Short chapter :/

Was it night? Was it dusk? Was it dawn of three days later?

The sky was so saturated with the smoke of the dying fire that one could scarcely tell. The air held a thick stench of blood and ash, ripping away any unsuspecting throat of a being that dared to breath in. It was a battlefield - or what was left of it - as anyone could see.

A single dwarf still standing above the mounds of rubble and rocks and bodies limped to the gates of his broken kingdom.

His hand splayed against his side as he attempted to staunch the blood that was seeping steadily from the awful gash. His other hand held Deathless loosely - the energy in his body fading and fading fast. The world seemed to spin on end as he trudged through the rubble.

Erebor.

The once great kingdom his family had raised up and he had reclaimed later on, was now in ruins and rubble once more. He had let down his people, his kin, himself.

Smoke still rose steadily from the entrance and few windows that occasionally decorated the mountainside. It looked like another damn dragon attacked. The people were among the warriors and the fallen - fighting and dying with every last straw of loyalty that remained.

His foot caught on a rock and Deathless fell from his grip, clanging on the broken ground. His breath came out in slow and painful drawls. His eyes were shadowed with something terrible. The moonlight glinted off a silver Elven brooch on his broken chain-mail. With his good hand, he ripped it off. It clattered to the rocks.

With another step, he collapsed to his knees - hitting the earth with such an overwhelming force. The air leaving his lungs was tearing at his throat. He gasped so many times and blinked the tears of pain stinging his eyes away. Damn the elves, this was their fault - Hell, this was all his fault again. If only he'd listen to those around him. If only he hadn't left in the first place...

His hand fell away from the open wound and his eyes stared blankly up at the sky - he was gone.

Bilbo sat up quickly, his chest heaving.

Darkness immediately greeted his eyes. It took his mind a few moments to register what had happened, what he had dreamed... yes, it was all just a dream. A little simple night-terror. He huffed out a hard sigh and blinked. His brain was still a little fuzzy. He couldn't understand why there was so little light in his bedroom. Had he drawn the curtains before he got into bed? Normally, the moonlight shone through the window panes, but not today... Perhaps, there was no moon out tonight.

"It's the forest," a deep voice spoke somewhere nearby him.

He jumped at the sudden sound. Then it took him a few moments more to realize where he really was. No, he wasn't at home in the safety and comfort of Bag End. Instead, he was in Mirkwood Forest once more with the Elvenking. And the elf was speaking to him.

"Oh?" he managed out shakily and quietly.

"Whatever you dreamt, it isn't real. It's the vapors - hallucinogenics. You're fine. I suggest you go back to sleep. We've got a long walk ahead of us in the morning."

"Oh. Okay," Bilbo heard himself say. He sounded quite distant as if he were in another dimension. He barely felt his head touch the bedroll before sleep and dreams claimed him once again.

The clouds of smoke cleared and the forest around became thicker as the figure dashed through the thicket. In the shadow's arms was a wounded elf, bleeding from a head wound. He cried out for help numerous times - shouting at the top of his lungs but no one seemed to hear him. He raced up the steps of the Elven Kingdom before making his entrance in the halls where his shouts were amplified.

"Help! Help! Elidyr!" Legolas shouted. "Somebody!"

Finally, several others ran to him though their faces were both grim and worried.

"What has happened?" one of the asked, taking in the sight before him.

"Chaos. Madness. Dwarves! Bloodbath, everywhere!" Legolas set the unconscious being on a cot others brought forth in the hall. "We took to the edges and were ambushed. I fear he may be close to death." He looked around quickly, his breath still coming out in short pants. "Where's Elidyr?"

Another elf stepped forward with a solemn look to his features. He rested his hand on Legolas' shoulder. "He's dead."

"What?" Legolas was in disbelief. "When? He was here when we left yesterday morning."

"He went to aid the dwarves at Thranduil's request. He was shot through the heart with an arrow. He didn't make it to the ground before he died."

Legolas closed his eyes in distress. When he opened them again, he spotted his father descending the stairs towards the commotion. He pushed his way through the group and confronted him. "You sent Elidyr? How could you be so careless in thinking he would return alive?"

Thranduil looked down at Legolas and stated quietly and calmly, "Some deaths cannot be prevented, Legolas. I have told you that once. Elidyr's time was up."

"Up, Uncle Bilbo. Wake up," Frodo said impatiently. He shook the older hobbit awake.

"Huh?"

"We must go. Thwandwil says we must go. Says we're almost there but we need to go now." He stood up and watched Bilbo rub his eyes in exhaustion. "You're too tired today, Uncle Bilbo," he observed much to Bilbo's chagrin.

Thranduil stood some feet ahead with his arms folded across his chest impatiently. "These creatures never cease in talking."

"Aye, we don't," Bilbo replied grumpily. He had definitely not gotten enough sleep. "I'm up, Frodo, I'm up." He squinted up at Thranduil. "How much further until we reach the Realm?"

"Half a day, but it'll seem like forever since we're so near."

"Great," Bilbo grumbled blankly.

Fili looked up from his post at the gates beside Dwalin at the sound of the horns. He glanced at the bald dwarf before looking over the wall. "I'll be," he let out in a great breath. Before Dwalin had time to ask him what it was, Fili was halfway down the stairs to the lower levels. He landed on the main floor and with a wide smile on his face, went down the path out of the mountain.

"What is it, Prince Fili?" Mnia asked worriedly.

"Great news, my friend," Fili laughed, clapping the dwarf's shoulder. "The King has returned!"

From then, the murmurs spread until they were turned into mixed shouts of joy and disbelief and annoyance and some anger.

"Thorin," he greeted, extending his hand to the older dwarf. A part of him was relieved to know his uncle had come back to his kingdom, but the other part of him was not ready for his many reactions on many different subjects. "Good to finally see you."

The other smiled, showing a bit of teeth, and grasped his nephew's hand firmly. "You as well. How have things been here?"

Fili nodded. He'd get to the details later. "Fine. Great." He looked around the dwarf. "Where's Bilbo?"

Thorin kept smiling. "I've had a long journey, actually. Why don't we go inside and talk?" He would also get to the details later.