ARE YOU GUYS READY TO ROCK? I mean, sure, there's some romantic stuff, but WHO CARES ABOUT THAT WHEN WE HAVE A BATTLE TO FIGHT, AM I RIGHT?

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns Tolkien, you own you!

The company watches in helpless silence as Smaug incinerates Lake Town. Screams can be heard in the distance, along with explosions and collapsing buildings. Though your heart is pricked for the unfortunate souls, you can't quite cry for them; everyone you know and care about makes it out alive.

"Should we go back?" Thorin asks you quietly.

"No. It won't do them any good."

"But Kili and Fili - and Bofur and Oin - "

"They'll be along tomorrow evening. Or this evening, I guess, since I'm sure it's after midnight."

"You were right," he says heavily. "As was the bargeman. We brought ruin down upon them."

"It'll be fine. Bard will take care of Smaug before sunrise. I'm going back inside - I don't want to watch this."

You turn and head back towards the destroyed gate. Thorin catches up with you. The two of you walk in silence, but the closer you draw to the Mountain, the more heavily the future weighs on your mind.

"Have we come to it at last?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"I stand by what I said before. I would have you at least save my honor, even over my life."

"I'll do both," you say firmly. "Give me your word that you will trust me, and we can make it through this."

"I give you my word."

"Good. I'm glad you trust me, because from here on out, we're basically ripping up the last chapter and writing our own."

"That's no trouble to me. Anything to prevent the fate you spoke of."

You pause, then admit quietly, "I'm scared, Thorin. I'm terrified."

"Do not be afraid. You are with me."

And with him you are: you do not leave Thorin's side through the night and next day. You become his shadow, always trailing after him, mostly silent but speaking when you sense the gold clouding his mind. Thorin does an incredible job of listening to you. You wonder if he's fighting it hard, or if foreknowledge has acted like an inoculation.

The group from Lake Town arrives the next evening as expected. You hear the shouts of greeting from one of the many rooms and run to meet them. You hug Kili first and hardest, glad to see him alive.

"Anything interesting to tell me?" you hint excitedly.

Kili bows low to you. "My most excellent lady, your are true once more. But I had to leave her behind, so I don't know if - "

"You'll see her again," you assure him. "Oh, I'm so happy for you!"

"It just occurred to me that you dress like her. Almost identical, in fact."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, I've been told."

"Esgaroth is destroyed," Fili reports grimly. "Smaug is dead, but the Men there have nowhere to go."

The reminder spurs you into action. You seek Bilbo atop the ramparts of the makeshift gate. He's sitting on a stone; he jumps when you approach and tucks something into his coat.

"It's okay, it's just me." You sit beside him. "How are you doing?"

"All things considered..." He trails off, then sighs. "I cannot stop thinking about Lake Town."

You hug the kind little hobbit. Bilbo is surprised by the gesture but returns it. "Don't be sad," you murmur into his caramel hair. "That was one bit of destiny we couldn't change, but we're about the rock the boat."

"Is that a good thing?"

"It's certainly better than doing nothing. And to start the rocking, Master Burglar, I'm going to have to ask you for the Arkenstone."

Bilbo blinks but realizes of course you knew. He withdraws the jewel and places it in your hand. The translucent gem is naturally warm and contains galaxies within it. It's the most stunning thing you've ever seen.

"I probably should have said something earlier," Bilbo begins sheepishly, "but I was afraid to give it up to Thorin..."

"You did the right thing, Bilbo, as always. I'll look after it and him."

"Oh, yes, of course." There's something to his tone that makes you look back as you return inside, but with what you're about to deal with, you let it slide.

You collect Thorin from greeting the newcomers and lead him to an empty room. You sit in a dusty chair and say seriously, "We're about to have a talk."

He sits opposite you. "And here I thought I'd been doing well."

"You have been. You've done marvelously, Thorin. That's why I have something for you later. But first, the talk."

Thorin leans forward as though he's engaging in an intense political conversation. It's an ironic move, because things are about to get political. You begin, "Lake Town is destroyed, but Bard killed Smaug. The people have elected him king."

Thorin nods for you to continue.

"They have nowhere to go, and winter is coming. Bard's going to call in your promise of enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over."

"And...I'm going to give it to them," he guesses from your stern expression.

