwalin, even if it was found within seconds, and that thought made her stomach shrivel up and her heart turn to lead.

If she stayed, she would likely be killed in seconds.

Well, I might as well just throw myself down the hole, break my own neck and be done with it. She thought pessimistically, before pausing. Maybe, just maybe…

Desperation grew in her mind as she frantically searched for a way out of this alive, and she finally did the first thing she thought of.

Elza screamed.

She screamed as loudly as she could, in as high a pitch as she could muster for as long as she possibly could, making sure that she looked as hysterical as possible to make herself appear less of a threat.

The strange guards reacted instantly, wincing and exchanging frantic glances before the ugliest one spat out words. "Shut her up, now!"

Fighting back a grin (and wondering how twisted her mind was that she could feel amused in such a situation) Elza screamed even louder, her throat feeling as though it were aflame with the strain of such a loud sound. Since true hysteria often rendered people utterly useless, she would likely be underestimated if she faked it and though she lacked any significant skill in self-defence she knew that it was always better if your opponent thought you weaker than you truly were. Furthermore, dwarves loved the idea of playing the hero and saving the damsel in distress, so hysterical screaming was a rather sensible way to go, even if it did make her look useless.

As her breath finally ran out, silencing her screams, Dwalin's voice replaced hers.

"Duck!" the warrior yelped.

Elza's eyes widened as one of the traitors hurled his axe towards her and she ducked with a strangled gasp, chills travelling down her spine as the weapon barely missed her head.

"Move!" Dwalin ordered immediately in a strangely fearful tone as he threw a knife of his own, but his awkward position impaired his aim and the knife only scraped the arm of one of the traitors, bouncing harmlessly from the dwarf's armour.

A flash of weak inspiration flickered in Elza's mind and she lurched forward, grabbing the book she had left on the floor and throwing it up in front of her face in a desperate bid to impede the flight of the second axe hurtling towards her.

Miraculously, her head was not split open by the traitor's blade - instead came a loud thunk, accompanied by the sound of hundreds of pages tearing at once as the axe tore through the library, its blade bursting through the back cover only to stop an inch from her nose. Scarcely able to believe her luck, Elza thanked the maker that her nose was not as long as her brother's and scrambled to her feet, stumbling back towards Dwalin instinctively.

The jaded warrior threw another knife at the attackers, this time managing to catch the third guard in the thigh. As the adversary crumpled to the floor with a cry out pain, Dwalin looked up at Elza with a wild look in his eyes. "It's not too late to run, lass!"

"I think you're wrong about that!" Elza replied breathlessly, clutching the knife he had given her tightly as the other two began to charge.

Dwalin growled out several Khuzdul curses and glanced at the unconscious dwarf by his side. "Grab that bastard's axe, quick!"

Without hesitation Elza darted forward and tore the traitor's axe away from him, passing it to the injured Lord who swiftly hurled it through the air. She winced as it embedded itself in the chest of one of the charging dwarves, but her eyes widened as the other began to run faster.

Dead, dead, I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead - she thought frantically before her own, strong voice overrode her blind panic. No, stop that, that's not helping anyone! Duck, now!

Dropping down into a crouch, Elza squealed despite herself as the guard's blade came close enough to scrape her hair. Instinctively she dropped backwards onto her backside and kicked out viciously, trying to knock out the stranger's legs from beneath him. Unfortunately it worked all too well, and the dwarf dropped on top of her, knocking the air from her lungs and the knife from her hand.

Screaming in his ear as she tried to get out from underneath her attacker, Elza began to scratch at his face and ram her knees up into his groin, using all the tactics that had been strictly banned during her childhood wrestling matches with her brothers. From the corner of her eye she could see Dwalin drag himself forward as he roared in anger, managing to land a heavy punch on the side of the traitor's face.

The traitor growled and rolled over, dangerously close to the edge of the walkway, grabbing Elza as he did so and pressing a knife up against her neck. "Enough!"

Elza froze as she felt the blade pressing into her skin, looking to Dwalin fearfully and silently begging him to tell her what to do next. He was a warrior – he would know how to escape something like this, surely?

