A hand grasped my shoulder and flipped me onto my back before I had a chance to think. Out of instinct, I drew my knives as I moved and held them out defensively before me. I snarled up at the person before me, who stood directly beside the sun, but I was unable to see his face or figure. He pointed his staff at me menacingly, and I lay still, cursing myself for being so stupid. I should have found shelter the instant I had left the tunnel. Perhaps I should return to the tunnel as soon as I escape… No. I shook my head slightly. I would not be returning to that cramped space any time soon.

The figure remained silent, scrutinizing my fallen form as I lay frozen in the grass. Neither of us moved. Whoever this person was, he recognized me, or at least suspected my identity despite my hood covering my face and hair. Since he had shown signs of aggression and even now did not show friendliness towards me… I decided that I would make the first move. I would rather go down fighting than be slain on the ground.

Without warning I lunged for the figure, propelling my body forward and slashing at his staff. He seemed unsurprised by my attack and merely sidestepped, allowing my momentum to carry me halfway down the hill before I managed to find my footing once more. I skidded to a halt, digging my knives into the dirt to slow my descent, and glared furiously up at the figure, the sunlight still stinging my eyes. I took a step forward and then froze, my arms dropping to my sides as my mind finally registered just whom it was I had tried to harm.

"Gandalf?"

The wizard smiled fondly and passed his staff from his right hand to his left, relaxing. "Aeyera Greenleaf."

"Gandalf!" I scrambled up the hill until I reached him and threw my arms around his tall, robed form as he laughed, returning my embrace. "It is so good to see you!"

"And you, my dear," he responded, pulling away.

I sheathed my knives, grinning sheepishly. "I'm sorry for assaulting you."

He waved off my apology, his large, bushy eyebrows lifting in amusement. "It's quite alright. I should have known not to sneak up on someone such as yourself." He gazed down at the staff he held, frowning slightly at the gash in the wood from where my dagger had met its mark. "Although I do wish you had waited to find out who I was before you attacked me; this staff is borrowed."

My cheeks burned. "I thought the staff looked familiar," I chuckled, embarrassed. My voice was rough and scratchy, and my breathing sounded high, almost like a whistle. I rubbed my neck with one hand, hoping to alleviate the pain. "I am sorry, Mithrandir. But right now… these are dangerous times, and I could not afford to wait and see if you were friend or foe. Two out of the three kings present would rather have my head on a spike than look at me."

Gandalf frowned, truly disturbed this time. "Whatever do you mean?"

"It… it is a long story," I said softly.

"Well then let us find a place to speak, my dear," he answered, observing me closely with his blue-grey eyes. We began walking towards one of the foothills not far away, and my thoughts swirled around like a storm as we sat beneath an old, twisted tree behind the cover of some boulders. I wondered if telling him of Thranduil's actions would prompt Gandalf to kill him. I doubted it; Gandalf didn't seem like one to do such a thing, even to one as terrible as the Elvenking. All the same, I hoped the wizard would do something.

And so, after taking a deep breath, I began to explain, speaking despite the brokenness of my voice and the pain it caused me. I told him everything: everything that had happened from the time he left us at the border of Mirkwood to my escape this morning from the mountain. The shadows around us seemed to grow and become menacing, which was especially strange because of the time—it was midday. When I told him of my torture at Thranduil's hands, he grasped his staff so tightly that I feared it might snap in two. Despite this, I continued, telling him of mine and Kili's Morgul wounds, and how my mother had healed me. I told him of my betrothal to Kili—here the wizard beamed, forgetting his anger for a moment, and offered his congratulations—and my ability to conceive. At this point he stopped, staring at me in wonder, and a smile broke out across his face.

"I have do doubt that the Valar have great plans for you and your children," he said proudly. I smiled in response, practically glowing. "To change rules of nature such as these… you must be very special indeed."

His mirth vanished, however, as I told him of my visions and Thorin's transformation. The wizard murmured words in a forgotten language, glaring up at the mountain. When I told him of the events of the previous night, he stood and began walking, heading towards the gate.

I scrambled to my feet and rushed after him, struggling to keep up. I was exhausted, having not slept in two days and having spent the last twelve hours or so pulling my weight through a tunnel at the base of a mountain. "Gandalf, wait!"

"I warned him of this," he muttered, not bothering to turn his head to look at me. "I told Thorin not to enter that mountain without me, and what did he do?"

"He entered the mountain," I deadpanned, stepping in front of him and momentarily blocking his progress forward. He glared down at me, eyebrows quivering menacingly. "Gandalf, allow me to finish explaining. Please."

He muttered under his breath but allowed me to pull him back behind the rocks so that I might finish my story. I explained in detail the effects the mountain had on him, and on me. Thorin and I were very similar. I remembered what it felt like to be fully overcome by the darkness, if only for the briefest of moments before my brother knocked me unconscious and the Valar healed me. I remembered the strength and power I felt running through my veins, and also the uncertainty and anger that ensnared my mind. I knew how difficult it was to throw off something like this, and I had no idea what could help him. "But we have to," I told Gandalf. "We have to save him."