"Yes, because I'd like to have Bard's good will for the battle. In fact, I'm going to handle all your political affairs for the near future."

"I am not a child," Thorin argues. "I can still tend to my own affairs."

"You may not be a child, but you are hard-headed and abrasive and hot tempered, and none of that's gonna fly right now. We need allies, Thorin, not two pissed-off armies camped in the lawn."

"I will not send you to parley in my stead, especially if the Elven-King is coming."

"Fine, you can come with me, but I will do most of the talking. And if you get grouchy - "

Thorin makes a noise of indignation.

" - If you get grouchy, you'll stay out of it completely, understand?"

"Fine."

"Good. Now that that's out of the way, I'm going to do something I'll probably regret."

You pull the Arkenstone out of your vest and set it on the table. Thorin instantly grabs it. "Where did you...?" he begins, awestruck.

"Bilbo found it. He was waiting for the right time to give it to you. I decided that that time is now, but you can't keep it."

Thorin's head snaps up. His eyes are menacingly dark as they blaze into yours.

"Thorin." You lay a hand on the rough ones clutching the jewel and speak gently. "The Arkenstone corrupted Thror and drove him mad. You know that. I would die before I let that happen to you. But I wanted you to see it and hold it for a bit, I guess as a sign that I am only working for your best interest. I will keep it safe, I promise."

Thorin's hand twitches beneath yours, and he lets the gem fall through his fingers. "Get it out of my sight," he mutters.

You quickly stow it away again, your heart full of pride for the decision he made all on his own. The room is silent now as Thorin broods on your words. You can't help but notice that your hand is still resting on his. You stare at this small detail for what seems like hours before you can work up the courage to do it: slowly, so as not to startle him, you lift his hand with yours and kiss the fingertips.

Thorin freezes completely and stares at you with wide eyes. You stare back at him like a deer in the headlights, probably because your face can't pick which emotion to express between embarrassment and adoration.

"Uncle, dinner's ready," Fili says, coming around the corner. You and Thorin jump a mile and stand up. Fili looks between the two of you with a raised eyebrow. You hurry to the main hall, from which the smell of dinner wafts.

Thorin sits beside you after claiming a bowl. You wonder if it's only to torment you over mere moments prior. He does not speak, however, though you do catch him throwing glances your way, and it's not at your face.

You lean over and whisper in his ear, "I'd be mad if I thought you were staring at my chest, but I know you're looking at the Arkenstone."

Thorin chokes on his soup. You clap your hand over your mouth to keep from bursting out laughing and quickly shovel in some of the broth. You notice Fili and Kili staring unashamedly at you. Bilbo is also looking, but he has the grace to lower his head when you catch him.

After dinner, you peruse a thick tome you borrowed from the library. You can't understand it, obviously, but there are enough illustrations to keep you interested. You twirl a lock of your hair around your finger as you "read".

"Aniel," Kili calls in a sing-song voice, dragging out the last consonant. You look up, and there he and his brother stand.

You squint at them. "You're up to something, aren't you."

"Us? Never!" Fili pretends to be offended.

"We were just thinking that you should do something with your hair to keep it out of your lovely eyes," Kili says brightly.

"Oh. Yeah, that'd be nice." You sweep your bangs back, mind on the battle. "Are there any ribbons around to tie it back with?"

"We've got something better." Fili produces a handful of little silver clasps.

"That'll be perfect. The braids will be atrocious, though - I can't braid my own hair to save my life."

"No worries. We've got you covered."

The brothers plop down on either side of you and get to work. You're paralyzed with shock. "Are you doing what I think you're doing?" you squeak.

"We're just helping you out," says Kili innocently.

You decide it must be a prank of some sort. You know that they can't both fancy you - Kili has Tauriel, anyway. You leave them to it, but you can't quite relax, especially with the elder Dwarves shaking their heads knowingly at the boys' antics.

Thorin comes in from another hall and stops dead in his tracks when he registers the scene. You feel your face heat up with a blush. He is not immobile long; he marches straight up to the three of you and demands, "What do you boys think you are doing?"

"Just helping Aniel, Uncle," Kili chirps. "She wanted her hair back, so we're doing it up for her."

