Celeborn and Elrond saw their beloved ladies safely inside the mountain. Without a word, they turned their chargers about and raced away, parting just after the bridge; Celeborn towards Dale and Elrond up the mountain ridge.

"I offer my sanctuary for as long as you need it," Balin, with his ever present smile, bade the elven ladies and their servants welcome.

"I wish we had taken your offer a few hours ago," Galadriel stated and watched the tall doors swing inward. "I am impressed with the carving on the outside of the doors and the identical imaging inside. My mirror showed Thorin overseeing the workers and it is some of the finest crafting I've ever seen in my long life on both sides of the sea. The detail is such one would know them anyplace. A gilded door is everything I expected of Erebor." She spoke sincerely and Balin was no fool. He knew a high complement when he heard one.

"Thank you, milady," Balin answered with pride. "I was humbled Thorin chose the Company to grace forever the entrance to Erebor. I knew he was placing his father in the center for all he suffered."

Galadriel matched his smile and they locked eyes.

"I have quarters in our guest hall for you and yours to rest. I'm sure the battle won't be for many hours and both of you will be escorted to the rampart to watch. Unless we are attacked; then you will be guarded with our finest elite guards." Balin raised his hand, "I'm aware your own guards will remain between you and our guards; as it should be." He saw several elven guards stiffen when he offered his own protection for their ladies.

"We thank your offer of kindness, Lord Balin," Galadriel spoke for all elves, now at the mercy of dwarven kindness. "When the battle begins, I need to be on the rampart. I will engage Sauron's forces and placate my husband at the same time. It was he who insisted we come to you for shelter. And that coming from one who fought dwarves in Menegroth is high praise."

Balin nodded that he understood.

Earlier, the night watch spotted the foul flying abomination as it crested the eastern hills in the full moonlight. Word passed swiftly until the guards of the inner circle were informed. Glorfindel was awake and sitting on a camp chair outside the entrance to his and Erestor's tent when a guard hustled between stationary guards positioned in front of tents of the lords, spears pointed to the sky and kingdom banners to their left. He pointed to the sky and Glorfindel rose.

'Elrond, Galadriel, your friends the Nazgûl are here.' Glorfindel spoke into their minds and soon Elrond pushed through the flap of his tent and looked to where his General pointed.

Elrond and Thranduil exited tents across from the other at the same time with Círdan and Taíban a step behind. Only Celeborn was still missing. The twins were bunking with their sister this close to the mountain and already saddling everyone's horses. Thranduil mentally called for his steward, Demythel, to blow his horn mustering the warriors. He hoped for a nights rest after the long ride from his halls, but fate convened against him.

Celeborn rolled out of their shared bed and reached for his clothes.

They said farewell to the dwarven king and departed to their tent; completely alone for the first time since seeing her three days prior. Celeborn didn't change the tent structure and allowed his wife and granddaughter to share a tent, while he rested, mostly in the open, but sometimes with Thranduil. He pulled her against his armor and kissed her soundly as soon as the flap was lowered by his servant, Emoth.

'I thought you mad at me,' she spoke silently when they came up for air.

'I am.'

Galadriel pulled her head back to look into his blue eyes. 'Arwen wants to see a dwarven wedding. We will be here until I can convince Thorin to wed the one I saw in my mirror.'

'How am I to keep entertained?' He challenged.

'You can either accept a room in the mountain or share a hall with Thranduil in his kingdom. Arwen, the twins, Erestor and I will remain as guests in the mountain starting tomorrow.'

'Is Elrond staying?'

'No, he will take his plunder and beat the snows over the mountains. Glorfindel will go with him and leave the twins here to protect us, and of course, Erestor. Elrond will also escort Círdan over the mountains.'

'And still you and our daeriell linger on.' He searched her eyes for truth.

'There is a book. It passed from our knowledge and now has been found. I wish to reunite it with the elves.'

'It's at Erebor?'

'Yes.'

Celeborn stepped away and worked the buckles of his armor, allowing his wife to assist. "I will stay with you."

