Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! A special thanks goes out to the two unnamed guests (I'm glad you enjoyed it!) beshterAngelus (sorry about that! :D) Hermione Granger (Sorry about all the angst, it will die down soon, I promise!) since I couldn't directly reply. Congratulations to all of those who recognised Ned's namesake as Eddard 'Ned' Stark from Game of Thrones, played by Sean Bean in the TV series.

This is a very long chapter, but it is the ninetieth so I hope you enjoy it and forgive any silly mistakes!

Read. Enjoy. Review.

Chapter Ninety # Fight Song #

Bilbo did not know how Dís did it. The woman was like a soldier, emotionlessly leading the frightened group into the entrance of Mirkwood. She kept everyone calm and she explained the entire situation to Legolas, Tauriel and the other elves waiting for them within minutes.

While the others began to gasp and murmur and worry when Tauriel told them of the packs of orcs attacking groups travelling to Erebor, but Dís simply pursed her lips and discussed the possible connections and plans of action.

"We should not linger here," Tauriel looked to Legolas. "If they were bold enough to snatch their kin in the middle of the night they are bold enough to attack us here. And if it so happens that something did happen to Glorfindel and the sons of Elrond they are more dangerous than I would like to fathom. The children, at least, should be moved somewhere safer."

"Of course," Legolas said. "We should make for my father's halls."

"Your father?" Dana spoke for the first time. "Thranduil's halls?"

"You would be safe there." The prince nodded.

"So we are just supposed to disappear?" Ellie murmured. "To leave without a trace, to hide?"

"That would be wise-"

"No," she shook her head. "My husband is out there somewhere, and my son, and if we disappear how will they find us?"

"Ellie," Dís began, but there were tears in the hobbit's eyes and she would have none of it.

"He's my baby, Dís, he is just a baby! I came this far with no protest but I'll go no further without Pippin and Paladin. No. I can't."

Legolas stepped forward. "I do not suggest that we nothing. We will send out search parties, many of them and we will find your kin-"

"I do not doubt that," Ellie's voice was trembling and Bilbo could see her fingers whitening as they clenched tighter around Esme's hand. "But I will not leave without them."

"If we reach the Woodland Realm your safety will be assured and you can wait for them there," argued Tauriel gently. "I understand your fear-"

"Do you have children?" Ellie interrupted, a tear escaping her long lashes to trail down her cheek. "A husband?"

"No," the elf admitted softly.

"Then you cannot know my fear," Ellie shook her head and turned away, covering her face with her hands.

Bilbo looked away as Esme wrapped her arms around her sister-in-law, resting her chin on Ellie's head. Ellie was always so composed, so sure of herself. To see her in such a state made things all too real for Bilbo.

Legolas turned and spoke quietly to one of the other elves. The listener nodded and bowed, before disappearing off into the woods.

Then Legolas turned to Tauriel, speaking in soft Sindarin. "Tauriel, stay with them. Allow them to stay here tonight, but unless you hear from me you must set out for my father's halls at first light tomorrow. They say some of their company were tracking Glorfindel and his companions – this will allow them to catch up. I charge you with their safety, Tauriel."

"I will not fail you, my friend," she promised with a wry smile.

"What're they saying?" Dana sniffed, crossing her arms.

"Myself and two dozen guards will leave now and search for those you've lost. Stay here tonight, if you will," said Legolas. "We can bring you food, water – whatever provisions you need, and a guard detail will remain here with you. With any luck your companions will catch up with you. I implore you to follow Tauriel tomorrow to my father's halls."

"That seems reasonable," Esme murmured to Ellie, who gave a shaky nod.

"What if we want to search, too?" Dís argued. "They are our kin, not yours."

Legolas paused and looked to Tauriel, who inclined her head.

"If that is what you wish to do we will not discourage you," Legolas bowed his own head. "However you must consider how much you are willing to split up."

All eyes turned to Dís and she hesitated, looking to Bilbo.

"How much do you trust these people?"

Bilbo replied honestly. "Completely."

She took a deep breath and turned back to Legolas. "I think it would be better if we split up no further – if you swear to do all in your power to bring them back to us? Alive?"

"Of course," Legolas put his hand over his heart. "You have my word."

Dís nodded shakily. "Thank you… thank you."

The flurry of action that followed was somewhat a blur for Bilbo. Two dozen more elves arrived with large, beautiful horses and followed Legolas back the way they had come, riding off into the distance with immense speed while the other elves assisted in setting up a safe, comfortable camp. Several of them went to the wagons and looked at the wolves, and soon their canine companions were stumbling around the camp – confused, drowsy and disorientated but very much alive.

