Ponies and rams worked with few breaks, ferrying rushing dwarves until all were in the mountain. Balin was there to meet every group and welcome them home. He saw tears streaming down cheeks of older dwarves who never thought to see this day come. Of those who didn't remember, or born abroad, he saw the wonder of Erebor in their eyes. Understanding dawned with their elders obsession to return. More than one had shame when they looked at Balin for not joining the Company and fight. He smiled at all the same and would leave any vengeance with Thorin and Thráin.
Galadriel couldn't shroud her wearied fëa from the elves sworn to protect her and Arwen. She channeled her massive powers against the Nazgûl for hours and kept the power of the dark wizard at bay. She knew he was out there, but couldn't fathom why he didn't attack so she could learn his identity. It was her experience those of darkness loved to boast, both their deeds and identity. When she sensed he and the Nazgûl were gone, she let Arwen help her down the steps with a hand to her elbow and they walked swiftly through parting and gaping dwarves to her assigned chambers by mid-afternoon.
'If your Daeradar wishes to see me tonight, he can come to the mountain. I'll not go to him,' she mentally informed Arwen. Secure in the knowledge a dozen guards were in the hall, she lay on a bed specifically built for men and elves and drifted into a deep sleep.
Arwen stayed in the ante chamber to be close if needed, although their maids were also in an adjoining chamber, and read from a book Ori shyly brought her on the rampart. They struck up a conversation and he offered a tour of the library, of which she accepted. She remembered her grandmother and Thranduil talking about a special book that was at Erebor and she mentioned it to Ori.
"Yes, it came back with Thorin's things from Jötunheim." He remembered and hustled to Thorin's rooms and fetched it. He told her it belonged to Thorin, but she could look at it.
From his position, Saruman watched the new army he mustered from remnants of the last battle and emptied Gundabad and he personally led a large band of goblins from Moria. His army being slaughtered, he could see with his own eyes. He figured correctly that Thranduil would come and fight alongside dwarves as a favor to Gandalf, but was stunned to see the beard of Círdan in the mesh of elves. That Elrond was also in attendance, meant his idiot golden haired General was somewhere deep in the battle killing three times faster than normal elves capable. "If Círdan is here, so is Celeborn," he softly audibled.
His plans of capturing Thranduil and forcing him into servitude of Sauron faded rapidly. He told Sauron he would personally bring the elven king to him in chains and they would force him to do their bidding or kill his son. He mounted his horse and without a backwards glance at the battle, galloped south for an hour before stopping and pulling his Palantír from its sack. He communed news of the battle with Sauron and confirmed the Nazgûl were on foot and following him away from the battle, lest one of them were killed forever.
Dis rode her pony through the Mithril doors etched with the Company and her father. She looked around and let memories flood back, remembering her mother taking her to market and deep inside the mountain to bathe. She saw her father, younger and standing tall beside her grandfather on the balcony overlooking the entrance in her mind. Lastly, she looked at the white haired dwarf standing by the pony to help her down. "Balin, I can't believe I'm home."
He steadied her dismount. Pulling her into his arms, he answered. "Aye, lass, and welcome home." He motioned Ori to his side.
Dis saw the youth and gave him a hug. "Your mother is worried sick for you."
He blushed and remembered his orders. "I am to escort you to the family wing and your home."
"Oh, in time." She looked around. "I will wait for Father and Thorin up there." She pointed to the balcony.
Unsure his place, Ori looked for help from Balin.
Balin smiled and nodded his approval. "Ori, escort Lady Dis to the balcony and stay with her. Anything she needs, fetch it."
Overlooking the massive entrance, she watched Longbeards return home.
"Dis?"
Thráin's daughter looked to the voice and saw an older dam. "Yes?"
Aneht smiled and rushed to hug her. "You were such a small thing last I saw you." She pulled back. "I'm Aneht, Náin's wife and Dáin's mother."
Dis smiled broadly. "I've heard about you all my life. I was raised by Dwin, Meeli and Dioari, but you know that already."
