It seems like after all I couldn't resist to give Bard his heroic moment. Can't help it, I like the man too much.
And now the last great battle is getting closer and I would have never thought I'd ever write it myself. It's all thanks to you guys, without you I probably wouldn't have continued this story for so long. So ready for the remaining Chapters?
Thank you for all your reviews and enjoy!
"How close by are they?" Thorin asked, nervously looking back over his shoulder at Balin.
"They will be here sometime tomorrow I'm sure", the scout replied, looking from his King to the Dwarf. "I wish we could let the sunshine slow them down but there has been no sun for days in this weather."
"Useless to ponder over that", Thranduil muttered. "They'll be here fast. There won't be any time to retreat anymore."
"But my Lord Thranduil-", the scout began, quickly cut off by Thorin, who chuckled gleefully.
"Ah I see, so now you don't mean to stick around anymore. Not only cheap but a coward too, are we, great Elvenking?! But go ahead, run straight into the arms of the enemy. Bolg slicing you up or I, either way is fine for me so long as someone finally does it!"
"Why would I fight a battle that of course your kin has started?" Thranduil shot back. "As you usually do!"
"Us?!" Thorin bellowed and Fíli quickly put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from butchering Thranduil right on the spot. "I wonder why it is so easy for your despicable kin to blame others for your own makings!"
"You wouldn't speak such nonsense if it wasn't for the foul air so low above the ground, Dwarf!"
"How about I cut off your legs below your knees and you say that to my face, Elf!"
"ENOUGH!"
Both King's jumped at Bard's harsh words, for the Heir of Girion clearly had it with the fighting and bickering. Fíli sent a quick prayer of gratitude to Mahal, for he had enough of the fighting as well.
"In the name of everything that is good and sacred, you two are acting childish beyond compare! Quit the grouching already, an enemy is approaching that both of you need to fear equally! I don't know what you did to stir up the Orcs of Gundabad, Thorin Oakenshield, but I do know well that you have two choices. You either lock yourself up in your City and pray to whatever higher force you Dwarves believe in to save you, or you face those Orcs on the battlefield."
"And how am I supposed to do that with only thirteen and no idea as to the time of arrival of my cousin?" Thorin growled, clearly miffed at Bard's intervention.
"Esgaroth can spare about two hundred men", Bard easily replied and Thorin stared at him in wonder.
"Esgaroth? Why would Esgaroth help us?"
"Because it will be destroyed if we don't help you. Don't worry, Thorin, I do not mean to play tricks on you or pretend that I am a selfless hero, I merely want to save my City from being plundered, my men from being murdered, my women from being raped and my children from being eaten alive."
"You have no mere day to gather an army. Can you accomplish that?"
"I have no choice, do I?"
A spark of hope lit up in Thorin's heart. Though the Dwarves of Erebor, the few of them that lingered in the Halls right now, were all set and ready for battle, they had not anticipated this enemy. Thorin could only imagine the wrath that drove Bolg, for the Orcs usually did not venture out to battle on open grounds, when they could just abide their time and wait for the enemy to come to them. Since the death of Smaug, there was nothing as gruesome and fearsome in the North as the alliance between the Orcs of Angmar and the Wargs of Gundabad and everyone gathered before the Gates of Erebor knew that.
Thranduil glared at Thorin, a look returned by the King under the Mountain and the air between them, though cold, was so dense that one could have cut it with a knife.
"Very well", the Elvenking began between gritted teeth. "You better let me in on your strategies then Dwarf, for undoubtedly you have some."
"And so do you, I imagine, though lousy they will equally undoubtedly be", Thorin retorted and Fíli had to keep himself from snorting. Watching his uncle and Thranduil became most bemusing for both were too stubborn for the good of this world. Bard approached the youngster, shaking his head a little.
"Can it get any worse than that?"
Fíli shrugged, grinning at the sight of Thranduil uncomfortably pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders.
"I suppose we can at least do that inside."
"No", Thorin unfazed crossed his arms before his chest and Balin was close to tears already, tempted to bite down on the hilt of his sword in frustration. "You and your ugly folk won't enter these halls, period. I can sit in the snow for hours and I bloody well will until the plans are clear. If you asked nicely, I might provide you with some lined cushions for your delicate Elvish rear though."
"Sorry to decline", Thranduil muttered but took a step aside to let Thorin go ahead. The Elves had set their camps across the bridge, where they would be sheltered and at least a little warmer, due to various torches they had stuck deeply into the frozen ground. And Thorin strutted past him, head high and with utter surety.
"For hours? Really?" Bard asked curiously, glimpsing down at Fíli.
"We're quite weather proof", the youngster replied and raised his eyebrows at the sudden grin on the Bowman's lips.
"You surely are sturdy little people. Excuse my curiosity, but if I kicked you in the crotch right now, what would happen?"
"You'd break your foot", Fíli smiled and the smile alone frightened Bard a little.
The unusual council of war lasted through the night. Thorin had taken Balin, Glóin and Fíli with him and Thranduil sat with his most trusted commanders and by sunrise, they had agreed on strategies and the positions of their troops. Thorin still silently hoped for Dáin to appear but so far, there had been no sign of his cousin.
When the Dwarves returned to the Halls of Erebor, the others had already begun the initial preparations. Weapons lay ready, armour had been polished and amongst all the bristling stood Bilbo, looking terribly lost. He had tried to help, but merely looking at the blades and glistening metal all around terrified him so much, that he froze to the spot after only a few steps. Kíli and Bofur had tried to cheer him up but to no avail.