After cuddling an unusually quiet Frodo and sitting him down with Sam and Merry for dinner and a story from Tauriel, Bilbo walked to the very edge of the campsite and sat down at the base of a nearby tree and watched the horses disappear over the horizon.

He sat there for hours and hours, taking the food Saradoc offered with a soft murmur of thanks but otherwise talking to no one. Bilbo just wanted to be alone.

His mind was full of images, horrible, horrible images of finding Fíli or Pippin or Paladin or Gimli in horrific ways – he saw their bodies, dismembered and mutilated, and he saw them lying in pools of their own blood.

He saw-

"Bilbo…"

The hobbit blinked, wiping the tears away from his cheeks. "Dís. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing," she murmured, sitting down next to him. "I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Alright…" Bilbo gave a soft, bitter laugh. "I'm not sure I'll ever be alright after this."

Dís sighed. "We will get them back, Bilbo."

"Will we?" Bilbo scoffed. "They vanished, into the night, without a trace. We have no idea where they are, the trails all ran cold, we're here, they're gone-"

"Stop, please," Dís whispered.

Bilbo looked up to see tears filling Dís' eyes. "Dís-"

"They are my boys, Bilbo," she interrupted in a trembling, vulnerable voice Bilbo had never heard before. "They may be yours too but they are mine, I birthed them, I nursed them, I raised them from childhood and I lost them and mourned then and missed them and I… I… Bilbo, I just want my boys back. I want my boys."

The hobbit watched in shock as the strong sister of Thorin Oakenshield began to cry. Her whole body shook with the quiet sobs that accompanied her free-flowing tears, and Bilbo did not know what to do. He put a tentative hand on her shoulder and she leant into him. From then instinct took over and Bilbo put his arm over her shoulder, pulling her close.

"I'm sorry, Dís, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry…"

The princess did not speak. Bilbo was not sure that she could speak if she wanted to. Instead, she turned her face to hide it in his coat. The hobbit could feet tears slipping down his own cheeks again but he did not have the strength to wipe them away. Squeezing his eyes shut and dropping his forehead onto Dís' braided hair, Bilbo began to sob.

Bilbo had no idea whether it was minutes or hours later, but eventually his tears stopped and managed to draw in some steadying breaths. Dís was still shaking, so Bilbo did not move. Despite his somewhat overpowering fear and grief and pain, Bilbo felt a little bit awkward. He had embraced Dís before, on one or two occasions, but never like this. And he had never seen her cry, not like that.

However, there was no way that he was going to let go. She needed someone, and if he was the one she chose to lean on he would face the awkwardness in a heartbeat.

After a while Dís stopped shaking, but still she did not move, so neither did Bilbo. Dusk was falling, bringing with it the suffocating shadows of Mirkwood, and as the sun sunk towards the hills Dís took a deep breath and raised her head.

"Forgive me, Bilbo," she whispered, sniffing delicately.

"For what?" he scoffed. "I'm the one that should be sorry… I didn't mean to imply that you-"

"No, I know," she replied. "But I made your coat all damp…"

The hobbit shook his head, his mouth twitching up into a hint of a smile. "Don't be silly. It needed a wash."

She laughed breathlessly and wiped her eyes. "Well, then, I'm happy to have helped."

Bilbo's little smile strengthened a little.

"When he was a little boy, Fíli had a weak heart," Dís smiled wistfully, rubbing her fingers over her necklace. "It was nothing to really worry about, they told us. But sometimes, if he had not eaten or drunk enough, he would get dizzy. And one day he stood up too fast and he fainted. My own heart almost stopped – he had never so much as had a cold before and yet there he was, on the floor and unconscious. I had never been so scared in all my life, it was a type of fear I'd never experienced before, but within five minutes he was awake again, running around on his stubby little legs like nothing had ever happened."

When Dís trailed off, Bilbo remembered something. "He fainted in Erebor… after we took down Smaug."

"He told me… He grew out of the dizziness as he grew older and his heart grew stronger, but he still had a slight penchant for fainting until he was almost fifty. And every time he woke up, the very first thing he would do was come over to me and put a hand on my cheek and say 'Ama, everything's alright. I'm awake now, I'm fine. Everything going to be alright.' He would always be the one to comfort me…"

"I can believe that." Bilbo smiled.

"He's always been my little angel," she murmured, shaking her head. "My little lion prince… When Thorin took him… when Thorin took him on the quest I nearly murdered my block-headed brother then and there. They were all I had left and I knew, I knew I couldn't go through it again…"

Bilbo swallowed as the smile softly fell away from her face.

"I can't lose Fíli, Bilbo. He's my rock, he's been my rock since he was five years old."