"You will be miserable. I intend on helping the dwarrowdams settle in. There will be a shift in power and Lady Dis must be top dam. Some of the older dams will be resentful, especially those who raised her."

"Boring."

'And so is talking aloud,' she reminded him. 'I want a proper welcome in your arms and our bed.' She pulled her thin shift from over her head and slid between silken sheets on this warm summer night.

He stripped and joined her, pulling her close and letting their bodies press together, flesh yearning for more. 'Where can I take you tonight, my queen?' His fist wrapped around strands of long golden locks and he tugged until her lips met his.

'Elrond, Galadriel, your friends the Nazgûl are here.' Glorfindel spoke into their minds.

"Blasted elf," Celeborn snarled.

Galadriel pushed her husband onto his back and slid provocatively over his nude body. "I will see you after Thorin and his dwarves are ensconced within Erebor."

He watched as she donned her gown and then rose and swiftly dressing from underwear to armor. He saw knowing smirks when he joined his fellow lords lastly. 'At least I wasn't so hard on my elleth that she either died or sailed,' he snarled into their minds.

Thorin led his dwarves north to Erebor under strict orders of silence. Bard, awakened by the horn of Erebor, roused his pathetically small band and was joined by King Fengel and his equally few drovers and guards. They stood watch at the walls and searched brightening skies for the enemy.

Glorfindel led elven armies to the east and past Ravenhill and Thranduil, fortified with Celeborn and combined warriors held back and moved between Dale and Long Lake while Thráin led all dwarves due south to intercept Thorin. Gandalf attached himself to Thráin and wished his fellow wizard hadn't departed, or Beorn. Little did he know, Radagast and his Rhosgobel rabbits raced through Mirkwood in time to join the battle.

The caravan was many miles closer to the mountain when the rising sun blinded Thorin. It was that moment, a screech from the east deafened their ears and the forces of Sauron attacked, waiting for dwarves to lose sight in morning sun.

"Keep moving," Thorin screamed and drew his sword. He and the entire contingent of warriors met the enemy just twenty miles from the gate. They threw themselves between orcs and Wargs and the lumbering wagons. Thorin yelled out for them to unhitch the ponies and race towards the mountain. He ordered Gróin to halt his fighting and lead the dwarves home. "Forget the stupid wagons," he yelled at Gróin over the cries of battle and dying. "Get the dwarves to the mountain."

Several of the oldest rode ponies, as did pregnant dams, holding babies and tots before them. The rest of the dams, lasses and young dwarves ran away from the battle on foot as fast as their short legs could carry them. It was hard running up the slopes to safety, but they pressed onwards and upwards, lungs dying for a breath in the thinning air.

Arrows from orc weapons started cutting dwarven guards down all along the caravan. Orcs, emboldened by lack of serious competition advanced into the open. They led trolls with iron chains attached to rings around their necks. From out of nowhere, Nazgûl appeared with their ear piercing screeches. They flew over the caravan and then regrouped over the lake for an attacking run. Before they reached the dwarves, two bright lights blinded them; one from an approaching army and another from the mountain. Disorganized, they broke off and raced towards the offending disturbances.

On a tall hill miles south of the caravan, a lone figure pondered his orders. If they crushed the dwarves, he was the new ruler over the Nazgûl and all orcs from Gundabad and Goblin Town must relocate to Erebor. He knew he would have to fight the imbecilic Mithrandir, but he didn't expect the second wizard. "Well, Gandalf," he spit the common name for his fellow wizard out, "you brought that idiot Radagast with you. No matter, he is no match for my power." Saruman re-planned his joining the fray, but first would see how long it took his army to conquer and destroy the dwarven forces.

Gandalf led the dwarven army from the back of Shadowfax. He spotted the flying beasts and halted, motioning the army to keep moving and they did; parting on either side of his stationary position.

From her assigned chambers, Galadriel made haste with guards and Arwen to the rampart, where Balin was keeping watch. He was joined by Bombur and Ori. They all bowed when she appeared.

"Where are the elves and men?" Balin asked her. All he saw before him to fight was dwarves.