Thorin growls something in Khuzdul that makes them scamper away, snickering. You yelp and grab the open ends of the braids before they can unravel. "They were doing a good job," you gripe, playing along with what you think is the game.

"Your hair is fine the way it is."

"I just didn't want it to be a bother during the fight."

Thorin seems to struggle with some internal conflict before he says gruffly, "Take those out and stand up. I'll do one right if it's that important to you."

You do so with a face ablaze and a hurricane of butterflies in your stomach. Thorin's rough fingers are deft as they lace your hair together. He weaves the top portion into a braid and clasps it, leaving the bottom loose. "There," he mutters, "now it won't be a bother."

"Th-Thank you. It's...nice."

Thorin makes a quick escape, possibly to go murder his nephews. You run your fingers over the smooth braid and stop at the cold silver bead keeping it all together. You would likely kill anyone who tried to remove it.

Your dreamless sleep is interrupted by a great commotion in the main hall. You drag yourself out of bed with your customary blanket cape to see what the fuss is about. Your half-awake brain suggests the possibility of an early orc attack, but you're too tired to get worked up about it.

"There are archers outside from Mirkwood!" Bilbo tells you when you arrive. "Er...did you just wake up?"

You yawn. "Yeah. Wish you guys wouldn't have shouted about it."

But perhaps being disturbed from slumber could be the best possible way to introduce you to the rising action; you can't bring yourself to either excitement or anxiety as you calmly gather a few chests, some rope, and straighten your outfit to look presentable. You do all of this unnoticed as the Dwarves rush to and fro, grabbing swords and bows and shields.

Thorin finally realizes that you're completely unaffected by the frenzy. "What are you doing?" he inquires, looking over the chests.

"Preparations. Did Bard come yet?"

"No. Did you just wake up?"

"Why, do I still look a wreck?"

"I believe it's your interesting choice of cape."

"Oh. Nice catch." You shrug the blanket off. "C'mon, let's go up and watch for Bard."

Thorin hesitates, then says, "You go."

"Come again?"

"I will trust you to parley on my behalf. But you must take at least two escorts with you."

You beam at him. "I won't disappoint you."

"I should say not, considering it's not only my life on the line if you do."

You select Balin and Fili to come with you. The three of you descend over the wall via rope and take the five chests to the tent where Bard and Thranduil meet.

"Aniel!" Bard is milling around outside the tent when he sees you. He jogs over and stares at you in shock. "What is all this?"

"A surprise," you say brightly. "I'm glad to see you again, King Dragon-slayer."

Bard shakes away the titles. "Come with me."

You follow Bard into the luxurious tent. Thranduil is lounging on his portable throne; he straightens instantly when you enter. "What is the meaning of this?" he demands.

"King Thranduil." You incline your head respectfully. "I'm sorry about our last meeting. It's nice to see you again."

"Is that why you escaped my kingdom along with your Dwarf friends?"

You let that slide. It's time to be professional. "Thorin sent me in his place to speak with you. I must say that I'm surprised to see such an, er, impressive ensemble."

"Are you, though?" Thranduil asks silkily. "Did you not know we would come?"

"Lake Town is in ruins, just as you said," Bard says. "I have led the survivors here to Dale to ask Thorin Oakenshield to honor his promise of gold enough to rebuild the town."

"And that's what these are for!" you reply cheerfully. Fili and Balin set down their loads. Each of the four fair-sized chests are filled with gold. Bard pales slightly upon seeing this. "Thorin sends these with his regards and apologies for your loss. It's just a fraction, of course. I'll explain why in a moment."

You move to Thranduil. His icy eyes scrutinize your every move. You say more formally, "I did say I wanted to return Lasgalen's gems to you."

You hand him the smaller chest. The light filtering through the threads of the tent reflects off the facets of the pure jewels. Thranduil is visibly entranced, but merely says, "The necklace is not here."

"You're right. And that is because I need your help."

"Help? What help do you think I would give you?"

"An army of orcs will be here tomorrow afternoon. They think they have the element of surprise, which is good for us. If we all work together, we can make short work of them. If not, they'll make short work of us."

"We have nowhere else to go," Bard realizes quietly. "We have many wounded from the attack, my lady, but those who are able will fight."

You smile at him. "Thank you, Bard."

"I'm not as convinced," Thranduil drawls. "Why should I risk the lives of my men here?"

