Kili paced back and forth, his heart and gut heavy like lead. Images of orcs clad in roughly-made armor, weapons clamoring and glinting as they headed to battle, banners waving above them, flashed across his mind. He could hear them, their marching, their growling Black Speech and snarling wargs. They were like echos inside his mind, and he couldn't shake them. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling an ache begin to resonate behind his eyes. When his eyes flashed open again he let out an enraged growl and collapsed down upon a wooden bench, resting his face in his hands, breaths deep and quick. Thorin hadn't listened, and if Fili failed to convince him, then they would all perish. Be it by the hands of the elves or the orcs. He felt so useless in that tent, knowing what faced his friends, and knowing he could do nothing to stop it. He had tried to leave, to head back to the mountain for a second attempt, but Thranduil, who was back readying his troops for the dawn attack, had ordered the two guards not to let him leave and so they had dragged him back in, kicking and screaming. And elves had eays and ears sharper than those of a hawk, so there was no point in trying to sneak away again. He let out a long sigh, praying that somehow, Fili could make his uncle see. Or else he feared he would never see his brother again.

Bard lingered at the entrance, a bowl of hot soup in his hands, watching the young dwarf sadly. He remembered watching as he was dragged away by the elves, how he struggled and thrashed, very nearly sending the elves' helmets flying. He continued his fighting until he was thrown back into the tent and after a few words growled at the guards in Kuzdul - which Bard suspected of being nothing good or nice - he fell to his knees in a defeated silence, his heavy breaths the only sound he made.

"I'm sorry that it didn't work." Bard said, Kili lifting his head at the sound of his voice. Brown eyes watching him as he crossed the tent. "But it told you, your uncle is beyond talking to." Kili rolled his eyes and huffed a sigh.

"Yes, you were right, well done." He said bitterly.

"Look, I'm not trying to gloat. Just know that you did nothing wrong, you tried, but I fear nothing you nor anyone else can say will help."

"And now they face war," Kili eyes fell, "I may very well never see them again." Bard knew the fear of loosing those you love, he remembered the feeling from Laketown, when he feared that his daughters had perished in the dragon flame. It had made him feel sick, and filled his mind with a fog-like thickness. Bard sighed and placed the bowl on the table before moving to kneel before Kili, resting a hand on his knee.

"It may not end that way, you may see them again. You must have hope."

"It's hard to have hope when you've seen the things I have seen. Seen what is coming." Once again the images filled his mind, each orc represented death and ruin. He shuddered.

"But you must. From what I have seen of your friends, I have learnt one thing." Kili looked at him, brows pulling together. "They are stubborn." Bard smiled, and despite himself, Kili found himself smiling back. Old words floated into his mind, words he had heard all his life. The Line of Durin will not be so easily broken. He prayed that those words rang true, that he would see the Company again, that they would live through the battle.


"You, Bowman." Gandalf said, walking towards Bard who passed a sword to a determined looking Laketown man, "do you agree with this?" He asked, "Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of dwarves." Bard's eyes narrowed as he looked at the old wizard. The only thing he wanted less than to go to war with Thorin was to see his people suffer, and without what was promised, they surely would.

"It will not come to that, this is a fight they cannot win." He hoped that he was correct, that Thorin would see that he could not defeat the elves or the men, that it was not worth risking his or his company's lives for.

"That won't stop them." Came a voice. It was so familiar to Gandalf, he knew it well, but he felt like he had not heard it in a millennia. Gandalf and Bard turned to see a hobbit coming to a stop before them, panting lightly. "You think the dwarves will surrender? They won't. They will fight to the death to defend their own."

"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf exclaimed. It had been a long time since he had seen the hobbit last, and he felt a great relief and a great happiness to see him stood there. Bilbo looked up at him and smiled.

Kili glared at Thranduil from across the tent, the Elven king paying him very little notice as he poured red wine into a chalice. Kili had cursed at him when he had given the order, If anything moves on that mountain, he had said, kill it. Thranduil had stared at him with his cold blue eyes, the edges of his mouth pulling up very slightly in an unkind smile. And Kili understood why his uncle despised him so much.

