Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, save for characters not in his works.

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."

~Lao Tzu

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T.A. 2799

Nine years later . . .

Brother and sister frowned at the ranger before them. The tall man had a tankard of ale in his hands as he recounted the reported sightings of orc and dwarf movements outside the Eastern gates of Moria. The mountain had once been home to a great dwarven kingdom, Khazad-dum, until some dark shadow had been awoken there. Rumors of a beast of fire and darkness . . .

"The dwarf known as Thrain, son of Thror, is moving troops to the eastern gates. I believe he is preparing to retake the halls of Moria. The Dimrill Dale is said to be crawling with orcs and the gate is open."

"This is rumor, is it not?" Nedoheen asked. His brow was arched in disbelief.

The ranger shrugged. "It is what is reported. None have gone to confirm the reports. You may call it rumor, if you will." Nuil frowned at the ranger, finding it odd that he didn't really know if the sightings were true. Rangers were supposed to be more reliable, not . . . like this man. He seemed indifferent, when others tended to take news like this more seriously. Nuil would feel better knowing if this ranger spoke the truth or not, instead of listening to rumor and hearsay.

"What if someone goes to see if they are true?" Nuil asked. The ranger frowned clearly disapproving.

"The journey may prove to be a waste of effort. The affairs of the dwarves are hardly our concern," he said with a hint of malice in his voice. Nuil frowned at the ranger, clenching her jaw. The ranger resumed drinking, leaving the siblings to think on his words.

Nuil knew that the reports could all be rumors. Yet there was a part of her that was curious to see if they were true. That and she would rather know the truth than believe something that was false. Misinformation, always led to bad things. And the opportunity to travel beyond the Misty Mountains was very enticing. It had been many years since she had ventured beyond those gray peaks. There was a chance that this- lazy, ranger was right, and Thrain was there. And where Thrain was, so would the rest of his family be. She knew Thorin was well, she had seen him in Ruven's smithy. But the other two whom she was closest to, she had no clue if they were.

And if the ranger was right, then there would also be orcs. Orcs very seldom stayed in one place long, especially when there were villages ripe for the picking right near them. They would have to know if there was danger. Nuil couldn't very well sit back and let innocent people be slaughtered. Part of her was irked that the ranger didn't even seemed interested in this possibility. Her family and rangers held one thing in common, and that was protecting the weak. This ranger seemed to be indifferent to these things, more worried about the ale he was drinking.

"I think we should journey there," Nuil said suddenly, jolting Nedoheen from his musings. He stared at her in surprise.

"It would be most unwise," he murmured, glancing briefly to the ranger who was watching them with interest. "Sister, you know we must return home."

"But there are orcs," she fired back, brows pulled together. "If the dwarves are to engage in battle with the orcs and they lose, which they might, considering their dwindling numbers, what is to stop them from crossing the mountains and entering Eriador?" She raised her brows. "Would it not seem wise to at least see if the reports are true so that we may return and warn the villages?"

Nedoheen clenched his jaw. His sister had a valid point, and yet it did not sit well with him. Whatever the dwarves had planned, boded ill. "We must send word to Noledhe. He will not like this."

"I never said he would," she replied.

"If we are to go, then let us begone at dawn. I trust you to write to our brother."

They left the ranger to his ale, moving to their rooms. Nuil penned a letter to their brother, and settled in for the night. In the morning, while the dew was still fresh the two set out from Bree. The gatekeeper greeted them with a frown, grumbling that it was far too early for traveling. Nuil gave the sealed letter to him with instructions to send it with a messenger to Arnor, giving the man ten gold coins for the trouble.

The early spring left them with rainy days, and cold nights as they traveled east. The siblings briefly stayed in Imladris, resupplying and speaking with the Lord Elrond. Within a week of their stay at Imladris they were in the mountain pass of the Misty Mountains. They were lucky to have the fortune of not encountering any goblins, which were known to be in the mountains.