"Men are protecting Dale and will only come forth if we are losing. If we lose this fight, they will be slaughtered anyway," she gravely replied. "Thranduil and my husband take half of the elves against another large band of orcs that just arrived from Gundabad north of here. Elrond and Círdan are circling to catch the orcs from behind and trap them between two armies with no escape. The dwarves will have to hold on for a little bit."

Satisfied with her answer, Balin watched the battle, wishing he were partaking on one hand and glad to be observing on the other. "Ori, remember highlights of the battle and commit them to parchment, both in verse and drawing."

Ori smiled and nodded. He was too shy to speak in front of the two most beautiful beings he ever laid eyes upon. Thráin told of their beauty, but he didn't come close to describing their fair complexions and perfect looks," Ori decided. Two hours into the battle, he found himself in conversation with the lass, Arwen, while her grandmother fought valiantly from one stationary position with her white ring of power.

The Witch-king of Angmar screamed attack in black speech. Arrows not of dwarven design pierced his undead body and caused it to fall from the back of the flying beast. Before he landed and broke into shards, he saw a line of elves in a long line on the ridge behind Sauron's orcs and recognized them to be of the house of Elrond and the elf with the beard that forbad his kind from ever conquering the coast.

Bard saw an army that rivaled the Battle of Five Armies fighting elves north of his gate. He turned to Fengel. "Now it is our turn."

Fengel watched an overwhelming force closing on Dale and pushing past a smaller contingency of elves. "I think I'll take my men and slip out the back door and run for the forest."

Bard looked gravely at him. "Do you really think the elves won't hunt you down? Ravens would fly ahead of you all the way. You would never survive the elves of the Golden Wood."

Fengel's shoulders slumped. "What is our orders from the blasted dwarves and elves?"

"We are to guard Dale and not let them enter." He turned to his second, Theigard. "Place our archers along the north wall. Shoot any orc within range."

Without acknowledging, Theigard turned and ran from them.

"I would never allow such disrespect from my subjects," Fengel groused.

Bard looked confused. "My subjects never show disrespect to me. I would never tolerate if they treated me like yours do you."

As the battle before, this one raged for hours. The Nazgûl were attacked by elven warriors to the point they had trouble leaving the area and fleeing on foot towards Mordor. All their beasts lay dead and so did most of the orcs and all the trolls.

Thorin fought non-stop and saw his location ended close to Dóvad. "You being here means Gandalf got you to Erebor alright!"

"Aye," Dóvad ran his sword through the heart of a short orc with large floppy ears. "Yer little surprise earned ya ah whipping." Without warning he swung his Warhammer at Thorin's head. He figured he had the element of surprise, but discounted he was swinging at a Durin.

Thorin blocked. "No need to strike down the Crown Prince. You had much explaining to do. In fact, it is I who's earned a piece of your hide for my father being injured." Dwarven rage overcame Thorin and Dóvad and the fight was on.

The two traded blows, oblivious to the battle raging around them. Dwalin and Dáin kept an eye on Thorin throughout the battle and thought him mad with dragon sickness again for attacking a ranking lord.

Thorin felt a sting on the backs of his thighs and swung his Warhammer in a circle, hoping to crush the orc that just singed his skin with something. He didn't take his eyes off the lord he was fighting.

Dóvad saw his daughter take Thorin's Warhammer to her side and knew without the armor she would be dead. As it was, she flew off her feet and landed on her back with the wind knocked out. He let out a roar and jumped at Thorin with sword lunging and Warhammer swinging.

Just as Thorin blocked and ducked, Dóvad saw another Warhammer he couldn't avoid. It landed a solid hit to the side of his helmet and he was knocked on his rear, forced out of the battle with a stunned look to his attacker.

Dáin stood over him. "You just earned another stay in our dungeon," he roared formally.

Dwalin steadied Thorin. "I take it Dóvad blamed you for Thráin's deception?"

Thorin was glad the match was over and he could rest a moment. "Speaking of Father; I saw him leading a charge over that hill." He pointed with his sword. "Go get him."

