Weeeell hello there again...after alll this time, there's some people still here with me. Which, after that hiatus, is extraordinary of you!

As it turns out, working two full time jobs doesn't leave much time to write, so this story was pushed to the back burner, then forgotten. Which in my life actually makes sense because I'm a terrible cook and regularly like to test my fire alarms in just such a manner.

This time though you need not worry. Everything is written. All the words right up through the end. I'm just tweaking the last chapter and it will be up as well :)

If you haven't given up on me then please enjoy!

Thorin paced along the walkways in the throne room. His grandfathers throne room. What should have been his father's throne room. Now his throne room. Finally the journey was over. The mountain was his. The crown was his. The gold was his. The fools outside the walls were mad if they truly thought he'd share this wealth.

They had done nothing to deserve it. Thorin had worked his fingers to the bone to feed his people. Listened as men laughed at how the dwarfs had fallen so far as to work mere human forges to survive. Not once had they attempted to veil their distaste for the dwarfs. One night of aid barely sufficed to make amends for even a fraction of how they'd been treated. Yet Bard insisted they owed some sort of compensation. It was bad enough that he'd allowed that vile elf to stay within these walls. 'Love', Kili had insisted that was the reason he'd betrayed Thorin's trust and brought her here. It was an illusion he'd tried to warn Kili, that woman was playing some sort of game with him. On the promise that she remain locked in a room, Thorin had been merciful and allowed her refuge. For now at least.

Slowing his pacing, Thorin stepped up to the throne. A king should always repay his debts. Thorin lowered himself into the seat, a surge of power practically emanated from the stone. Today Thranduil would repay his debt with the blood of his men.

"Since when do we forsake our own people? Thorin, they are dying out there." Dwalin approached the throne. Thorin's throne.

As captain of the guard, Thorin expected him to say as much. Dain's army was outnumbered by far, of course their people would fall. It was only a matter of time. Dwalin was looking out for the treasure, giving him a chance to keep it safe from the elves and men.

"There are halls beneath halls in this mountain – places we can fortify." Thorin stood from his throne. The crown on his head blazing hot against his skin. Reminding him of what he was now. A king. "Shore up, make safe. Yes…" He had to keep it safe. All of it, every precious coin. It was his now. Far beneath his throne the vast gold twinkled up to him. Spoke to him. It was too precious to lose. It belonged to him after all. "Yes – that is it. We must move the gold further underground – to safety."

Safety was underground. Always far underground. The farther down they traveled the more gems they'd find. Richs kept them safe.

"Did you not hear me?! Dain is surrounded! They are being slaughtered, Thorin!" Dwalin yelled at his back.

"Many die in war. Life is cheap." Thorin gritted his teeth. "But a treasure such as this cannot be counted in lives lost." Already this treasure was stained with the blood of dwarfs when Smaug attacked all those years ago. He would not let their sacrifice be in vain if it meant only a few more lives. "It is worth all the blood we can spend!" Thorin spat. Dain understood what he was doing when he answered Thorin's call. He had come to Thorin's aid. To his king's aid! And why should he not answer to his king?

"You sit here in these vast halls, with a crown upon your head, and yet you are lesser now than you have ever been." Dwalin's voice was low, hurt, yet full of treachery.

"Do not speak to me as if I was some lowly dwarf lord…" The crown on Thorin's head felt heavy, but it was still there, as a reminder of all he'd done to get here. All he'd sacrificed. "As-as if I were still…Thorin…Oakenshield." The metal blazed against his skin. He was so much more now than he ever was. He ruled the wealthiest mountain, he commanded the riches of his grandfather. When he'd placed this crown on his head he cast aside that pathetic husk of a dwarf that had nothing to his name.

"I AM YOUR KING!" Thorin bellowed. The fire from his crown swept through him. Without thinking his hand swung his sword to put more emphasis in his words. Yet it staggers him.

"What of Ali?" Dwalin bowed his head but didn't step back as Thorin had intended.

A hollow pain echoed through his chest.

"She is out there now, fighting for you." Dwalin took his moment of hesitation for weakness. Thorin refused to allow it.

"That woman is as much a traitor as the halfling, if not more." Thorin spat. The shortened tuff of hair that remained from where he'd cut the braid gently grazed behind his ear. His resolution wavered for a second. "The woman can die at the hands of the orcs with the rest of those men for all I care."

"You don't mean that!" Dwalin growled, "You will regret those words if they come to pass. She is your One!"

"Go!" Thorin bellowed. He couldn't stand to hear of her any longer. All he needed was his crown, little else could matter now. "Get out…before I kill you."

Taken back by his threat, Dwalin stood looking at Thorin for a moment. Thorin's fist tightened on the hilt of his sword. If the moment came he'd do it. He'd kill his oldest friend for this treasure. He'd take those memories they shared and decorate the throne with them if necessary. Anything to protect what was his. Anything for gold.

It sickened him. The fact that the thought echoed in his mind. Dwalin retreated, leaving Thorin alone.

The halls of Erebor swallowed him up. Thorin wandered lost, not seeing what was before him, only what was behind him. Their voices wouldn't leave his mind. Didn't they understand that this was all his? All he'd ever wanted. All he'd ever needed.

The golden floor of the great hall stretched out around him. It was his. His grandfathers. Now his. Thorin clutched his crown as it seared into his head. The voices of those that he'd once called friends echoed relentlessly, warning him of madness, of death. His death. Death from his treasure. The voices shouted in his mind, muddling his thoughts, drowning out his reason. This was all his, he was King!