By the end of summer they left the mountains and traveled south, until they encountered the very thing they were searching for.

Nuil frowned as they were roughly escorted to the center of the dwarrow encampment. Nedoheen glared and ground his teeth together, biting his tongue to keep silent for his sisters sake. She knew dwarves and trusted her judgment. Though he found it a sting to his pride to be handled in such a manner.

The main tent was the only one that was large enough to house six dwarrow, the others barely large enough for one. The dwarrow that they passed looked world worn, beaten down, and aged. The years of hardships had not been kind to the people of Mahal.

The sentries behind them shoved them again, earning a growl of displeasure from Nedoheen. With another shove they entered the main tent. The siblings blinked their eyes at the sudden change in light, grimacing until they adjusted to the candle light.

"They were found just outside the perimeter, my lords," one sentry said with a distrusting growl in his voice. The other gave the siblings a firm glare, but earn nothing from them. "They say they know you, yet they could be spies."

Nuil glared at the sentry before turning her eyes to the dwarrow before them. Prince Thrain had aged. His once graying hair was nearly completely white. His face was lined with age and hardships. But his shoulders were set proudly and the crown of the king rested upon his brow. Beside him stood his two sons, Thorin and Frerin.

Thorin was as she had seen him, in the smithy those years ago. His black hair shone like a river of black, spilling past his shoulders. His blue eyes gazed on her with a look of warm remembrance. Frerin had matured, though still young. His black hair gleamed in the glow of the fire, his lips lifted in one of his familiar smiles, the lines carven into the skin around his mouth. His own eyes, gray instead of blue, rested on her with a look of delight.

"Bless me, is it really?" Frerin breathed stepping forward. "Is it our little Nuil?"

"Aye," Nuil said, gracing him with a small smile. Frerin beamed.

"My brother did not lie then!"

Thorin spared his brother an annoyed glance, before looking to her once more. "You look well," he said. Nuil smiled.

"As do you. Where is King Thror?" Her brows drew together in a frown. Why was he not present? She worried briefly, that the king had not survived Smaug's attack. But then she looked at their faces.

At her words a heavy stillness filled the air, all the dwarrow present turned somber and dark in their eyes. Dread filled Nuil's chest and she waited. Frerin stepped forward, reaching out a hand to her, his eyes becoming kind, compassionate and full of the deepest despair she had ever seen in them. It almost frightened her, having never seen such emotion in those gray depths before.

"Nuil, King Thror is dead. He was killed by the orc named Azog."

A heavy weight settled in her chest, clenching her lungs. Nedoheen placed a steadying hand on her arm, squeezing gently. He had heard her tales of Erebor, told to her by the King himself. The loss was a heavy blow. Nuil felt her knees begin to buckle, her eyes becoming damp, but no tears came, not now.

"When?" she managed to ask, desperately trying to stay calm.

"Nine years ago," Frerin said heavily. Nuil's eyes shot to Thorin, vividly remembering their meeting. It had been that same year. She saw his eyes burdened by grief, the blue clouded by pain. No. Thorin had not known then that his grandfather had been killed. Murdered. She could hardly order her own thoughts, shaken by this news. But she was not Thror's kin, and surely they must have taken the news very ill indeed.

"We have declared war on Azog, to avenge his death," Frerin went on, fire entering his voice. "We engage the orcs in battle within a week, once our uncle and cousin arrive from the Iron Hills."

"It seems we have entered in at the most inopportune time," Nedoheen muttered. Frerin glanced at him, a frown on his face. He had never seen this brother, Nuil realized.

"Is this Nurnedhe?"

"This is Nedoheen, the second eldest," Nuil told him. "There are only four of us that remain."

She did not even flinch. Her voice didn't crack, and panic did not threaten to overtake her. Nuil could see the shock on Frerin's face, the sadness in his eyes. He knew that she was the only one to make it out alive from Erebor. Yet he did not know the length of the scar that it had left on her. Of course he could see the one on the right side of her face, faded to a light white, but running from her eyebrow to her jaw. Nuil watched his eyes trace her scar and felt the urge to turn her face from his sight. Yes, she was marked from Erebor.