"I know," the hobbit whispered. "But Fíli's strong and clever and he'll make his way back to us."

She looked at him. "You weren't so sure before."

Bilbo shrugged. "You made me think. There's no one who knows how to survive better than Fíli. Physically and psychologically."

"I suppose…"

"Excuse me, Master Baggins?"

The two looked up in surprise at the elf bowing before them. Somewhat flustered, Bilbo stood up. Dís followed silently.

"Yes?"

"There are two riders headed this way, we thought you would like to know."

Bilbo looked to the dusky horizon, but he could see nothing. "Oh… should we be worried?"

The elf smiled slightly. "I think not. It is your son, Master Kíli Baggins, and another dwarf."

"Bragi," Dís breathed. "You say there are two?"

"Indeed, my lady," the elf bowed.

Dís turned to Bilbo. "That means that the other company were gone – and that they left a trail."

Bilbo pursed his lips, not liking the implications, and turned to the elf. "Thank you. How soon do you think they will reach us?"

"I cannot tell, but at their current speed they should be here before the moon is at its full height."

"Thank you," Bilbo repeated, gazing at the horizon with hungry eyes.

True to the elf's prediction, Bragi and Kíli were in their camp by the time night truly fell. While their reception was one of hopeful relief, the look in Kíli's eyes stole the breath from Bilbo's lungs.

"They're gone," Bragi called before he even dismounted his pony. "The elves, the boy, the rangers and the prisoners. We found signs of a fight, and orc blood. Alfr and Soren are following the trail under orders to return for backup if the situation becomes dangerous."

Many frightened discussions broke out at Bragi's words, but Bilbo only had eyes to Kíli. He pushed his way over to his son as soon as Kíli's boots hit the floor.

"Kíli," he put his hand on the boy's arm. "Are you alright?"

Kíli's empty eyes met Bilbo's. "Fine."

"Kíli," the hobbit pressed.

"I said I'm fine," Kíli retorted, pulling his hand out from Bilbo's grasp.

"Alright, alright," Bilbo held his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry."

Kíli's expression softened. "I'm sorry, Bilbo. I just…"

The hobbit cleared his throat and rocked back and forth on his heels slightly. "Let me know if you need anything."

Kíli nodded, his mouth forming a smile that did not even begin to reach his eyes. "Of course. I'm going to get something to eat."

Bilbo nodded and Kíli walked away, barely pausing to squeeze his mother's arm before walking straight to the food pot and filling his bowl. Bilbo and Dís looked at each other.

Dís took a deep breath and shook her head, glancing over at Kíli. "Well, it looks like we've now got two sons to find."


They had been running for more than a day when the orcs finally allowed them to stop. Fíli sank to the floor with what little grace he could muster, but Paladin just crumpled where he stood. The hobbit looked beyond exhausted – Fíli could not think of a word that could really describe it. For a moment when Paladin hit the ground, the dwarf could scarcely tell if the hobbit was breathing! He did not look like a hobbit anymore.

He looked like a corpse.

"Paladin," Fíli breathed as soon as he got his breath back. "Paladin, look at me!"

The hobbit turned his head to the side wearily, looking at Fíli with bloodshot eyes.

"Are you alright?" the dwarf murmured.

Paladin closed his eyes, his mouth twitching into a ghostly smile. "Never better…"

Fíli laughed slightly, but his ribs hurt when he did so, and badly. "Good…that's good to know…"

"You?"

"Ah, a little achy but can't complain."

"Good, good…"

The orcs had left them there, on the outskirts of their camp, and were huddled around some form of food, but there was no way of even hoping for escape – not when they were bound to each other with a rope that was fastened around a nearby tree and as exhausted as they were.

"Fíli?" whispered Paladin.

"Hmm?" the dwarf replied, closing his eyes.

"Do you think they made it? Pippin, Gimli, Estel… Do you think they got away?"

Fíli sighed and opened his eyes. "Yes, I do. We'd have known about it if they didn't, and Glorfindel will've given Estel some sort of plan. They'll be fine."

Paladin nodded, closing his own eyes. "Alright… I can live with that…"

"We need to get out of here," Fíli replied. "We need to get away…"

"Really?" Paladin raised his eyebrows without opening his eyes. "I thought we could just stay here forever, this is such a lovely holiday and I never want it to end."

Fíli snorted. "Any ideas on how to escape?"

"Other than charming them with our feminine wiles, no, I don't."

"You're on fire today, my friend."

"Yes well, if I stop making sarcastic comments I have to think about our unfortunate predicament. Also, this way I might get one up on Esmeralda – she's always saying that she's the bravest of the both of us for being sarcastic in the face of a Sackville-Baggins." Paladin smirked.

