"Despite of the obvious, I actually do not like the idea of going to sleep. I don't like the idea of what I may see, or what may happen because of what I see; to waste many hours prone, vulnerable, then wake and it is here; the new day." Liruliniel admitted quietly, her eyes narrowing a fraction as she stared up at the tent roof, there was a slight breeze in the evening which made it flutter. She wondered if there was a storm rolling in, the wind seemed to have picked up since earlier on. She hoped if a storm did come, it would go by tomorrow.

Fighting in the rain and all sorts was not pleasant, less pleasing than the fight itself. But it was often the way, she could not have a hand in this, she could only attend and do what was needed and hope that she would actually live to see the day after. Her prophecy of doom for herself still weighed her down, and she gave a small fidget in the bunk which she was laying in.

Thranduil was sitting on the edge, it was a narrow strip of rough fabric between a simple frame with a spare throw. It was rudimentary, he had not been too pleased, but she had rolled her eyes plainly at him. He could not be picky about something he also could not help, and also, he wasn't the one who was to sleep in it. Ever with high expectations it seemed, he just accepted it for what it was and watched her bury herself as much as she could against the soft fur of the throw.

It smelled of home, having come with him and the supplies he bought. The scent hanging onto it seemed to calm her, if only slightly. Still didn't mean she was at peace, he knew she wasn't at peace. The fact she laid here adamant in trying to stay awake said as much. What was there to say? She needed sleep. She'd either go willingly, or her body would shut down and she'd collapse. He just rather that happen here, than on the battlefield.

"I will be here," he commented after several moments of silence, her head tilted a little on the pillow to look his way. Thranduil patted the furs lightly, absentmindedly even, though it looked more like he was trying to determine whether she was fully tucked in enough and warm. Liruliniel smiled at the action nonetheless, he appeared a little awkward still with the acts of comfort it seemed. "So, you will be safe, I will look after you." He stated, his eyes flicking sidelong at her as she turned slowly onto her side and nestled as much as she could against the thin pillow.

"That is reassuring," she said quietly, anyone else would've presumed she was being sarcastic.

He knew she wasn't, there was genuine thankfulness in her tone which had him remaining seated; just to make sure she drifted off without problems. The bunk they had set up was roughly where the trunks were in his tent. The thought of her sleeping in the watchtower or elsewhere didn't bode well with him. It was something he wasn't even entertaining; she was staying within sight. Even if that meant moving an unused bunk into here. It was worked around the rest of the furniture and trunks; there was no trouble really.

Thranduil straightened a little and looked back at her when an eye peeped open, "Can you talk to me?" He raised an eyebrow, Liruliniel's eye slid close again. "About anything. Home, how you are, how everyone else is. Just talk about anything that comes to mind. Your voice is very calming, and this silence is uncomfortable to me. It's like I'm just waiting..." Liruliniel explained, though she wasn't too sure what she was waiting for, sleep, perhaps? She didn't know, this silence was heavy, it didn't feel like the familiar feeling before sleep came knocking and calling.

Thranduil brushed a stray piece of hair over her ear and nodded, though she couldn't see it. "The palace and the rest of the kingdom is in lockdown; no one is to leave, with the army gone there aren't any real defences other than the guards, and even they can only do so much. The Lady Caladhiel seemed...unfazed to say the least that you had gone, worried as she was, she also seemed to accept it to have happened. Perhaps I was only fooling myself that you wouldn't go."

There was a tired smile on her face then, "I will always be loyal to you, Thranduil. But I am also loyal to my beliefs. I believed I was doing right, even though wrongs happened I would still repeat what I did. Doesn't mean I won't always be in your corner when you need me. But, well, you're fine...you don't need me guarding you really." She laughed quietly; she sounded definitely more asleep.

Thranduil sighed and placed his hands in his lap, he just watched as her face relaxed, and she seemed to relinquish some hold on being awake. "I see you have no comment about your adoptive mother's opinion."

Liruliniel laughed quietly again, a hand peeked out of her cover, and she rubbed at her nose. In her tired actions her hand remained curled against the pillow. "Caladhiel knows me best of all, I think. She is the one who was the first to tell me that I could do whatever, as long I worked and believed I could."

"She's an enabler." Thranduil's lips quirked slightly in a smirk, Liruliniel chuckled and yawned yet she nodded. Joking aside, Thranduil was forever thankful to the older elf; when Liruliniel felt she had no one, she had Caladhiel. He wished he could say he was there, always, but he wasn't, was he? There was guilt in part, but he wasn't letting it beat him up inside. His actions were and would always be done on what he believed was right at the time.