Though fury was carved into the warrior's face, worry taking residence in his eyes as he stared at her and it was clear that he had no solution.

Well, I'll be damned if I'm going to die like this! She thought disgruntledly. That's entirely unacceptable!

"Put the knife down…" Dwalin said slowly. "Put the knife down and let the girl go."

"I don't think so…" the strange dwarf growled, tightening his arm around Elza's waist.

As she felt her attacker's grip tighten around her waist and his hot, ragged breaths against her neck, Elza could not help but shudder, and for a moment she was unable to stop herself from closing her eyes.

"Let her go." Dwalin snarled dangerously. "Now…"

Elza's eyes flickered open once more and she was surprised to see what looked like true fear in the warrior's eyes as he stared at her.

Think, think, think! She begged herself.

"I think I'm going to leave now, and I think she's coming with me." Her assailant growled.

"I don't think I will be, thank you very much!" Elza replied, struggling to keep her voice from shaking as she ran her eyes over everything in a desperate attempt to think of an escape.

Why is no one coming? Elza's mind was begging. Why is there no one to help?

Just as she felt panic rise up in her chest, her eyes fell upon the chair she had used to pull Dwalin up that now lay abandoned half a foot away from the warrior. The other end of the rope was mere inches away from her fingertips, and by the looks of things, pulley was still in place.

A sudden insane thought sprung to mind.

Could I?

"Shut up, woman!" the traitor growled, and Elza met Dwalin's eyes with hers, flickering her gaze to the abandoned chair behind him.

"Catch me, if you can." She said, forcing her lightness into her tone, and Dwalin's eyes lit with understanding. The warrior nodded slightly and she slowly lifted her hands up to the arm that held the knife to her throat.

The traitor fought back against her. "What the-"

Elza took a deep breath and looked at Dwalin's dark eyes. Then she pushed the stranger's arm forward on one rushed, jerking movement as she thrust her hips back, knocking her attacker off the edge of the platform. Ducking the flailing knife she grabbed a hold of the rope before her as the guard seized leg, pulling her off with him.

Though she had been expecting him to try and bring her down with him, she was unable to stop herself from screaming as she fell over the edge and Elza squeezed her eyes shut, praying as strongly as she could.

The rope jerked to a stop in mid-air and she could have sobbed with relief if such intense pain had not seized her arms with the abrupt stop. To make matters worse, her attacker still clung to her leg and the added weight was causing her arms to ache already.

"Get off me!" she growled through gritted teeth, kicking at the traitor's face with her free foot, though her skirt complicated things. "Get off!"

To her horror, the stranger did not let go, though she was relieved to see that it seemed he had dropped his knife at some time in the scuffle. Instead his grip on her leg shifted and he reached up as if he was trying to climb up her. Snarling to disguise her panicked, shallow breaths, Elza began to struggle, but her arms would not take the weight of both of them for long.

All of a sudden the rope jerked upwards and another scream was torn from her lips against her will. They began to rise, slowly but smoothly, and she struggled desperately to detach the awful dwarf from her leg, but soon his arms were wrapped around her waist.

I am truly going to die today… Elza thought numbly as she heard the thundering of dozens of pairs of feet speeding towards them. I'm going to die…

"My Lord Dwalin?" she heard a voice asked in surprise, and she relaxed with the knowledge that Dwalin, at least, was finally with friend, not foe.

"Over the edge, dammit! The bastard traitor hasn't let go of her!" Dwalin's harsh voice growled, sounding incredibly strained, and Elza looked up to see faces of several dwarves, some of whom she recognised and some of whom she did not, peering over the edge of the walkway.

"Hold on, Miss Elza," Elias, the young armless lad from the library called down with an uncharacteristically grave face. "But you sir would do well to let go."

"Pull us up or I swear by Mahal himself, I'll kill her!" the traitor had the audacity to spit, and she looked down at the bastard clinging to her waist.

"And how are you doing to do that, exactly?" She sneered scornfully, anger overriding her fear as it often did.

The traitor gave her a sickening grin and began to struggle, putting more strain on Elza's arms and she gasped.

"If you could pull us up that would be wonderful!"