I told him of how Fili and Kili had fought back some and at other times remained silent, to which Gandalf nodded appreciatively, approving of their actions. Apparently what I saw as cowardice he saw as wisdom. "We are not all as stubborn and fiery as you are," he told me. "And although you have the best intentions at heart, it cannot be denied that your actions often have gotten you into trouble, whether it be with Thranduil or Thorin. Fili and Kili were right to be cautious, and their caution earned them some level of immunity with their uncle. Had they outright defied him every time they disagreed, as you suggested, Thorin would have watched the three of you all more closely and certainly would not have allowed you to live." He paused for a minute, thinking. "Why don't you leave this?" he asked thoughtfully. He was testing me; I knew it. "Why not go somewhere far away, somewhere peaceful and safe, and outlast this?"

I smiled sadly at him. "I have not told you, have I?" I answered a question with a question, much to his confusion. He shook his head. "I have chosen a mortal life, Gandalf. I have chosen Kili. I could not outlast this even if I wanted to."

He shook his head. "You foolish girl," he murmured. I knew he said this not out of spite but out of loss and understanding. He seemed grieved, and I wondered suddenly how many friends and loved ones he had outlived. "You gave this up without knowing the outcome of the battle. If he dies—"

"Then I will as well," I answered, my voice just above a whisper. I stared down at my hands, folded neatly in my lap. "I love him, Gandalf. He is my one. If he dies, I will as well, for our hearts are one. His death would kill me as surely as a blade, but I will not allow him to fall. As long as there is breath in my lungs, I will protect him as I always have."

"And what if you both live," the wizard countered, "but Thorin remains under the control of the dragon sickness: what will you do then? Or what if you die tomorrow? Have you thought about what Kili will do then?"

My heart ached, and my throat throbbed both from choking down sobs and from being nearly strangled hours before. "If we both live and darkness continues to reign in Thorin's heart, I would hope we could go somewhere else, somewhere safe. If I die… I pray that Kili's heart will mend, and that he would love again, someday."

"If he is your One," the wizard said, laying a gnarled hand on my shoulder, "then you are his as well. Whether you die or you leave, he will never love again. The only way to spare him of such heartache is to live, which is why you should stay away from the battle."

"And what then?" I shot back. "If he dies, I will fade and whither until I die as well. I will have broken my promise to him, and to Fili and Thorin."

"Do you think you can still save Thorin?" Gandalf eyed me, watching for my response.

"I will do my utmost," I answered.

He nodded, satisfied, and then frowned. He leaned forward and pulled down the hood of my cloak, revealing the bruises I was sure had by now flourished on my pale skin. "What happened?!"

I had not mentioned the manner of Thorin's attack, but only that he had cast me out. "Thorin. He tried to strangle me."

The Istari sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. I had just one more thing to tell him, and thinking about it made my heart pound like a war drum against my ribs. "Gandalf," I swallowed. "I am afraid I have made a terrible mistake." He glanced up at me but did not reply, instead waiting for me to continue. "I contacted my brother yesterday morning," I told him hesitantly. My throat had gone very dry. "A golden eagle that owed a debt to my brother delivered a letter to him. He should have received it early this morning."

"And what did this letter say?" the wizard asked, suspicious.

I gulped. "I asked him to bring an army to the mountain to keep the peace and prevent the dwarves from attacking the people of Dale."

Gandalf stared in stunned silence for a fraction of a second before cuffing the back of my head and leaping to his feet. "You foolish girl! Have you any idea what you've done?"

I scrambled to my feet, very aware of the height difference between us: my head was level to his chest. "I did not know that Azog was coming! I did not even know Thranduil would be here in time, I just wanted to keep the dwarves and men apart long enough for Thorin's sanity to return!"

"And you think that will happen now?!" Gandalf was shouting now, furious with me. "Do you have any idea what you've done? You're asking Legolas to directly defy your father and convince his own soldiers to go against their king and then serve under you to protect the dwarves, whom they hate! Have you any idea how ridiculous this is? Think, Aeyera!"

"Mithrandir, you do not understand! I am not asking Legolas to do any such thing, although I will ask him for his aid when I see him." The wizard stilled, leaning against his staff. "My elder brother, Maladernil, was banished from the Greenwood when I was very young. You know this. You know him very well." The wizard nodded. "He would meet me in the woods over the years until my imprisonment, and afterwards I would see him whenever the Dúnedain passed by or through Lorien. Maladernil…" I took a deep breath, revealing my true thoughts. "He is the rightful king. He is not afraid of Thranduil. He and I are the same; he helped protect the dwarves at the battle of Azanulbizar so long ago. He is leading the elves in Imladris, who tried to help me so long ago, here to protect the mountain. Gandalf, you must understand: I would never put my family in danger."

"And yet you plan on overthrowing Thranduil and placing your brother upon the throne."

