Another day passed, and yet the situation remained the same as it had been before: dire. Dain's forces had yet to arrive, Thorin and the other dwarves continued to stay behind their fortifications, and still the Men and Elves attempted to negotiate for the treasure and for peace, but to no avail. It was as if each day was repeating itself. The soldiers in the camp seemed to sense this, and tensions rose as patience thinned; as he walked quietly through the camp dodging potential collisions and stepping over tripwires made of human limbs and fallen stones, Bilbo could hear murmurs expressing desires to either give up the effort and go home, or to outright attack the dwarves in their mountain hall and take the treasure right then and there.

It pained him to no end to think of his friends holed up in the mountain, awaiting certain death either by starvation or by the sword. And it was all for what, a jewel? He sighed at the thought; how he wished he could have turned back the clock and done things differently. Would it have been better if he had simply given the Arkenstone to Thorin when he had the chance? Would it have been better if he had turned back when he was invisible at the Misty Mountains? Would it have been better to simply throw the contract out the door and remain at Bag End? What had he come all this way for, anyway?

But he threw those pointless thoughts out of his mind; the time for such decisions had passed, and with the passing of the Arkenstone from his hands to Thranduil, any say or influence he had in such matters had ceased. Besides, he had other matters to attend to, hence his attempt to keep the soup spilling out of the bowls he carried in his hands.

The fickle light of the campfires seldom aided him as he made his way through the dark city ruins, but over the course of the past two days he had come to memorize certain pathways well enough to follow them even in the darkness of night. This served him well, as he made his way as speedily, and as carefully, as he could towards the western edge of the city, eventually arriving at an old crumbling gate where Elsa sat in the moonlight, her eyes gazing up towards the stars.

He was careful to make his presence known with a quick clearing of his throat. He then quietly sat down next to her, and handed her one of the bowls. "I tried to make sure I got it to you hot," he explained, "Sorry if it's a little cold."

She took it softly and whispered her thanks, but she didn't even lift a spoonful to taste it.

Bilbo was aware of what sort of pain she was in, and oh, how he longed to be able to say some words of comfort to alleviate it, but even here he felt powerless. He knew nothing of ruling a kingdom, so what sort of advice could he give to someone who abandoned theirs? He was an only child, so what could he say to someone who had lost her sibling? It was relatively simple for him to return to Bag End, especially now, but what optimism could he offer to someone who could never return to her true home? Was there even a silver lining to be found?

He hated how powerless he felt now. It seemed the only source of strength he had now was what he had got in his pocket...and even that was a power he felt he hardly deserved.

He swirled the soup he had in his own bowl for a bit, and then absentmindedly looked up for a bit. He noticed a small snowman sitting upon a stone a short distance away, even though there was no snow to be found around it.

"Did you make that?" he asked Elsa.

She nodded. "It's just like the one my sister and I built as kids," she explained, "We were so close back then…"

Bilbo nodded. "He looks a little bit lonely," he observed, "Maybe he could use a friend?"

"Maybe," she replied, but did nothing to remedy the situation.

A pause arose between them, creating an awkward moment. Now, Bilbo desperately fished around in his mind for something to say to break it. Then, really quite randomly, he said, "So, I guess it's back to square one, right? Just get back to whatever we were doing before?"

She sighed, "I guess so."

"I suppose it will be like nothing's ever changed" he mused. In his thoughts, he then wondered if anyone even knew that he was gone, given how long he had been away.

"Yes," Elsa started to say, but then said, "No it won't, be."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Bilbo, think about everything we've been through," she explained, "Fighting monsters, saving each other's skins, getting to know each other…you don't walk away from things like that. They leave a mark in you so deep that you can never clean off. We may go back to where we were, but we won't be the same. We've changed, and we won't change back."

Her words were almost exactly the same as the ones Gandalf used to try and persuade Bilbo to come on the quest so long ago. It was uncanny, to say the least.

"And now I know I've changed," Elsa went on.

"How?"

"I used to be content living by myself, thinking that I wouldn't hurt anyone," she admitted, "But now…Bilbo, I can't go back to that. I can't go back to being so alone…"

A crazy thought suddenly sprang back into Bilbo's mind at the sound of her words. Did he dare ask again? He had to take a chance, but how to put it? He couldn't just straight up ask; he had to use some degree of tact.

"Well, um," he stuttered, "Come to think of it, it does get somewhat insufferably quiet at Bag End. I guess I don't invite people over for dinner very often, or for very long…I've got a perfectly good guestroom, and plenty of chairs, it would be perfectly feasible to have someone over for an extended period of time…some adjustment would be necessary, of course, but…"

Before he could go on any further, Elsa stopped him. "Are you asking me the same thing you asked me back in the Misty Mountains?" she asked.