Several of the newcomers disappeared from view and began a hushed discussion Elza could not catch the words off, though she could distinguish Dwalin's growling tone. For a long, horrible moment they simply hung suspended in mid-air until they suddenly began moving upwards again, though they were going faster than before. Elza gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut as her arms began to tremor with the strain of the weight she held. It was one thing lifting another's body weight using a pulley; it was another altogether to dangle in mid-air, holding the body weight of two adult dwarves. When they had risen another few feet, the disgusting traitor clinging to her waist reached up and pinched at her shoulders, making her cry out in pain and anger.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, looking down at him and he grinned once more, digging his fingers into as much of her arm as he could reach and an awful epiphany hit her.

He wanted to fall. What was more, he wanted to fall from a height – he wanted to die rather than face capture.

Oh, that's just perfect… Elza moaned internally, throwing her head back and calling up to her unseen allies. "Please, please hurry!"

Elias, who was still watching the whole thing, called over his shoulder. "Get a move on, he's trying to drop her!"

Grateful for the librarian's orders, Elza dropped her head once more to scowl at the dwarf now kicking her legs as their speed increased even more. "You're a snivelling coward! Let go of me now, if you're so ready to die!"

"I'm taking you down with me!" he spat, and Elza looked up worriedly.

"Hold on, Miss Elza, you're nearly there!" Elias assured her.

Sure enough, Elza's hands now banged painfully against the side of the walkway and several arms leant down to grab hers, taking all the weight from her arms though her hands remained tightly attached to the rope.

"You can let go now, Miss." A stranger assured her with a comforting smile. "We've got you."

"Oh, I'm trying!" She assured him with a faint laugh. "My fingers are just a little disobedient."

A couple of the strangers chuckled, lifting her anyway as she tried to peel her aching fingers away from the rope. Sensing that his time was up, the traitor tried to let go, but before he could complete his 'martyrdom' several burly dwarves lurched down and grabbed his arms tightly, hoisting him up onto the platform and pinning him down even as they gently pulled Elza to safety.

There must have been thirty odd dwarves on the short section of walkway now, but Elza peered through their legs to meet Dwalin's eyes as he dropped the chair he had grabbed to prevent her falling to her doom with a heavy sigh.

"Thank you…" She smiled slightly as she spoke, addressing Dwalin directly before looking up at the other around her and smiling at them, too. "All of you, thank you."

They all nodded and smiled and accepted her thanks graciously, but her eyes quickly turned to Dwalin once more.

His face was stony and grim, and maybe a little grey as he spoke in a quiet, gravelly voice. "Are you hurt?"

"Not badly," she shook her head, though she stared at her scraped palms. "My hands hurt, my arms ache awfully, it's nothing serious. You, on the other hand need to get to the Healing Halls. Has someone gone for the healers?"

"We sent the fastest lad among us, although by a different route." A red bearded dwarf assured her.

Nodding, she glanced over at the traitor who had tried sending her to the floor. Already, he was bound and gagged and as she watched, Elias hit him on the head with his crutch, prompting the imposter to howl indignantly through his gag and the surrounding dwarves to jeer at him.

She snorted with laughter, dropping her head to her knees. Immediately four different men swarmed around her, asking if she was going to faint or be ill or swoon, but before she could say anything, Dwalin barked at the lot of them.

"Give the lass some space, she'll be fine. She isn't the fainting sort, she just needs to breathe." The warrior declared and Elza looked up to smile at him gratefully as the others shuffled back.

The following hours were somewhat of a blur for Elza with all of the rushing and bustling and whispering and shouting that surrounded her, for somehow she could not escape the centre of all the fuss. It felt almost like she was trapped in the eye of a hurricane, without all sorts of unfamiliar drama whirling around before her eyes and refusing to let her go, so eventually she stopped fighting it and went with the flow, allowing two kindly dwarves to lead her to the Healing Halls.

When they arrived most of the attention was naturally given to the injured Lord and for a moment Elza was left, forgotten on the next bed over, which somehow felt a little better. It was normal for action and drama to follow Lords and nobles, and it was normal for her to be left on the side lines. She liked the side lines, they were safe. Seconds later, however, another pair of healers approached her and began asking a whole array of questions that she answered as patiently as she could.