"Don't look at me like that," Thranduil said flatly, disinterestedly. "They had their chance."

"And now you're going to kill them." Kili hissed. "My uncle, my brother, my friends. With no regret." Thranduil turned to look at him, eyes flashing. He smiled.

"Think of it this way." He said, raising the wine to his lips. "If they do die, you'll take the throne." Kili frowned at him. "I'm sure you and I will work together far better than myself and your uncle."

"You think that's what I want?" Kili asked, rising to his feet. "I don't want the mountain. It belongs to Thorin, and after him it belongs to my brother."

"Well, I don't think you'll have much of a choice, Kili." Thranduil grinned wickedly. Kili's fists curled tightly at his sides, anger beginning to boil in his gut. Yes, he really did understand Thorin's hatred. He opened his mouth the speak again, he had many choice words he would like to say to the Elven king. But just then Bard and Gandalf entered the tent, another person following behind.

"Bilbo!" Kili cried. His anger being hastily washed away by relief. The hobbit smiled and Kili surged forward to wrap his arms around him. "It's good to see you."

"And it is very good to see you." Bilbo said, wrapping his own arms around his friend, "we all believed you lost forever."

"As did I." Kili shrugged, breaking the embrace. "What are you doing here?" He asked. But before Bilbo could explain Thranduil chimed in, his voice unimpressed.

"If I am not mistaken," he said, lowering himself to sit upon his throne-like chair, eyes hard. "this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the noses of my guards." Beside Bilbo, Kili grinned, stifling a chuckle.

"Yes," Bilbo admitted, voice slow and guilty. He shifted his weight and avoided the elf's stare. "Sorry about that." But something told Kili that the hobbit was not sorry, not one bit. And Thranduil, too, seemed unconvinced. Bilbo paused before clearing his throat and moving forward. "I came ..." he said, reaching inside his coat, "..to give you this." He placed a piece of cloth on the table at the center of the tent and unfolded it to reveal a large, glistening jewel. It shone like a fallen star and almost seemed to chime and sing. Thranduil rose to his feet.

"The Heart of the Mountain." He said with awe, "The King's Jewel."

"Worth a king's ransom." Bard stepped forward to study it. Kili too approached the table, eyes wide as he stared at the stone. He had heard so many stories of it growing up, and each tale had filled him with wonder. The way his mother and uncle spoke of it made it sound like it had been crafted by Aulë himself. And looking at it now, Kili believed it. It was like nothing he had seen before. It was as if the jem was filled with the light of the heavans.

"How do you have this?" He asked Bilbo.

"And how is it yours to give?"

"I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure." The hobbit shrugged. Bard's brows pulled together with confusion.

"Why would you do this? You owe us no loyalty."

"I'm not doing it for you." Bilbo said with a shake of his head. The other four people in the tent stared at him. "Now, I know dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult. They're suspicious and secretive with the worst manners you can imagine. But..." The Hobbit looked at Kili and smiled warmly, "... they are also brave and kind and loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can." Beside him, Kili felt a warmth in his stomach. Bilbo was a good person and a good friend, and he couldn't be angry at him for stealing his uncle's prize. Not even if he tried. He smiled. "Now, Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for it's return, I believe he will give you what you are owed." He turned to look at Kili. "This really was our last resort."

"Our?" Kili repeated, "Is the whole company in on this?"

"No, just me and ... and your brother."

"Fili? And he's alright with it?" He asked.

"He's had enough of Thorin being this way and he's desperate to get you back." Bilbo shrugged, "he's willing to try anything now."


Whilst Bard, Thranduil and Gandalf discussed what to do with the Arkenstone, Bilbo and Kili sat together, glad to be in one another's company again.

"How are they? The others?" Kili asked.

"Torn." Bilbo confessed. "They want to follow Thorin, he's their king, but it's not easy these days. He's not himself, Kili. Not at all." Kili nodded his head, he understood.