He remembered that he had, and nodded sheepishly, bracing himself for the repercussion.

She smiled, and whispered, "I'd like that."

He had never felt happier in his life before.

But then, her attention was drawn elsewhere, and curiosity showed itself in her expression. "Wait, what is that?" she asked. After a moment, Bilbo could hear it as well and recognized it as the sound of hooves beating the earth afar off, and the whinnying of a horse. They both looked in the direction where it had come from, and saw a dark shape galloping over the mountain ridge toward them. Closer and closer it came with greater speed, until at last it came upon them and stopped a short distance; it was a shaggy brown horse that Bilbo recognized from before, but nowhere near as much as he did its rider.

"Gandalf! It's you!" the hobbit cried.

Indeed it was; upon calming the steed, the wizard looked down and smiled at the two of them with enormous relief. "Elsa! Bilbo!" he said, "Am I glad to see you two!..."

And then to their shock, he slumped over and fell off of the horse with a groan.

Fortunately Elsa and Bilbo managed to run forward and catch his unconscious form in time, dropping their soup bowls in the process. Pulling the rest of the wizard off of the horse, they could now more fully see Gandalf's face in the moonlight; it was covered in cuts and bruises, and was very gaunt, more so than usual.

"He needs a healer," Elsa said, "come on!" Together, they pulled Gandalf through the gate, calling out for someone, anyone, to offer their help.

Neither of them noticed that the snowman had disappeared.

To their great fortune, the two of them found help from the elves, who almost immediately took the wizard into one of their tents and had the finest healers and apothecaries' available attending to him. However, it was still a long time before they were informed of his condition.

"He has sustained serious injuries," one of the nurses, a young she-elf told them, "but not just of an earthly sort; clearly he has battled with someone wielding powerful dark magic."

"Dark magic..." Elsa mused. Then she remembered words spoken at the House of Beorn of a shadow, and realized, "That must have happened at Dol Guldur!"

"Dol Guldur?" the nurse questioned, "That is hundreds of miles to the south…and to think that he rode all the way here…truly, Mithrandir is a marvelous Istar."

"Will he be alright?" Bilbo asked.

"It will take some time, perhaps a day or so," the elf explained, "but yes, he will recover."

"A day? Can't you heal him faster?" Elsa asked, desperation growing in her voice, "We need him. He's the only one whom Thorin will listen to, the only one who can stop this war before it begins!"

"We cannot rush these things, but we will do the best that we can," the nurse assured them, "Just be patient, please."

Apologizing and giving their gratitude, the two companions then departed, grabbing a pair of spare blankets and taking their seats on a chunk of rubble to patiently wait for the time when the wizard would awake.

The morning light of dawn arrived and found the two of them fast asleep where they sat, having waited all night. Elsa was the first to be stirred; for a moment, she was confused as to where she was and why she was there, but then she remembered. Had Gandalf recovered? She silently cursed herself for having fallen to dormancy's allure.

Then she noticed all chaos going on around her; soldiers both human and elven were rushing to don their armor and grab their weapons, while officers shouted orders all around, the most prominent being to gather at the entrance to Erebor. She managed to catch the attention of one soldier and asked, "What's going on?"

"A dwarf army's been spotted marching towards the mountain," he answered before running along, "I think someone said there was about five hundred of them; everyone's being called to the front."

She watched as the soldier ran off, paralyzed by the news; the reinforcements had come, and now hell was at the door.

After she had awoken Bilbo and alerted him to the situation, they both ran towards the gate facing the Mountain entrance, and there they saw the armies of both the men and the elves amassed together, with Bard and even Thranduil himself, dressed in streamlined battle armor, at the head with Legolas at his side. Over a ridge to the west there indeed marched an army of dwarves in iron grey armor, wielding axes, hammers, and carrying thick shields in anticipation of bloodshed, the sound of their footsteps resounding across the land. At their head was perhaps the most brutal-appearing dwarf that Elsa had seen yet, sporting a helmet crowned with a Mohawk of crimson feathers, wielding a double-headed battle axe, and sitting astride a massive black boar, itself clad in armor and sporting razor-sharp tusks. This had to be the Dain that Thorin spoke of.

Eventually the dwarf warriors traversed the ridge and marched towards the gate to defend it, but halted when a legion of men and elves came to meet them. Elsa and Bilbo, meanwhile, moved to a place close to see what would happen, yet remain out of the line of fire; there was no way that she desired to be involved in this. Inside, Elsa continued to pray for a miracle to happen, and yet she doubted one would arrive. Not in time, anyway.