But it didn't matter now. There was a battle, a war at hand, and they would need all the help they could get. From the dwarrow she had seen on her way to the tent, she knew they were few in number. Nuil was fair with the sword, and had held her own when confronted in the wilds by orcs. Surely they could use her. She looked at Frerin and Thorin, and a new thought found its way into her head. Would she sit back and let them do this alone? Could she watch them, possibly be led to slaughter?

"I will fight," she declared instantly.

She was met by several outcries from around her. Nedoheen's grip on her arm turned vice-like, and Frerin looked horrified. Thorin frowned while Thrain shook his head. They had all shouted against it, but she would not be so easily swayed in her decision.

"I will fight," she repeated, noting that Nedoheen looked distressed. He knew that look in her eyes, that fire that once kindled did not go away until she had won. He knew that these dwarves were special to her. He let go of her arm with a sigh.

"I do not bless this choice," he told her, earning stares from the dwarrow before them. "But I cannot stop you. Though I will try."

"This cannot be allowed!" Frerin argued, spreading his arms with a look of panic in his eyes. "She is- she is a woman! Women do not go to battle."

"Such a thing is dangerous," Thrain added, "surely the healing tents could use Nuil's hand more than the battlefield."

"I can fight, you know this," Nuil told them sternly, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "I am not a helpless gentlewoman."

"Nor are you a warrior," Frerin added gently moving towards her. His eyes were pleading, trying to make her see reason. They shifted to Nedoheen. "You are her brother, make her see reason!"

"I cannot," Nedoheen said heavily. "She has reached maturity, only Noledhe has authority over her actions, and he is not here." He glanced at Thrain and Thorin. "We are too far from home. Nuil has made her mind, I will not withhold her."

Nuil knew better than to thank her brother. He was not supporting her, merely letting them know it was not him who held sway over her choice, it was herself. Frerin looked back to her, desperate anger entering his face.

"I will not let this happen," he growled. "Father, make her see."

Thrain folded his arms and leveled a stern gaze upon her. "If Nuil will not listen, then she will be placed where she will be most safe- she will join Frerin's column."

"Father!" Frerin cried.

"Enough! I see that all our minds are made. This will be done, and nothing more is to be discussed," he told Frerin. Frerin's shoulders slumped. Thrain turned to Nuil. "It is good to see that you are well, mimel ze. You were greatly missed."

Nuil bowed her head to Thrain. They were dismissed then, led outside to a tent near the edge of the encampment and left to themselves. Nedoheen gave her one look before disappearing inside the tent. Nuil sighed, the stubbornness of males . . .

She knew that Nedoheen was resting, catching up on lost sleep from their journey, and wandered up the hill beside the tents. The outcropping of boulders grew numerous as she reached the top, small blades of grass peeking through cracks in the surface of the rock. The few pines faded away into stone as she reached to the top. Taking in a deep breath she turned her gaze to the land before her.

The hill overlooked the east gate of Moria. It was open, a large black arch that stood out against the white-gray stone. The sun was already set beyond the mountain, casting a shadow over the small dale that led to the gate. A flicker of light came to life in the gate, a torch, she could see if she squinted. A chill ran up her spine, the orcs were there. It almost felt like they could see her up on the hill, and wanted to taunt her. So close yet so far away.

Behind her a rock tumbled down the slope and Nuil spun around, hand on the hilt of her sword. Her eyes landed on the still form of a dwarf, his hands raised slightly in the air as a sign of peace, as he slowly approached. She frowned as he joined her, standing by her side and gazing out across the dale.

"My brother is worried for your safety," Thorin said lowly. His arms crossed, brows pulling together. "It would be wise to remain in the camp."

"While you fight, bleed and die?" she replied with a huff. "I think not. It does not sit well in my bones to let others die when I could be helping."