"Dragon-sickness." He had heard the tales, how it consumed his great-grandfather. They had always worried that the same would happen to Thorin, but they told themselves that he was too strong. But, it seemed, that he was not strong enough to ward away the gold-lust. "And Fili?" Bilbo shrugged and sighed.

"He and Thorin are not on the best of terms, I'm afraid." He said with a shake of his head, thinking of the way the two argued and yelled, remembering the way Thorin had hit his nephew, the way Fili declared that he hated him as he threatened to leave. "There's not much keeping him in that mountain." He turned to Kili with sad eyes. "He was quite broken when he thought he'd lost you ..." 'Quite broken' did not quite cover it, but Bilbo decided not to tell Kili of the way his older brother barely slept or ate, how he hardly left his room in the Master's house and how he had broken the furniture in a fit of rage and grief. "...And quite relieved to see you again. But I don't suppose he will be content until you are both together again."

"Nor I." Kili nodded. He wanted nothing more.

"How are you?" Bilbo knew that Fili would not be best pleased if he did not ask. Besides, Bilbo wanted to know, too. The last time he had seen the young dwarf, he had been taken over by the Necromancer. But before that he had been very sick. Unable to stand, barely able to speak or open his eyes.

"I'm alright." Kili shrugged. But Bilbo wasn't wholly convinced. Indeed, Kili seemed far better than he had at Bard's house, but his face was still pale and sunken and his eyes were dark and weary. A haunted shadow lingered within them. "I'm myself again now."

"How? How did you get free?"

"Gandalf and the White Council." Kili told Bilbo, "Elrond, the Lady Galadriel and the wizard Saruman. They banished him. I can't remember much of it," he shrugged, "except that it hurt and then I felt ... light."

"So you're alright? Are you eating? Sleeping?" Kili scoffed at the hobbit.

"You sound like my mother."

"I'm only asking because your brother will want to know everything when I get back."

"You're going back to the mountain?" Kili asked, brows pulled together. "Bilbo, if my uncle finds out what you've done he'll..."

"I'm not afraid of your uncle, and I'm not going to abandon the others now. Yes, I'm going back, so answer me." Kili sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I'm eating. The elves brought the people of Laketown some supplies and they've been kind enough to make me some broth."

"And sleeping?" Bilbo pressed. He noticed the dwarf's eyes darken before they fell. He began tugging at a a loose thread on the sleeve of his tunic. "Kili?" Kili shrugged.

"I've not found much time to sleep. And I've tried when I can. But." He shuddered slightly, as though he'd suddenly grown very cold. "I can't remember much of when the Necromancer had me, but whenever I try to close my eyes I see all this death and destruction, battlefields littered with dead soldiers. I can see their faces so clearly they may as well be here with me. And I can hear them screaming." Bilbo's brow creased. "It's like I'm finally seeing what he had tried to show me, what he had planned. I can still hear him sometimes."

Outside the tent Gandalf listened with concern, his mouth a thin line. He did not doubt Kili's honesty when he said that he remembered little of the time he spent under Sauron's spell, there was no lie in his voice nor in his scared brown eyes. But he was sure that the 'Necromancer's' real name was in the boy's head somewhere. And if these visions kept coming, he knew that it would only be a matter of time before Kili discovered who had truly snatched his body.

"Come Bilbo," He said entering the tent and approaching the hobbit and the dwarf. "You must rest up tonight." Bilbo nodded at him and rose to his feet. Give him a hug for me, Fili's voice echoed in his head. He wrapped his arms around Kili, feeling Killi do the same.

"That's from your brother. And ... from me too, I guess. I've missed you."


Fili slept fitfully that night, waking at regular intervals until he decided to give up and walk the silent halls of Erebor. It had been some hours since he had watched Bilbo run off towards Dale, the Arkenstone in his pocket. Bilbo would have given it to them by now, he supposed. Fili also supposed he should have been angry at the hobbit for taking it, and he had been, at first. But Bilbo had made sense, Thorin would only get worse once he had it in his possession. He also thought he should be angry at himself for agreeing to it all, but Thorin had betrayed him enough this past week. And he'd had enough. It was time to end this. Fili ran his fingertips along the stone as he walked, a century of dust lifting up at his touch. It was very quiet. The other members of the Company were asleep, resting for the attack that would come at dawn. None of them had any idea of the deal that was to be struck. He wondered how they would react to seeing the Arkenstone in the obsession of the elves. All he knew is that he would have to react the same. He never was the best liar, Kili could get away with it much easier.

