I'M BAAAAACK. also, i'm pretty sure i just flunked my math and science exams. but seriously. i'm not even looking to be an engineer or a scientist.

PLUS PLUS PLUS, i'm joining two contests this month. yaaay. [feeble applause] am i happy? NO. I'M TIRED AND I'M STRESSED AF. but you guys needed an update so here you go ahurhurhur [mwah mwah]. action chapter! ;)

All rights go to JRR Tolkien and Peter Jackson. Except for my OC's. They're mine.

Parties by Elven standards were much different to the few festivities Fheon had been able to experience in the taverns at Bree. It was not noisy. The people were not wild. Drinks were not served by sultry maids and concocted by loud bartenders. The music that echoed all around the palace was not sung by those who had had enough to drink, but by elf-musicians who played on their flutes and harps and violins and basses. If she were to be honest, Fheon found everything quite boring.

But, it seemed many elves were enjoying themselves. They talked amongst themselves in their language, leaving the Rangers both thankful and irked that they could not understand any of what they said. Thranduil sat on his throne, above and away from everybody else, looking down at the party with cool eyes. His son was nowhere to be found; this unnerved Fheon, for she knew there was a chance that he was where Thorin and the others were being kept. Surely he would join the festivities sooner or later, if the Feast of Starlight was as important as everyone gave it credit to be.

By that time, Elijah had already finished two glasses of the sparkling champagne, whereas Fheon was still holding onto her first. She had no plans of getting tipsy that night, if their plan was going to succeed. It was lucky that her brother had a stronger metabolism to alcoholic drinks than her.

Despite the fact that they had included "socializing" in their plan, neither of them were eager to do anything of the sort. They had sorted themselves away from the chattering crowds of elves, staying by one of the stone pillars and occasionally glancing at each other when they saw something considerably amusing—or irritating. When Fheon felt her stomach grumble, she tried to recall when the last time she had eaten was. It had to be the morning before they entered Mirkwood, for they had entered the forest at noon. How had she not noticed her hunger sooner? She handed Elijah her glass of champagne and murmured that she was going to get some finger food. He met her gaze, somewhat knowingly, and winked, before downing her champagne.

She reached the table at the edge of the platform and served herself to several of the parmesan toasts, all the while looking at Elijah in confusion, trying to make sense of his wink. Then she remembered their plan, that she would dismiss herself to search for the dwarves. Did her brother really think that she would wander off so soon? Would that not give Thranduil a cause to be suspicious? She had overheard one of the elves, surprisingly speaking in common-tongue, say that midnight would be the conclusive end of the party. Yet barely three hours had gone by and midnight was yet to strike. Would Thranduil go looking for her if the festivity ended and she still had not returned?

Sighing inwardly and hoping for the best, she finished her fifth parmesan toast and entered the mob of elves. She waded through their bodies subtly but quickly, and when she broke through, she immediately rushed down the wooden staircase, gathering the bottom of her dress in her hands. She started thinking as logically as she could. If dungeons had been built within the palace, then they would not have been built where anyone could have easy access. Not at the top, or the middle—but at the bottom. Surely, the dungeons were found at the lower levels of the cave system, and so Fheon travelled down dozens of flights of stairs, keeping her footsteps light and dodging the guards that passed her by. She grew thankful of the color of her dress; it made it easier for her to be stealthy.

But though it made it easier, it did not particularly mean that her mission was absolutely stress-free. It was the complete opposite, in fact. Due to the structure of the palace, there were no walls to hide her, save for the times she was given the chance to travel down a spiral staircase; in which case, stone walls were all that surrounded her. Otherwise, she practically had to crawl down the steps in order to remain hidden. The torches attached to the walls did nothing to help.

Eventually, she came upon a narrow ravine—narrow enough for someone to jump from one end of it to another, if he was careful. Fheon proceeded with caution, already having tied the long cloth of her dress together, so that she was free to crouch. The ravine was ragged and uneven, with pathways carved onto its walls, with sturdy iron doors leading into hollow cells. By the doors, there were torches; more than what she had walked past in the standard hallways. The familiar sound of rushing water reached her ears, but glancing down, Fheon discerned that there were no rivers near their position. There must have been a waterfall that fell and continued falling from a great height.

She regarded the structure of it all and knew that she had found the dungeons.