"Ah, my dear friends," Aneht exclaimed. "I hope all three made the trip?"
Dis nodded. "We got separated in the rush to avoid orcs. I'm sure they will be here momentarily. Thorin ordered guards on them exclusively, and also me."
"How is the dear lad doing?" Aneht asked with concern.
"My brother recovered under the care of elves. I understand some elves might be here already?"
Aneht nodded. "They arrived yesterday and those tents you passed are theirs. We even have two of the most important in the mountain."
"I'm sure they are Lady's Galadriel and Arwen," Dis spoke and had the satisfaction of seeing Aneht falter slightly at her knowledge.
"You met them?"
"I traveled with them. I had many opportunities to converse with both."
Aneht made note that the elven ladies didn't so much as acknowledge her presence.
Dis pointed out prominent Longbeards from both the White and Blue Mountains. "There is Meeli," she pointed and turned to Ori. "Bring Lady's Meeli, Dwin and Dioari up here, please."
"And bring Azie and Aneh also," Aneht ordered and they watched him hurry down the steps and push through thronging bodies in his quest.
Thráin trotted his boar into the mountain and looked around. "I haven't seen it this disorganized since the dragon came."
At his side, his son agreed. Thorin knew his job; find the elves and men and get a report. Seeing his father safely into the mountain, he spun the ram and raced towards the elven tents. They separated from their fighting companions stopping to either help injured dwarves or fight disorganized bands of orcs.
The guards let him pass unhindered and he looked around for someone he knew. Seeing nobody, he accosted the first elf to cross his ram's path. "You there, I'm looking for an elven lord who can give me an update."
The elf knew he was the Crown Prince, but he was just a dwarf and therefor lesser than the first born. "You will have to look elsewhere for our lords. They don't have time for dwarves. We did fight your battle after all."
Thorin felt his blood boil. "I take it you dump chamber pots and are worthless. I'll find someone smarter than ah stump." He dug his heels in and trotted towards the center of the compound.
The elf laughed at his retreating figure and turned into Elladan. He bowed his head in acknowledgement.
"I want you to track Prince Thorin down and bring him to me," Elladan ordered.
"Yes…," the elf choked on the title. He was older than this elfling by a thousand years. He turned and trotted after the dwarf.
Elladan stood still and waited; bow in one hand and other on the hilt of his sword.
Erestor worked his way to the healing tents from where he dismounted and turned his horse over to a page for grooming and feeding. He spotted Elladan standing stoically in the lane, a peeved expression on his face. He looked for signs of injury. "I thought you were chasing orcs north of here?"
"Elrohir couldn't keep up, so Legolas and I brought him back." Elladan finally let his gaze part from the scene he was watching and looked at Erestor. "I must be getting old." At Erestor's incredulous look he continued. "I heard Thorin ask an elf, I think from Círdan's realm, for an elf lord. As I veered to intercept, the elf blew him off and sent him on a wild goose chase. I'm annoyed, nay, just angry that Thorin got treated so callously. I ordered the elf to bring Thorin to me."
Erestor smirked. "You are definitely sounding like your adar. He will be proud of how you are handling this situation."
Elladan threw a pretend look of shock at his mentor. "Please don't tell Adar that I am morphing into him."
They both chuckled and turned to see the elf leading Thorin back to them.
"Lords," the elf stated.
"Your name and lord?" Erestor ordered.
"Amalan, and I am a warrior in the service of Lord Círdan."
"He will hear of your treatment of Prince Thorin," Erestor rebuked.
The warrior nodded that he understood and knew punishment was in his future, and most likely immediate future. He departed and cursed his bad luck at being the one the dwarf called out to.
Elladan switched to Westron, but was sure Thorin understood their conversation with the elf. "Prince Thorin, how may we serve?"
Thorin nodded his approval at his improved treatment. "I seek an update on the battle and to visit your healing tents if dwarves are here."
"I'm sure our healers gathered your injured along with ours," Erestor answered. "As for an update, I'm seeking one myself. If you wish to join us, we are headed to Lord Círdan's tent for news."