"Good morning!" Dain shouted out, "I see we're in a bit of a crowd, so if you'd just accept my proposition….to SHOVE OFF!"

Thorin and the rest of his company soon appeared on the wall; Thorin himself wore freshly polished armor upon his person. The dwarf king greeted his ally, saying, "Hail, cousin! It has been a long time!"

"Aye, laddie," Dain shouted back, "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, cousin! But let's put formalities aside, along with these sons of weed rats!"

A platoon of men and elves marched forth, carrying banners of white with them. Thranduil himself was at the lead, and he amongst them spoke first; "I, Thranduil, King of Mirkwood," he shouted to the Dwarf Lords, "and Bard, Lord of Girion, we beseech that you lay aside your weapons of war and depart in peace, and we will gladly exchange the Arkenstone. Besides, you are clearly outnumbered."

"You don't frighten us, Elvish pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottoms!" Dain returned, accompanied by a loud cheer from his followers. He continued, saying, "In my ranks are only the most skilled and experienced warriors! You are clearly outmatched!"

Bard himself came forward, saying, "Aye, you may be formidable in the mines, but I'd like to see how well you would fight in the open!"

"So, you desire war after all?" Thorin questioned, "After all that talk of diplomacy and peace?"

"I do not desire it at all," Bard answered, "But you have pushed this to the edge."

"We will give you one last chance," Thranduil said, "to withdraw these forces and exchange the treasure."

"And I give Bard once last chance," Thorin replied, "as I have done before, to dismiss you elves back to your forest."

"And dishonor the good that they have done?" the Bowman said, "I think not."

"Then so be it," Thorin concluded, and drew out his sword. He shouted a command in Dwarvish to the others, and they (reluctantly) showed forth their weapons. Thranduil and Bard then returned to the safety of their forces, while Dain began to marshal his soldiers.

From the safety of where they stood, Elsa and Bilbo watched helplessly as war began to show its ugly face. There was nothing more that Elsa wanted to do than stop this from happening, but what could she do? What power had she to turn their hearts from anger and hate, what could her powers of ice and snow do other than complicate things further? There was no side she could take without angering another, no move that she could make without it turning against her…never before had she felt so powerless.

Far from them, the dwarves of the Iron Hills began to charge forward at the sound of battle horns and war cries. On the opposite side of the field, elven archers raised their bows into the air, ready to let loose a barrage of arrows upon their foes, while men and elves in the front lines drew their swords.

Elsa fell onto her knees, her heart sunk with despair. This is it, she said to herself. It's all over…

"STOP!" a voice shouted out, thundering across the battlefield.

She looked up, and to her and Bilbo's astonishment, saw Gandalf standing in the center, raising his arms and staff high into the air defiantly. When and how fast he had gotten there, there was no way to tell.

"Cease this nonsense at once!" the wizard commanded, "Put away your weapons, all of you! I would speak with your commanders!"

Surprisingly, the soldiers in each army put away their weapons, while Thranduil, Bard, and Dain came forth.

"Gandalf! It's about time you showed up!" Thorin shouted from atop the wall, "At least now you can help…"

"Thorin Oakenshield, what is the meaning of this?" the wizard said angrily to him, "Is this what you had in mind when planning to take back Erebor? To become a tyrant in the place of Smaug?"

"Lay the blame on your burglar and your ice witch," Thorin retorted, "Along with these elves."

Gandalf groaned wearily, "You fool! How can you be biting at the throats of your allies?"

"These thieves and liars are NOT my allies."

"Nor are they your enemies! What a dilemma you have put yourself in, choosing to lash out against those who would assist you when the true evil comes thirsting for your blood!"

"What are you talking about?" Thorin demanded, "What evil do you speak of?" This was a fairly legitimate question, as many heads in all three armies were shaking in confusion.

Then, there was a soft sound that could be heard humming through the air. Many ears in the armies of men, elves, and dwarves picked up on it and turned to its direction, as did Elsa and Bilbo. The two of them ran over to the other side and peered towards the horizon. Slowly the sound became louder and more audible, and eventually they recognized it for what it was; a battle horn, but not of elves, dwarves, or men, as well as the thrumming of marching feet. Their hearts became chilled as they saw what lay before them in the distance; growing larger and larger and coming forth with great speed was a massive army of orcs and wargs. They were different than what they had seen before, for they were clad in armor and wielded weapons of forged steel. Among their number were a good number of trolls, some bearing armor with fearsome blades and others carrying entire trebuchets upon their very backs. High above them, the sky was darkened by a swarm of enormous bats, shading the trolls and goblins below from the sun in a massive cloud that reverberated with their shrieks.

