A/N

Wow, this chapter came out much quicker than I had anticipated! And longer! Thanks to a few days off and of course two wonderful reviews! Thank you so much, Flowerchild23 and mystique999.

Erebor

As the early morning sun rises, the boat hits the riverbank. On the banks of the lake are refugees and wreckage from Laketown. People all around Várar are screaming and crying. Sigrid and Tilda waste no time to find their father and brother as Tauriel follows them. No doubt wanting to make sure they're save.

A body wastes up on the shore right as Várar is about to follow her friend, making her take a step back in disgust. For someone who has never witnessed dead, she ssure has seen enough for a lifetime. All in just one night. And from the looks of the humans around her, more will die.

'You haven't seen much dead, have you?' someone asks from behind her and Várar turns around.

'Not really no,' she says as she looks at Fíli. 'I grew up with immortals. And immortals are known to be kind of immortal, you know.'

At this, Fíli chuckles sadly as he approaches her. He looks at the sight before him. People are still screaming and crying, pulling the bodies of their loved ones out of the water. Some are still alive, others have died. Burned by Smaug, others have drowned.

'Well, then I guess you have had your fill of death then.'

As he looks at the dwarrowdam next to him, he sees her nod, a sad look in her eyes. Even though getting used to the thought of her being raised by elves, he still gets surprised by simple things. Every dwarf has witnessed death even before they are of age. True it never gets easy, but the look in her eyes. So terrified!

'I guess you will be leaving for the mountain straight away?'

He nods. Yes, there might still be a chance the others are alive. A very slim chance, but a chance! And if not, then they must reach Erebor before anyone else does. If his uncle has perished, then Fíli has to claim the throne, before other folk decide to take treasures.

'I know we have offered you this before,' Fíli begins as Várar helps them push the boat into the water again. 'But you are welcome to come along. A dwarf doesn't belong with elves.'

With a small smile, Várar rejects his offer. She wishes she could go, she really does! But she must set things straight with her father. She will not leave her father just like that. The one who has raised her as his own, who has given her his love her.

She's not a fool. She knows she cannot stay with the elves forever. But she has never felt the need to leave her father's side. Well, except that one day, over fifty years ago. But she was just a child back then! Naïve and driven by emotions.

'Maybe one day you will find me at your doorsteps,' she says with a smile, as all three dwarves look at her sadly. 'Perhaps one day soon, perhaps when you are king under the mountain. Who knows.'

Why are all these dwarves so set on having her come with them?

'And a joyous day it will be then,' Fíli says, taking her hand in his. 'A day I will be looking forward to.'

With that said, he places a soft kiss on the back of he hand. He is saddened by her rejection and he doesn't know why. He had really hoped she would come with him, seeing as she has left her home to save them.

He likes her, he has discovered that when she came bursting through the door back at Esgaroth, standing there like a real warrior. Unlike any dwarrowdam back home. The way she had fought those orcs, the way she had saved Kíli's life. He had been mesmerised by the sight of her.

With one last nod, Várar turns around, leaving the company of dwarves. He notices her eyes scan the area, probably in search for her brother. Then Fíli spots his brother, talking to the she-elf.

'Kíli, come on!' he calls out for the dwarf in annoyance. 'We're leaving.'

With one last glance at the dwarrowdam, Fíli jumps in the boat. Silently wishing she'll change her mind and join them. Though he knows she won't. He has seen the love she holds for those pointy ears, and leaving them behind, would be the same as Fíli leaving his brother. That will never happen.

Though unknown to him, Várar has to fight the very urge, Fíli is hoping for. Afraid she might change her mind if she is to look back, Várar has set her eyes firmly on Tauriel and Kíli as she walks over to the pair. But why? Why does she feel so drawn to these dwarves? Why does she feel like she has the need to be with them? Is it normal for dwarves to feel like this?

She hears Kíli say something in Khuzdul. And even though she doesn't understand it, she still has a feeling she knows what he is saying. And it makes her wonder. Is she making the right choice? Perhaps she should follow the dwarves. After all, she is a dwarf. Does she not belong with the dwarves?

Besides, she wants to know more about her own folk. She wants to know more about her mother. About dwarves. And the only way to get answers to her questions, is by following these four dwarves, as their leader has the answers.