Fíli laughed breathlessly. "I see, that makes sense."

The hobbit opened his hazel eyes and looked to Fíli. "We're going to get away, right?"

"Yeah," Fíli breathed. "Yeah, of course we are."

"Good," Paladin breathed, closing his eyes again. "Good…"

Fíli glanced up, trying to see what the orcs were doing, but they were all in a huge, teeming cluster, crawling around and over each other like rats attacking a pile of rotting food. It was impossible to see why, and Fíli was not sure he wanted to, so he let his head fall back against the ground and closed his eyes.

"We should try to rest," he said.

"Will they kill us in our sleep?"

"I doubt it," Fíli sighed. "But who knows. We could take turns if you want…"

"Nah," Paladin cleared his throat. "I'm too tired to watch…"

Fíli nodded. "Me too…"

Closing his eyes, the dwarf allowed his mind to drift away slightly, but he kept a loose hold on consciousness. Sleeping lightly was something that Fíli had trained himself to do over the years – he would wake if something was wrong. If someone stepped too close to him and Paladin, Fíli would wake. If someone made too loud a noise, Fíli would wake. If someone drew a blade too close to them, Fíli would wake.

The Fíli woke.

An orc was dragging a groggy Paladin up by his collar, and within seconds Fíli was completely alert.

"What's going on?" Paladin's words slurred as he tried to wake himself up.

"Silence, halfling-scum," the orc's leader, Ulg, snarled. "Dwarf, sit up!"

Fíli obliged inelegantly. "What do you want?"

"You are going to write a note. You are going to write what I say and only what I say."

Raising his eyebrows, Fíli scoffed. "Why would I do that, and how would you know if I only write what you say – I bet you can't even read?"

Ulg grinned, baring his grimy teeth. "I can read. I can read very well. And for every mistake you make I will take one of the halfling's fingers."

Fíli scowled as one of the orcs holding Paladin pushed a dirty blade against the hobbit's thumb. Paladin's eyes widened and fixed upon Fíli's, and the dwarf took a deep breath.

"What do you want me to write?"

As soon as they put the pale cloth and pen in Fíli's hands they took away the bonds around his wrists and slammed a make-shift inkwell down beside him.

Then Ulg began to dictate. "We have the crown prince. If you want to see him alive, come alone to the place where Azog the Great Defiler was slain. If we see a guard, we will bleed him dry."

"Is that it?" Fíli tried to sound bored.

"Sign your name. But don't use ink." Ulg crouched down and stabbed a small knife into Fíli's arm, eliciting a pained cry from the startled dwarf. "Use that."

Fíli clenched his teeth together and glared. Though there was blood bubbling out of the wound it was shallow, superficial. He would live. As he hesitated, Paladin yelped, and Fíli breathed in sharply.

"Stop, stop! I'll sign it, don't hurt him!" he snapped.

Ulg nodded sharply to the knife wielding orc, who loosened his grip on Paladin.

Fíli dipped the pen into the edge of the wound in his arm with a wince and began to write his name.

"What's taking so long?" Ulg snarled.

Fíli glared up at the orc. "Have you ever tried writing anything in blood? It's totally impractical."

The orc simply grunted, waiting until Fíli had finished before snatching away the paper and pen and grasping one of Fíli's braids.

"No, no, no!" The dwarf prince's heart skipped a beat when he heard the soft sawing of a blade dragging through hair, and then he saw his carefully crafted braid draped over Ulg's filthy fingers. Fíli moaned softly and closed his eyes, his stomach swirling with hatred and fury and shame.

He could feel the shorn hair brushing against his cheekbone and for a moment Fíli thought he was going to throw up. He had never, ever had his hair cut – save for the occasional, meticulously executed trim – and though he had committed no crime grave enough to warrant such a punishment he still felt the dishonour weighing heavily upon his heart.

He barely even noticed the pain when they pulled his severed hair through his blood so that they could roll it up inside the letter he wrote, but he noticed the name scorched into the leather pouch they dropped the hair and letter into.

Thorin Oakenshield.

Fíli swallowed, but his mouth felt very dry. He now knew exactly why they had separated him from the others. These orcs were after Thorin, and Fíli was the bait.

The orcs shoved Paladin to the floor and strode back to pack up the camp.

"Fíli, are you alright?" Paladin said in a low voice.

The dwarf cleared his throat. "Fine, I'm fine…"

"What's going on? Why would they make you write something now?"

"In case something happens," said the dwarf quietly. "It will look as though they still have me, alive, when they get to Erebor. Thorin might still show up."

