“Thorin Oakenshield!” called Thranduil from atop his elk. After a moment, the dwarf appeared at the top of his stone barricade along with the other members of the company.
“King Thranduil of Mirkwood,” returned Thorin mockingly. “Are you here to exchange pleasantries? Or to fight?”
“Neither,” returned the elf. “I am here to make demands.” Thorin laughed at that,
“Demands? You are hardly in a position to do so.”
“Quite the contrary actually, circumstances have changed…”
“Oh really, how so?” asked Thorin, the derision clear in his voice.
“We have something you want.”
“What could you possibly have that I want?” challenged Thorin. Thranduil pulled out a small, silk bag and opened it, pulling out the Arkenstone for all to see.
“I believe you were looking for this.” Thranduil’s voice was pleasant and the smirk on his face was smug.
“Where did you get that?” Thorin’s voice was deadly.
“I gave it to them.” Bilbo stepped forward and the company gasped.
“You what?”
“I gave the Arkenstone to them.”
“You thief!” roared Thorin.
“Now hang on, I’m not a thief. I took it as my ten percent.”
“You had no right!” Thorin was beyond livid as he charged towards the hobbit, Aelith and Avice quickly stepping forward to restrain him.
“Maye not,” said Bilbo simply. “But you had no right to ask your friends to die for some stupid pile of gold.”
“They are my subjects and this is my inheritance!”
Everyone was silent as Bilbo looked at Thorin sadly.
“You’ve changed Thorin. Your company… they’re your friends, they deserve your respect. They don’t follow you out of duty, but out of love and respect. If you don’t see that, then you are not the man you were.”
“You dare talk to me like that?! I am the king!”
Bilbo squared his shoulders.
“But you’re not my king.”
“Bilbo,” said Aelith gently before Thorin could muster a retort, “go.”
Bilbo looked at her, the question clear in his eyes.
“We’ll be fine,” Aelith assured him. “But you need to go.”
“You will pay for your betrayal!” raged Thorin.
“Bilbo now!” Aelith cried and she and Avice threw their full weight back to keep Thorin from charging Bilbo.
With one last sad, regretful look, Bilbo turned and left, down the wall using the same length of cloths tied together that he’d used the night before. Reaching the bottom, he ran over to where Gandalf, Thranduil and Bard were all mounted side by side.
“Bilbo Baggins, I’m glad to see you safe and sound,” Gandalf said with a smile.
“Yes well, I’m glad to be safe and sound. Where are Silvia, Runa and Nienna?” he asked curiously, looking about.
“Silvia is helping the healers prepare before joining us,” said Bard. “Though things look a great deal better now, we must be prepared.”
“Nienna vanished with Legolas and has yet to turn up,” added Gandalf.
“And Runa?” asked the hobbit.
“You know, I’m not sure,” exclaimed Gandalf, eyes twinkling as he turned to the elven king. “King Thranduil, do you know?”
“Why would I be aware of her whereabouts?” snapped Thranduil.
“It was just a question.”
Before any response could be made, a trumpet sounded to their right and they turned to make out the cause of it.
There, cresting the hill was an army… of dwarves!
“Dain Ironfoot,” muttered Thranduil wearily, a hand making its way to pinch the slender bridge of his nose.
“Who?” asked Bilbo curiously as Thranduil moved through the turning army of elves.
“Thorin’s cousin,” explained Gandalf with a sigh. Then the wizard reached down and hoisted the hobbit up behind him.
“Is he… much like Thorin?” asked Bilbo nervously, now noting the figure at the head of the army, riding what appeared to be a wild boar of some sort.
“Oh no,” said the wizard. “I’ve always felt that Thorin was by far the easier of the two to deal with.
“Dain Ironfoot!” Thranduil’s voice rang out over the troops as he faced the red bearded dwarf.
“Your Royal Highness,” retorted the dwarf mockingly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again!”
“The pleasure’s all yours,” Thranduil said smoothly. “What brings you here?”
“Why my dear cousin, Thorin of course! And you are now standing directly in between me and my goal.”
“That puts at an impasse…”
“Hardly,” snorted Dain. “My dwarves will plow through you like water, I was giving you the chance to save yourself and the humiliation and just move.”
“Dwarves are terrible swimmers,” commented Gandalf to Bilbo, an amused smile playing on his face.
“I hardly think that in the realm of possibilities,” Thranduil replied, his voice like ice.
“Oh? Good thing I didn’t ask you,” Dain shot back.
“You would do well to listen Master Dwarf,” Thranduil said. “Your king has holed himself up in the mountain. He has broken his word, sentenced his friends to death and lost his birthright. Do you still wish to join him?”
“Why would I believe the likes of you?” Dain returned, the entire dwarven company cheering on their leader. “You elves have tongues like silver, but never speak the truth!”
“Then you have only gone and proven yourself the fool. See how my silver tongue holds when Thorin Oakenshield leaves you to die fighting his battle!”
The dwarves let out a cacophony of raucous battle cries, beating their armour. Bilbo shivered behind Gandalf, suddenly feeling very small.
Just before either army could initiate an attack, the ground began to rumble viciously. The armies halted in confusion, looking about.
There, to east by the foot hills, the ground began to crumble and out burst some writhing creatures that resembled a giant worms. As they plunged back into the earth, they left cavities gaping open.
Out of these caverns, came hordes of orcs.