Dwalin grinned and remounted his boar. "Good ta have ya back, Thorin." He rode up the hill and was soon out of sight.

Thorin saw a dwarf struggling to get up and went to help. He grasped the hand and pulled him to his feet. He saw the indention of his signature markings from his personal Warhammer and wondered at another dwarf who would attack the Crown Prince from behind. He ripped the helmet off and saw light brown hair tumble over armor clad shoulders. He was stunned when her blue eyes met his. "I hope you have a good explanation for being foolish enough to attack me, Lióni?"

Her eyes held scorn. "I saw you fighting my father. It was bad enough the king humiliated only days ago by tossing him into your dungeon, but to see you also trying to hurt him made me mad. I think a swat with the flat of my sword against your legs was warranted. If I were larger, I would challenge you proper."

Thorin shoved the helmet back into her hands. "Put it on. I'll let you have the same crack at me as your father when he didn't give me warning he switched sides to fight with orcs."

"Hey Thorin," Dáin interrupted. "As much as ye like sparin with lass's, we do have ah real enemy that needs our attention."

"What cousin, can't you hold them off while I spank this willful lass?" Thorin only half joked, his eyes never leaving those standing before him. "You just keep her father from stabbing me in the back while I teach her it is rude to lay a weapon against the flesh of the Crown Prince."

"Alright, but if he so much as twitches, I'll run him through," Dáin hollered back.

Lióni wasn't so sure now that she had a willing partner. Sparing young dwarves that just reached their maturity was far different from taking on an older seasoned warrior and a Durin to boot. Still, pride forced her to swipe at him with her sword. She saw he discarded his Warhammer and favored the same weapon she used. He easily blocked her first blow and she swiftly reversed using her trademark maneuver that won most matches for her. She knew she was faster than most dwarrow.

Thorin grinned as he brought his sword around his body in deflection just as fast. He then slapped her shoulder broadside. "Point," he called out.

Lióni picked up the pace and advanced, swinging furiously with both hands gripping the hilt. All her other sparing opponents backed up, as protocol dictated.

Thorin advanced and used his stronger muscles to remove the sword from her hands with one mighty blow to her wrists. "Point," he called a second time. "Do you want to pick it up so I can get my third and winning point, or," he shoved her out of the way and threw his sword into the heart of an orc with a drawn bow at her back. He ran and pulled it out. Returning, he saw she had retrieved her own weapon and nodded his approval. "I believe the next attack is mine." He slapped low, aiming for her thigh, as she did his. She blocked and he lithely stepped around her until turning her in a half circle. He saw her feet didn't remain apart and quickly stepped again and swung letting a resounding smack ring out as his sword slapped her buttocks. "Point and match," he called out cheerfully.

Lióni dropped the tip of her sword down in defeat, face red that he turned her attack against him back on her and effortlessly at that. She could hear several warriors, including Dáin laughing and hollering taunts at Thorin. She actually stepped back a pace when he stealthy moved to tower above her. "You will never be seen on a battlefield again or I'll have your father hanged. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Milord," she replied.

A commotion caused Thorin to look. Dwalin was returning with his father and dragging another armor clad warrior by the arm to Thorin's location. "What is this generation coming to?" he thundered and ripped the helmet off his niece, Bát.

Thorin scowled at her. "I believe you were ordered to stay with your mother and sister."

Bát saucily tossed her dark hair off her face. "And miss all this fun, Thorin; you know me better than that." She took his arm. "You can escort me to the mountain, and more importantly, keep me from Uncle Dwalin."

Thorin smirked at said uncle. "How many lasses are in your army?"

"Outside these two, I'm sure none." He looked at his niece. "No more fighting for you. I'll not deliver an injured or dead daughter to the advisor of the king."

"Father is that important?" Bát squeaked in awe. "I can hardly wait to see him. It's been almost two years and he was always gone."

Thorin disengaged her hand and pushed her in Lióni's direction. "Keep each other company." He stalked to his father and embraced him in front of all. "I'm glad you are here and in charge. I'm afraid my first order from this throne would be to ban all dams and lasses so we dwarves could have some peace."