"How bad d'you want that necklace?" you shoot back.

"You would extort me with that which is rightfully mine?"

"Yes, I would!" you shout, finally snapping. "If we fail tomorrow, what good will hiding in your forest do you? Evil will spread across the land, burn your forest, and destroy you all! You can't hide anymore!"

Thranduil rises slowly and towers over you. The flare of anger allows you to stand tall before him. "You are a child. You know nothing of war or survival."

"I know plenty about this war! You're supposed to fight with us! You have to! I only kept the necklace to give you incentive. I'll give it to you now if you promise to stay!"

Thranduil is still cold, but the faintest of curiosity sparks in his icy eyes. "Why is this so important to you?"

"Because I have not put up with rain, cold, trolls, goblins, orcs, spiders, dragons, and months without any basic comforts just for you to refuse to help me save that idiot in the mountain that I'm in love with!"

You realize what you said right after the words pass your lips. You clap a hand over your mouth. The entire tent is stunned into silence. Fili breaks it with a very quiet, "I knew it!"

"Love," Thranduil sneers. "You know nothing of love, child."

You should have known that was coming - he pulls the same thing on Tauriel - but all the foreknowledge in the world can't stop you from seeing red. Without thinking, you draw your sword.

"That will not be necessary," a very different, very calm voice says.

It's enough of a surprise to get you to turn around. At the mouth of the tent stands Gandalf, a little worse for the wear, and Elrond himself.

"Lord Elrond?" You blink, dumbfounded. "I - you - you're not supposed to be here!"

"I did promise to do what what I could to aid you," he reminds you.

"But I never saw you here! If anything happens to you - "

"You needn't worry about that. Return to the Mountain, young one. I have things well in hand here."

You reluctantly sheath your sword and exit the tent. You realize on the walk back to the gate that your escorts are positively bursting. "Not. One. Word," you mutter.

"Congratulations!" Fili shouts, thumping you on the back.

"We may have seen it coming," Balin agrees, beaming. "I told the lads not to talk and spoil it - "

"Spoil it? Ugh!" You walk backwards to face them. "We're not courting! Thorin doesn't know how I feel! He probably doesn't even feel the same!"

"But why have you not told him?" Fili asks, genuinely confused.

"Because we're about to get slammed by an orc army, Fili!"

"But if you love him, you must tell him!"

You rub your forehead. "How would that look, an elf falling for a Dwarf?"

Fili shrugs. "Didn't stop Kili, did it?"

"That's different."

"Now listen, lass," Balin says kindly, "I daresay Thorin would be flattered at the very least to know your feelings for him."

"I'd rather jump off the peak," you grumble. "And don't you say one thing to him, either! We've got bigger things to focus on than a romantic subplot!"

Thorin is waiting on the ramparts when you climb up. "How did it go?" he asks at once.

"Well, the good news is that we have allies and then some. The bad news is that I almost stabbed Thranduil."

"I fail to see how that is bad news," he chuckles. "And what was it you said of my temper?"

You roll your eyes. "Have you sent a raven to Dain yet?"

"Yes, I called for Dain. Will he come?"

"He'll come. I look forward to meeting him if he doesn't run his war pig over me first."

The armory is raided in preparation for the coming battle. You smile from your position among the breastplates when you see Thorin give Bilbo the mithril shirt. You browse the armor a little longer before giving up. Everything in the armory was made to fit stout Dwarves, not your tall, lean frame. You suppose you'll just have to be extra careful during the fight.

Thorin bars you from leaving with his arm. "You may be immortal, but you are not impervious," he scolds.

"Nothing will fit me. It's fine, I'll just do my best not to get hit."

He shakes his head. "That's not good enough."

"Thorin, I've got other things to think about, can we not - "

Thorin drags you back inside and spends at least half an hour rifling through the stock of armor. The result is hilariously mismatched bracers and a pair of Dwarven boots. Thorin is frustrated by the lack of variety.

"It's fine," you say soothingly.

"The mail and helm will fit you," he insists.

"The mail is three sizes too big across and my head rattles in the helm!"

"At least take a shield."

It's a reasonable request. You choose one inlaid with silver. It feels good in your hands. Thorin is placated enough to allow you to leave the armory.