Thorin turned his ram and rode alongside their long strides. They stopped before a large tent and all three entered together. Inside Celeborn, Thranduil and Círdan were looking at a map of the area.
Círdan looked up when new arrivals entered his peripheral vision. "Join us," he gestured. "Taíban and Demythel are meeting with Glorfindel on the battle field just south of here. Soon we will have a complete analysis of todays skirmish. I've been told it lasted about as long as the last battle fought here with the same disorganization among orcs at battle's end."
"I saw a band of orcs still fighting when I entered your compound," Thorin commented. "They are on Ravenhill and engaged with dwarves led by Nori, a Durin. Several of the Company and Dáin were rushing to join him, so I'm assuming they will be routed."
Celeborn issued a silent order. 'Glorfindel, orcs are still fighting on Ravenhill. Help the dwarves that are engaging them.'
'I see them,' Glorfindel responded.
"Elves are assisting," Celeborn informed Thorin.
Thorin added his own report. "Dwalin, and Dóvad led our scattered forces against another band that was late to the party. We were about five miles from the mountain, fighting sporadically when they charged over a hill. There was about three hundred, with a dozen Wargs and two trolls. I was entrusted with Father's life and for once he let Dáin and Dwalin fight. We plowed a path through the middle of them, splitting their forces in two. Dwalin took one side and Dáin mopped up the other. I expect they'll be along sometime after dark. I would still be fighting, but saw elves approaching, so took Father to the mountain."
"I saw King Thráin and you break free from that band," Erestor told him. "I remained on a hilltop while Glorfindel joined the battle after the king and Prince Thorin left the area. Glorfindel took half of Elrond and Círdan's forces and assisted Dáin, while the twins and Legolas gathered the rest of the army and tackled the other half from what you split. I watched Glorfindel kill one of the trolls singlehandedly with ease, and he is as I speak is assisting Lord Nori."
Taíban and Demythel entered and started giving their methodical reports.
Elladan started getting edgy and didn't want his father to find him in camp. "I'm taking Legolas and scouting towards Gundabad. We only turned back because Elrohir started feeling bad."
"Take my nephews," Thorin ordered. "Providing they are not injured. I haven't seen them since the fighting began. They need more scouting and fighting under their belts."
Elladan smiled in relief at his dismissal, even if it came from a dwarf and stepped out of Erestor's reach and disappeared.
Thorin walked among his injured in the healing tents. He looked on faces he knew and relief flowed through him when none of the Company was counted among the numbers. He found Óin working alongside Elrond at a lower table, eyes taking in it was a dwarf being tended and just as fast, recognition dawned and he let out a curse stalking to stand beside Óin. "What happened?"
Óin missed the order, so Elrond responded. "Master Thorin Stonehelm has much to learn, like following orders. He strayed from his assigned post with healers and joined the battle. He will now spend a couple weeks in bed."
"No way," Thorin shouted up at the smirking elven lord. "Not for this little scratch."
"This little scratch went to the bone," Elrond patiently explained and grabbed catgut. "Lord Óin," he raised his voice and when the dwarf looked in his face to read his lips, shouted, "Hold him down."
Thorin laughed and patted Thorin on the shoulder. "I'll tell your father where you are and why."
Thorin protested and missed the needle starting to close the long wound. "Don't tell Father. I'll think of something on how I got injured."
Thorin Oakenshield glared down at the young Durin. "I'm telling your father the truth. For attempting to lie, you will be punished also for that. Want to add to your sentence?"
Thorin Stonehelm shook his head and let it fall back onto the table and let out a curse when the needle struck again. Óin grabbed his shoulders, while another elf effortlessly immobilized his feet.
Satisfied his dwarves were well taken care of, Thorin mounted his ram and went to give his own report. He met Glorfindel in the lane between the mountain and elven tents and both stopped.
"Mae govannen," Thorin greeted and Glorfindel did likewise. He saw the elven general motion for his weary warriors to go on and soon they were alone.