The sounds of chatter outside in the camp could be heard distantly, Thranduil could hear the chattering amongst the men; the sound of weapons against the turning wheel to sharpen them went hand in hand with the crackling of fire, the clattering of pots and bowls. Alongside the usual sounds of a camp came the worried voices of women, the scared voices of children, a tension in the air which ventured even into this tent, and he couldn't help but glance downwards.

Liruliniel didn't look all too peaceful, a frown on her face, her lips pressed tight, the hand near her face flexed and she twitched; yet no sound came from her, so he was uncertain whether she was dreaming something horrific or just uncomfortable. But he understood why she would force herself to stay awake and help where she could, there was an odd peace in the camp, and Liruliniel had always strived for that to last forever more. She didn't actually like fighting, even though she was good at it.

Thranduil foresaw the oncoming fight as a necessary evil; it had to happen, a path was ahead and Thorin had the option to redeem, he did not which led to them all being here. The fight was going to happen, and the stubborn dwarf-King would curb to the wills of those around him, because he'd be made to.

Thranduil looked up interestedly though when the tent flaps opened. He had shut them, just for temporary peace for Liruliniel to fall asleep. But no, in came Gandalf, he looked rather determined, a little irked perhaps yet his expression softened a little when he saw where Thranduil was currently seated.

Of course, the older male hadn't missed the concerned look which was on Thranduil's face as he looked down at Liruliniel. Thranduil just did what he usually did whenever a moment slipped, his face turned neutral, blank even as he stood and slowly made his way forwards. The wizard had come back, charging in almost, for some reason. Thranduil just hoped whatever the reason, he'd be quiet. Honestly, he didn't wish for Liruliniel to wake unless she desperately needed to.

"I was not expecting you to return, I believed you had said all you needed to earlier on." Thranduil's tone was as hard as the look on his face as he looked at Gandalf.

Gandalf stood with his hands on his hips; a stray look sent in the sleeping elf's direction before his blue eyes turned hard too. Both sets of clear blue eyes stared long and unblinkingly at each other, waiting for the other to blink or look away. Neither did. "Since when did my counsel count for so little? What do you think I'm trying to do?!" Here Gandalf paced a little as Thranduil seated himself, he looked rather uncaring about Gandalf raising his voice a little, at least he kept it to a low whisper and nothing more. If it went any louder, then he'd look a bit more displeased.

With a rather lazy shrug, Thranduil leaned to one side, his arm on the rest and the other hand clasping the end of the rest it came upon. He looked to the wizard, still Gandalf looked rather unhappily back. He knew Gandalf's patience was wearing ever thinner, evidently, he had hoped to speak sense into Thranduil, to get to some reason or another and deter a fight from happening. Thranduil however, well, he did honestly think it was a bit too late for words. Thorin had the chance, and he threw it back.

"I think you're trying to save your dwarfish friends. And I admire your loyalty to them, but it does not dissuade me from my cause. You started this, Mithrandir, you will forgive me if I finish it." Thranduil's tone, if possible, grew even more of an edge to it as he stared at the wizard, Gandalf turned away blowing out a plume of smoke. Thranduil hadn't even noticed him light the pipe up, perhaps it already was when he came walking in here and he just didn't notice. Regardless, he was pleased the smoke did not stretch far to the sleeping form still unaware to this conversation happening.

Thranduil could only imagine Liruliniel's little snippets and interventions. It annoyed him, just a little. Yes, he admired both of their loyalties, but at the end of the day those that they were talking about had shown how they treated those which were loyal to them. No, there was no kindness in Thranduil's tone as he spoke to Gandalf, standing and bearing down on the wizard even as he put emphasis behind his words. There was no leeway here, no budging, Thranduil was on a course he did not intend to veer away from.

So, he walked past, moving silently as elves do towards the other exit of the tent and looked out at an elf on duty. "Are the archers in position?" His tone was simple as he looked outwards, not ignorant to the wizard watching him, just opting to not look his way as he spoke to a soldier.

"Yes, my Lord." The response and reply were as quick as the elf appearing before Thranduil.

"Give the order; if anything moves in that Mountain, kill it." Tone biting and the words serious, Thranduil was well aware that what he said made a weight plummet within Gandalf. "The dwarves are out of time." He sounded quite final about that as he slowly looked over his shoulder at Gandalf, he simply puffed on his pipe before shaking his head.