Yet somewhere to her left, there were people talking. A man and a woman. Fheon soon recognized the voice of Kili to be the man's, but the woman's was all but alien to her. Their mutters travelled softly down the ravine, echoing against the walls. Fheon discerned that Kili was speaking about a fire moon of some sort; she had never heard of such a thing. She cursed under her breath, to herself and to Kili. Surely he understood the gravity of their situation. She was there to free them, speak to them of the plan and he was there conversing with an elf about beings of the heavens. How was she supposed to speak to Thorin now?

And then she spotted him, sitting cross-legged in front of his cell doors, head leaning against the bars. His eyes were closed, giving the impression that he was asleep. Fheon deeply hoped that he was not. When the woman Kili was with spoke, Fheon hissed, "Thorin!" His eyes snapped open, starting to wildly look about for who had called his name. Making sure that no one else was walking by, above or below, she waved her right hand over her head once, then twice, letting the wide sleeve ride in the air. That caught his attention.

The Dwarf King's eyes widened and he shot to his feet; he looked like he was about to call out to her, opening his mouth, and she quickly shook her palms in front of her in a negating gesture. She put a finger over her lips, letting the message sink in before proceeding to mouth one word: Wait.

He nodded subtly, eyeing a cell to his right that Fheon could only assume was Kili's. The she-elf was still there, then. Motioning at him to wait again, Fheon hastily turned back and started climbing up the steps once more. She planned to return to Elijah to tell him where the dwarves were being held, so that he could hopefully find the keys and she could stall for time as he did so. But just as she was rushing down an empty hallway, turning a corner, she felt something slam into her.

She stumbled back, but quickly regained her composure. With unwavering eyes, she scanned the hall before her and found nothing. She glanced down at her feet and found nothing as well. Yet she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice say, "Fheon."

Her heartbeat sped up and she frowned. There was no one in the hall with her. Was she hallucinating? Why was she hallucinating when Elijah was the one who had had more to drink than her? And then the voice came again, but this time, saying, "Fheon, it's Bilbo."

"Bilbo…?" At the blink of an eye, the hobbit was standing before her, his face covered in grime but otherwise no worse for wear. She stepped back in surprise, nearly letting out a yelp but letting her throat close just in time. She stared at him with wide eyes. "How… How did you…?"

"I'll explain everything to you later," he said in a hushed tone. "I have the keys. Do you know where Thorin and the others are?"

She gestured over her shoulder and replied in the same softness as he. "Just past this corridor and down two flights."

"Okay… Do you have a plan yet?"

"Sort of," she answered a bit uncertainly. "Look, you free Thorin and the others. I and Elijah will meet you—"

"In the cellars," he interrupted. "Bottom level."

"Right. Good luck."

They brushed past each other hurriedly. Fheon was still trying to figure out where he had come from, because she was definitely not hallucinating. But glancing over her shoulder and seeing that the hobbit had disappeared again, her sanity was yet to be proven. In the meantime, she continued in her task to return to the upper levels of the palace and relay the updates of the escape to her brother.

She did not know whether it was coincidence or luck that got her out of the staircases without getting caught, but she deeply hoped it was luck, because even then, coincidence was too risky. She quickly untied the hems of her dress as she made it back to the Halls of Thranduil. In her adrenaline, she practically leapt into the mass of elves, desperate to evade the eagle eye of the king. After waiting a few seconds and pretending to be a part of the crowd, she walked out onto the clear space of the platform and immediately made for Elijah, who had not moved from his spot. He held a plate of the parmesan toasts in his hand and was eating out of it, resulting in several she-elves stealing disturbed glances at him.

Fheon first reached for one of the treats before taking her place beside her, resuming her casual stance. As she took a bite of the toast, she muttered, "Was I gone for too long?"

"Almost ten minutes," he replied, smirking slightly. "That's sure to have lost you credit from the men here."

"There are no men here except for us."

"You know what I mean."

"Not really."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "What do you think women would be up to in the lavatory for more than five minutes?"

The answer to this dawned on her slowly, and she hit his upper arm. "That's disgusting."

Her brother laughed once, and then spoke in a lower, more serious tone; his lips barely moved so that everyone would presume they were still making jokes. He said, "What's the news?"

"Bilbo's here," she murmured in return. "He has the keys, told him to free the others. They'll meet us at the cellars."

"When?"

"He didn't say."

