Disclaimer: I will never own the Hobbit. I try not to think about that too much.

Chapter 34: In the Fray

Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime.

–Ernest Hemingway

The rumble of many footsteps reached her ears, and Gemma looked to the north to see an army coming over the hills. She squinted; they didn't look like orcs. "Ironfoot," Gandalf grumbled, and moved forward with the army to meet the approaching one. Gemma and Bilbo rushed to catch up.

"Who is that?" Bilbo asked. "He doesn't look very happy." Gemma shielded her eyes from the sun and appraised the figure leading this new force. He was definitely a dwarf, and Bilbo was right, he looked properly pissed off. Just what she needed: another angry dwarf to deal with.

"Dain, Lord of the Ironhills. Thorin's cousin," Gandalf replied. Well, that was even better.

"Are they alike?"

"I've always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two."

Gemma raised her eyebrow in disbelief, but Gandalf was serious. "Well. Fuck. This is fantastic," she said. "This is really it, isn't it?"

Dain rode up on a great big pig, of all things. "Good mornin'!" he drawled, in what Gemma recognized as a heavy Scottish accent, even though that made no sense at all since Scotland didn't exist in Middle Earth. "I 'ave a wee proposition, if yeh wouldn't mind givin' me a few moments of yer time." Gemma had the strangest sense that she would have like Dain, if things had been different. He absolutely oozed sarcasm, and there were few things that Gemma liked more than sarcasm. "Would yeh consider… just sodding off! All of yeh, right now!"

"Come now, Lord Dain," Gandalf stepped forward, and Gemma, after a moment, followed him to the front.

"Gandalf the Grey! Tell this rabble to leave, or I'll water the ground with their blood."

Okay, Gemma thought with a grimace, maybe not.

"There's no need for war between the dwarves, elves, and men. There's a greater threat to all of you. An army of orcs marches here. Stand your army down!"

"I will not stand down before any elf, not least this faithless woodland sprite! He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I'll split his pretty head open; see if he's still smirking then!" Cheers from his army and the dwarves of Thorin's Company answered Dain's statement.

Thranduil smirked and replied, "He is clearly mad. Like his cousin."

This apparently, was as good as a declaration of war for the dwarves. "Alright lads, here we go!" Dain yelled, and then spoke in rapid Khuzdul.

Bilbo and Gemma shared a look of panic, and Gemma said, "I'm going to give it one more go." She'd thought she'd given up, resigned herself to the fact that there was going to be a battle between elves, dwarves, and men and there was nothing she could do to stop it, but standing there, just seconds before it was about to actually happen, she felt the overwhelming need to make one last-ditch effort. She really didn't want them to destroy each other while the real enemy just watched. War was inevitable, but this war wasn't. A tiny part of Gemma's brain wondered when she had become some sort of politician. She was practically acting like the goddamn State Department, and she hated politics. But here she was.

Gemma had the strangest urge to check her teeth before she spoke. She'd had wine in the tent with Gandalf and Bilbo. What if her teeth were all stained? She supposed she was just nervous.

Squaring her shoulders, she pushed through the crowd to put herself in the tiny no-man's-land between the shouting dwarves and elves. "Would you all just shut up?!" Surprisingly, they did, obeying out of sheer surprise. She glanced over at Bilbo and Gandalf, who gave her nods of encouragement.

"All of you, is anybody actually listening?! Does everyone in Middle Earth just have an incredibly bad hearing?! Because that's the only reason I can think of that would explain why none of you are getting the fucking point. You're too busy with this feud, which is quite frankly racist as all hell. Ancient feud my ass, this is like the bloody Cold War. Meanwhile, no one seems to be paying attention to the fact that Gandalf here just told you there's a massive legion of orcs on the way!" A little bit of chatter sparked at her comments, but she couldn't tell if this was a good or bad thing.

Dain, it seemed, was the first to recover his wits. "And just who are you, lass? We're about to charge into battle, this is no place for a—"

"I swear to God, tiny Macbeth, if you finish that sentence, I will knock you so hard that your thick dwarvish skull will concave. You're still missing the point. Orcs. You know, big scary monsters that want to slit you throat and use you blood to fill their indoor swimming pool. Lots and lots of orcs are coming here. Right now. To murder you." She spoke slowly and with emphasis, the same way one might explain to a three-year-old that crayons were for colouring, not for sticking up your nose. Because it just didn't seem to be resonating with anyone else just how much shit they were all in.