"There is the true enemy," Gandalf declared, "They have come from Dol Guldur and Gundabad, and are led by Bolg, son of Azog, who has come thirsting for your blood. Do not think that they come alone to claim the gold or revenge alone; they will not stop until, man, elf, and dwarf alike are wiped out from this part of the earth…unless they fight back to the bitter end."

The leaders of the armies looked at each other with worry evident in their eyes.

"Of course," Thranduil said dejectedly, "I knew this would happen…I should have done more to prevent it."

"There's no time to lose then," Bard declared, then returned to his forces, shouting a set of commands to his men. After a moment of deliberation, Thranduil turned around as well, leaving Gandalf, Thorin, Dain, and their forces. Gandalf looked up at Thorin expectantly, but all the Dwarf King could do was sit there, paralyzed with fear.

Elsa, meanwhile, could not sit by any longer. With Bilbo following close behind her, she ran towards a place where she could get a better view of the enemy, who seemed to wash over the hills and plains like a relentless flood; up above, the sun began to darken as the bat swarm drew nigh as well. From here, she could tell that they were far outnumbered by the foul host; looking behind her, she watched as the men and elves struggled to realign themselves to meet the orcs, while the dwarves of Dain's army almost immediately arranged themselves into position.

Some of the trolls halted and leaned over upon all fours. Several stones were launched from their catapults at their foe, crushing soldiers at once.

"There's not enough time," she observed, "They'll be upon us before we're ready!"

"Elsa, it's up to you," Bilbo stated, "There's got to be some way you can slow them down, maybe like a blizzard or something!"

"That won't help," Elsa explained, "I wouldn't be able to control it."

"There's got to be some other way!"

"I'm trying to think of something," she said, "Just give me a moment!" She racked her brain trying to think of something, anything, to slow the orcs down, but no solution she could think of held very much water. But Bilbo was right, there had to be a way, any way…

Providence seemed to be on their side on that day, for it was at that moment that she noticed something wandering aimlessly along the outer walls of the city ruins, unaware of the fact that a war was about to commence. At the sight of it, Elsa couldn't believe what it was that she saw.

"Olaf?" she whispered.

"Who?" Bilbo asked, turning to see what it was, and gasped in surprise at the sight. "Isn't that…the snowman that you made last night?"

"Yes," Elsa answered, "and he's alive!" She looked down at her hands, marveling at what she now knew them to be capable of them.

Suddenly, she had it. She had a solution.

To Bilbo's surprise, she ran towards the armies of men and elves, shouting for everyone to move out of her way as she made her way to the barely forming front lines. Some tried to halt her, claiming the battlefield was no place for a woman, but to no avail; she would not be held back, not now that she had some use.

Arriving at the front, she looked towards the advancing army defiantly, raised her hands, and shot forth several bolts of ice that split into more and more bolts and then landed in the ground a good distance away. To the astonishment of the soldiers behind her, snow began to whirl around and accumulate in each spot where the ice and frost had hit, and from there began to take form, eventually becoming huge, hulking giants composed of snow wielding swords and shields of ice. They formed a line that stretched as far as the living army itself, standing guard against the incoming foe who, upon seeing them, halted in their tracks for a good long while. But then, at the command of their generals, the orcs and wargs began to charge forth.

Elsa made a silent motion, and with a unanimous roar her snow warriors charged with great speed, raising their swords in defiance and ready to take on the enemy. The orcs and wargs who first met them surely and immediately regretted it; the towering snow warriors met them with unbridled ferocity, slicing, smashing, and crushing all who were unfortunate to stand in their way. They soon came upon the trolls as well, and here the battle was raised to a whole new level; the two opponents, evenly matched size for size, engaged each other in a titanic clash, but it became clear that Elsa's snow giants far outranked the trolls in combat skill, overwhelming them greatly.

This caused a great cheer from the human and elven soldiers who watched this occur, until they were bidden to continue reforming the line. Eventually Gandalf himself arrived, and with great admiration said, "Well done, Elsa! I never doubted you for a second."

"Thank you," Elsa said, "But this battle's only begun."

"Indeed," the wizard agreed.