If Thranduil didn't know any better, he'd say Gandalf was disappointed. But he didn't comment as the wizard walked away from him and went marching out of the tent again. Thranduil just raised an eyebrow, he stuck by his earlier analogy of wizards, because with the way Gandalf came and went, he was as unpredictable and tolerable as any storm.

Thranduil tilted his head, hearing a quiet murmur to one side. Whatever tension he was holding from Gandalf's conversation ebbed away at the sight of Liruliniel fussing in her sleep. It reminded him of a child; he'd watch over Legolas sleeping as a baby and he'd be much the same when caught in a bad dream. It was the same. The fisting hands, the wiggling legs and the pained expression. Although he knew whatever dream she had, far outdid anything a child could come up with.

So it was of course without question that he cleared the space in several long strides and sat back down lightly, he tried not to disturb her too much. He knew all too well that waking her when like this wasn't good. He'd tried before, and he got punched in the shoulder for it before he could wrap his arms around hers and keep her to himself to cease her lashing out.

Didn't stop her screaming and shouting though as if she was being harmed. It pained him. Of course it did, being powerless watching a loved one being in such agony, and without being able to take some of the burden from them was horrendous. It was a pain which wrenched at him, deeply gorging and harrowing him each and every time this happened.

But then there were the odd times where she could pull herself free from the clutches of whatever horror was attacking her psyche. Such a moment happened, Thranduil watched as her eyes slowly opened. She looked utterly dazed, confused really before blinking and looking his way. "Either...you have not moved, or I have not slept long at all."

"A bit of both, actually," Thranduil said, gently running the back of his hand across her cheek. "You should try and sleep more." His eyes looked her over worriedly; the concern was very prevalent in the crystal clearness of them.

Liruliniel, despite his words, pushed herself to sit. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin against them. Frowning downwards at the throw, she looked upwards at him. "A moment, please."

"As you wish," Thranduil nodded gently, he wasn't going to keep pushing. If he did, she'd push back and then there would be a stalemate. If she needed to sit in silence and assess what she had seen, then he would be silent too.

Liruliniel blinked sleep from her eyes, her mouth opening slightly and looking quizzically at him. "I did not wish to have false hope, not that I am calling Gandalf a liar; but he told me that he has been sent back to Mordor. The reach and the effect are waning; I could feel it." Liruliniel whispered, looking hopeful where previously she was looking utterly dismal. Whatever was sent at the remnant form of Sauron, it had weakened him. She couldn't feel his presence bearing down on her mind or trying to creep in from the edges of her vision.

Thranduil's face turned, and he looked at her curiously. He did not understand what that meant. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully before thinking over his next words carefully. "You will not get plagued so much, perhaps." Was he being too hopeful? Too optimistic? Possibly, even Liruliniel looked doubtful. He couldn't help but be either, he hated seeing her pained and stricken and surviving on little sleep. She must feel awful, and she was unaware how she looked to him; frail, not weak, but frail and fragile and ready to break at any given moment.

"I believe I will forever see things, Thranduil. But to not hear his voice anymore? I do not care, I could see whatever until the end of all of this, but to not listen to whispered words? I will gladly take that." Liruliniel smiled, Thranduil's hope had been diminishing by the moment, only to get ignited again, just a little by her words. She smiled and tilted her head, Thranduil felt a small smile tugging at his lips before he frowned towards the tent doors.

Even Liruliniel looked bemused, throwing her legs over the bunk and sitting beside him. The pair shared a raised eyebrow expression of confusion before standing and moving forwards to the centre of the tent. They could hear Gandalf, and Bard too, but there was another voice and even before those outside came in, Liruliniel was exclaiming and grabbing Bilbo.

The poor hobbit looked utterly shocked, wide eyes as he looked over her shoulder, he winced a little because of the almost withering look Thranduil sent downwards. Bilbo didn't know if it specifically was for him, or who he was with; the dwarves, primarily. Liruliniel put him at arm's length, she looked him over and was quite pleased to see him well. She hadn't really seen fit to ask if he was well when previously near, she could not wholly recall if he was there previously when she had come to Erebor.

"Whatever are you doing here, my friend?" She asked, still kneeling before him while Gandalf looked rather fondly at the pair and Bard merely shook his head with a smile. Gandalf may not have known her long, Bard a little longer, but both seemed rather acceptant and used to her rather friendly ways.