But just as she is losing her mental battle not to look back, her eyes spot something behind her dear friend and she smiles brightly.

'Muindor!'

'Hîr nin, Legolas.'

But Legolas looks at neither female. His gaze fixated on Kíli as they glare at each other. Then he tells Kíli to leave as he is needed elsewere. But the dwarf is too stubborn, not wanting to leave just yet. And Várar has a feeling why.

She has noticed the look Kíli has given Tauriel and she him. It is a look she has seen a lot over the passed few years. That look is the same reason for Legolas' hostility, for he has given Tauriel the same look for years.

'I fear your brother will leave you behind if you don't hurry,' Várar says to the dwarf as she places a hand on his shoulder.

Kíli kkeeps glaring at Legolas for a moment, before turning to Várar with a sheepish smile.

'And your's will tear me apart,' he chuckles bitterly.

'Until me meet again, mellon,' Várar says with a nod of her head.

'Yeah, until we meet again.'

She doesn't miss the quick movement of his eyes, as he glances at Tauriel. But she doesn't say anything. She only smiles knowingly. With a nod, Kíli hurries over to his comrades. The two youngest dwarves looking over their shoulder at the females.

But Várar doesn't notice. Instead her attention is drawn to some commotion as the shouting of the townspeople has changed to angry shouting. So when she passes by Tauriel, she doesn't notice the tears that start to form in her friend's eyes.

The climb has been tough, especially for Kíli. Though the youngest dwarf doesn't show it, his injury still is painful and sometimes slows him down. Even with the help of elven magic, he still has a limp.

Fíli has noticed it too. And despite his eagerness to reach the mountain, he still has kept a slow pace. When he is going to reach the mountain – their home – he will have his brother at his side. He has always dreamt about it, though never hoped to see the day to actually witness it.

But here they are. As they approach the gates, Fíli stops as he looks at the destruction around him. Smaug's doing. A mixture of shock and fear fills his body as he looks at the others. What will they find inside? Will they find any survivors? Will they only find bodies?

He wants to enter Erebor slowly, he really does. But at the sight of this destruction, he can no longer contain himself. He needs to know what has happened to the others. He needs to know if they are still alive.

So the dwarf prince starts to run into the halls of Erebor. No sign of life. Only dead and destruction. And as Bofur calls out, his echoing voice the only sound in the silence. The hatted dwarf calls out for his brother and cousin. But no one answers him. He calls out for anybody, but is only met with silence.

Still they don't give up. So Fíli leads them through the halls, looking for their kin. Even though he doesn't know which way to go, he still continues on. They will find their comrades. No matter what!

By now, all for of them are calling for the others, as they run down a staircase. The only noise, the clambering of their own footsteps. Or not? Fíli looks around in surprise. Did he hear correctly? Does he hear footsteps hurrying towards them?

'Wait! Wait!'

'It's Bilbo,' Oins says from behind him and Fíli looks towards the other side of the city. 'He's alive!'

To his surprise, the hobbit is indeed still alive. Relieve washes over him, as Fíli greets the smaller creature. It he has survived, there might be others too! But as Bilbo stops in front of them, his smile soon drops at the words of the hobbit. Why do they need to leave? What is going on?

'I have tried talking to him,' Bilbo continues, confusing the four dwarves even more. 'But he won't listen.'

'What do you mean, laddie?'

After Oin's question, Bilbo finally starts to make sense as he almost shouts out Thorin's name out of frustration. The hobbit explains to them, their leader has been out – whatever that means – for days. Days without sleep and little food.

'He's not been himself, not at all,' the hobbit ends. Does Fíli spot a hint of fear? 'It's this, this place! I think a sickness lies on it.'

Something moves in the distance, a few levels lower. It causes Fíli to look past Bilbo as his hobbit friend tries to regain his composure. But as soon as Fíli realises what he sees, he wrinkles his brow in consternation.

As Fíli moves past Bilbo, he can hear Kíli ask Bilbo what kind of sickness he means. Afraid of the state they will find their uncle. And afraid his brother should be, Fíli realises as he hurries down the stairs. Not paying heed to the cries of Bilbo. He can hear them run after him, but Fíli will not be stopped by them. He needs to see for himself.