No, she did not think she had any bone or muscle damage. Yes, she could raise her arms above her head, though it ached to do so. No, she was not going into shock. Yes, she could still move all her fingers and toes.

The dull monotony of the questions was broken by a loud crack, a sickening crunch and a sudden roar of anguish from the next bed.

Elza jumped at the barrage of sound and looked to the healer with shocked, wide eyes.

"They're just setting his bone." The older woman assured her with a grimace. "It's a painful procedure, despite the herbs, but one that is always better to get over and done with. Now if you'd give me your hand, lass, we'll see about soothing those poor palms of yours."

Elza had quite forgotten her own injuries at the sound of such pain and she had to glance down at her scraped hands to remind herself what the woman was talking about. Rope burns hade made an utter mess of her already rough palms and fingers, and in several areas the skin had broken altogether, but despite the gruesome sight she could not even dream of feeling sorry for herself, not when Dwalin lay on the next bed with his leg bone snapped in two. Wordlessly, Elza held out her palm, looking across to the next bed.

The throng of healers and guards that surrounded Dwalin's bed made it impossible for her to see him, and for some strange reason that upset her.

And what makes it your place to be upset about that? An annoying voice that sounded much like Dustan's sneered in her head and she sighed softly.

What did it matter if she hypothetically (truly) harboured some faint (terrifyingly strong) feelings for Dwalin?

Ori certainly seemed to think that something could come of it, but Elza had abandoned any illusions as to her ever becoming more than just commoner many years ago. It was not her place to be here, even if she did like (love?) Dwalin, son of Fundin.

A string of Khuzdul curses from the next bed made Elza smile slightly despite herself, though the healer looked far from impressed.

"Honestly, this is a place of healing, not a damned tavern!"

Perhaps Dwalin had heard the healer's distaste, for his curses soon stopped and for a good few minutes the only sound was that of the quiet conversations of the guards and the murmurs of the healers.

All of a sudden a noble bustled in in a whirl of furs and finery, his beady eyes surveying the whole situation.

"My goodness, what is happening here? Why is there a common girl in the next bed to Lord Dwalin? Have you no sense of propriety in the Healing Halls?" he cried pompously.

Blushing slightly, Elza began to prepare to move, but Dwalin's voice cut her off.

"Hold your tongue before you make more of a fool of yourself, Ioán!" he barked. "It is no business of yours who I surround myself with, and you'd do well to remember it. I've been thrown down a fifty-foot hole, had my leg broken and watched an innocent lass almost die before my eyes only because she try to save me, and I have not patience for you misplaced arrogance. If you have no purpose of being here other than to humiliate women with more strength and courage than you could ever dream of having, I suggest you leave, swiftly."

The sheer surprise accompanying Dwalin's words was the only thing that stopped Elza from grinning at the look of shock and embarrassment on the newcomer's face. She had no issue with the words of Ioán, she had known her place all her life, but it was strangely nice to hear Dwalin defending her.

No, stop right there! Her mind ordered. He simply dislikes this Ioán character, clearly that is all that is occurring here – I could be anyone at all and it would make no difference.

Would it?

"As a matter of fact, I was here to speak to Master Klaus, is he available?" Ioán asked the assembled healers, looking rather flustered.

"He's taking his rest day today." The healer tending to Elza's hands said stiffly. "He won't be available until tomorrow."

Seeming to sense that he was unwelcome, Ioán coughed. "Well, if that's the case, I'll take my leave."

"Wait a moment." Dwalin ordered. "I need you to track down my brother and send him here, immediately."

"I will get right to it, my Lord." Ioán bowed stiffly, disappearing out of the room.

"Here, Miss Elza," another healer passed the woman a cup of steaming tea.

"Thank you," she smiled, accepting the cup gratefully as Dwalin began barking orders to the guards around his bed.