Bilbo shifted from foot to foot, he gently tapped her hands, and she moved them from his shoulders. "That is what I am here to talk about, to explain even." He looked sheepish, uncertain and maybe also a little guilty.

"Fine, I am glad you are well." Liruliniel smiled and regardless, she patted him on the shoulder again before jumping to a stand and standing beside him. Gandalf was to one side, and Bard had moved further into the tent. The hobbit didn't deserve to stand here bearing perhaps the full brunt of Thranduil's foul mood. Of course, he knew this conversation was going to revolve around the dwarves, and that would make him very unhappy.

"If I'm not mistaken this is the halfling who stole the keys for my dungeons from under the noses of my guards." Thranduil's tone and expression was enough, unhappy may have been putting it lightly. Liruliniel stood beside Bilbo with an equally guilty look. Thranduil's eyes flashed, "Of course he did not do it alone. I should've known." He sounded disapproving, looked it even as he sat down and leaned against one of the armrests. He should've been surprised, he really wasn't. "Don't," he silenced Liruliniel even before she could reply, her mouth snapped shut and she looked sidelong at Gandalf with a guilty look.

He smiled, finding it a little amusing over how she was scolded, yet showed no real remorse for the action itself. Gandalf knew she regretted no part of her aiding the dwarves out of Mirkwood. Bilbo's reaction, if it were possible, made Thranduil's expression harden even more and his eyes to just bore into the poor hobbit with true displeasure and disdain. A murmur, a slight wince and a quiet sorry did little to actually quell Thranduil's irritated state. It just made him seem more irritated.

Bard to one side couldn't help but smirk in his seat, he wasn't sure which was more comical, Bilbo's attempt at an apology he didn't actually mean, or Thranduil just getting more irked by that fact and the fact the pair before them helped the dwarves out.

Regardless, Bilbo shook his head and moved from Liruliniel's side. "I came to give you this," his tone was heavy, he seemed regretful as he moved towards the table and fished something out of his tunic. Whatever it was thudded against the table, wrapped in brown cloth but that soon was removed.

There was an audible surprise from what suddenly shone out. "The Heart of the Mountain. The King's Jewel." was all Thranduil could whisper as he stood and looked at the jewel on the table. He hadn't seen that since he visited Erebor all those years ago. And yet, he was still utterly taken back by the brilliance of it.

Even more so now that he was up close, the whiteness of it was out done by the swirling array of colours within. All clashing and contrasting against each other. Everyone else looked at the jewel with varied surprised expressions, awe, even shock that it was here. Gandalf for one looked on with a frown, seemingly not being as pleased or surprised. No, he seemed to understand the gravity of this stone being here. And it wasn't good for Bilbo.

"And worth a King's ransom," Bard commented lowly, his head bowing and looking at the one thing which seemed to be taking everyone by surprise. This was what Thorin was hunting for within the Mountain? Bard could understand why, but he did not wish to own such a thing, not really.

"That is bribery," Liruliniel said in an appalled tone, stepping forwards with a frown. That was low, though she understood where Bard was coming from, but that would make them no better than Thorin and his selectivity and hoarding.

Bard sent her an apologetic look, at least he seemed sorry. Yet he looked back at Bilbo, "How is this yours to give?" He was curious as to how the hobbit had come about such a thing. He couldn't imagine Thorin knew, he couldn't, how could he? It seemed he had beaten Thranduil to the punch and asked the question which was burning in the forefront of his mind.

"I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure." Bilbo replied honestly, he didn't even try and lie, he just came out with the honest truth as he looked up at the taller males beside him. Gandalf's seriousness seemed to dissipate as he looked almost fondly, and humbly at Bilbo. He caught Liruliniel's expression, and she seemed to sigh, her earlier tension of bribery going as she shook her head. She was sure this wasn't what Thorin meant.

"Why would you do this? You owe us no loyalty." Bard frowned downwards at Bilbo, not quite following what he meant by bringing this here.

"I'm not doing it for you." Bilbo said quite adamantly with a quick shake of his head before looking upwards again with a small smile. "I know dwarves can be obstinate, pig-headed and difficult, suspicious and secretive; with the worst manners you can possibly imagine but, they are also brave, and kind, and loyal to a fault." Bilbo said, his tone light, joking even although his tone and voice dipped low and he looked rather tired and defeated as he looked downwards. "I've grown very fond of them, and I would save them, if I can. Now, Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I am certain he will give you what you are owed. There will be no need for war." Bilbo spoke strongly, sighing gently now and then as he looked around at those gathered.