The lower he gets, the brighter the golden light glows. A mixture of the torches and the reflective gold. He rounds a corner and stops short at the sight of the treasure. His eyes wide of shock, as he takes in the sight of it all. Gold, everywhere! Heaped so high over the floor, Fíli can barely see the ground.

But it is not only the gold, he sees. And it's not the gold that has caused the look of shock in his eyes. No, for his keen eyes has spotted something else. Something he has never seen before. Well, not something – someone!

Down there, striding slowly out of a doorway, a dwarf moves through the piles of gold. Dressed in royal robes and covered in jewellery, is Thorin. But at the same time it is a whole other dwarf as he is speaking softly, probably to himself as he has yet to notice his company.

'Gold,' Fíli hears his uncle say as he looks at the gold with a strange, almost posses look in his eyes. 'Gold beyond measure. Beyond sorrow and grief.'

Suddenly Thorin looks up in surprise, finally having noticed the others. But where as the others look at Thorin in shock, Fíli finds himself looking at his uncle in disappointment. This is not the same uncle as the one who always told tales about Erebor. This is no longer the same Thorin as the Thorin Oakenshield who has lead the company to reclaim Erebor.

No. This is a whole new Thorin.

'Behold, the great treasure hoard of Thror.' With that said, Thorin flings something high into the air to the stairwell landing. There Fíli catches the giant blood-red jewel. 'Welcome, my sister's sons, to the kingdom of Erebor!'

His voice echoes through the hall, almost being carried through the whole mountain it seems. The way his uncle talks, it sends shivers down his spine. Possessed, insane, frighting!

What have they done?

'How could you, ada!' Várar says angrily as the elven king looks down at her from his throne. 'We did nothing wrong, she did nothing wrong!'

Várar glares at Thranduil. When Elros had come to tell them the king had summoned them, she had been overjoyed. She hadn't even waited for Legolas and Tauriel to follow. All she had wanted, was to get back to her father. She had been away from home for long enough. She had been away from her father for long enough. Blood or no blood, Thranduil is her father and the bond they share is a strong one. Truth be told, Várar might even be called a daddy's girl. She always has been, she always will be.

But still she is angered by his actions. How could he banish Tauriel. Her best friend!

'Correct me if I'm wrong, Várar,' Thranduil begins as he rises from his throne. His voice as calm as always. 'But did I not tell you to stay away from the dwarves? And yet, you disobey me. You even help them escape.'

'What has...'

With one small gesture, he silences Várar. A look of shame and confusion now mixed with her anger.

'And then you left, following Tauriel to save some dwarf, again disobeying my orders.' He stops in front of Várar, looking down at her still. 'I do not blame you, though.'

With that Várar looks up in shock. She had expected some lecture, followed by punishment. He had been so furious when she helped the dwarves escape. But now he states she isn't to blame? Not even after all she's done?

Thranduil turns, so he is facing Várar sideways, looking ahead of him.

'I blame Tauriel. She has always been a rebel and after the two of you have become friends, she has turned you into a rebel as well. And I will not lose you because of one rebellious elleth.' He glances back at Várar, who looks at him in shock. Then he adds; 'Nor to a foolish dwarvenking.'

'You can't be serious, ada,' Várar says as she just looks at him. 'Tauriel only wanted to help Kíli. And I did too.'

'You went against my order! Both of you.' Though his voice is still as calm as ever, Várar can hear a hint of anger now. 'And now Tauriel has faced the consequences. Do not force me to punish you as well, gwilwileth, for you are dear to me.'

'And what about Legolas?' Várar asks, as she looks at Thranduil. Something in his eyes changes at the mention of his son. But he stays silent. 'He is in love with Tauriel. By banishing her, you have banished him!'

Tears begin to form in her eyes as Várar looks down. How could he? How could he! She knows he means only to protect her, but somehow she feels like he has smothered her. The events at Esgaroth still fresh on her mind. All those bodies, floating in the dark water. How will she ever be able to get those images out of her head? And the screaming, she can still those terrifying screams.

If she and Tauriel hadn't stayed behind, then what would have happened with those children? And the dwarves? Kíli would have died before Smaug came, for he was nearly dead when they arrived. And Fíli? He would have stayed at his brother's side, grieving as the dragon would burn the town. Perhaps Bofur and Oin would have made it, if they did not grieve along with Fíli.

'What about Erebor?' Várar suddenly asks, as she wipes away a tear. 'What about the survivors of Esgaroth? Will, you not help them?'