"Nuilweyil, you would only distract," he said. Annoyance raced through her veins.

"You are only upset that a female is going to battle, I am not a child anymore," she said, fighting against the growl in her throat.

"No. You are not a child," he conceded. "But there are those that care for you." He looked at her then, staring down into her hazel eyes, with an almost fond look. "Dis misses you." Nuil caught the flicker in his eyes, the sign that he had not said what he had meant. Part of her understood.

"I-"

"Nuil!"

Nuil and Thorin turned, watching as Frerin climbed the hill and panted to a stop several feet away. The brothers shared a look, full of meaning and laced with a slight glare. Then Thorin looked to her again. "Until morning," he said and began down the hill, glancing briefly at Frerin.

Once Thorin had gone, Frerin approached her, taking one of her hands within his own. His hands were large, compared to her smaller ones. "Is there any chance I can convince you to stay?"

"No," she replied sternly. "My mind is made."

Frerin sighed. "Mahal, you are stubborn." He gripped her hand tightly, gray eyes searching hazel ones full of intent. "Promise me one thing?"

" . . . go on."

"Stay close when the fighting starts, no matter what," he said, his voice caught, "I cannot bear the thought of losing you." He pulled her hand closer to him, resting it against his chest.

Nuil tried to fight down the sudden panic that boiled in her. What was Frerin doing? He was asking her things that were not easily kept. Part of her knew that Frerin had always been fond of her. Nuil was fond of him, but time had changed her. But here he was, speaking yet not really speaking, not what he really meant. The line of Durin seemed to do that often. She looked past his shoulder, with a frown. Slowly Frerin dropped her hand.

"I understand if you do not wish to do this . . ."

"Frerin," she said bringing her eyes back to search his face. His gray eyes were sad, the line of his lips drawn tight as he clenched his jaw. There was also a look of loving fondness in his eyes, as he gazed at her. Nuil swallowed. "I will try to do as you ask. But battle is dangerous, I have been taught this. Promises meant to be kept can be broken whether we want them to or not."

"It is more than I had hoped for," he replied a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He wanted to say more, to tell her that seeing her here had made all those long years seem worth it. She had always been a pretty thing, despite not having a beard. But it was her fire that made him admire her so. Now she was here, going into battle with him before weeks end, and all Frerin wanted to do was hide her away from it.

He wanted to keep her safe. He wanted . . . well, there was no denying it, he wanted her.

Yet this was not the place nor time to express such feelings. He could wait. All he could hope for was that the outcome of the battle favored them. Reaching for her hand once more, he brought it to his lips. Raising his eyes he saw her breathing catch, her eyes narrowed on her hand.

"Until tomorrow, Nuil," he said. Slowly he dropped her hand and turned away.

She woke with a start, shaking as she swung her legs over the side of her cot. The thin blanket wrapped itself around her legs but she didn't move it. Small beads of sweat covered her face, and somewhere she could hear the frantic breathing of her brother. Her ears buzzed, as the dragon's laughter faded, and the breathing became louder. Belatedly she realized that it was her own breathing and deep a deep calming breath.

Such dreams she was having.

There was a rustle of linens and Nedoheen raised his head from his cot, eyes half open as he looked at her. Sleep still clung to his face, and his brown hair was tangled in a bundle of hair on the side of his head. She would have snickered had it not been for the dream and the seriously, although sleepy, look he was giving her.

"Nuil? What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, slowly rising to his elbows. His blanket fell away from his shoulders revealing a lean but scarred chest. The thin and puckered flesh was the remains of a bloody attack from wargs nine years ago when she had met Thorin in the smithy. Nuil rubbed her forehead with a frown.

"A dream," she murmured. "The same dream I always dream when I am restless."

Nedoheen's brows drew together, and he sat up fully. "Battle is no easy matter-"

"It is not the battle I am worried for," she cut in. "It is those fighting that I worry for." Nedoheen regarded her silently for a moment, before dragging his hand across his face and setting his bare feet on the ground.