"Fili." He heard a voice from behind him, soft footsteps accompanying it. He turned to see Bilbo coming towards him.

"Bilbo." He smiled moving to stand before the hobbit. Bilbo's face was flushed as though he had been running. A dim, pinkish light had followed him into the hall, signalling the approach of sunrise. Soon the others would wake and their time would be up. "Did you do it? Do they have it?"

"Yes," Bilbo nodded, "they'll bring it with them and attempt to make another deal."

"And Kili? Did you see him?"

"Yes, he's alright. He's much better than he was before, no fever." Fili sighed with relief at this, running a hand through his blond hair. "He is being looked after." Bilbo decided to avoid the subject of Kili's strange and terrifying dreams nor the haunted shadow in his eyes, not wanting to add more worry and stress to what Fili must have already been feeling. He could soon face a battle, he needed his thoughts to be calm.

"How did he break free from the Necromancer's hold?" It had seemed so impossible, his brother had been too sick and weak to fight.

"Gandalf and the White Council banished the Necromancer."

"Gandalf? Is he in Dale too?"

"Yes, he's been trying to pacify Thranduil, but it hasn't worked. Hopefully this plan will."

"Thank Mahal." He said, "Thank you, Bilbo. You have been a good friend. You didn't have to return to this mess."

"I'm the fourteenth member of this company, it would be wrong to leave now." Fili smiled at him. Hobbits truly were a brave and loyal race, Bilbo had left the comfort of his home on an unexpected and dangerous journey with a group of rowdy dwarves who had bombarded his house and eaten all his food. Fili pulled him into a tight hug.

"I am very glad you joined us on our journey, Bilbo." He said.


Kili could hear Dale begin to busy as the sun rose. Men and elves readying themselves to attack the mountain. He watched from the entrance, the guards eyeing him suspiciously, with a heavy heart. What if the plan did not work? What if Thorin did not agree? Would he ever see them alive again? The worry was making his stomach turn. Bard had entered the tent at first light with breakfast, but Kili couldn't bring himself to eat it. And so it had been left, the tea Bard had brought with it had gone cold. As he watched the men arm themselves, many of whom, it was clear, had not held a proper weapon before and had seen too many winters, or indeed to few, and the elves march in perfect uniformity, he prayed silently to anyone who would listen. Please, spare my friends, he begged, Let Thorin see sense. Let this work. Thorin needed the elves and the men on his side if they were to stand a chance against Azog's forces.

Kili hadn't slept that night, the cogs in his mind had turned to rapidly as he tried to figure out his own plan. One where he would get away and find his way to the mountain. If there was to be a war, he was not to stay in that tent like a weak coward, no matter how weary his bones and muscles. He could still feel the wounds from his time with the orcs sometimes. Mainly the lashes on his back and the marks left on his wrist from the binds. It had been over two weeks since he left their custody, but many movements could pull at the still healing flesh, sending a twang of pain through him.

"You, dwarf." Kili looked up to see Thranduil striding towards him, dressed in his fine silver armor, a cloak of the same color flowing behind him. Kili scowled at him. "I hope you're not planning on running away." The elf pushed past him and ducked into the tent. Kili said nothing, simply followed the king with his eyes. "Your stubborn friends get one more chance and I don't want you interfering."

"So you'll make sure your guards don't take their eyes off me?"

"On the contrary, my guards wont be here." Kili frowned. "I can't spare any of my men. But don't worry, I'll make sure you don't leave this tent." Thranduil smiled, "Guards!" He called. At his voice the two elves entered the tent, one holding a length of rope. Kili backed away, holding his hands up in front of him. "Tie him up."

"You can't do this." Kili hissed.