Her father looks at her for a moment. And in that moment, Várar silently hopes he won't make the same mistake he had made all those years ago. But at the same time, she fears he will not help them.

'Perhaps we could go and help them,' he answers after a moment of silence. 'They have lost a lot, including hope. And I need to have a word with the king under the mountain anyway. If he is still alive.'

As Várar rides into the city of Dale – or what once had been Dale- she looks around at all the people outside. It seems there are more survivors than she had expected, but still there are a lot of injured. Most of them would have died within days if the elves hadn't showed up.

Suddenly a man enters the courtyard. The man, Bard, looks at the unexpected company and her father takes it as his que to ride up to him. So Várar follows, her pony trotting enthusiastically to be outside of the forest at last.

'Easy, Tálagor,' Várar whispers to the stallion, gently stroking his red coat.

'My lord, Thranduil,' Bard begins bowing before the king. 'We did not look to see you here.'

'My daughter told me you were in need of aid.'

That causes confused whispering from the people as they point at Várar. But as soon as they notice a wagon being pulled up, they cheer in joy. For the wagon is loaded with food and drink for them. As Elves help unload the cart, Bard approaches Thranduil and Várar.

'You have saved us!' he exclaims in joy. 'I do not know how to thank you. And you, lady Várar,' he continues as he turns to the smiling dwarrowdam. 'I should thank you twice, for you have brought my children to safety.'

Várar nods him in acknowledgement. So even Bain has survived.

'Your gratitude is misplaced,' Thranduil says with a cold voice, his eyes turned to Erebor. 'Though Várar has convinced my to help out, I did not come on your behalf. I came to reclaim something of mine.'

With that said, he turns his elk around. It doesn't take long for the elves to unload the chart and then they march out of Dale. Várar watches her father leave with a sad expression. She knew there was a reason why had given in so easily. Then she faces Bard, bidding him farewell, before hurrying after her father.

But the man runs after them, asking them to wait.

'You would go to war over a handful of gems?'

'The heirlooms of my people are not lightly forsaken,' is the stoic reply.

'And what of the dwarves?' Bard shoots, looking at Várar, before turning his gaze back at the tall elf. 'Everyone knows they are protective of their women, yet you have claimed one as your own, calling her your daughter.'

'How Várar became in my care, is non of your concern,' Thranduil replies, his voice as cold as ice. 'She is more elf than dwarf and has nothing to do with those dwarves.'

'Forgive me my lord. I did not mean to accuse you. I just meant to say... They have something you want and you have something they want.' At this Várar quirks a brow. Is this man trying to suggest her father to trade her for some gems? 'If reinforcement arrives, they will do anything to bring their king what he wants.'

'If a dwarf dares to touch Várar, I will have his head,' she hears her father growl dangerously. 'Besides, we will have war either way then.'

'Not necessarily. My people have a claim upon the riches in that mountain. Let me speak with Thorin. That way, he doesn't have to see lady Várar. It might raise his desire'

'And how are you so sure this will prevent a war?'

While Várar listens to the conversation, her eyes travel to the mountain. What did Bard mean? Did the man hinted Thorin wanted her? Surely not! Perhaps Thorin wants her to be with dwarves, that much he has made clear. Bard couldn't possibly mean Thorin wants her!

'I'm not sure it will work,' she hears Bard confess. 'But to avoid war, I would try and reason with a dwarf!'

Thranduil stays quiet for a moment, thinking Bard's words over. He has feared the day dwarves were to know of Várar's existence, for Thranduil is no fool. He too, knows how protective – possessive even – are about their women. He has also considered a possible war because of her.

He glances at the young dwarrowdam next to him. She can not handle such pressure. Sooner or later she will give in and leave his side, if it means peace. She doesn't handle dead well. Not when there is many in a short time. Not when the fallen ones are the ones she cares about. Her eyes had betrayed that much when she had returned home. A fear of losing her loved ones.

But something inside him tells Thranduil there will be no war about Várar. Only if he was to start it. For he has seen the glances she keeps giving Erebor. A longing in her eyes. It has been aparent eversince they entered Dale and she had seen the mountain for the first time. She is drawn to it, even is she doesn't realises it herself. He will lose his daughter, and he will lose her soon!