You seek solitude in one of the many empty rooms. You withdraw from your vest your original planning sheet. The charcoal is blurred and the paper has been soaked and dried, but the essence of the ideas remain. You gaze at it, hoping it will somehow give you a fresh angle or new hope with which to face the battle, but it simply sits on the table, telling you nothing more than what you told it.

You close your eyes and replay Ravenhill over and over, looking for ways to prevent the three unacceptable casualties. It's simple with Kili and Fili - they just have to stay with the group - but with Thorin...as usual, Thorin is the hardest. You make up your mind to go with him to the frozen waterfall and quite literally follow him until the end.

You lay your head on the table, willing to go to sleep if it means quieting your mind. Your body obliges your request quickly, thrilled to have extra time to rest. You wake naturally some time later to find yourself on your bedroll in the main hall. Sunrise's first rays illuminate a silhouette on the ramparts. You wrap yourself in your blanket and climb the stairs to stand beside him.

Thorin is gazing out over the land that will soon be littered with corpses. "We've come to it at last," he murmurs.

"Yeah...guess we have..." You glance over at his proud and currently worried profile. "I want you to know that whatever happens out there, this journey has been more than I could ever have wished for."

He finally looks at you. "Are you saying goodbye?"

"No. You're not dying today, remember?"

"And you?"

You shrug. "Didn't plan on it."

"But plans change," he realizes quietly.

"Just don't be stupid, okay? Don't take any unnecessary risks and make my job harder. Worry about yourself and absolutely murder Azog when the time comes."

He smiles grimly. "That I can do."

Later in the morning, you descend over the wall to meet with Elrond again. He receives you with a small smile. "We've placed archers high in the rocks," he tells you. "It will give us the height advantage. The rest are prepared to intercept the orcs."

"Thank you for coming," you say sincerely. "This will be so much easier now. All that's left is..."

"I have no doubt that you will succeed in keeping him alive," Elrond says kindly.

"I have to, don't I?" you sigh. "I've come all this way, can't very well fail now."

"After this is over, you are welcome to return to Rivendell any time you like. Perhaps I can teach you your native language."

"Thanks, that's - oh!" You blush. "Thranduil told you, didn't he? But I would like that, to learn elvish. I've got sixty years to do it, after all..."

"Sixty years," he echoes. "The second time you've mentioned such a stretch."

"Let's just deal with the present, shall we?"

You return to the Mountain before the finale. Everyone is restless. You approach Bilbo, who's staring thoughtfully at Sting's blade. "You ready?" you ask.

"I'm sure you already know the answer to that."

"D'you regret taking me in yet?"

"No, I can't say that I do." Bilbo looks up at you with a wan smile. "You can ask me after the fight, though. My answer might change."

You laugh. "It has been one of the greatest pleasures of my life to know you, Bilbo Baggins."

"That's kind of you to say, but you sound so bleak! Are you saying goodbye to me?"

"No, don't worry! You survive the battle."

"Then why do you sound so sad?"

"The truth?"

"Of course!"

You lower your head. "Everyone in the company makes it through - Thorin and Fili and Kili, due to my sheer willpower. But it occurred to me that I never saw myself live or die."

"Goodness!" Bilbo gasps. "But how can you not know your own fate?"

The answer to that question is simple: you were never supposed to interfere in the first place. You weren't even supposed to exist in this world. But here you are, only hours away from your first great battle. "I will die for Thorin if need be," you whisper to your clasped hands. "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to him."

"Then you must tell him! So much love cannot go unspoken!"

"Shh!" You look around frantically for anyone within earshot. "Put it out of your mind. I'm sure everything will be fine."

"You say that so often that I wonder if you truly believe it."

A terrible sound of shattering earth reaches your ears. The company looks up in alarm. You race up to the ramparts where Thorin already stands. The awful were-worms have eaten tunnels through the mountains across the way. Orcs pour from them like ants. You can hear their shrieks and clanking armor.

You look at Thorin for what could possibly be the last time. The high noon light illuminates his fine, proud features and glints off the silver streaks in his raven hair. You realize how different your love for him had become since your first meeting, or indeed since you last saw him on a screen. But this was not a movie. Had it ever been? It had been ages since you've thought of things as ever being anything but real. And, for better or for worse, your very real fate is about to be decided.