For half an hour the snow warriors continued to fight the enemy relentlessly, but then the orcs began to have the upper hand over them, using grappling hooks to pull down the giants and slicing off their limbs (though the snow warriors continued to fight in spite of this). Fortunately the elves and men had been given enough time to gather together, and as a united force the two armies faced toward their enemy, ready to take them on. At their leader's command, the archers sent forth a volley of arrows, felling a great number of orcs and wargs. A second volley was sent further up into the air towards the bats that came swooping towards them; while many dropped from the sky, a good number came close enough to slash at the soldiers with their claws, causing panic amongst the less stalwart among them. Fortunately this was quelled in time for the generals to rally the forces together, encouraging them to fight for honor, glory, and the safety of their homes and families.

"At the ready!" Bard shouted, "Charge!"

At the signal, the two armies charged forth. Elsa found herself charging with them, and for once in her life she was glad to do so; at long last she was going to fight for something greater than gold. Summoning forth a blast of freezing wind, she stunned the lines of orcs ahead of her, allowing the soldiers to draw the orc's blood first, and officially beginning the battle.

In that battle, time became lost in the chaos and confusion, especially with the wings of the bats blotting out the sun up above; swords sang as they clashed against swords and shields, while lives on both sides were snuffed out all around. There was no thought, rhyme, or reasoning for Elsa as she fought on; her main concern was staying alive and defeating the enemy. Keeping in mind that both ally and enemy were around her, she was careful to keep her attacks specific and at close range, depriving her of the chance to slay her enemies in a single fell swoop. She made up for it by working hard and fast, freezing the vitals of the orcs and wargs that came her way, some even to the point where their limbs could be crystallized and shattered into hundreds of pieces. Several times she received a cut or was bruised by the swipe of a fist, but it wasn't anything that she couldn't handle. Several times she observed those fighting alongside her; the men fought with great valor and strength, sometimes fending off more than five orcs at a time, while the elves dealt death with speed, grace, and unmatched precision.

At first, she felt confident in their chances at emerging victorious. But as time went on, the tide began to turn; for every orc that fell, more and more seemed to take their place, slowly beginning to overwhelm their opponents. This caused her to wonder and worry; why hadn't the dwarves arrived? Was Thorin truly so obsessed with the treasure that he dare bid Dain and his army not to fight off the enemy?

As she dispatched one opponent, another, this one being an unusually large orc bearing a heavy shield and a club, came forth to greet her. The fiend roared as it charged forth; Elsa sent a bolt of frost his way, but her enemy blocked it with his shield, and proceeded to knock her over with the shaft of his spear. She collided with a ridge of stone, stunning her temporarily with brutal pain. Falling onto the ground, she caused icicles to burst out of the ground towards him, but even these failed to breach his shield—however, they did manage to punch through the chainmail on his leg and cause blood to gush out from his thigh. Bashing them away, the orc limped forth, determined to slay her. Elsa struggled to get back onto her feet in time, but soon it was too late; the orc raised his club high, roaring at the top of his lungs…but then was knocked over by a dwarf that landed on top of him, who delivered a killing blow as he came down.

"Thorin?" Elsa gasped.

Soon, they were joined by the other dwarves, who came onto the scene and set upon the orcs and wargs with enormous ferocity. Above the other sounds of war, Elsa could hear the roaring and squealing of an enormous boar, along with shouts of glee and madness. Thorin left to take on other orcs before Elsa could speak to him, followed closely by Fili and Kili, but then Bofur and Bombur arrived to help Elsa back onto her feet, saying, "Now, now, there's no lying down on the job there, your majesty!"

"You came to help!" she said, amazed.

"Well of course we came!" Bofur answered, "We couldn't sit this one out! True, we had to knock over a wall to do it, but we're glad to help"

"But what about the elves?" she asked, "I thought you wouldn't do anything unless they were gone."

"Well, I guess Thorin decided to let it go." Bofur replied, "The elves aren't as bad as orcs, after all."

And soon the battle commenced again; with Bifur joining them, Elsa continued to fight the good fight. Once again she lost track of time in the heat of battle, but she refused to back down, for now she was motivated by a newfound joy in the new union between the elves, dwarves and men in this battle of four armies. On and on she went; the dwarves around her were careful enough to keep track of how many fell to their weapons, but Elsa never bothered to; it all went by so fast for her.

Suddenly, she felt something cold and sharp strike her in the back, slicing open the skin and spilling out her own blood. Screaming out in pain, she fell onto the ground again, and through the corner of her eye, she could see the orc that did the deed, the edge of his blade dripping with blood…her blood. The other dwarves set upon the attacker, but the agony soon began to overwhelm her. Slowly she felt the world began to spin and turn dark, but the last thing she saw was the light bursting through the cloud of bats, and the huge silhouette of an eagle soaring overhead, carrying a warg in its talons. But soon darkness overtook her, and she could think no more…