Soon they were on their blistered feet again, running on and on and on for hour upon torturous hour. Fíli had no idea how much time was passing, but with every laboured breath a little less air reached his lungs.

He could not go on for much longer – not at this pace, not with a battered, bruised and bleeding body. However, it was not Fíli who collapsed.

It was Paladin.

One moment the hobbit was running along to Fíli's side, though they were divided by several orcs, and the next he was gone. Fíli stopped, ignoring the pushing and pinching of the orcs.

"Paladin!" he wondered if anyone could hear his voice through his struggling gasps for air.

"Keep moving!" an orc kicked at the back of Fíli's knees and the dwarf had no choice but to run forward. Paladin was slung over an orc's shoulder, his limp arms and hanging head bumping against the creature's leather armour with ever stride.

Fíli managed another few miles, and then his knees buckled and he too ended up face down in the dirt. Luckily for him, the orcs were apparently tired too.

Once again, Fíli and Paladin were left off to the side, bound to a tree and to each other, but otherwise ignored. This time, however, Fíli was awake when the orcs began to take turns in sleeping.

"Paladin," he breathed. "Come on, Pal…"

The hobbit's eyelids flickered, but other than that Paladin did not respond at all. The orcs were running the hobbit into the ground – dwarves were not built for long distance running but their bodies were designed to endure. Hobbits were hardy, but there was no denying that they were not meant for this. In fact, given the letter they had had Fíli write, Paladin was not meant to be there at all. He was nothing but collateral.

Fíli took a deep breath and forced his exhausted mind into action.

Keeping half an eye on his captors, he reached for the knot binding Paladin's hands. He may not be able to free himself, but Fíli was forming a plan. At first he thought the plan would fail before it even began – the knot was tighter than any Fíli had ever been able to tie, and it was almost twenty minutes before he even loosened the cursed thing.

All of a sudden three orcs stormed over and grasped a handful of Fíli's hair.

"Ow, ow, careful!" Fíli snapped, terrified that he had been caught in the act. "You've done enough damage to my hair already, ow!"

To Fíli's surprise, he had not been discovered at all.

"Drink!" the orc grunted, pushing a grubby water skin against Fíli's mouth.

The dwarf automatically fought, bucking beneath the orcs' iron grip, but the creatures knew what they were doing and the foul, burning liquid slithered down Fíli's throat. He choked and tried not to swallow, but soon he had consumed several mouthfuls. Despite the horrific taste, warmth began to flood his veins, and the pain began to ebb away from his aching body. Fíli felt his strength return, and then he was shoved back against the ground and they moved on to Paladin.

The hobbit was still unconscious when they jammed the flask into his mouth, but his eyes flickered open and he began to splutter and choke. Fíli clenched his teeth together as Paladin began to squirm, but soon there was clarity in the hobbit's eyes and his struggles became more focused attempts to escape, though they were in vain.

Then the orcs let Paladin go and pushed him against the ground, returning to their group without a word. The hobbit coughed and gasped, meeting the dwarf's eyes.

"Fíli…"

"That's me," the dwarf muttered, glancing over his shoulder and returning to his budding escape plan.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere in Mirkwood."

Paladin groaned. "No – really? Urgh… what was that stuff?"

"No idea," Fíli said quietly. "But it was disgusting."

Paladin laughed humourlessly. "Aye, it was. I do feel better though."

"Well enough to run?"

"Run?" Paladin glanced down as Fíli finally untied the knot completely. "Fíli!"

"Now, hurry up and try and untie me – but if we get caught you have to run. You have to get out of here and get help."

"Not without you," the hobbit's voice was alight with a fierce flame of hope as he attacked Fíli's bonds.

"You might have to," warned Fíli. "Just hurry, because we need to get away; we need to find the others and warn Thorin."

"And how are we going to outrun a pack of orcs?"

"Tree top tag."

Paladin paused, though he kept at the knot. "That might actually work."

"Exactly," Fíli grinned. "We're going to be fine-"

"Hey!" an orc shrieked. "What're you doing?! Stop, stop right there halfling!"

Paladin and Fíli froze and then the dwarf burst into action.

"Run, Paladin, run!" he screamed, pushing the hobbit roughly.

His wide eyes wild and panicked, Paladin shook his head. "But-"

"They're coming, go!" Fíli roared, and to his relief Paladin scrambled to his feet.

"I'm sorry!" he gasped.

"Go!"

Paladin ran.

Fíli laughed in relief as the hobbit swung up into a tree and disappeared, pursued by half a dozen orcs that would never catch him, but as Paladin vanished so did a little bit of Fíli's hope.