In all honesty, all eyes turned to Thranduil and he in turn just looked rather simply back at Bard, his face blank and turned his attention slowly back at the Arkenstone on the table. He heard the imploring in Bilbo's tone, but it was something else if he was going to act on it.

=

To say that the air was heavy and palpable was an understatement, not one person was impervious to the weight which was bearing down on them. Invisible, yes, not a physical weight but one which could be felt through actions, and orders. Everyone was here before the Mountain for a reason, a very specific reason at that and even as everyone stood waiting, faces could be seen peeking over the top.

The dwarves were suited ready for war; their armour could be seen glinting in the weak sunlight of the day so far. The sky was a weak wash of colours, white clouds lazily moved across the expanse above, not a care to the awkward tension of everyone below. The mortals were perhaps more on edge than the elves, after all, they knew for quite some time that eventually the dwarves would be seen as enemies; it was inevitable in a way.

Like any good soldier, Liruliniel had followed orders and stood beside Imrathon in her armour, she naturally stood out amongst those beside her due to not wearing her helmet. With her hair braided and off her face, she wore the circlet that Thranduil had gifted her, her tunic was a brilliant flash of blue amongst a set of muted gold beside and behind her. Her armour too was much the same, it was the same one which had been given to her by Oropher, and it had saved her life and proven worthy of being worn for the next fight. She just hoped it wasn't this. Not this. Anything but facing off against those she called friends.

Imrathon was the image of stern seriousness as he was in charge, no one moved out of formation without the go ahead from Thranduil, until his arrival keeping everyone in check was up to him. But the pair exchanged a look when they heard hoofbeats, slow and steady and the parting of the army. Armour clinked and moved as one after another, a row moved and made room for those moving forwards to come forth. Both Bard and Thranduil were the images of calm on their respected steeds as they moved forwards and from the first rows of elves.

Liruliniel shifted a little, Imrathon looked at her worriedly, the morning had been tense and Liruliniel inhaled sharply when an arrow flew forwards and crashed on the ground stopping both Bard and Thranduil in their places. Everything about this whole thing unsettled her, but suiting up for war in silence still hung over her just like the clouds above them. Not many words were spoken between herself or Thranduil, and the few moments they had before she slipped off to march with the army, they spent it just standing side by side staring out at Erebor.

She had held onto his hand tightly, and Thranduil had linked his fingers readily with hers. The trait to seek comfort and hold his hand had never ceased or gone away, and he wasn't about to deny her this now. Before Thranduil had relented to let her march, they had shared a brief, but loving kiss before he pressed one more against her forehead and let her slip away. He wasn't happy about her being with the army, he wished to have her near, but he saw the look on Imrathon's face; he would protect her at all costs too.

If not, imagine the reaction Caladhiel would send his way. It was not worth it, he could not fall out with the woman he deemed to marry one day - one day, one day, one day, it was always one day, neither rushed towards it - if he reported Liruliniel harmed, and he did nothing. Caladhiel would have his guts for garters, literally perhaps.

The nod was almost imperceivable from Thranduil, especially with his back being to them, but the slight inclination was enough; in one motion all moved, not a movement was out of place as all switched from one weapon to the other. Bows were pulled up, arrows were pulled taught and notched, and the aims were set forwards and upwards at the dwarves and Erebor.

Thorin could very well think that shooting one mere arrow was enough to deter, but facing down the whole elven army with their arrow sights on them was something else completely. It didn't bring Liruliniel any good, of course it didn't, but with Azkâr in hand she stared onwards. She prayed to the Valar that Thranduil would not give the order to shoot. The dwarves would not stand a chance. The thought of them all being wiped out so easily caused her stomach to twist, her aim slipped minutely, not that it'd do any good because there were thousands of others that would hit their marks.

"We've come to tell you, payment of your debt has been offered and accepted." Thranduil spoke out, his voice ringing clear in the morning air. He didn't seem bothered at all with what he was saying, or the heavy implications of it. No, even from where he sat in the saddle, he could see Thorin's expression turn stony and confused, minutely confused.

He didn't understand. Thranduil just raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, it didn't even enter Thorin's mind over what could've happened when his back was turned. So lost in his own bubble and world, he was ignorant to what those around him were doing.

"What payment? I gave you nothing! You have nothing!" Thorin shouted back, his bow was still in his hands, the arrow still aiming forwards and at the Elvenking, who seemed to smugly be enjoying his confusion.

