Stars

Chapter 28

Hi guys! I am so, so sorry for the delayed chapter! :( But here it is! And yes, I know I skipped a ton of dialog. Enjoy, vote, comment!

Tauriel's eyes widened considerably, staring at an unrelenting, gold-crazy Thorin.

"He will have war?" Legolas said blankly, face matching that of his father.

"Is Thorin mad?" she hissed angrily.

"I told you dwarves are idiots," Legolas replied grimly, shaking his head.

She frowned slightly. Kili wasn't an idiot.

Seeing her frown, Legolas amended, "Well, maybe just Thorin."

As hard as it was, Legolas told himself firmly, 'She doesn't love you. Let her go. If you really love her, make her happy.'

Thorin looked into the horizon as if expecting someone. Reflexively, Tauriel and Legolas turned too.

A gruff looking, red haired dwarf rode into sight, his tusked warthog trotting over the hill. Behind him was an army of dwarves wearing thick iron armor and carrying half-foot thick shields, some riding warthogs adorned with iron armor.

"Ironfoot," muttered Gandalf rather forebodingly.

Meanwhile, the dwarves on the mountain were cheering raucously, waving their weapons about, thumping each other's backs.

Thranduil galloped through the ranks of the elven army, shouting orders in elvish, and the army marched forward as one to meet the dwarven army, looking like an endless sea of polished, elegant armor.

"Ironfoot has come!" shouted one of the dwarves on the mountain, as Dain's warthog strode over to a boulder, jumping on it.

"Who is that?" panted Bilbo, jogging to keep up with Gandalf, who was moving forward with the elves. "He doesn't look very happy."

"Dain Ironfoot, lord of the Iron Hills," Gandalf answered seriously, face set. "Thorin's cousin. And I've always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two."

"Good morning! How are we all?" boomed Dain. "I have a wee proposition to make if you wouldn't mind giving me a bit of time. Would you mind," Dain paused. "Just sodding off?! All of you! Right now!"

The measly group of humans backed away fearfully.

"Stand fast!" Bard yelled, stopping his "army".

"Come, now, Lord Dain," Gandalf said pleadingly.

"Gandalf the Gray!" Dain sneered, leering at the wizard. "Tell this lot to leave. Or I'll wash the ground with their blood!"

"There is no need for war between dwarves, men, and elves," Gandalf walked up to Dain. "A legion of orcs are in the mountains. 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!" snarled Dain.

Thranduil, for once, did not attempt to wear a mask over emotion. Contempt was etched into his face.

"If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I'll split his pretty head open!" declared Dain.

Thranduil allowed him a disdainful, malicious smirk.

"See if he's still smirking then!" Dain roared, glaring at him.

"Let them advance. See how far they get," Thranduil sneered.

"Let's give these bastards a good hammering!" cried Dain, riding back to his army.

"Stand your men down. I'll deal with Ironfoot and his rabble," Thranduil told Bard almost pitifully.

"Tuka n'alaquel lle kawa (Ready your bows)!" shouted Thranduil.

"Naur (Fire)!"

"Show them the whirlies!" yelled Dain, and the dwarves fired. Not merely arrows, the dwarven arrows had blades attached that whirled in a circle breaking the elves arrows. The 'whirlies' landed amongst the elves, killing some instantly.

Thranduil watched, eyes widening. Shock was written all over his face.

"Hah!" boomed Dain, watching Thranduil's face gleefully.

The Elvenking narrowed his eyes. "Naur!" he ordered again.

Dain shouted for the 'whirlies' and the arrows and 'whirlies' clashed.

The dwarves roared a fearsome battle cry, charging into the organized elf ranks.

The elves hastily formed a line of shields, spears poking out of the divots on the shields.