He was alone.

The smile slid from his face and he dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes.


Soren opened his eyes and raised his head.

"They're not here."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," Soren affirmed. "Orcs are no good at staying quiet, not unless they're planning an ambush, and there's enough background noise – animals, birds – to suggest there're not here anymore. Forests tend to go quiet when there are predators around. These tracks are also a day or two old. We need to keep moving – we need to quicken our pace."

Alfr nodded and followed as Soren took the lead, following the tracks until they forked off in two different directions.

"What do we do now?"

Soren paused, narrowing his eyes at the trail. "There are more of them."

"What?"

"Here, there's a certain number of orcs, but there, after the fork there are more tracks, fresher and deeper, but here… this track, this new one has similar marks to this one on the original trail, so this isn't a fork – it's a loop."

"A loop?"

"They doubled back on themselves," Soren continued. "So we should follow to loop – that way we might find out why they turned back and where they ended up."

"Let's go then," Alfr nodded. "What're we waiting for?"

"Nothing," Soren replied, following the second path.

They had walked for barely five minutes when something stopped them dead in their tracks.

"Oh, damn…" Alfr breathed, reading the red words smeared over the board nailed to a tree. "'Pass here and die…'"

"Well, that's nice. Very imaginative."

"Is that blood?"

"I'm not sure," Soren mused. "Possibly… I think we're in the right place."

"Aye," Alfr drew his sword. "I think you're right."

They proceeded with caution, weaving between the trees and following the trail. After a couple of minutes, something caught Soren's eye and he held up his hand, warning Alfr to silence.

Drawing his knife, Soren crept towards the glinting metal, but as he drew closer he realised that it was not a foe at all.

"Alfr, come quickly!" he hissed, running into a claustrophobic clearing.

The elf was suspended above the ground by four ropes, one attached to each limb. His sleeves were soaked red, and there were little puddles of blood beneath them

"Mahal…" Alfr breathed.

"Help me untie him! He's still breathing!"

Almost as soon as Soren spoke the elf's eyes flew open and he inhaled sharply.

"Who're you?" he rasped, twisting against the ropes that bound him.

"My name is Soren," he said. "This is Alfr."

The elf's eyes narrowed. "Are you friends of Bilbo and Kíli Baggins?"

"Aye, we're travelling with them," Soren paused. "Are you?"

The elf nodded sharply. "Where are they? Are they safe?"

"They were safe when we left them. They're probably already in Mirkwood, by now."

"Hold on," Alfr interrupted, swinging his sword down through the ropes on the elf's legs, then moving around to sever the ropes attached to his arms.

The elf sprang to his feet, nursing his forearms and studying the dwarves before him with suspicious eyes. "Why did you leave them?"

"We were sent back to track you," Soren said. "To try and find out what happened to Fíli, Gimli, Paladin and Pippin."

"Who sent you back?"

Alfr frowned at the elf. "How do we know you are really a friend?"

"Alfr," Soren began.

"How do I know the same?" the elf retorted sharply.

"We just rescued you." Soren pointed out. "What's your name?"

Taking a deep breath, the elf spoke. "My name is Elladan."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Elladan," Soren said. A small part of him was marvelling at sharing such niceties with an elf but he was well aware that now was not the time for feuds – they would only get in the way. "Are you hurt? What happened to you?"

"I'll be fine. We were ambushed," Elladan scowled. "Next thing we knew we were being forced through the woods – then they separated us, brought me here… they brought Fíli, Paladin and a dwarf I did not know past me. And Pippin, they brought Pippin too, but he fell… I managed to slip him some lembas but then they threw him into a sack…" the elf shook his head. "Next thing I knew they were hanging me from the trees, the way you found me. They seemed to think that one cut on each wrist would be enough to bleed me dry."

"Well, luckily they were wrong… How many orcs were there?"

"More than three dozen."

Soren's heart skipped a beat. "Three dozen?"

"Indeed," said Elladan gravely.

"We must go and tell Dís." Alfr insisted.

"Do what you must," Elladan gently interrupted Soren's reply. "But I am going to track them."

"Track them?" Soren's eyes widened. "They tied you to the trees and left you to die and you're going to track them? Alone?"

"They have my brother," came the simple reply. "And others I care very deeply for. Now I have the element of surprise – thanks to you."

Nodding slowly, Soren paused. "I know that you do not fully trust us, and I must admit that I do not trust you completely, but would you work with us, if we came too?"

"Soren, we're supposed to-"

"I know what we were supposed to do, but there might not be time for that!" Soren retorted, turning to Elladan. "Will you work with us?"

"I will," Elladan nodded.