"And you!" Gemma continued rounding on Thranduil. "Blondie Senior, you sanctimonious son of a bitch, I don't understand why you won't listen, seeing as you've probably seen those dark times in the past. Tauriel told you about the spiders. Gandalf told you about the orcs. Your bloody forest has turned into Tim Burton's Wonderland. But you're too preoccupied with you jewels and hatred of dwarves to be concerned about these very real problems. I just don't get it!"

The rumbling of conversation built, and Gemma was relieved that she'd at least gotten here point across. And hey, they weren't fighting yet, there was still hope.

"Fanciful stories," Thranduil declared. "Where is this orc army you speak of? I see none."

Gemma rolled her eyes impatiently. "Yes well, I can't see the moon right now, can I? Does that mean it doesn't exist?" She turned to address the soldiers on both sides. "Look, Fancy Pants and Mel Gibson from Braveheart here are going to keep bickering, so I'm going to talk to you. Just think for a second. If you kill each other, who's going to be left to fight the real bad guys?"

"Quit yer babblin' lass and get out of the way before I skewer yeh!" Dain demanded. "There are no orcs coming!"

Gemma was about to yell back a retort, but it turned out that she didn't need to. Rumbles came from the northern hills, the same way the Ironfoot dwarves had arrived. The ground shook and the armies clattered in panic, stumbling and shouting as everyone turned towards the north. The shaking stopped for a moment and everything was deathly silent, and then what could only be described as gigantic worms burst from the hillside. "Wereworms," she heard Gandalf remark behind her. Shouts broke out as the worms retreated back into the earth and orcs began to spill out of the craters left behind. More orcs poured over the hilltop in continuous waves. In the distance, a war horn sounded.

Gemma's position, standing just under the ledge Dain was perched on, gave her a proper view of not only the approaching legion but also the gobsmacked terror on Dain's face. In spite of their current situation, she just could help but say, "I mean, I don't want to say I told you so, but…"

Dain growled something unintelligible at her, before turning his boar and riding along the length of his forces. "The hordes of hell are upon us! To battle!" Gemma blinked. It seemed that he had completely forgotten about the elves and Lake-men. Finally. If only it hadn't taken so long, they might have been able to better prepare for the enemy.

Gemma turned to the elves and men behind her. "Well, come on." The elves did not move. The Lake-men, ragtag militia of fishermen that they were, looked unsure if they should follow. As the dwarvish forces lined up, it became painfully obvious that they were greatly outnumbered.

"The elves, will they not fight?" Bilbo asked Gandalf, and the old wizard grimaced.

"Thranduil, this is madness!" he shouted.

"The dwarves are charging into a slaughter," Gemma said to Bilbo worriedly. She looked back up at the gates of Erebor. Thorin and the rest of the Company were nowhere to be seen.

"Oh come on!" She yelled, maybe at the elves and men around her, or maybe at Thorin himself. "What is the point of you!? Do something!"

And they actually did. A few of the elves, who must have had enough compassion to overrule the holier-than-thou attitude of the group, ran towards the charging dwarves, their long legs allowing them to close the distance quickly. Soon more followed, so that just before the orcs were about to slam into the dwarves' shield formation, the elves launched themselves over, right into the charging monsters. The dwarves followed in a choreographed attack, not to be outdone by the elves. The elves marched forward all around Gemma, and only Bard's militia hung back.

"Er, Gandalf, is this a good place to stand?" Bilbo asked, and Gemma snapped out of her daze. She checked herself over to make sure she had everything. This morning, before following the elves and men to the mountain's gates, she had strapped every single weapon she had brought from her world on her person, because she'd figured something like this would happen. What better time for the orcs to attack than when their opposition was at war with each other? She had two remaining grenades, her Sig, the sniper rifle, the trench knife, and as much ammo as she could carry.

None of which would be useful in close combat, except the knife, but a knife against massive swords and axes all around was little good. She needed to find higher ground. Checking to make sure her rifle was loaded, she drew the weapon and looked through the scope at the battle field and surrounding area.

This was how she was able to spot the large flags, like bat wings, on a ridge not too far away. "Gandalf, take a look at this." She directed him to look through the scope. "What are those?"