Silence. Beneath his feet Smaug slithered under the gold. Thorin watched in horror as the serpent circled beneath him. Then the floor opened beneath his feet, swallowing him whole, as he was suddenly sure it had consumed his grandfather.

"Thorin, I don't have poetic words to tell you how I feel."

Ali's voice echoed in Thorin's mind.

"I love you so much that the thoughts just won't form."

She loved him. Thorin struggled against the memory. Unsure how to feel.

"Promise me, that no matter what happens to me, after you have Erebor, you will be the best king it's ever seen."

"Nothing's going to happen to you, I'll protect you no matter what."

"It's a dwarven custom, so it's alright if you don't wish to participate."

"No, please, I want to."

"I love you."

"Even still I find that when I wish to give in and despair, you remind me that even in the darkest places there is light and wonder."

"Promise me…you will be the best king it's ever seen."

Thorin ripped the searing crown from his head. It clanked across the golden floor loudly, yet alone. The room grew back around him. The floor no longer threatened to consume him, the image of Smaug vanished. Even the voices quieted. Only the sound of Thorin's frantic gasping for air and the metallic empty sound of the crown remained.

One hand flew to the short hair behind his ear, the other stripped off his obscenely opulent jacket. How could he have been so blind? Thorin's boots echoed across the hall as he searched for his men. He would not blame them if they refused to follow him. Mahal knew that he didn't deserve their loyalty any longer, but they deserved his apology.

Then he had to find her. The one that had pulled him out of the darkness. His fuhum lukhud. His one real treasure.

Ali clutched the elvish sword tightly in her fingers. The flight up here with Legolas was enough to have her seemingly short life flash before her eyes. That man did not have a pilot's license, nor should he ever.

The grumbled thoughts quieted slowly as they walked through the empty lookout post. On the battlefield below they'd seen the mast changing, Gandalf said that Azog would be up here. Yet there was nothing. Ali's stomach churned, though she didn't know if it was the anticipation of attack, or leftovers from their flight.

"Something seems amiss," Legolas cautiously peered around a corner, his piercing blue eyes scanning for movement.

"Thanks Captain Obvious, here I was thinking this was how all orc headquarters looked." Ali rolled her eyes but didn't mean anything by it. It was nerves talking, something Legolas must have known since he let the comment slid without responding.

They wandered into a clearing. The ground around them turning into an ice covered river. Ali hesitated, it didn't seem cold enough for the ice to be very thick. What if she fell in? Legolas on the other hand didn't seem fazed, stepping out without a second thought. Ali followed. She could feel the water churning under her feet, pressing against the ice before cascading over the falls.

"Legolas, this doesn't seem-" Ali began.

"UUURRRAAA!" A guttural cry cut Ali short.

Both her and Legolas' attention snapped up to the tower before them. Stepping out from behind one of the walls, a white figure swayed confidently into view. She'd only actually seen him once before now. On that cliff before the eagles had rescued them. She wondered if he remembered that it was her that had thrown stones at him. Probably not. But then again, not that many people probably threw things at a guy like him.

Like a deformed wave, orc faces emerged from every window and doorway in the crumbling building. Their silence gave way to terrifying cries and what she could only imagine were taunts and jeers. The two of them had walked into an arena basically, surrounded on all sides by the enemy.

"What are we going to do?" Ali's voice barely escaped her throat. They were so far outnumbered that there was no way she'd even be able to touch Azog. All this way, just to get caught mere feet from him.

"Don't lose your faith just yet," Legolas' eyes darted around the structure, his bow in his fist.

Even if she did make it up there. Even if she were able to face him one on one. Was he always that big? Ali's heart clenched in her chest. His fist was the size of her head, if not bigger. His head had to be the size of her torso. Ali's stomach flipped and she had the sudden urge to throw up now more than ever. She couldn't do this. How could she ever think that she could even touch Azog.

Another orc stepped out from behind Azog. Just as big, yet even uglier.

"Bolg," Legolas whispered.

There time was shortening dramatically. Ali gripped the slick hilt of her sword tighter, afraid it might slip in her sweating palms. If Bolg was here then that meant the rest of the army from Gundabad weren't far away.

"Azog!" Legolas yelled so suddenly that Ali's heart leapt up into her throat. "This woman here has come to challenge you directly!"

Ali wanted to faint. In fact she doubted she was even still breathing anymore as the clearing fell silent. Did they understand him?

Azog waved his bladed arm dismissively, the rest shrieked down at them, apparently happy at their leader's choice.

"I did not take you as one to be so easily scared off by a challenge." Legolas continued. Ali couldn't breathe. She wanted to tell Legolas to shut up, to jump off the waterfall and save her from his stupidity. Unfortunately his plan seemed to be working. Azog turned ever so slightly to scan her.

"Remember," Legolas lowered his voice so only she could hear, "you are capable of much more than they realize." Azog took something from Bolg, before turning back to them. "Use that to your advantage."

They didn't bother using the stairs. Azog and Bolg leapt from the platform they'd been standing on a second ago. The ice snapped and crackled under their feet, the sound mixing with the sharp antagonizing cries rising up around them from the on lookers. Unfortunately it held.

Ali's heart hammered heavily against her ribs, painfully almost. As Azog strolled up to her, dragging a heavy iron mace across the ice he smirked. She knew he could see the fear in her eyes, like a cornered animal. Perhaps he could even hear her heart hammering erratically.

No matter what the outcome of this battle was, it ended today.