Someone is coming! Luckily the wall is done, so the intruder cannot enter Erebor. At least, not without permission of the dwarves. And no one is to enter his kingdom. Only a certain dwarrowdam. But according to his nephew, she has gone back to the lands she was raised. Back to those elf-scum!

Thorin watches as a rider stops in front of the gate. Bard, he recognises. With a quick glance at Dale, he can easily spot the golden armor of the elves. It seems a war is to start soon. But he will not lose his kingdom! Not again!

'Hail Thorin, son of Thrain! We are glad to find you alive beyond hope.'

Thorin glares at the man below. A filthy thief, telling filthy lies! He had hoped to find them all dead, so he could steal away the treasure. A treasure that belongs to him, Thorin! Not to some bargeman.

'Why did you come to the gates of the king under the mountain, armed for war?'

'Why does the king under the mountain fence himself in?' Bard replies calmly. 'Like a robber in his hole.'

'Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed.'

A crime the bargeman denies. Stating he is seeking fair settlement. Though Thorin does not believe a word this man is saying, he does agree to speak with him. But not before looking over at Balin. His friend is talking to a raven, telling it to send out a message to Dain. Then the black bird flips its wings, flying away rapidly while cawing loudly.

'I'm listening,' he tells the bargeman as he strides up to a hole in the blockade.

'On behalf of the people of Laketown, I ask that you honour your pledge,' Bard says, cutting straight to the case. 'A share of the treasure so that they might rebuild their lives.'

So the man is after the treasure, just like Thorin had expected! But he will give him none!

'I will not treat with any man while an armed host lies before my door.'

Bard glances over his shoulder, at the army of elves. Then he looks back at the new king under the mountain.

'That armed host will attack this mountain, if we do not come to terms.'

But Thorin is not frightened by his threat. He will not part from his treasure. If those foolish men think they have the right to claim even one coin, they are mistaken! No matter what Bard says to try and reason with him, Thorin will not hear it.

Having heard enough of this man, Thorin steps away and out of view. As he leans against the blockade, feeling tired and weary. Why does he feel this way? His eyes travel up to his companions, before shouting at the man on the other side.

'Be gone, ere arrow fly!'

As he hears Bard leave, Thorin makes his way up the platform again. There he watches the man ride back to Dale. At the city gate, Thorin spots something small and he smirks. It seems she has returned.

'What are you doing?' Bilbo asks as the hobbit watches the lone rider as well. 'You cannot go to war.'

'This does not concern you,' Thorin replies, his eyes still on the dwarrowdam.

But the hobbit disagrees. He mentions the army of elves and several angry fishermen. How can they win against that?

'We are in fact outnumbered,' Bilbo ends.

'Not for much longer,' Thorin disagrees as he turns to look at Bilbo, smiling at him.

Confused, the hobbit asks what he means by that and Thorin looks off in the distance. If his cousin moves out immediately, he should be here by tomorrow. Then he faces the hobbit again.

'It means, master Baggings, you should never underestimate dwarves.' Then he turns to the whole group. 'We have reclaimed Erebor. Now we defend it!'

With one last glance at Dale, Thorin strides down the steps, wanting to search for the Arkenstone once more. With his mind completely clouded by his treasure, he misses the look of distress on Balin and Bilbo's faces. Tomorrow they will fight, but he will not give up Erebor! The kingdom is his and his alone, along with the treasure! And that is exactly what his friends are worried for.

A/N

And this is where I leave you for now. This chapter has become longer than I planned it to be. But I wanted to have a little bit of Thranduil's feelings in it. His fear of losing his daughter.

I also changed Fíli a bit, seeing he the older brother and next in line. Because in the movie, I noticed at first Fíli is concerned about what has happening with Thorin. But later, at the wall, he is cheering when Thorin is declairing war. I am trying to keep Fíli a little more level-headed in this story.

We are getting closer and closer to the battle. What will happen? Who will survive? Will Várar be able to save the lives of Thorin, Fíli and Kíli? Will she die trying? Who knows.

Well, I do. You, my dear readers, will have to wait for the next chapter!

Oh, because I am such a nice person, I leave a little hint for the upcoming chapter. Remember Várar's fiery steed, Tálagor? Well, Tálagor means Fast Foot. A matching name for the blood bay with feet as swift as lighting.