"Oh, but I can." One of the elves lunged forward, and wrapped a hand around Kili's wrist. Kili tried to shake him off, but the guard's grip was iron. The second guard began to approach, eyes glaring at Kili from beneath his helmet. And then, despite Kili's struggling and fighting, growling and cursing, he found himself tied to the post which kept the center of the tent raised. It was like being back with the orcs again. He clenched and unclenched his fists, hearing the rope creak and feeling it begin to dig into his healing skin.

"Bastard." He growled at Thranduil, eyes burning.

"My, my." The king grinned, "such foul language from one so young."

"Yes? Well, I have plenty more to say to you!"

"It will have to wait, I'm afraid." Thranduil said, sighing dramatically. "I have a meeting with your uncle." And so, the king left him, the dwarf spouting all manner of foul words and curses, some in Khuzdul, others in the Common Tongue. The boy truly did remind him of Oakenshield.


The Company lined the rampart, looking down at Thranduil's full force, stood before them like golden metallic statues, the dawn light reflecting off their armor. And among them stood the people of Laketown, feigning bravery. The elves began to part, Thranduil and Bard riding through them, the Elf King's great elk sorting as it walked. From upon the gate, Thorin loosed an arrow. It hit the ground meer inches from the elk's feet, snapping in two upon impact, but the great beast did not flinch.

"I will put the next one between your eyes." Thorin warned, a second arrow already nocked and pointing towards Thranduil, who glared up menacingly. But before Thorin could send it flying, the army of elves, in perfect uniformity, raised their own bows towards the dwarves, who ducked behind the rocks of the wall. All except Thorin, who remained unphased, matching Thranduil's hard gaze. After a few moments, Thranduil held up a gloved hand, and the elves lowered their bows.

"We have come to tell you payment of your debt has been offered and accepted." Thranduil called up. Thorin's brow furrowed and he lowered the bow in his hands.

"What payment?" He demanded. "I gave you nothing, you have nothing." Beside him, Fili shifted nervously and dragged in a deep breath. His heart began to drum in his chest. They were about to reveal the Arkenstone, what Thorin desired the most, his prize. What would he do? How would he respond? Would he be angry? Would he suspect him or Bilbo? Fili swallowed and his eyes flashed down towards Bilbo who was stood further down the line of Dwarves. The Hobbit's eyes, too, flicked towards him, the two exchanging nervous glances. On the ground, Thranduil turned his head towards Bard who reached into his coat and pulled out a glittering object which he held aloft for Thorin and the Company to see. An immediately the Company began to mutter and gasp.

"We have this," said the dragon-slayer with a slight smirk. Thorin's eyes grew wide as he looked upon the Arkenstone in Bard's hand. How could this be? It could not be! He felt his gut begin to burn like a furnace and around him the company started to shout and curse. Thieves! They yelled. That stone belongs to the king! But Thorin remained silent, his eyes dark.

"And the king may have it." Bard said, tossing the stone into the air and catching it again. "With our good will. But first..." he put the jewel back into his pocket and looked towards Thorin, his gaze hard, "...he must honor his word." But Thorin shock his head, the corners of his mouth pulling up oddly. There was an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"This are taking us for fools. This is a ruse, a filthy lie!" He growled. "The Arkenstone is here in this mountain! It is a trick!" Beside him, Fili felt his heart stop. He could not be serious! Was he that blind? That stupid? How could he not see that it was real. Fili had only seen the stone briefly once, and he could tell that it was real, as could the others. The way it seemed to glow like a fallen star in Bard's hand. Thorin had grown up seeing it above his grandfather's throne, did he not recognize it? He turned to his uncle.

"Thorin, don't be a fool." He said, "that is what you have been looking for, what you desire! And they have it! Thranduil has it." He needed to make his uncle see reason or else they would face war and he may never get Kili back. Thorin needed to see reason. "If you do not agree to their terms, then they will take it and lay claim to the Mountain." Thorin, who had previously not taken his eyes from Bard, turned to look at Fili. His face uncertain and full of suspicion. He tilted his head and stared critically at his nephew, who took a step back, feeling his heart begin to race again. His fingers twitched nervously at his sides.