"This was an assassination attempt, there's no two ways about it. If we're lucky, I'm the only target and it was supposed to be a simple murder, but if we're not it could mean that there are traitors still in the mountain. Colborn, Kyrri, I need you to seek out the king and tell him what has happened, but take heed you do not let him out of your sight until I say so, understand? Good, now get out of here. Mikel - I want the prison guard doubled while the treacherous bastards are there and I want patrols increased, but be discreet about it, we don't want to cause a panic."

"Consider it done, my Lord." A nearby dwarf bowed and left the room, taking a couple of the others with him.

"Joren, we need to know where the loyalties of the new recruits lie." Dwalin continued. "Fenrir – find Elza's brothers and inform them of what has happened. You know Dastan, do you not?"

"Yes, my Lord, I will seek him out immediately." The familiar dwarf bowed and left the room, flashing a brief smile to Elza as he left.

"Oden, I want the King's Company tracked down, all of them." Dwalin continued.

A rather handsome dwarf with an impressive black beard nodded. "I shall do so immediately my Lord, but where should I bring them?"

There was a short pause. "Take them to Company room, make sure they are protected."

"How many guards do you wish to remain here?"

"Two on the door, two in the hall." Dwalin answered slowly. "None inside, you'd only get in the way of the healers."

"Very well. Would you have us deny entry to those without ailment?"

Dwalin paused for a moment. "No, only if they appear to be a threat."

The guards around the bed all bowed and took their leave, and Elza watched out of the corner of her eye as Dwalin dropped his head back onto the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment before shifting himself into more of a sitting position and scowling at his leg, which by now was bound to a wooden splint with stiff bandages.

Turning her gaze to the cup of tea cradled in her hands, Elza wondered how her brothers would react to news of her latest escapade. She could barely believe it had occurred herself.

"I'm sorry."

The words came without prelude and they surprised Elza into looking at Dwalin. The warrior was staring straight ahead with no indication that he had spoken at all, but before Elza could suspect that she was hearing things, she watched him begin to speak once more.

"I'm sorry you were hurt – again." Dwalin's voice was quieter than she had ever heard it, and though its tone was rough as ever, there was something strangely gentle about his words.

For a moment she did not know what to say, but her small smile was heartfelt and genuine. "It's alright… It was my own fault for getting involved again, I suppose – as you said earlier, I have a horrible habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm not badly hurt, not like last time, I've suffered from sore hands and aching arms before. In truth I am more shaken than wounded, but that will pass, I'm sure."

Something that looked oddly like sorrow flickered in the warrior's eyes and he nodded slowly before turning his head and looking directly into her eyes. "I want to thank you, Elza, for saving my life."

The woman felt her cheeks set alight with a fierce blush as she smiled almost shyly. "You are most welcome – and thank you, too, for saving mine."

"If it wasn't for me, your life would not have needed saving, lass." Dwalin glared down at his leg for a moment before looking up at her once more. "I have to ask – why did you not run? What possessed you to stay by my side when you could have fled and fetched help?"

Elza paused, cautious of presenting herself as foolhardy or (heaven forbid) lovesick. "I suspected that if I ran you would not have a stood a chance against three armed dwarves with so grave an injury, and with my luck I would not have gotten far in any case. I did not feel that fleeing would be the most honourable thing to do in such a situation, and I resolved myself to fight in whatever way I could."

"Well, I appreciate it. You've certainly proven yourself resourceful, if nothing else." Dwalin grinned teasingly, though pain still shone in his eyes.

Elza laughed slightly. "I do try…"

"Your hands are shaking…" Dwalin commented with a frown and she looked down at the shaking cup.

She forced a smile. "Like I said, my Lord, I am more than a little shaken. You must understand that despite my terrible luck, this is not the type of unfortunate situation I find myself in. Usually my problems involve far simpler things and far simpler folk."

Dwalin nodded once more. "I have encountered your brothers several times in the guard and I admire their skill, but if it would make you feel safer I can assign guards to protect you…"

"Me?" Elza blinked several times, rather taken aback.

"From the sound of their talk and the fact they recognised you, they may well be from the same group we struggled with before. We do not know how many of these traitors are out there, and you seem to have placed yourself as a target – twice." Dwalin pointed out.