I shook my head. "No. As much as I would like to do so, it is not within my power to do such a thing. And should bloodshed occur, where he is slain by my brothers or myself, our people would only see it as a child spilling the blood of their parent for power. They will not see it as a tyrant being overthrown. But should anything happen to Thranduil, I want Maladernil to take the throne. He is the rightful heir."

"You want your father to die." It was not a question. Gandalf studied my carefully, a frown prominent upon his face.

I stared back at him, my face expressionless, but my eyes burned with anger. "He is not my father. He lost the right to call me that when he exiled and tortured me. Thorin is more a father to me than Thranduil will ever be."

Gandalf sighed, looking older than I had ever seen him. For the first time I really took in his battered, bloody appearance. He was covered in dirt, and his robes were torn. I nearly asked what had happened, but he spoke before I could. "I do not think you should have contacted your brother," Gandalf told me, "but what's done is done. It may be that your actions save your friends. You seemed to have timed it well, at any rate: the elves are not in Mirkwood to enforce their exile, so they can ride through very quickly. Does Maladernil remain in Lothlórien?"

"I believe so. He was not in Imladris when last I was there."

"That was many long months ago," the wizard reminded me. "There is every chance that he has gone to Rivendell. If my memory serves me correctly, your brother always has had an uncanny ability to tell is a battle was about to take place. It was he who led the elves to Azanulbizar. They were hindered on the way and arrived too late, unfortunately, but had they not been stalled they would have arrived before the battle even began."

I frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying, my dear, that there is every chance that your brother was on his way here before you even sent the letter. I doubt, however, that he knew that you were here as well. When was the last time you saw him?"

"Before Arathorn's death," I answered softly. "Nearly twenty years ago."

"Then it is likely that he still thinks you to be travelling with the Dúnedain. There is no question that he will come all the swifter when he receives your letter; he always was very protective of you."

I thought back to my release all those years ago, when Beorn rescued me. I was on the brink of death for weeks, but I remembered that Maladernil, upon hearing word that an elfling had been rescued from Dol Guldur, had raced to Beorn's home. He knew I had been missing for two decades and spent that time listening for word of me. I remember when he entered the room and saw me, his face crumpled, and he fell to my bedside holding me tightly in his arms, weeping. He stayed with me until I was healed and travelled with the Dúnedain until we reached Lorien. He tried to convince me to stay there, but I had refused, explaining my need to protect people. No one deserved to experience what I had; I would do everything I could to prevent anyone being harmed as I was.

My brother's kind heart and gentle spirit had been a balm for me, for although my heart was good, I was much more rebellious than either of my brothers. He had changed me, made me gentle, and calmed me when I was afraid. I loved him very much, and had a closer relationship with him than I did Legolas, although I loved him as well. Both had a special place in my heart, but it hurt to think of Maladernil because I was never able to see him. Our paths crossed by chance every few years or so, and it was a joy to see him, but my heart ached whenever we parted. We were very similar, he and I; we both were exiled by Thranduil and had tried our utmost to protect those we cared about. I missed him very much, and could not wait to see him… but I was worried. I was afraid he would be disappointed in me for my choices.

"Thorin will not be pleased when he discovers this, Aeyera," Gandalf cautioned. I remained silent, and he sighed. "Kili does not know, does he?"

"No," I breathed. "He doesn't." I turned to face him, wrapping my arms around myself. "Gandalf, what do I do? If Kili thinks I betrayed him…"
"He knows your heart," the wizard replied kindly, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "And he knows how much you love him. He will understand."

"I hope you are right," I murmured.

The wizard straightened. "Of course I am right. I must go now, the men and elves must be warned of the orcs."

I reached out and grabbed his sleeve as he turned to leave. "Thranduil will not believe you," I told him, pulling him back. "He will say that you only wish to protect your friends."

"What would you suggest?" he asked, staring down at me.

I answered without hesitation. "Go to Dale and look for their leader, a man named Bard. He is the direct descendant of Girion, Lord of Dale, and an honorable man. Speak with him, and give him my name. He knows me, and he will listen to me. I will follow behind you and search for my brother. Once I find him, we will meet you at the top of the citadel." I pointed to a stone tower at the southern end of the city, which had not yet been occupied. The wizard nodded slowly. "Do be quick," I added, heading towards the city.

"My dear," he called. I turned to look at him. "You have proven yourself." I smiled, slightly confused, and moved to continue on, but his next words stopped me. "And you should also know that whatever the outcome of this battle, you have been redeemed." I froze. "You have fulfilled your promise to the dwarves a hundred times over. Do not be dismayed by the outcome of the battle if you are unable to save them all."

I slowly turned to face him, my hair whipping about my face as the wind picked up. "Thank you, Gandalf," I murmured. "But I will save them. All of them."

He gazed at me sadly, and I wondered how many battles he had seen occur, how many friends he had seen die for the same cause I was fighting for. "All the same," he replied. "The outcome of this battle is not your fault."

"I will save them," I repeated, feeling desperation and panic rise up within me. I turned away from the wizard and began striding purposefully towards the city. "Or I will die trying."