"We helped your Company defeat the last standing band of orcs," Glorfindel stated with his present smile. "Our warriors and those of Dale will patrol tonight and dwarves can retreat inside their mountain and greet long lost loved ones."
Gandalf galloped up on Shadofax and nodded a silent greeting to both of them. "I am staying in the tents of elves tonight and dealing with elves and men before seeking Thráin for an audience." He focused on Thorin. "Does Thráin have his mountain under control?"
"I was just going to find out and issue a report," Thorin answered.
"Word reached me two of your females joined the fighting. Do I have to have a word with them?" Gandalf threatened.
Thoughts of Lióni swinging her sword at him filtered briefly in front of his eyes. "Father and I will deal with them."
"Hrrmp," Gandalf blew out his breath. "Glorfindel, I'm checking in. Are you coming?"
Glorfindel grinned at Thorin, but answered the wizard. "I'll join you with Elrond in tow. Say an hour?"
"That will give me time to visit Dale and escort the kings to the meeting," Gandalf added and with a nod flew his horse in the direction of Dale. Glorfindel, went to his tent for clean clothes before dragging Elrond from his healing duties. Thorin turned his ram towards the open doors of the mountain and once again was halted when Dáin drew up, also riding a ram.
Thorin looked at the animal. "Kill another boar?"
"Nay, he was worn out from all his fighting. I sent him ta the stables for food and rest. Let's take ah ride an check the mopping up."
Thorin looked at the mountain and his orders to report. With a flashy grin to his companion, they raced back in the direction of the main battle.
Galadriel reverently held the book. "I feared it gone forever. I asked it brought to Lothlórien when it went missing, along with the messenger who left Mithlond and was never heard from again. My mirror stayed silent these long centuries." She awoke after four hours of deep sleep and joined her granddaughter while their servants fussed over them.
"Why did you want it, Daernaneth?" Arwen asked. She showed her grandmother the book when she woke and joined her for a glass of wine.
"I assumed you would be the next elleth wed and wished to refresh my memory on gowns worn since the first wedding at Cuiviénen, where prominent weddings first happened under the stars. It survived the march to the sea and sacking and fall of Beleriand and War of the Wrath. It was housed in Círdan's palace until I requested it for your naneth's wedding. It stayed at Imladris until Thranduil carried it west when he courted and married Ríllas. You see, only royal gowns and the wedding garments of the lords they married are in this book. There is only one book and it was to continue through Elrond's and Thranduil's lines."
"There was some Cirth I couldn't read," Arwen admitted.
"Yes, the original language spoken in Cuiviénen."
"How did the book remain intact all these millennia?" Arwen was bursting with questions and only heard stories of the famous tome detailing wedding garments and their history.
"The covers are silver and threads for binding made of thread spun by Queen Vairë and the book a gift from Lord Oromë when he found the elves. It will someday be reunited with elves across the sea." Done with her lesson, Galadriel set the book on a table and went to a balcony overlooking the elven tents. She knew from the outside, her balcony looked like a dent in the mountain. 'Is fighting done?' she asked into Celeborn's mind.
'It is. The lords are gathering in Círdan's tent for a meeting. Do you wish to join us?' He stopped talking and took a large sip of wine. He was sitting at a table with a carafe in front of him and never let his flute get half empty.
'Arwen and I will venture, with our guards, so don't worry, to a balcony and watch dwarves reunite. I'm sure King Thráin will be moving among his returning dwarves and I wish to ensure his safety. Are many elves injured?'
'Some. We lost fifteen elves, which will be carted to Thranduil's burying ground. Dwarves lost about a hundred and have more injured. Mithrandir just entered with Bard and the idiot. He is yammering at me, so I'll see you tomorrow.'
'Goodnight, meleth-nín,' she replied.
The small group of elves entered the main entrance. Galadriel and Arwen wore cowls over their heads to avoid unnecessary attention. High above the bustling din of joyous reunions, they watched.
Dis was keeping an eye out for him and would know her father anyplace. He rode with Thorin into the vast hall and everyone who saw him bowed and the commotion caught her eye. She pushed through the click of dwarven ladies and raced down the stairs.