Elza nodded slowly. "I understand… I just… it's a lot to take in, I suppose. But no, I think I shall feel just fine without an extra guard, my Lord."

"Very well…." He paused. "And there's no need for the 'Lord'. Just call me Dwalin."

"As you wish, Dwalin." She replied with a smile, before a sudden thought came to mind and she gasped in dismay. "Dammit!"

"What's wrong?" Dwalin asked, worry flaring in his eyes.

"That was a library book…" she remembered, glancing at the impaled book sitting beside her bed. "Old Bausi is going to kill me!"

Dwalin grinned. "Nah, Ori wouldn't let him."

Elza could not help but snort with laughter. "The idea of Ori telling Bausi off is quite ridiculous, but the best part is I could imagine it truly happening."

Despite the significant pain he must have still been in, Dwalin laughed heartily. "He's the easiest dwarf in the world to underestimate – he's slyer than his brother, make no mistake of it!"

"That's what I told him earlier today." Elza beamed, shaking her head at the thought if her cheeky young friend. "Though he has most people fooled by his innocent eyes…"

"And his quietness." Dwalin added.

"Not to mention the mittens!" Elza grinned and Dwalin laughed once more.

"My Lord Dwalin…" one of the lead healers approached the bed with a steaming cup. "A tonic for the pain – it will send you to sleep."

Dwalin screwed up his nose in distaste but he took the cup without complaint and drained it in one go, shaking his head like a wet dog afterwards. Elza refrained from raising her eyebrows and took a sip of her own tea.

The same healer turned to her with a kindly smile. "It's probably best if you stay here a short while, Miss Elza, just until we're sure you're alright."

She nodded. "I'll just sit here and wait for my brothers, then."

The healer nodded with a smile and bustled away to the other end of the long room. Elza glanced over at the bed next to her, and to her amusement, Dwalin had already nodded off. Mildy impressed at the apparent strength of the tonic, Elza reached out to survey the damage done to the poor old book.

She was beginning to wonder if she could somehow convince Elias to give the book to Bausi, for she had no doubts that the bitter old book-binder would do his best to take her head off if she returned the book with a great gaping hole through the middle when the door burst open and the king himself strode in, storming over to Dwalin's bed with a stricken expression.

At the sight of the sleeping warrior, the king's jaw tightened and he looked at Elza who did her very best not to gulp. Instead she bowed her head respectfully.

"I am told that you saved Dwalin's life?"

She looked up at Thorin's harsh question and nodded. "I did what I could…"

"Tell me everything." Thorin ordered.

Elza nodded once more and described everything, from the moment the 'guard' interrupted her conversation with Dwalin and Ori to the moment that Dwalin finished delivering orders to the guards gathered around his best.

When she finished her account, Thorin's face softened slightly and he looked back at Dwalin. The king sighed heavily, and when he muttered under his breath, she respectfully pretended that she did not hear what he said.

"It had to be you, didn't it, Dwalin?"

A faint, rumbling noise met Elza's ears and she frowned, trying to discern what it could be. The King looked up with a similar frown as it soon grew louder and louder until she could hear voices, screams and footsteps, so many footsteps.

All of a sudden the doors flew open once again, but this time it was pure chaos that poured into the Healing Halls, with dozens of dwarves bursting through the doors – guards and healers and men and women and old folk and children nobles and commoners – some limping, some hopping, some carried and all bloody.

The peace of the Healing Halls was shattered with the desperate calls for healers and help, and as Elza leapt out of bed she realised that the five healers on duty would not be anywhere near enough to cover whatever had happened. Her blood ran cold as she saw a little baby cradled in the arms of a soldier, writhing and screaming in obvious pain, its poor little face smeared with blood. All thoughts of her own misfortune were swept from her mind as she stared at the people around her at a total loss for what to do.

With wide, wild eyes she looked to where the king had been standing, but Thorin Oakenshield had disappeared into the crowd. Within moments Elza saw him again, immersed in the crowd, directing people around and sending one of his guards to fetch more healers.