Thranduil was aware to the slight concerned look Bard was sending his way every so often. It seemed much like with wizards, the man had very little experience with dwarves and how to deal with them. Truthfully, this perhaps wasn't the best way, but it seemed like the only way they would understand. Stubborn until the end. Thranduil just looked passively at Thorin, before mild surprise appeared on his face. With slight raised eyebrows, he turned his head to look at Bard.

Unlike Thranduil, who was all elven grace, straight backed within the saddle of Arthion, an animal Bard had never even contemplated ever seeing, he was seated upon a plain horse, sweet in nature and without the intricate armour which Thranduil was suited within. He shimmered in the light, the sun picking up different aspects of the intricate metalwork upon his body, Bard had chainmail at best and a sword. The differences between them were as obvious as night and day, yet despite of their differences, they also had similarities. To get to the point, and what they wanted, they would need to play the hard game. Thorin had gone past the point of seeing sense, this much was true.

It didn't bring Bard much joy to be the bearer of the Arkenstone, but he was. He reached within his jacket that he had over top of his other shirts and mail and pulled out the jewel from within his pocket. "We have this," he produced the Arkenstone, it glittered with all its brilliant colours within his hand as he lifted it up high. High enough for everyone to see it.

The reaction was almost instant, the expression on Thorin's face slipped; what was tense, hard and unblinking turned into something a lot more cutting, a lot more lost and distant as he stared on at them. Kíli beside him exclaimed in utter shock, disdain that this was happening. The other dwarves looked on in equal shock, the whole emotion was radiating through them. They could not fathom how this had come to be, had someone snuck in when they were all asleep? But that was impossible, there was always a guard. It did not make sense, at all.

Bard tossing the jewel in the air and catching it again did little to lessen the heated looks being sent his way. He sighed heavily and tucked the jewel back within his jacket. It clinked a little against the mail, once tucked away Bard looked back up. A slightly sympathetic look spreading across his face, it never had to come to this. "The King can have it back. But he must honour his word."

"The Arkenstone is in this Mountain; it is a trick!" Thorin had shaken his head, whispered words which did not reach their ears before shouting this. He got odd looks from those beside him, Balin for one looked utterly baffled by this. Balin recalled the Arkenstone well enough, to remember all too well what it looked like.

It seemed one thing after another, whatever heated words were shared between those up on the ramparts, it almost ended with Bilbo being thrown from it. Thorin seemed quite adamant about tossing the hobbit out and from the Mountain, one way or another. While Thorin saw fit to curse Gandalf, Gandalf himself proceeded to march forwards. His voice thunderous in the air as he looked angrily upwards.

He for one did not appreciate to see how Bilbo was being so rightly manhandled and threatened, when all the hobbit had done, was the right thing. "If you do not like my burglar, then please don't damage him. Return him to me." Gandalf's voice slowly ebbed back to his normal volume. Not that his heated look and stare lessened, no he still intently stared upwards at Thorin, staff in hand and waiting to see what happened.

Bilbo by this point was being pressed back against the edge, he was staring with both fear and confusion up at Thorin. Though he was ultimately very thankful for Gandalf's intervention right now.

"You're not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain are you, Thorin, son of Thráin."

While Thorin shouted his displeasure of never having dealings with them again, Bilbo sought to escaping. Bofur encouraged him hurriedly, his expression worried for his friend, but what was happening here was out of everyone's hands. Bilbo hurriedly threw the rope over the side of the rampart; with equally hurried motions he pulled himself over and commenced climbing downwards.

Gandalf watched him hesitantly, even if his eyes kept drifting upwards at Thorin. He had grown still, silent even, his eyes guardedly looking out and over everything. Gandalf was not too surprised to see Liruliniel awkwardly break rank and gesture a hand out to the hobbit. He was relieved Bilbo was welcomed in by someone, she couldn't stand to watch him run over wide eyed and scared.

"Are we agreed? The Arkenstone for what was promised? Will you have peace, or war?" Bard asked, his voice strong but wavering near the end.

The cawing of a crow sounded loudly in the air as it flew and landed before Thorin. He had been staring off at some unknown spot, before looking at the black, sleek bird before him. "I will have war."

It was then that it was heard, the thundering steps, heavy boots against packed ground and many, many in number. From over the peak of the hills to the sides, pointed deadly spears could be seen cresting. Those which were holding on tightly, were none other than dwarves. A dwarven army was marching inwards towards the Mountain, and from the look on Thorin's face, he had planned and intended on this happening.