"How are you so certain that it is the true Arkenstone?" Thorin pressed accusingly. He stepped towards Fili, seeming to tower darkly above him and wrapped a tight hand around his arm. "Are you to one who gave it to them? Out of spite? Anger? Grief?" His face grew angry, blue eyes burning. As Fili looked at him, he wondered whether he should confess. Thorin clearly suspected him, and he could feel his uncle's anger boiling hotter than ever. He would rather be at the receiving end of that anger than Bilbo. He sucked in a breath and opened his mouth to speak. But another voice piped up before he could say a word.

"No Thorin," it said. Fili's eyes closed with dread. "He didn't give it to them, it was me." Bilbo stepped towards them, the eyes of the company upon him. Fili stared at him and shock his head, don't, he said silently, let me. But Bilbo didn't listen and, as Thorin let go of Fili's arm and turned towards the hobbit, he spoke again. "I gave it to them."

"You." Thorin growled. "You would steal from me?"

"Steal from you?" Bilbo laughed nervously and shock his head. "No, I may be a burglar, but I like to think that I'm an honest one." Beneath the anger and betrayal in Thorin's eyes, there was also disbelief. He had trusted Bilbo, more than the rest of the Company. More than his nephew, more than Balin and Dwalin - his oldest friends. He had believed Bilbo the most honest and loyal of them all. And he had been wrong. "I'm willing to let it stand against my claim."

"Your claim?" Thorin challenged, his lips pulling up in a crooked smile. "You have no claim over me." He dropped the bow roughly to the ground, the metal body clanging against the stone. "You miserable rat!"

"I was going to give it to you." Bilbo told him, with a slight nod of his head. "But..."

"But what, thief?"

"You are changed, Thorin." Bilbo said slowly, his voice hard. "The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word. Doubted the loyalty of his kin, nor denied his nephews existence and then turned him away!" Bilbo's voice rose until it was close to a shout. About him, the Company did not question him nor try to silence him. Why would they? What he said was true. Thorin was not the dwarf they knew.

"Do not speak to me of loyalty. Throw him from the rampart!" He commanded. But the company did not obey, each seeming to take a step back, shaking their heads and muttering. None of them could meet the king's eyes. "Did you not hear me?" He roared. Thorin looked at them all, at their refusal, and growled, lunging forward to grap Fili by the arm and dragging him forward. But the blond roughly wrenched himself free with a grunt. If Thorin thought he would throw Bilbo to his death, he was sorely mistaken. Fili would not lay a hand on the Hobbit who had done so much, too much. "I will do it myself." And Thorin stalked towards Bilbo and seized him with rough hands, pulling him towards the wall and the sheer drop behind it. The Company began to shout and protest, and Fili leapt forward to pull his enraged uncle away, Dwalin doing the same. "Curse you! Cursed be the wizard that forced you on the company!" Thorin pushed Bilbo against the wall, Bilbo feet being lifted from the floor. He could feel cold air on the back of his neck. But then there came a booming voice.

"If you don't like my burglar," it said, "then please, don't damage him, return him to me." The eyes of Thorin and the company looked towards the ground, where a familiar figure had pushed through the elves and had come to stand before Thranduil and Bard who watched him, the lips of the former pulling up in a slight, aggravated, snarl. The company had fallen still and silent, the only sound was that of Bilbo's panted breaths. No doubt a relieved sigh had found its way into those deep inhales and exhales. "You're not making a very splendid figure as King Under the Mountain, are you, Thorin son of Thrain?" Thorin's grip on Bilbo faltered and the hobbit fell, gasping and trembling to his knees, Fili and Bofur rushing to help him to his feet.

"Go." Bofur urged, ushering him away. And Bilbo did not hesitate to clamber forward and gather up the rope that he had used to escape to Dale the night before. He threw the end over the wall and with a fleeting glance at the Company began to scale his way to the ground with less haste and care than he had taken previously. He wanted to be away from Thorin's rage.