Thráin hugged his son tightly for a moment and then they laughed and slapped foreheads. "We have much catching up to do, but first we need to get the rest of our dwarves safely inside the mountain." He looked to where Lióni was now beside her father. "Did I see ye playing with that lass instead of killing the enemy?"

Thorin looked in the direction of the finger. "She struck me from the back when I was teaching her father a lesson. I was returning the favor."

"She has spunk," Thráin agreed, impressed.

Elrond and Círdan pushed through gathering dwarves around their king. Towering over the dwarves from atop their large warhorses, Elrond reported. "We are killing the last of the orcs and Celeborn's messenger reports the Gundabad orcs are also either dead or fleeing back north. My twins are chasing them all the way, as is Legolas."

"I seem to remember that scenario from the last battle." Thráin chuckled.

"I want all bodies dragged to that ravine," Thorin pointed. "We'll burn them this far from the mountain and save the stink of rotting bodies."

"I offer my warriors until we depart," Elrond stated and gave a mental shout.

"You can have mine also," Círdan added. He knew his warriors enjoyed the battle, for it was too many years since they applied their trade.

"I accept and thank ye." Thráin kicked his boar in the ribs and moved his dwarves towards Erebor.

"Did I hurt you?" Thorin moved his ram beside the one Lióni rode. He didn't know why he was concerned and figured it was because she was a lass; albeit a beautiful one.

"Just my pride," she softly answered, conscious her father rode a boar on her other side and was listening. "I'm glad you recovered your last attack."

"Thankfully, I have few memories before waking in Lord Elrond's healing halls. Once again, with the help of elven healing I recovered fast and was able to lead dwarves over the Misty Mountains." He frowned. Why was he talking to a lass?

She saw the frown. "Are you injured?"

"Uh, no, no, I'm fine." He heeled the ram's sides until riding beside his father at the head of the line.

Lióni looked at his back and thought how handsome he looked and regal.

Dóvad looked at her and then the prince. He saw enough dwarven matches to know this was one in the making and hoped the king didn't break it up by insisting Thorin marry another. He would make sure and mention it to the king, should he not be tossed into the dungeon again. He really needed to learn control of his temper he decided.

The army started the several mile march to Erebor. Gimli was excited and looked at all orcs he passed, hoping one was alive, so he could get another kill under his belt. He joined the warriors with Thorin's permission. He was so happy when just before they broke from the woods, Thorin called all warriors for a meeting. He explained they would split from the elves and cross the river on the bridge and travel up the east side of Long Lake. He explained they would most likely be attacked and all warriors needed to stay behind to fight. He looked at every lad over sixty. "I instruct you this day to join the dwarrows in the battle. I know you will do our clan proud." Gimli remembered tears coming to his eyes and Thorin looking directly at him.

Gimli saw another dwarf limping along, obviously wounded and veered to intersect. "Can I help?" he asked.

Thorin Stonehelm heard an offer and looked to his right. He knew that face. "I know ye," he stuttered and wished for a drop for his parched tongue.

Gimli looked close and the last twenty years rolled away. "Thorin?"

Thorin stopped and looked close. "Gimli?"

"Aye, cousin. What happened ta ye?"

Thorin made a dismissive gesture. "I was allowed by father ta join the army, but was supposed ta stay with the medics. I made my escape an joined the regulars. I was soon surrounded by orcs an fighting for my life. One got ah slice across my thigh with his scimitar. I'm afraid Father will find me an I'll be punished."

"Thorin gave me permission ta join the army," Gimli replied proudly. "Can I help ye?"

Thorin motioned in the distance. "Elves will find me, an take me ta their healing tents."

Gimli looked and sure enough elves were scouring the dead, looking for wounded and orcs to kill.

Thorin laid a hand on his arm. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

"I'll try, but if asked, I won't lie," Gimli told him.

"Fair enough," Thorin agreed just as an elf saw him limping along and placed him on a large horse and raced to the elven compound.