Soren grinned. "Good. Let's go hunt some orc."

They did not speak as they followed the tracks through the woods, walking side by side with their eyes to the earth until Elladan held up a hand.

After a long moment he spoke, in a voice so quiet Soren almost missed it. "Do you hear it?"

Soren listened carefully, tilting his head to try and detect whatever sound the elf spoke of.

"Hear what?" Alfr whispered.

Elladan stepped forward, but this time his feet fell upon the forest floor without a sound. Following suit, Soren did his best to keep his footsteps quiet. Behind his back he made the Iglishmêk symbol for 'silence' to Alfr, glancing over his shoulder in time to see the other dwarf nod. They crept through the forest and the trees began to thin, allowing the late evening sun to fall upon the unlikely group. They paused between a particularly large tree and Elladan tapped his ear gently.

Sounds began to make their way to Soren's ears, and as his hearing adjusted to such a distance it became a little clearer. They were the grunts and snorts and stomps and the like – the sound of an orc pack.

The trio began to quicken their pace until there were no longer trees before them at all, only a small yet steep hill. Crouching down, the elf and dwarves snuck to the very edge, each falling flat onto their stomachs when they saw the pack of orcs in the small valley below them.

There were twenty of them, by Soren's count, and he could see two dwarves, but they were not Fíli and Gimli. One, a dark haired, bulky figure had his back to them, while the other was unfamiliar. From their body language these were not hostages - they were in charge. He could see two elves – one of whom resembled Elladan so strongly that Soren had to look between them a couple of times – and one who had hair so gold it would put even Fíli's to shame.

All of them – orcs, dwarves and elves, were sheltering beneath a rocky overhang which protected them from an attack from behind or either side. The orcs were building a fire – a fire much too big to be a simple hog roast.

"Where're Fíli and Gimli?" Alfr murmured. "And the hobbits?"

"I can't see Estel either," worried Elladan.

"Damn it…" Soren whispered.

The elf paused. "Do either of you two have long rang weapons?"

Soren held up his bow while Alfr shook his slingshot, tapped the javelin strapped to his back and unfastened his specially made pouch to reveal his set of twenty odd throwing knives. Elladan raised an eyebrow, and for the first time Soren saw a flickering smile on the elf's face.

"Good… that's good." Elladan reached into his own tunic and pulled out a wickedly sharp knife.

"Wow…" Alfr looked genuinely impressed. "Didn't they disarm you?"

"Of my swords and bow, yes. But I always keep a hidden knife or two."

Alfr nodded. "Impressive…"

Elladan smiled tightly and then returned to business. "I am going to aim for Elrohir, then Glorfindel, if I can free them we have a greater advantage, but I will need cover – and so will they."

Soren glanced at Alfr, then back at the elf. "I'll cover you. Alfr will make sure nobody touches the hostages."

Elladan nodded. "Thank you."

"Don't you think a more thought out plan would do us better?"

Soren looked at Alfr. "We don't have time for that. We need to know where the others are, and with what resources we have now another plan is unlikely to work before the orcs move."

Alfr sighed. "Alright, alright… Let's go."

Soren nocked an arrow and drew back his bow, focusing his aim on Elladan as the elf slipped unseen down the hill. Alfr was loading his catapult with ammunition of his own invention – deadly, spiked balls of iron that could travel almost as far as an arrow when shot from the dwarf's modified slingshot.

Taking a deep breath, Soren waited. Elladan crept closer and closer, until he was spotted by an orc who's head had touched the ground before his scream had even finished. All at once Elladan was a blur of graceful movement, but that did not stop Soren from firing arrow after arrow, taking down as many orcs as he could around the elf.

Before he knew it, Elladan had reached the identical elf – presumably his brother – and then they were fighting together. It was almost unnerving to Soren – it looked like he was seeing double. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alfr hurl his javelin through the air and into the throat of an orc near the blonde elf.

"I'm going to get closer, see if I can use my knives!" he yelled over the chaos, and Soren nodded.

The identical elves fought their way over to release the blonde, but then there were orcs everywhere – more than Alfr and Soren could ever hope to shoot and there was no way they could overcome so many and –

Then a flash of gold whipped through a sea of black and the blonde elf began to fight. From what Soren could tell the elf had no weapons, but every orc around him crumpled to the floor. The brunettes rallied around him and Soren was nothing less than mesmerised by the grace and power of their combat. Nocking another arrow, Soren kept shooting until he had emptied his quiver.

By then, there were less than a half a dozen orcs to be taken down by the three elves. They fell one by one, until there was just a single survivor. As Soren watched, the golden haired elf thrust the orc's own blade into his stomach, and the fight was over as quickly as it had begun.