"Never again will I deal with wizards, or Shire rats!" He heard Thorin shout.

"Are we resolved." Bard asked, returning the conversation to the deal. "The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised?" Thorin looked over the rises of the hills west of the Mountain hearing a faint, distant sound. He smiled slightly, knowingly. "Give me your answer. Will you have peace or war?" Before Bard received his answer, a large raven landed on the wall before Thorin, cawing loudly. It seemed to nod at the dwarf, and almost appeared to smile at him. Thorin looked again at the hills, the light of the new sun glaring behind them.

"I will have war." And then, as if on cue, a wall seemed to creep onto the brow of the hill as lines and lines of dwarves marched over it. Dwarven soldiers, their tough armor, shields and weapons clamoring and breaking the stillness that had previously settled over the land. They flowed over the rise like a silver metal wave, their marching sounding like a wave breaking against a rock. A dwarf rode ahead of them on the back of a large, armored pig. Atop his head sat a feathered helmet, and in his hand he held a heavy hammer aloft. The Company cheered from the rampart, they were not alone in this fight. On the ground, Thranduil sent his elk forward barking at his elves in their tongue, Bard followed behind him, eyes glued on the oncoming dwarvish army. Immediately, the elves turned towards the dwarves and marched to meet them at the bottom of the hill, ready to meet them. Bard's men following their action, but not with the same confidence, tightening their grips on their weapons nervously.


"Who is that?" Bilbo asked, struggling to fall into step with Gandalf who marched hastily through the elves. The Hobbit stared up at the hard-faced dwarf who rode ahead of the wall of metal-clad warriors. "he doesn't look very happy."

"It is Dain Ironfoot." Gandalf told him. "Lord of the Iron Hills. Thorin's cousin."

"Are they alike?"

"I have always found Thorin to be the more reasonable of the two." he said honestly. This did not fill Bilbo with confidence, as Thorin was not being very reasonable at all. He did not think that it was possible for anyone to be less reasonable.

The pig snorted as it trotted down the hill, its armor rattling and clinking as it went. Dain pulled it to a stop atop a smooth, angled rock. He looked at the elven army and scoffed slightly at the men among them, his mustache twitching.

"Good morning." He greeted pleasantly, politely. Which seemed very odd to Bilbo, who frowned, considering he had an army behind him primed to attack at his command. Perhaps he wasn't as stubborn and unreasonable as Gandalf has said. "How are we all?" His army had stopped marching and now stood still and silent, unmoving like stone. "I have a wee proposition, if you wouldn't mind giving me a moment of your time." Dain was incredibly casual, it was as though he was speaking to friends. He smiled. "Would ya consider ... just sodding of?!" Never mind, Bilbo thought, wrinkling his nose. The men murmured and backed away. They had not expected an army of dwarves. But the elves remained resolute, posture and expressions unwavering

"Come now, lord Dain," Gandalf said, stepping forward.

"Gandalf the Gray." The wizard bowed his head. "Tell this rabble to leave or I'll water the ground with their blood!" Dain warned, shaking his hammer. Gandalf continued walking towards him, unphased by his threat.

"There is no need for war between dwarves, men and elves. A legion of orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down."

"I will not stand down before any elf. Not least this faithless woodland sprite!" Dain growled. It seemed Thorin and his cousin had more than just their stubbornness in common. They also appeared to share a deep and unyielding hatred for Thranduil, too. "He wished nothing but ill on my people. If he chooses to stand between me and my kin I'll split his pretty head open! See if he's still smiling then." Thranduil rolled his eyes, exasperated.

"He's clearly mad, like his cousin." He said.

"You hear that lads?" Dain span his pig around and sent it forward towards his army. "We're on! Let's give these bastards a good hammering!" Another dwarf shouted a command in Khuzdul and the warriors raised their shields with a shout. The elven archers span back gracefully behind those wielding shields, who pointed sharp spears towards the dwarves, who had all began to shout and growl.