Gandalf handed the weapon back gingerly before replying, "Battle signals." As if on cue, another horn sounded, and more orcs came from that ridge, but they weren't headed for Erebor. They were headed for Dale, where all the refugee women and children were. "Azog is trying to cut us off."

"Fall back to Dale!" Bard shouted to his men.

"We're doomed if they divide us! They'll flank us and push from both sides," Gemma said to him.

"If we don't head to the city, everyone there is doomed as well," Bard replied curtly.

"To the city!" Gandalf cried. "Bilbo, Gemma, this way!"

Gemma looked back towards the mountain. Thorin was still nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck," she said under her breath. She wanted more than anything to find him and knock some sense into him. She didn't want to leave them there. What if the orcs entered the mountain? The Company would be cornered and slaughtered in seconds, no matter how good of a fight they put up. But the city lay unprotected, and Gemma's mind was suddenly filled with the image of little Tilda surrounded by orcs. She'd have to trust that the dwarves could hold back the army and protect Erebor.

"Bard!" she shouted, running to catch up with the man. The bowman pulled his horse up short and raised a questioning brow. "Give me a lift, would you?" He pulled her up behind him and soon they were galloping towards the city.

When they got there, the orcs and their giant war beasts, whatever they were, had just managed to breach the wall, and Dale was overrun. Screams filled the air, and Gemma had the sudden sense of horrifying déjà vu; in some ways, it was a vivid reminder of post-terror attack scenes.

She swung herself off the horse as best she could, and sprinted through town, Bard hot on her heels. "My children!" he shouted to passers as they went. "Have you seen my children?!"

"We'll find them, Bard," she assured him.

"Bard!" A man followed by a number of others ran up to them. "Orcs are comin' over the causeway!"

"Get the bowmen to the parapet, hold them back as long as you can," Bard ordered. The archers followed the man.

"The orcs have taken Stone street! It's overrun!" an older man yelled as he ran by.

"That's where the kids are, isn't it?" Gemma questioned, dreading the answer.

Bard nodded. "The rest of you, follow me!" he called to the men behind him. They all ran, and when they turned the corner, they were suddenly right in the fray.

Gemma got off a few shots that were practically in contact with the orcs' bodies, before switching to her trench knife. She saw Gandalf and Bilbo through the crowd, and then they were gone again. A few minutes later she was pressed against Bard's back.

"I still can't find the children!" he shouted to her, clearly terrified. Gemma spotted a doorway at that moment. The building appeared relatively intact and connected to the other rooves of the buildings lining the street.

Gemma grabbed Bard's forearm, and held it tightly. "I'll find them. I promise." Then she slipped through the fighting and in through the doorway. She bounded up the stairs and searched the upper rooms until she was able to find a window that led onto the roof of the neighbouring building.

Leaping and running across rooves was more difficult than Legolas had made it appear to be. Damn elf. She hoped he and Tauriel were okay. Gemma scuttled along until she found a perch on the roof of a church-like building. She knelt down and surveyed the street below. It was a bloody mess. She lifted her rifle just like her boss, Parker, had shown her, and peered through the scope. No sign of the children, but she would find them just like she promised. And if anyone had hurt them, she would go all Liam Neeson on their asses.

Gemma picked her first target, a large orc currently mowing through the Lake-men with ease, and headed Bilbo's way. Her first two shots missed, though the second grazed its shoulder. She wasn't used to the rifle, and it had been ages since she'd last practiced. Gemma cursed herself and steadied her hand, adjusting her aim again and breathing deeply. The third shot whistled through the air and hit the brute right in the forehead. Bullseye.

She continued to pick off the worst of the orcs, leaving them no time to even wonder where the shots came from. But clearly one had noticed, and suddenly a spear was sailing past her, narrowly flying over her shoulder. Arrows followed, and Gemma rolled gracelessly down the other side of the slanted roof, scrambling to another building, and then another. She ducked in through a window of the fourth building over, slicing her leg on the broken glass in the frame. It made her swear much too loudly, but thankfully the cut wasn't deep, and she could move just fine. Gemma chanced a look out another window on the floor. It appeared she'd lost her attackers, because she wasn't currently getting an arrow to the face.