The three elves stood beneath the overhang amongst a pile of carcasses, each with their hands on the others' arm and their dipped heads touching each other. The moment seemed so private that even fifty yards away Soren averted his gaze.

And then an alarming thought crossed his mind.

"Alfr?" he yelled, desperately scanning the corpses in case his friend had gotten closer than he had bargained for.

"Over here!" the dwarf replied. "Look what I found."

Alfr was walking around the side of the rock face with one arm wrapped around the neck of the brunette dwarf and his other hand grasping a fistful of the other dwarf's black hair. Soren and the elves immediately rushed forward to assist him.

"They were trying to escape," Alfr said smugly as the elves took a hold of the traitors. "Cowards."

"You are making a grave mistake," the brunette dwarf snarled. "We will murder you-"

"Yes, I'm sure you will." Alfr patted the dwarf's head condescendingly.

"Thank you, Alfr, Soren," the elf that looked like Elladan said. "I am Elrohir and this is Glorfindel. You have our gratitude – for saving our lives and my brothers."

"Of course," Soren bowed his head. "Do you know where our kin are?"

Glorfindel's face darkened. "You'll have to ask them-"

"Soren?" the black-haired dwarf cried, and Soren finally saw his face.

"Framarr?" Soren's heart sank and his stomach twisted desperately. "Oh Mahal, Framarr what have you done?"

"Soren, oh I'm so glad to see you!"

"Soren, what is going on?" Alfr's voice was as harsh as a whip.

Soren swallowed, unable to process what was so clearly before him. "Framarr... you are Frár?"

"You know who this is?" Elladan stepped forward.

"He's my cousin," Soren murmured.

"That's right," Framarr nodded eagerly. "And you have been deceived, little cousin. You are fighting for the wrong side – these elves intend on helping Oakenshield run us into the ground!"

"What happened to you?" interrupted Soren. "What happened, Framarr?"

"Ten years in the real world gave me perspective. You've never left the bubble of Ered Luin, Soren, you don't know what it's like for our people. If we do not do something we'll all be doomed."

"Soren, you're not listening to this lunatic are you?" cried Alfr.

Soren did not reply. Framarr had been the only brother Soren had, and the latter had idolised his older cousin. They had been separated for a decade, but there was no one he had ever trusted as much as Framarr, and if Framarr had been swayed to this cause…

"Soren?"

"Release us, little cousin," Framarr whispered in Khuzdul. "We will look after you, we'll all look after each other, and when it's over we'll have the life we dreamed of, remember? Riches and servants and privacy and enough game to keep you hunting for the rest of your life. We will have everything you ever dreamed of Soren. I promise."

Soren knew when Framarr was lying – and it was not now. His cousin had a plan, a plan that he had confidence in. A plan that could make all of Soren's dreams come true.

"You promise?" he mumbled.

"Soren!" there was shock and pain and betrayal in Alfr's voice.

"I promise!" Framarr grinned. "I'll look after you, Soren, just like old times."

Soren swallowed. "Just like old times… I've missed you a lot, y'know."

"I've missed you too…"

"And you really believe in what you're doing?"

"It's the right thing to do."

"Soren, he murdered Frodo's parents! Little itty baby Frodo, orphaned, at his hands!" spat Alfr.

"It had to be done," Framarr insisted. "The Baggins family are snakes, Soren, they had to be weakened so that we can save our race. I know you, Soren. You will choose right, know you will. It's all for the greater good."

Soren walked over and put a hand on Framarr's cheek. He could feel the blades of the elves pointing down at him.

"Soren, no!" Alfr cried.

"The greater good," Soren murmured, a thousand memories of his brave, loyal cousin flashing through his mind.

Soren drew his sword and swung it.

Framarr cried out in shock and pain as he was thrown to the floor with the force of the blow.

"I used the flat side because you were family oce," he growled. "But I see no greater good in murdering two innocent hobbits and orphaning a child no bigger than your arm."

Clutching his face, Framarr stared at Soren with wounded eyes. "Cousin, no-"

"I am no cousin of yours," Soren spat. "I denounce you, Framarr, son of Faldar, here and now. I sever all ties to your person and will never again deem myself kin."

"Well, thank Mahal for that," Alfr breathed.

"You would choose the filth you travel with over your family!" Framarr yelled, tears springing to his eyes. "Your own flesh and blood?"

"No," Soren shook his head. "I choose my family over my own flesh and blood."

Well, I very much hope you enjoyed that chapter! I will endeavour to update shortly, but in the meantime please do tell me what you think :D

Thank you for reading!