But then there came a rumble like thunder and the ground seemed to shake. And then the rock appeared to burst, exploding upwards in a cloud of stone and dirt. And from it came a huge, fearsome were-worm, screeching and writhing. It's mouth open like a starfish, with rows and rows of teeth, tough enough to cut through rock like butter. There came another ground shaking rumble, and three more burst from the hillside, their shrieking loud and echoing as they shock away dust. The dwarves and elves, men, hobbit and wizard looked on in both horror and astonishment at the terrible beasts. Knowing that they announced the arrival of the orcs, hundreds of hearts began beating like rapid drumming. But as quickly as the earth-eaters appeared, they retreated back into the hill. Everyone's attention had been so firmly glued upon them that they did not notice the white-skinned orc come to stand upon a high cliff, not until he roared out in Black Speech, calling his legions forward. Behind him tall banner rose like the wings of great birds or bats and the droning of a horn blared out across the land. And orcs began to spill from the tunnels created by the worms, like hundred ond hundred of insect, shrieking and shouting in Black Speech. Their weapons clamoring and flashing, the sound of their heavy boots bouncing off the rocks.

From the back of his pig, Dain growled and cursed.

"The hoards of hell are upon us!" He shouted, his army rushing forward to meet the orcs with their fierce battle-cries ringing out. "To battle, Sons of Durin!"


Kili had given up trying to free himself from the elvish binds. The rope would not budge, it only seemed to get tighter and the stinging in his wrists could only mean that the healing wounds had torn again. Now, he sat, with his head hanging low in defeat, eyes closed sadly. It had been some time since Thranduil and Bard had left, and he had not seen Gandalf in a long time, but he did not doubt that the wizard had made his way to Erebor as well. When the bowman and the elf had gone, they seemed to have taken almost the entirety of Dale with them. The only ones that were left were the children, the elderly and the wounded, taking shelter in the ruins. There were many women too, but quite a few brave ladies has joined the men in their march on the mountain, building to the small numbers. Very little had passed the tent, Kili had perhaps heard three or four people scuttle past, but they had not stopped to look inside nor come to help when he called, instead had run into nearby buildings. And so Kili had been left alone, wondering whether Thorin had accepted the offer, whether is was all being resolved. Or whether he still retained his stubbornness. He prayed it was the former.

A rumble echoed across the land, he could feel the buildings of Dale tremble. The tables in the tent shock, the items atop them rattling. One of Thranduil's silver chalices fell, spilling wine on the floor. It felt and sounded like an earthquake, it reminded him of the Thunder Battle in the Misty Mountains, but the twisting in his gut told him it was something much more. Kili could feel his heart begin to beat, and his breathing quicken. The orcs could not be hear already! But as the the deep drone of an orcish horn called out, loud and rumbling, echoing across the hills and bouncing off the wrecked buildings, he knew that they had arrived. And he felt his blood run cold.

"No." He said, voice barely a whisper. He began to struggle again, the rope creaking and pulling but once again seeming not to yield. He had to get free! He had to reach the others! The orcs had come and he would not be trapped in that tent while his friends fought them. He would not be uselessly side-lined. He had been trained as a fighter and he would fight! He had to fight! "Hey! Someone!" He called, to nobody in particular. He hoped that someone would hear him, and that this time they would come! "Help! Let me out of here! Someone!" But as the sound of marching began to rumble, he knew nobody would come. They would remain where they were, sheltered.

No! He had to get to the others, he had to help! No, no, no.


-AN -

Duuuudes. I know I said friday and I'm so sorry. Many a thing prevented me from updating. First I was ill, but then I got better and wrote half of it, and then I had three full days of work. I decided, 'hey, lets write the rest of it when I get home monday,' but the gods decided no. and my laptop had to update which took two hours! TWO HOURS! Gah! And then I had work again for two days. I'm sorry but here it is at last! And I think it's the longest part yet!

The Battle is starting! I'm probably going to speed through the battle, fight scenes aren't my strongest to write, so I'll focus on the main parts and the scenes I'm going to tweak.

I hope you enjoyed this part! If you did, be sure to leave a review! And if you haven't already, remember to fave and follow!

See you in the next part!