In a flawless motion, without even blinking an eye the army which was before Erebor now turned. The dwarves hauled up were not a threat, not when before them were a fully armoured and suited army; an army that seemed all too up for facing off against those that were here.

"Gandalf," the wizard looked curiously to the side, Liruliniel was guiding Bilbo hurriedly closer to him. She glanced about, aware she had broken rank for the sake of getting her friend to safety, but none seemed to call her out on it. Even as Thranduil rode past, instructing the army on what to do, he glanced her way and, well, Bilbo got a slight glance. The hobbit just gulped and tried to keep pace with the elf-Princess and wizard.

Gandalf looked thankfully at Liruliniel, before Bilbo stepped beside them. His little legs were doing double strides as he looked confused up and at the army. "Who is that? He doesn't look very happy." Bilbo wasn't aware to another army coming, he didn't know anymore dwarves, let alone any who instructed an army.

"That is Dáin, Lord of the Iron Hills, Thorin's cousin." Gandalf explained, his voice was low, and he kept pace with the army, Liruliniel was silent as she marched alongside but close enough to them. Bilbo however looked up quickly, shock and confusion on his face from hearing Gandalf's words.

"Are they alike?" Bilbo couldn't help but ask. Thorin was, well, when in his right mind, a brilliant friend, loyal and trustworthy, fierce and strong; his nephews were much the same, perhaps a little more light-hearted and able to joke. But a cousin? Bilbo was clueless as to what he would be like.

From the tense look on Liruliniel's face, Bilbo got the message he wasn't going to like the answer. Even Gandalf's expression was hard, he stared unwaveringly at the army which were coming ever closer. He could see Dáin quite clearly now, perched upon his battle-ready boar. "I've always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two." Gandalf pulled to a stop; he looked at Bilbo as Liruliniel spared them both a look.

Gandalf just nodded, he watched along with Bilbo as she inclined her head to them and marched off to reach the front lines, or as close as she could. Even from where they currently stopped, they could see her managing to reach Thranduil's side. She placed a hand against the great elk's neck, causing the large head to turn to her before letting out a short snort, plumes of smoke coming from his nostrils. Whether Thranduil was pleased to have her beside him was unknown to either of them, but he did glance downwards slightly before looking back to the dwarven army again.

"Good morning! How are we all?" The voice was accented strongly, a cocky tone, slightly sarcastic and it was clear regardless of the answer, Dáin wouldn't particularly care. The makeshift army of the survivors that had followed Bard put on their best attempts at holding up a front. Even if the weapons they had in hand could barely be called weapons. "I have a wee proposition, if you wouldn't mind giving me a few moments of your time? Would you consider just sodding off?!" Dáin put the pretence of politeness, only to end up shouting from the rocky outcrop that he and his boar had come to stop on. By now the rest of his army had ceased marching, silent and readying for the command. The reaction of the shouting had the people backing off, whereas the elves remained unmoving.

"Come now, Lord Dáin," Gandalf stepped forwards from the ranks of partially retreating people.

"Gandalf the Grey, tell this rabble to leave or I'll water the ground with their blood!" Although Gandalf bowed his head at the recognition, he moved forwards. Dáin's continuing to shout and glare was achieving nothing.

"There is no need for war between dwarves, men and elves." Gandalf marched forwards, he stopped a little way off from Dáin and his boar, he looked up at him simply. "A legion of orcs march upon the Mountain. Stand your army down."

"I will not stand down before any elf." Dáin shot off straight away, ignoring anything Gandalf had really said and seemingly picking up on the one thing which irked him the most. "Not least this faithless, woodland sprite. He wishes nothing but ill upon my people! If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I'll split his pretty head open!" Dáin gestured Thranduil's way with his large weapon in hand. "See if he's still smirking then," Dáin sounded spiteful, yet having Thranduil merely smirking his way finding some humour in what he said probably didn't help matters at all.

Though there were cheers from the Mountain, there was a sigh from Liruliniel. Patting the fur still underneath her hand, she looked upwards. "Have you crossed paths with him before, to offend him so?" She asked in a whisper, Thranduil just shook his head slightly.