Elijah glanced around with pursed lips, his eyes lingering on Thranduil atop his throne for a few seconds longer, and then looked to Fheon. "Should we go now?" he said.

"As soon as possible."

She nodded, and he repeated the motion. "Now, then."

Making sure not to look too suspicious, they dispersed from their positions by the pillar and walked to two different directions, but both of them disappearing within the crowd. Fheon ducked her head, using the same strategy as before, and easily began climbing down the staircase. In a hallway beneath the platform where the party was happening, she met with Elijah and then she proceeded to lead the way back down to the lower levels of the palace.

If it had been difficult to stay out of sight for Fheon the first time around, it became even more so with her brother with her. He was taller and wider than her, with a brighter over-shirt. And so he wrapped his evergreen cloak around his torso, hoping it would better keep him to the shadows. Fheon did not have such a luxury. Both of them crouched low, they passed the level of the dungeons and travelled even deeper into the cave system; the deeper they went, the less guards they had to hide from. It made sense, if Fheon thought about it. Thranduil would want more sentinels watching the places closer to his Halls, where a party was going on. He probably thought there was nothing to worry about in the lower parts of the palace, because as Bilbo had mentioned before, only the cellars were down there.

Not even fully inside the cellars, Fheon caught sight of the Company of dwarves, with the smaller Bilbo in the lead. She heard a soft chuckle escape from her brother and then they rushed to catch up to the dwarves. They were careful to keep their steps light, for in front of them, there were three elves sleeping with their heads on the table. By the way they often gasped and muttered to themselves, they must have been in a very fitful sleep. Using this as an advantage, she and Elijah surged forward to meet up with the Company—all of them, for the first time since their separation.

The dwarves celebrated (quietly) at the sight of them, and then Bofur frowned at Fheon, saying, "What on earth are you wearing, lass?" She glanced down at her dress in disgust and dismissed his question with a wave of her hand.

"You're…" Ori trailed off with a look of awe on his childish face.

Fheon frowned at him and opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off when Thorin breathed out, "Beautiful."

Slightly taken aback, Fheon regarded him and Ori for a moment—the King's intense gaze and the young dwarf's wide eyes—before sighing. "Thank you." When she finally let her eyes roam, she found that nearly every one of the Company was staring at her, seemingly at a new light.

She stared at each of them and let her dull demeanor return. Elijah cut in, thankfully, "Climb into the barrels—quickly!"

"Are you mad?" Dwalin growled, stepping up so that they were face-to-face, albeit him being much shorter than Elijah. "They'll find us."

Elijah met his steely eyes with his urgent ones. "They won't."

"He's right," Bilbo hurriedly agreed. "They won't, they won't. I promise you. Please, please, you must trust me." Dwalin only turned back around and started conversing with the dwarves.

In disbelief, Fheon threw Thorin an exasperated glance. He looked at her for only a second before telling his kin, "Do as he says." Fheon nodded at him in approval and in gratitude, watching as the dwarves pushed each other into their own separate barrels. And to her surprise, Elijah did the same for her, albeit more gently. She stared at him with a frown before starting to push out of the barrel.

"No, no, no," he said, easing her back in. "You're injured, and you're in a dress. You have the right to have a barrel—"

"I wore pants, and my tunic, and boots," she hissed. "Where the bloody hell is your barrel, by the way?"

"I'm going swimming."

He gave her a little smirk, just as Bofur poked his head out of his barrel and asked Bilbo, "What now?"

To which, the hobbit walked over to a large lever at the other side of the room and said, "Hold your breath."

Fheon had just enough time to throw her brother a confused look before the floor beneath her barrel shifted. It tilted sideways and she felt her barrel shake slightly as the barrels above her started slipping off, and then she was rolling as well. Grabbing onto the side of her barrel, she did as Bilbo said and held her breath, clenching her stomach in preparation, because she already had a sneaking suspicion on what was waiting for them past the entrance that had appeared on the floor. The sounds of wet splashes and groaning dwarves registered in her ears before iciness struck her to the bone, and she was submerged in water.

Her barrel took much too long to float back up, but when it did, Fheon straightened up and gasped sharply—not because of lack of oxygen, but because of the freezing cold temperature of the water. As a result, it felt like her lungs had frosted over. Teeth clattering together, she raised her head at the sound of wood creaking and saw Elijah fall out of the opening, with Bilbo in his arms. They fell into the water and emerged, gasping for air as Fheon had been.