The sight of her king in amongst the sudden crowd jolted Elza into action and she moved forward, desperate to help without hindering anyone. Something crashed into her from behind and she gasped and whirled around, only to see a young girl, maybe seventy years old at most, cowering away from her slightly. Blood was oozing from a wound on her forehead and tears were streaking down her cheeks, and though she was walking on her own two feet she looked utterly lost and dazed.

"Come, lass," Elza said gently, taking one of the girl's hands. "Let's get you sat down, alright?"

The girl's frantic eyes widened in fear but she nodded jerkily and Elza pulled her gently away from the fray, guiding her to the bed the woman had been occupying only moments ago herself.

Meanwhile, Thorin Oakenshield tried to help the frantic folk filling the hall with absolutely no idea of what had happened to them. A familiar face caught his and his heart rose and sank at the same time.

"Jari," he called out strongly and the young dwarf that had been so true a friend to Fíli over the years turned to look at him with haunted eyes, cradling something bloody in his arms. The bottom seemed to fall out of Thorin's stomach as he saw that it was his littlest brother, Ari. The little lad was utterly still and pale, and his tunic was completely soaked with blood.

"Thorin…" Jari choked, stumbling towards him through the crowd. "Thorin, he needs help!"

Thorin took one glance at the pale, wounded child and nodded, glancing at the empty bed to the right of Dwalin's. "Lay him there…"

Jari nodded, tears pooling in his eyes, though they did not fall as he hurried towards the bed. Thorin looked over to see a couple more healers racing through the door and he signalled meaningfully above the crowd. Obeying the call of his king, a healer crossed through the room and looked down at the child, wasting no time in tearing apart Ari's shirt while instructing a young lad at his side to run and fetch some warm water immediately. As the healer's lad ran away, Thorin turned to the distraught Jari, who was running his bloody hands though his hair as he stared at his brother.

"Jari, what happened?" the king asked, firmly yet gently, and Fíli's friend swallowed.

"We… we had not yet reached the mountain, but they were waiting for us…" he moaned, meeting Thorin's eyes slowly. "An ambush of orcs… There seemed to be hundreds of them – we joined a group of caravans recently, but we were no more than forty or fifty altogether and many were… were children…" Jari took a deep shuddering breath, looking to the motionless boy lying on the bed with a stricken expression. "They always aimed for the little ones and however hard we tried to protect them…"

Thorin's blood ran cold, though he refused to show it and he clamped a hand onto Jari's shoulder. "When was this?"

"Scarce two hours ago… We were still far from the mountain, but we made for Erebor as quickly as we could." Jari replied in a hollow tone. "It was… so many… The two true healers amongst us were killed… Thorin it was a massacre!"

Anger boiled Thorin's veins even as grief froze his heart, but something did not seem right. "Orcs, you say? Hundreds of orcs?"

Jari nodded, a single tear escaping his cheek as the healer pressed two fingers against Ari's neck.

Thorin's frown deepened. The population of orcs in the area had been almost eradicated in the battle and the aftermath, so where had these foes come from? Was it somehow related to the attack on Dwalin? Was it part of a treacherous plot, or was it tragic coincidence?

The King set his jaw firmly. He could figure out the meaning of all of this later, but first he had more important matters to attend to.

"I will return as soon as I can." He promised Jari and the blonde dwarf nodded shakily.

Before Thorin had even turned away, Jari had collapsed to his knees by the side of the bed and grabbed Ari's little hand with a heart-wrenching sob, and Thorin had to close his eyes for a brief moment. As it transpired, that was not the best thing to do, for even in the space of a second that it took for Thorin to blink, he saw another fifty-six year old boy suffer an attack from orcs – a fifty-six year old boy he had lost for two decades.

Shaking the memory from his head, Thorin strode across the room and burst from the door, addressing one of the guards. "Has the Salvation Bell been rung?"

"The… Salvation Bell, your highness?" the guard frowned in confusion and Thorin growled.

"The Bell at the end of that hall that calls each and every healer to duty at once – the Salvation Bell, it must be rung immediately - go!"