Thráin scanned dwarves and spotted several with looks of awe and reverence on their faces, so figured they were new arrivals. A dam pushed through pressing bodies and threw herself at him.
"Father, I missed you so."
Now knowing the identity of the body hugging his armor tightly, he hugged her back just as fervently. A long moment later, he pushed back to look into her face. It aged, but she was still a beauty. "Lass, for fifty years I prayed ta Mahal that he would let this old eye see ye again. I would have grieved more if ye had perished over yer brother." He kissed each of her cheeks.
"So ye really did live, ye old goat." A loud voice boomed behind him.
Thráin turned, arm still around Dis' shoulders. His eye widened. "Old Goat? That's no way ta talk ta yer king," Thráin goaded right back and let loose of his daughter to engage the dwarf that challenged him. They moved, glaring, until facing each other. Without warning, they smashed foreheads and howled in laughter. Thráin pulled him in for a tight hug and backed off, but kept his hands on the shoulders of the dwarf. "Garad, ye ole warmonger. Careful of insulting the king, or I'll have yer sister beat the tar out of ye."
Garad heartily joined in the laughter. "Aye, Aneht almost matched me in scrappin when we were young. With us being rare twins, we did everything together until twenty."
"I'll let ye greet yer sister an see ye tomorrow for ah feast," Thráin turned to see old Gróin, standing in the middle of the open gates, tears streaming as he looked all around. He pushed through dwarves until standing in front of the old dwarf.
Gróin noticed a body blocking his forward view and went to step around him, tears blurring everything. He stopped when a hand from the dwarf settled on his shoulder. Wiping his eyes, he focused and they opened wide. "Thráin lad, ye are ah sight for my old eyes." He pulled the king tightly to him and in the entranceway, dwarves nearby stopped when they heard Thráin's name and let him greet his eldest living kin.
Thráin pulled back with a huge grin. "Ye made it home ta die, like ye always said ye would."
"I'm ready now," Gróin admitted. "Many's the time I thought the trip would take me. I'm sure if not for elven healing; I would be buried along the trail."
Fili and Kili took that moment to enter the halls and saw their grandfather just as he spotted them. He motioned them to him and to their surprise hugged both warmly.
"Ye did good, lads," Thráin beamed at them.
"They did better than good," Gróin boasted.
"We were supposed to ride with Elladan towards Gundabad until Legolas showed up," Kili told them. "It was mutual that we would part then and there."
Fili added. "Elladan got disgusted and said he would patrol around here alone and depart with his brother in the morning and take us if we want to go with just them."
Galadriel, from the balcony overheard the conversation with her superior hearing. She mentally selected her eldest grandson. 'Elladan, come to the mountain, please.' There was no reply, but she knew he heard.
At last no more returning dwarves filtered into the hall and new arrivals were quickly escorted to their homes or housed with residential dwarves until housing made available. Elladan strode into the hall and bowed a greeting to Thráin.
"Mae govannen, King Thráin. It is good to see you again."
"An ye also, laddie. Which one are ye?"
He grinned. "Elladan."
"I wouldn't know if ye were pullin my leg, so Elladan ye are."
"He is Elladan," Galadriel confirmed and joined them, Arwen at her side. She sternly addressed her grandson. "Escort us to your brother."
Elladan's eyes went wide. "Now? It's dark and orcs are scattered all over. Adar and Daeradar will have my skin if something were to happen to either of you."
"I can easily take care of any orc," Galadriel scoffed lightly. She turned to Thráin. "When will you close the doors?"
"If you lovely ladies are returning, not until ye are back."
"We won't be long. Elrond is weary and needs my healing assistance. He is in a meeting right now and Elrohir is alone."
"I told Legolas to check on him," Elladan snapped.
"Legolas is patrolling Dale, per my orders. He answers to me this trip."
"I was just heading out myself," Elladan complained.
"We won't be long." Galadriel led the way into the dark until Elladan's long strides had him taking point.