Nori pulled Bilbo towards his barrel and let him latch onto the mouth, while Fheon did the same for Elijah. "That's cold," he exclaimed, breathless. She rolled her eyes and unclasped his cloak for him, dropping it into her barrel to relieve him of the weight.

"Well done, Master Baggins," said Thorin, the satisfaction obvious in his voice. Bilbo replied with a lame grunt and a wave of his hand, and then they were travelling down the gently rushing river, with Thorin at the head. With her acute senses, Fheon was able to discern the Elvish language being barked to and fro from afar.

Ultimately, the narrow channel they were travelling down came to an end, and the gulley opened up to reveal the moonlit night outside. "HOLD ON!" Thorin bellowed. Fheon groaned in irritation and then the steady pushing of the water beneath her barrel disappeared, followed by the short waterfall pushing her deep into the water. When she emerged once more, her fingers had turned numb over the mouth of her barrel. She struggled to grab Elijah's wrist and pull him back to her. Meanwhile, the members of the Company were having trouble remaining safely within the confines of the current. Bifur very nearly hit his head against a boulder jutting out of the water.

They fell from another short waterfall.

Far behind them, an unfamiliar horn sounded, piercing through the air. But ahead, a portcullis—their only escape—had come into view. Several guards were lined up and down the small bridge way above the gate, and they were sure to have seen the dwarves coming at them by then. Fheon tried to see whether any of them had a bow. This held little meaning, however, for one of them had run up to the large lever atop the portcullis and pulled it down. The metal gates closed, and Thorin was the first to reach it. He released a cry of fury, banging against the grating, but it did not budge. The dwarves behind him followed him into the hollow crescent beneath the bridge, but Fheon and Elijah were far enough to not have reached inside with them.

Elijah started pulling himself out of the water via a stone foothold at the side. Fheon knew what he was about to do, and agreed silently that there was nothing else to do. They had to escape, or else Thranduil was sure to kill them. But before either Elijah or the guards atop the gate could do anything, a black arrowhead sprouted from one of the guards' chests.

As he fell to the ground, an orc ran up from behind him and released a feral shriek.

"ORCS!" Fheon yelled. More of the monstrosities appeared, killing all the guards atop the portcullis in less than ten seconds. Thinking quickly, Fheon reached forward and grabbed one of the fallen elves, pushing him to Elijah as she grabbed another one for herself. Maneuvering the elf so that his hip would rise out of the water, she pulled his sword out of the sheath. She heard Elijah do the same, and did not hesitate in the slightest when she ran her newly-acquired sword down the front of her dress, effectively ripping it in half. She pulled it apart and was left in pants and a tunic. It was better to fight in than in a dress.

An orc suddenly jumped into the river right in front of her. It drove its sword supposedly into her head, but she dodged it just in time—falling backward and therefore pushing her barrel backward. Submerged in the water, she stabbed the orc in the gut and then freed herself from her barrel. A hand appeared in front of her face, a human hand, and she took it, grunting as Elijah pulled her onto dry land. An orc sprung out from behind him and she quickly cut off its head in one stroke. Elijah jumped across the river and onto the rocks across, where he unsheathed a sword from a fallen elf and threw it to Dwalin, who was beating an orc with his bare fists. Fheon grabbed the axe of the orc she had killed and tossed it to Gloin.

Meanwhile, Kili had heaved himself out of the river as well and was dealing with an orc. He had no weapons. Fheon surged forward and drove her sword through the orc's neck. It fell to the ground as Kili stared at her in surprise. Then, Dwalin hollered his name and tossed his sword to Kili. Fheon was able to register a growling sound from behind her right before Kili told her to duck. She did, he swung his sword, and an orc head fell into the river.

Grunting in thanks, Fheon whirled around to deal with the orcs that were heading their way. And by unspoken consent, Kili slowly made his way towards the lever that would open the portcullis. Across the river, Elijah was battling with a monstrously large orc. An orc foolishly chose Fheon as an enemy; she swiped her leg at the feet of an orc and stabbed it in the heart when it fell to the ground. As she beheaded another one of the orcs, she heard a strangled gasp come from her left, followed by a dwarf calling out Kili's name. She whirled around and found Kili lying on the stone floor of the bridge way, a large black arrow embedded in his leg with an orc looming over him. It was then she wished more than anything that she still had her bow.