The guard paled and bowed, disappearing to the end of the hall, and soon Thorin heard the heavy, desperate sound ringing through the mountain. It was an emergency device, one that he had never heard run, not even when the dragon came (for what use would it have been summoning their every healer deeper into the mountain?) but if this did not qualify as an emergency, Thorin did not know what did. Since the population of the mountain was still in the very low hundreds, there were only two dozen or so true healers in the mountain, most of whom spent most of their time doing physical labour, since there were few people to heal. Now, though, they needed all the help with they could muster.

He turned to another guard. "There is a team working on the Western Gold Mine, not two minutes from here – go and see if any of them have any knowledge of healing, even the basic skills of soldiers, and send them here now."

"Right away, your highness!" the guard nodded, and Thorin flew back into the Healing Halls, shrugging off his majestic fur coat and flinging it onto an unused table by the door before turning to the young guard Colborn.

"I take it you know basic healing?" Thorin demanded.

"Aye, my Lord, but only the most basic soldier's training!" the lad worried.

"That is all you will need, help whoever you can!" The king ordered and Colborn bowed, turning to take an elderly man by the hand.

Thorin pushed back into the crowd and tried to direct people to beds and chairs, lest someone get trampled in the crowd, desperate for a way to calm things down enough to make some sense of things. After endless minutes of confusion and noise, the crowd began to ease as beds were rapidly filled and Thorin headed to the nearest bed without a healer. An already scarred dwarf was curled up in the foetal position on the bed, his tattooed arms wrapped tightly around his bleeding stomach. A bandage was wrapped around his eyes and though there was blood seeping onto the pale cloth, Thorin's battlefield knowledge told him that the stomach was the main problem.

He put a hand on the dwarf's shoulder to alert him to his presence, noting a particular type of tattoo on the stranger's shoulder – the mark of a criminal, in this dwarf's case a thief. The fact he had been tattooed for larceny at all proved that he was probably a repeat offender, and two decades ago Thorin would have felt guilty had he not turned away to heal someone more innocent. However, before the thought could even truly form in his mind he was reminded of another thief – a thief so notorious he had been personally loathed by Dwalin, a thief who had never really stopped stealing, and who probably never would – a thief who Thorin to whom had entrusted the lives of his nephews without a second thought.

"What is your name?" he asked calmly as he began to gently pull the dwarf's arms away from his stomach.

"Haddr…" the dwarf groaned through gritted teeth.

Thorin nodded slowly and peeled away the dwarf's blood soaked shirt to reveal several claw marks streaking across his abdomen. They were deep enough to be dangerous, but he did not think they would be fatal, so the king rolled up his own sleeves and retrieved a bucket of warm water from one of the healer's assistants so he could begin cleaning the wounds.

When Óin followed the call of the Salvation Bell into the Halls of Healing, he was initially surprised to see the state of his king. Thorin's clothes were smeared with blood and his hair had been crudely scraped back in a low ponytail to keep it from falling into the face of the stranger he was clearly doing his best to heal. As Óin allowed himself to be directed to a pregnant woman in danger of losing an arm, he realised that it was not really so surprising after all.

Thorin had been through exile with his people. He had seen them at their highest, and he had done everything he could to ease their sorrows at their lowest. Thorin may appear cold and uncaring at times, but Óin knew that deep down he viewed his people's welfare as more important than anything else. Thorin had promised folk a new life in Erebor, a new chance. To reassure the wary after his struggle with Gold Sickness, Thorin had pledged that he would do all he could to ease the suffering of any dwarf – man, woman or child – who came to the city in search of a new life. Óin suspected that many would be shocked to see Thorin fulfilling his promise in so physical a sense, but Óin was not truly surprised.

Thorin Oakenshield had promised to look after his people, and that was a promise Óin knew his king would never, ever break.

And here ends this chapter, I really hope you enjoyed it! I liked exploring Elza's perspective a bit more, so I hope it worked :) This was another really long one and I know some people prefer shorter chapters so I apologise if it was a bit too long - what do you think?

So, what's happening in Erebor, then? I'd love to hear any thoughts you all have on the matter – do you think the attacks are connected or not? Who do you think is behind this? What do you think of Elza?

Thanks for reading, if you fancy it please do leave a review, I love them so much!