Runa had found a top notch hiding spot. After running though many corridors, she’d discovered a way to drop down onto a narrow ledge above the main balcony from an upper window. Ivy screened her, but still left her with a view to the lower balcony.
The sun was warm and she began to feel a little sleepy as she stared at the mountain. She couldn’t help thinking she deserved an award for this one. No one would ever--
“Runa.”
Poop. She looked down to an irritated elven king eyeing her from the balcony below. Poop. Poop. Poop. Poop. Poop. Poop.
Instinctively, Runa froze. She figured if she didn’t move or show signs of live maybe he’d just go away. It was like playing dead--
“Runa, get down here.”
Or not.
“I’m good thank you,” Runa replied.
“I wasn’t giving you an option.” Runa sighed, changing tactics.
“I don’t know how to get down, sorry.” She wasn’t sorry in the slightest. Technically she didn’t know how to get ‘down’; she knew how to get ‘up’.
“Jump.”
“WHAT?!” Runa looked at Thranduil, shocked. The elven king rolled his eyes, repeating himself grudgingly,
“I said jump.”
“Do you want me to die?” asked Runa in concern, eyeing the distance down. He must be angrier than she thought…
“No you little idiot. I’ll catch you.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but his bluntess made Runa flush red. Him? Catch her? As in she would end up in his arms?
“No thanks,” Runa said as politely as she could, happy to hear her voice didn’t shake.
“If you don’t jump,” Thranduil said, his voice firm. “I will come up there to get you. And you will regret it.” Runa did not doubt that he would carry this out, so she stood gingerly, ready to jump.
It wasn’t that Runa had an issue with heights. What she had an issue with was the maddening elf waiting for her, arms ready to catch her.
“Runa, will you just jump. I’m not going to let you fall.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Runa muttered with an exasperated sigh. Then, she jumped. There was a moment of heart stopping exhilaration where Runa felt gravity begin kick in, and then she fell.
It was lucky, in this case, that Runa was a trained warrior and that Thranduil was a graceful elf with quick reflexes. Where that not the case, the entire scenario might have turned out very differently.
As it was, Runa found herself in the air one moment and the next, cradled in Thranduil’s arm. Both seemed surprised by the sudden closeness of their predicament and stared at each other for a long moment.
“How did you find me?” asked Runa, hoping to ward off the dangerous silence. Thranduil set her down before replying dryly,
“Your hair. It lights up like a beacon in the sunlight.” Runa instinctively tried to look at her hair, but restrained herself, realizing she looked ridiculous as she went crosseyed to examine a single curl falling in her face.
Thranduil, amused for a moment, then grew serious and Runa missed her safe perch.
“Where were we before we were interrupted?” he mused, the question clearly rhetorical.
“Leaving,” said Runa making a beeline for the door. It was locked.
Confused she turned to see Thranduil examining a key with a smug look. Oh for crying out loud…
“Give my that key.”
Thranduil looked up at her demand, a smirk on his face.
“I don’t think so.”
Runa moved over to him, wondering if she could surprise him and snatch the key somehow… Noting her piercing look, Thranduil tensed slightly, prepared for a surprise attack.
And then the doors burst open.
Thranduil could not believe his luck. Everytime he managed to corner this girl! He whirled to see a guard peeking through.
“What do you want,” barked Thranduil. The guard visibly blanched, but managed to say,
“Well Your Highness, Bard is looking for you. He is ready to go.”
“Very well, tell him I’ll join him in the courtyard shortly.” The guard nodded and, after giving them one last awkward look, left. Thranduil turned back to Runa, a sceptical look in his eyes.
“You realize that there will be war.” It wasn’t a question, but Runa nodded anyway.
“You will fight.” Also not a question.
“I will fight… in my own way,” she responded evasively. Thranduil raised one eyebrow at her and she caved.
“I will not be picking sides.”
“You won’t? Why?” Thranduil was analyzing her, slightly miffed at her response.
“If things play out the way I suspect they might, my friends will end up and different sides of this battle. I refuse to choose. Therefore I will fight, but I will only do so to keep those I love alive.”
“You plan to keep everyone you care for alive? All by yourself?”
Though exhausted and aching, Runa managed to smirk at Thranduil, saying,
“There you go again, underestimating me…”
“Am I?” Thranduil asked. Runa gave him a critical look, but simply said,
“Bard is waiting.” Thranduil nodded, holding her gaze for a long moment before turning and sweeping inside. Runa stayed on the balcony a moment longer, watching the mountain.
“And so it begins…”
* * *
“Thorin, you can’t be serious!” exclaimed Aelith standing next to an equally outraged Bilbo.
“I am. We have fought hard to take this mountain back. Now we must hold onto it.”
“But we didn’t do any of the fighting,” protested Bilbo. “The men of Lake Town were the ones who killed Smaug!”
Thorin ignored the hobbit.
“You realize King Thranduil has an army?” asked Avice, stepping out of the shadows. “And others are on their way?”
“Others?” asked Sarabelle worriedly as Thorin nodded.
“Word will have spread,” explained Balin. “Others will be here soon, those who desire the mountain’s endless riches.”
“Orcs…” said Kili in horrified realization.
“We can’t fight everyone on our own!” exclaimed Nora.
“We will not be alone,” said Thorin stubbornly. “Dain will come.”
“But when?” protested Avice fiercely. “After we are all dead and your palace looted? Who will wear your crown then Thorin? Azog?”
Thorin’s reaction was too fast. He lashed out, catching the side of Avice’s face and striking her hard enough to stumble and fall.
The company froze.
Aelith snapped out of it and started forward -- furious -- but Avice, standing, restrained her friend with one hand. Aelith looked at Avice in disbelief, but Avice gave her a reassuring smile, wincing slightly as the pain blossoming in her cheek.
Then she turned to Thorin.
“You may be their king,” Avice said, stalking forward until she faced the dwarven king. “But you are certainly no mine.”
And then she punched him.
There was a crunch and Thorin fell back, clutching his nose. Before he could retaliate, Fili and Kili stepped in between them, ready to intervene. However Avice appeared to be done and turned retreating back into the castle.
The company turned to Thorin, who was angrily dabbing at a bleeding nose.
“You deserved that,” said Fili softly. Then he turned and left. The others were quick to follow until it was just Thorin and Balin standing on the ramparts.
“They are traitors,” muttered Thorin. Balin shook his head, his eyes immeasurably sad.
“They are not. It is you who is betraying them.” With that cryptic comment, Balin left.
Thorin looked out over the land and the town, eyes dark. Flashes of armor could be seen through the buildings; the elven army was on the move.
For a moment, he eyes seemed to falter. Then they hardened once again and he turned, striding into the dark halls. War was coming and preparation had to be made.