But then an arrow was whizzing through the air. It struck the orc dead. Fheon felt a heavy hand rest on her shoulder and instinctively ducked. She heard the sound of a woman's grunting before an orc fell dead to her left. Fheon turned and stabbed at an orc, ignoring the she-elf that was with her; it was the same she-elf she had encountered in Mirkwood.

"ELIJAH, THE LEVER!" Fheon shouted, blocking the club of an orc with her sword hand and then head-butting it. While it was dazed, she cut off its head, and then met the unnamed she-elf's eyes. If she was still trying to stop them from escaping, then she was not the only one.

"Duck," said Fheon, and as soon as she did she killed the orc that was about to bash the elf's head in with a club. The sound of the portcullis opening reached her ears. Not waiting for the elf's thanks, Fheon turned and jumped over the stone bridge-way. She noticed Kili no longer on the path and assumed that he had returned to his barrel. Elijah repeated her movements, and from opposite sides of the gorge, they followed the dwarves downriver.

She saw that Bilbo was still hanging on tightly to Nori's barrel. But when the orcs started shooting at them, narrowly missing the dwarves and instead hitting the barrels, she knew that it would not be long before an arrow found its way into his heart, or his arm, or his stomach. She opened her mouth to yell at the hobbit to take refuge in her barrel. Her words caught in her throat when several orcs appeared from behind the trees, attacking her, distracting her immensely.

Bilbo would have to figure it out on his own. And the rushing water was going to have to shield him for a while longer.

Fheon surged forward and killed an orc that was about to club Bombur to death. She let it fall into the river as another orc came barreling in with a mace. She ran towards it and slid between its legs before cutting of its head. Movement, by the front of the Company but too far from her, caught her attention. "Thorin, orc!" she managed to say during her skirmish with an orc that had a sword.

But arrows were sprouting from the orcs ahead of her, even from across the gorge. Elven arrows. She knew they were fast, but they exceeded her expectations now. She killed two more orcs that had been planning to attack one of the dwarves, beheading both of them as she spun. Across the gorge, she heard Elijah call her name and stopped to look at him. It was the right thing to do, it seemed, for suddenly a barrel erupted out of the river and was rolling down the steep riverside, flattening orcs as it went. Fheon saw a round ginger head protruding from the mouth. She killed the orcs Bombur had knocked down. Somehow, he had managed to get across the river and to the other side, where he continued to knock orcs down.

She looked to see if her brother was alright, and in that moment, an arrow whizzed past her shoulder to kill an orc with a mace. But it had already swung, though Fheon was quick to duck and kick it into the river. She snapped her head up to find the son of Thranduil standing atop the heads of Dwalin and Ori, balancing there as he shot down orcs. Fheon decided to leave him be, and to continue with her job.

But then said elf was suddenly ahead of her, killing all of the orcs she was supposed to kill. Still running forward, she watched from the corner of her eye as he hopped from one dwarf head to another and then ultimately landed across the river, in front of Elijah. Elijah paid him no heed and surged forward, keeping Fheon in his sights.

Behind her, the throaty sounds of orcs followed them, but there were no more ahead of her. As she continued running forward, she registered that the sounds of combat had died off as well. None of the elves were following them anymore, which was both good and bad.

She noticed that the orcs did not run very fast—that, or they had given up the chase altogether. She glanced over her shoulder and found they had become mere black specks in her horizon. She, Elijah, and the river leading the Company forward seemed to be faster and more enduring than their enemies, apparently. As soon as they were nowhere in sight, she cast the Elven sword aside, not even thinking twice about it, and then softly called for Dori to pull her barrel closer to her.

Elijah merely jumped into his barrel, but Dori did as Fheon ordered. Fheon pulled it as close as it could possibly get and gingerly set herself down into it. Her feet pressed on something soft and spongy, and she leant down to pull her torn dress out of the bottom of the barrel. Without a second thought, she threw it over her shoulder and let it ride the river with them, but it would eventually sink to the bottom of the river as soon as the current stopped.

Then, she picked Elijah's cloak off the bottom of her barrel and handed it to him. It was a miracle it had not been carried away by the current.

Also, short shoutout to MutteringsOfMadness: You wanted more eye sparklage. Not sure if there was any in here, but i'm pretty sure Thorin just called her beautiful. So. ;)

Stay awesome! And don't forget to review! xoxo