"I would be a liar to say that no one worries before such things," he began quietly. "I worry for you. But it cannot be helped. All you can do is hope that the Valar will you and those you care for to live. You must accept that there will be lives lost, little sister. You are entering into a conquest of men."

Nuil and Frerin walked side by side through the camp, gazing at the gathered dwarrow in silence. Most were sharpening axes, swords, testing the balance of war hammers, and staffs. Nuil noticed that startling lack of armor, or the poor metal they had. It was nothing compared to the strong steel and iron that had clad the warriors in Erebor. This armor looked thin, most of it dented, and even rusted. She glanced around becoming increasingly uneasy.

Frerin saw it, as he watched and gauged her reaction. "Most have sold or bartered away their armor to feed their families," he said following her line of sight to an elderly dwarf, banging out a dent in his armor. "Our smiths have done the best they can with so little time and resources."

"But you have been planning this for nine years,' she replied frowning. "Surely that is enough time to procure proper armor?"

"We have not the gold to buy it," Frerin said almost bitterly. Nuil glanced at him. This was terrible, they were so ill equipped that it made her stomach churn. Had Mahal forsaken them? He was their father, and they his people. They were not meant to suffer like this. She gently took his hand and gave it a squeeze. He bended his arm and moved her hand to rest in the crook of his elbow.

They were silent once more until they came to the healing tents. This was where most of the dwarf women were. There were few, but they moved about the tents, ordering bandages, cleaning linens, sharpening tools. This was where she was wanted, but not where she felt needed.

"There is someone I'd like you to meet," Frerin told her quietly leading her to a far tent where a dwarf woman stood facing away from them. In the sunlight her golden hair gleamed, held in one long curling braid, dressed in the brown dress of a healer.

"Rana!" Frerin called as they neared. The dwarf woman turned and Nuil gazed at her, almost in awe. She was very beautiful. Sparkling blue eyes, clear like the sky above them, a full smile and a very respectable growth of hair along her chin. It was wildly curled like the rest of her hair, braided with beads of dark sapphire.

"My lord!" she greeted in a velvet smooth voice.

"Frerin," he reminded her. "It is Frerin to you, Rana. I would like you to meet someone." The dwarf woman, Rana, looked to her. Her blue eyes narrowed slightly as she sized Nuil up, and slowly looked back to Frerin.

"She is the little girl you and Thorin knew from when you were younger," she said. Her gaze flickered back to Nuil. "The woman going to battle." Nuil clenched her jaw, finding the sweetness of Rana's voice . . . unsettling. She could tell that Rana was feigning her kindness towards her.

"Yes," Frerin beamed, not noticing anything amiss. "Nuil meet Rana, Thorin's lady." For some odd reason Nuil felt her heart clench painfully, as if Frerin had just reached inside her chest and ripped it out. A flood of weakness rushed to her knees. Thorin's lady?

"I did not know he married," she breathed lightly, chest tight. Rana smiled appreciatively.

"Oh, no. We are not wed yet," she told Nuil and glanced at Frerin. "But he likes to act as if we already are. Frerin, you must stop calling me 'Thorin's lady', you'll confuse people."

Frerin grinned, "my apologies, Rana. I just cannot wait until the day we are brother and sister." Rana smiled at him and then turned to Nuil.

"Come, I have not had many opportunities to learn about you, Nuil," Rana said. "Thorin and Frerin always grew so silent when you were mentioned." Nuil let herself be led to a small group of chairs, sitting down while glancing at Frerin who still stood where he was. "Will you not join us, Frerin?"

"Nay, I will leave you ladies to your talking," he replied. He gave them a nod of respect before turning and heading away. Nuil didn't get to watch him long before Rana pounced on her.