"Th-Thorin? I-" the Hobbit began but quickly refrained from talking when he saw the surprised expression on Thorin's face, as soon as he had entered the Hall of Thrór.
"Master Baggins", the King smiled and Bilbo wondered how in the world he could, with such a grave battle before him. "I completely forgot about you. My apologies."
"I- I couldn't find an armour to fit me I'm afraid."
"Armour? You don't need armour. By no means will I let you join this battle", Thorin was already about to walk on, when Bilbo held him back by his coat.
"But I don't want to feel useless!"
"Then wait here behind the Gate, tend to the wounded who are brought to you and shall the enemy win the upper hand, close the Gates and tie them as well as you can."
"What? Why?" the Hobbit asked puzzled, following Thorin around as he went on eventually.
"I am prepared to die at the hands of this filth but I will not let them plunder my Kingdom. You're of great importance to me, Master Baggins."
The King under the Mountain smiled at him and Bilbo's heart sank down to his knees. He felt sick beyond compare, yet he nodded faintly. His task, his fate after all, would thus be to lock the Dwarves out of safety. He watched them getting ready, putting on the heavy armour and drinking sheer unbelievably amounts of grog within only a few minutes and he wondered amazed. So small. So disapproved of by the world. So few in number. Yet when Thorin stood ready, his armour shining in the light of the flames in silver and blue, his head high, a living image of Durin the Deathless himself, he knew that there would never be another people so brave and great in the whole world.
When sunrise came, though only a lighter shade of grey painted the clouded sky, for no rays of sunlight came through, Fíli stood in the middle of the forbidden chambers of Thráin. Thorin had told them to stay away from these rooms, still hoping and praying that his father might return to them one day but here, Fíli found, a strange spirit lingered. It filled the air around him, inspiring him and giving him strength and courage. He felt the presence of his grandfather and smiled.
"Thank you."
"Who are you talking to?"
Fíli jumped and turned around to find his brother standing in the doorway. They both looked at each other for a moment and a strange feeling befell them.
Kíli wore heavy metal shoulders, shimmering silver with dark green ornaments engraved. The same pattern showed on his bracers and the heavy belt on which hung the scabbard of his sword. His legs stuck in heavy, silver armour as well, reaching down to his metal-capped shoes. He wore no corselet though, since it would have been in the way of his quilt and bow. Fíli's armour was of bronze and rubies, the shoulders and bracers shining in the dim light of the torches, the corselet engraved with the crest of Durin, though it only covered his chest, his back lying bare, sheeted only with a long, ruby red cloak and thick, brown leather.
"Nobody", he replied, his voice sounding a little hoarse. It was the first time in days that he was alone with Kíli again. "You look different."
"So do you. Like you're ready for it."
"Well, then this bloody armour is at least somewhat useful", Fíli muttered, glancing at the walls.
"Why didn't you tell him?" Kíli stepped inside the room, approaching his brother slowly, though no malice lay in his eyes.
"Tell who what?"
"Thorin. You know, about the Arkenstone?" he stopped in front of his brother, mere inches separating them from one another. Fíli took his time to reply, searching for the right words while Kíli grew more and more impatient, fearing the worst. Things like I don't care enough anymore or You don't matter to me.
"You're still my little brother", Fíli smiled benignly.
"But", Kíli blinked surprised. "You said you were not helping me anymore."
"That doesn't mean I'll betray you though. Besides", Fíli sighed, looking his brother right in the eyes and it was the look he had always given him, whenever Kíli had been in for a dressing down. "It's not my place to tell him. You will have to do that yourself."
"Me?"
"Yes. And I know you will. Not now, after the battle. But you will."
"How do you know?"
"Because I know you. And I know your guilt is eating you alive right now."
"Is that a royal order then?" Kíli muttered, his look disappointed and pained.
"No, it's an order from your older brother because you're a little shit and I will beat you into a pulp if you don't."
A grin spread across Kíli's face and it was full of joy and mischief, his dark eyes glistening and though the heavy corselet pressed all the air from his lungs, he still flung his arms around his brother's neck. Their hug was firm and loving and relief filled their hearts, heightening their spirits once again. They were together again at last. And together, they could withstand anything.
"We'll go into this battle together, won't we, nadad? You and I?"
Fíli's smile suddenly faltered and Kíli took a few steps back, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.
"I- you will be fighting alongside Thorin", Fíli began to explain, quickly cut off by his brother.
"Yes, but so will you! Won't you?"
"No I- I will lead-"
Suddenly a massive bluster echoed up to them from below and they stared at each other bewildered, shock and terror drawn on their faces. It was the clangour of armour and many voices, bellowing and yelling and for a moment, they both felt like their hearts were about to stop. Grasped by courage before, they suddenly felt small and insignificant and only the presence of the other soothed them a little.
"So you don't hate me?" Kíli asked, a crooked smile on his lips.
"I do", Fíli mimicked the smile. "I hate you and your guts for doing that. But I love you as well."
Kíli chuckled, though it sounded pressed and scared.
"That's the good thing about being brothers, you know? I can hate and love you at the same time."
They looked at each other one more time, both drawing in a deep breath before they left the room together and descended down the endless stairs, their weapons tightly clutched in their hands.