She spotted Bard at the far end of the side street and prepared to pick off a few of his attackers, but she heard a shout from the other end of the street. It was the kids, all three of them, terrified but relatively okay. She breathed a sigh of relief, just as Bard did, but it quickly turned to horror when she saw the giant… troll thingy (she had no idea what they were, except big and dumb and angry) appear behind the three children. It towered over them, and Tilda screamed.

Even as he began to sprint toward them, Bard knew he would never reach Tilda, Sigrid, and Bain in time. He ran as hard as physically possible, but as the beast raised its massive sword over its head, he knew it was too late.

Bang! Everything seemed to freeze around him as the sound ripped through the air. Bang! Bang! The troll teetered, and then fell, narrowly missing crushing his kids. He ran to them and managed to reach them at the same time Gemma did. The woman carried that strange weapon with her, which seemed to be a bigger version of that other strange weapon he had seen her use on the dragon. Some form of compact crossbow, maybe, though there appeared to be no actual bowstring. She shouldered the weapon and smiled at him and the kids, who had flung themselves into Bard's arms.

Bard released his kids and approached Gemma. He barely knew this woman. She was a complete mystery. And yet he found himself pulling her into a tight embrace, because she had saved his children. Again. She hesitated, and then hugged him back.

After a few seconds, Bard pulled back slightly, and ended up nose to nose with Gemma. Almost, unconsciously, his eyes wandered down to her lips. She was truly a beautiful woman, even covered in sweat and grime. Maybe even more so because of the dirt, as it was proof that she was a fighter. Gemma was mysterious and brave and beautiful, and at that moment Bard felt the overwhelming and irrational urge to kiss her.

Instead, he lifted his sword and thrust it forward…straight into the gut of an orc that had appeared out of nowhere behind Gemma, its dagger aimed for her back. Blood, thick and hot, squirted out, hitting Bard in the face and covering Gemma's back. He felt her gasp into his chest and press closer against him.

And then the orc fell to the ground, and Bard pulled his sword out of the creature and Gemma sprang away from him. Her face was red, and she seemed to be breathing a bit heavily. Or maybe that was just Bard.

"We should… um…" Gemma gestured vaguely to the battle behind them.

"Right. Yes," Bard agreed.

He tore his eyes away from her and turned to Bain. "Gather the women and children and head to the Great Hall. Barricade yourselves inside." He passed his son the sword that the boy had been wielding earlier. "Keep them safe."

"Sigrid," Gemma called to his eldest child, and Bard turned to see her pick up the fallen orc's dagger and offer it to the girl. "If you need to, drive this up and into the chest, or down and into the back." Sigrid took the dagger gingerly, and Gemma adjusted her grip. "You're tough, Sigrid. I know you've been told that fighting is for men, but I want you to know that that's not true. If and when the time comes, you'll find the strength to do what you have to." Bard noticed Sigrid grip the blade a bit tighter, her face turning to an expression of grim determination as she nodded to Gemma.

"Alright, stay safe," Gemma said to them all, then turned to stalk back toward the battle up the street. Bard rushed to catch up.

"I'm not so sure I approve of you giving my daughter a weapon." He smiled at her, despite himself.

Gemma looked at Bard with an odd expression that he couldn't place. Then she took out her small, strange weapon, raised it, and shot an orc that had been about to jump them from their right, without even looking. It was hit right in the chest, dead centre. "Tough shit," Gemma gruffly replied, her cheeks still furiously red.

AN:

This was a fun but difficult chapter. Battle scenes are difficult to write. So, Dain came, Gemma yelled at everyone, the nicknames came back, Gemma was a badass sniper, we had a bit in Bard's POV, and of course, that unexpected Bard/Gemma scene near the end that no one really asked for. Seriously, I never planned to have anything between them, and I really don't know why I suddenly put it in. And this isn't the only time either. Don't worry, this is still a Thorin/Gemma story, I promise.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for your beautiful reviews. I am absolutely overwhelmed. A couple people guessed about her vision, and some were partially correct, but there's more to it. And I can tell you now that Gemma being sick was NOT because she is pregnant. It was from stress and repulsion at Thorin's actions and something else related to her vision.

And thank you for wishing me luck with my camp kids. The trip was absolutely exhausting, and that was just sitting in a movie theatre. Tomorrow I'm taking them to the zoo.

God help me.

I'd love to hear what you think, so drop me a line if you have the time.