"Did you know Thorin well?" she asked quickly, watching Nuil like an animal would prey. "He seems so fond of you. He felt awful for not getting to you in time." The image of Thorin seeing her right before the gates had collapsed flashed in Nuil's mind. She cleared her throat.

"I was more close to his sister and Frerin," Nuil told Rana. "I would only speak with Thorin in passing." Rana seemed very bent on knowing this, and it somewhat irked Nuil. She did not like how Rana was looking at her either. "How long have you known Thorin?" she asked, feeling the right to know this information.

Rana leaned away from Nuil, a displeased look crossing her fair face. "I knew him when Erebor was still ours," she said quietly. "I was a jewelers daughter, and he took a liking to my fathers work." She smiled then. "I should have known that he was enamored with me. After the dragon took the mountain Thorin found me again and he told me of his feelings. His grandfather loved me, and since then we have been lovers."

"Its sounds wonderful," Nuil said kindly, but she really felt sick. Why did she care anyway? Thorin's life and matters thereof were not her business. But she still felt . . . slighted. Rana nodded in agreement with her words.

"Yes. It is wonderful, it would be even more wonderful if you had never met them," Rana said, anger creeping onto her face. "For years they lamented over your death, feeling guilty that you had died. How often your name passed their lips, I cannot recall." Her lips curled and she stood. "I do not know the spell you hold over the line of Durin, but all you have caused them is hurt and pain."

Nuil felt like Rana had slapped her. Verbally she had. She gazed up at Rana's beautiful face, contorted by anger, and felt so small and insignificant. Yet her insides curled at the thought of causing anyone pain. It wasn't her intention, it never had been. Rana glared down at her.

"And now you are here, involving yourself in our matters, and bringing all that pain back. Now they must worry that you will die here. You are unfeeling and undeserving of their love."

Several days passed before Nain arrived with his army, and his son, Dain. Nuil had taken to watching the gate of Moria and was told the news by Frerin, when he had come for her. The prince had noticed a change in her, and it worried him. At first he had thought it was nerves for the upcoming battle. Until he had asked about her and Rana. Nuil's response had been odd.

She had recoiled slightly and refused to look him in the eye. Concerned he had taken her shoulder in his hands and begged her to tell him what was wrong. Nuil had shrugged him away, saying she was fine and only nervous. It was a lie, he could tell. Unlike his brother, Frerin would not be angry for being lied to so blatantly. But it still hurt that she would not tell him.

He remembered such a vibrant and cheerful girl. Where had she gone? He shuddered to think of the horrors she must had witnessed, and wanted nothing more than to comfort that woman who now gazed at the gate of Moria in silence as the wind played with her hair. Somehow he knew that Rana had said something to do with it, and it made his blood boil. Rana was only jealous that they knew Nuil so well.

Frerin placed a comforting hand on Nuil's shoulders, turning her to face him. Slowly her hazel eyes rose to meet his gray ones. He drew in a sharp breath at the dampness held within her beautiful eyes. Frerin pressed his palm to the side of her face.

"Let this pain go, Nuil," he begged. "Come back to me."

She shuddered, wet trails of tears coming from her eyes. Nuil shut her eyes, willing the tears away. She didn't want to cause Frerin pain, or anyone else. She clutched the hand holding her face tightly, using all her strength to keep from falling apart before his eyes. Nuil wasn't weak, but she felt a deep longing ache in her bones. She wanted to feel whole again, feel the lightness she once felt, and not the anger and pain. She felt Frerin trace her scar, before his lips were pressed to it.

Slowly she opened her eyes, amazed that he could do such a thing. He didn't make her heart pound like Thorin did, but she still felt a stirring within her. She wanted to try. Slowly she wrapped her arms tightly around Frerin, nodding into his chest. His arms were strong around her, protective. They stood there for a long time.

This is the edited chapter. I've tried to explain Nuil's actions a little better here and her reasoning behind her choices. Hopefully any thing not seeming in character for her has been fixed! I think this chapter is probably better now! :)

Read and Review!

~filimeala