"Not everyone makes lasting impressions, good impressions like you. Though I believe this may be one dwarf you cannot sway, one you cannot win over." Thranduil simply glanced her way, a rather sure and confident expression on his face. His words caused her to pout up at him, Liruliniel wasn't amused by that even if Thranduil found more humour in it really. Regardless, the humour slipped, and he looked stonily at Dáin. "He's clearly mad, like his cousin." Two could play at petty words being said, Thranduil just watched Dáin tilt his head curiously, Thranduil remained expressionless.

"You hear that, lads? Come on, let's give these bastards a good hammering!" Dáin turned away, his boar taking him closer to his army as they rallied a cry in the air and shields were hit with equally heavy looking weaponry.

With ease the elves shifted again, front lines retreating back and holding up spears of their own as another overtook where they stood and created a shield wall. The air was otherwise silent, despite of the shifting armoured number, so it was all too easy to hear the noise echoing from the distance. A rumbling travelled through the ground, a cracking which seemed to come from the very depth of the land itself. Something, like a borrowing could be heard, but the noises which came with this was something else. Something unnatural.

It happened suddenly, one after another gigantic worms with gnashing jaws which chewed up and spat out the ground came upwards through borrows, they had made. The tremor of them appearing had those of the mortal army being taken back, Dáin expressed his displeasure quite obviously and Liruliniel's hand tightened against the fur still underneath her palm. The warmth was familiar, it was something which she had sought comfort in when she was a child, now as an adult she needed it more than ever. Especially right now as her eyes stared wide and hard at the scene before her.

She could feel her breath be knocked out of herself as the dark army came charging forwards, greedy looking goblins ready for a fight, their lanky lithe limbs clambering on the ground to get purchase to project themselves forwards. The dwarves moved, their heavily booted feet now running hurriedly forwards, they moved around the stoic elven army, who remained statuesque. The dwarves were all but rushing onwards to meet the enemy front on, now that the enemy had changed the elves were being ignored as the army rushed to create a shield wall of their own. Sharp lines of spears came poking out of the holes, out of any gap, any enemy which rushed at them would be impaled upon the rows.

"Don't," Thranduil could hear Gandalf calling his name, but his eyes slid downwards. The action of Liruliniel moving hadn't slipped his attention, nor his gaze. Nor did the way in which her face fell to a stricken yet serious expression. Especially he did not miss the determined way in which her hand gripped onto the hilt from over her shoulder, with the grating sound which came from unsheathing a sword, Silmacil was glistening in the light of the day. The two-handed sword was weighted in her hand before she grasped onto Cúferne and pulled that free too.

"I am but one being, I do not think my might, or my power can outmatch those of a dwarven army; but I cannot stand here and watch a slaughter. I can't. It goes against everything that I am, that I believe in. To win this, we need to work together. Your father was more than adamant to drum that into my head, he always pushed and pushed, teaching me that we work as a unit, no matter who is within it. The dwarves need help, and I intend to help. I am sorry, but I have to go..." Liruliniel's voice was low as she stared outwards at the large expanse of field, she had to cover to reach the dwarven army.

Thranduil shifted ever so slightly within his saddle, his expression hard yet his eyes imploring her to turn and not leave his side. Instead, she turned and smiled his way, she looked quite peaceful despite of the fight which was about to happen. It was a resolute expression; she looked acceptant of being pulled forwards and away from him. With a nod she stepped forwards, her shoulders relaxing as her body readied to run into the fray.

"Maetho i megil dhîn! Maetho na lû n'i maethorath dengin! Go-vaethathab ned auth?" Her voice was strong, firm as she frowned with deadly seriousness at what has happening a little way in front of them. By her last statement, she turned and looked over her shoulder, her expression softening at the sight of Imrathon taking a step forward; seemingly quite content to follow her lead. Liruliniel looked at him with a watery smile, though she was thankful, her eyes slid upwards to Thranduil.

He looked at her blankly, though his eyes showed just how much turmoil he was feeling. He did not wish to part ways from her, ridiculous as it seemed because it was likely to happen. In war one could not always be side by side with those they wished to be with. He had learned that all too well. Nor did he wish to have a fight, he never did, and she knew this; without her readily opting to go charging head in. Thranduil was not retreating, but he was hanging back whereas she was ready to leap into battle, even with what hung over them.

"Togo." Was his simple command, he watched the corner of her lips turn up as she turned forwards again and pointed Silmacil into the air; Thranduil could not help but be filled with pride really, she was the sum of every training, every lesson, and every lecture; everything had led her to this point and through fear of death, she was still here accepting her role, waiting to get confirmation to go to battle.

She was a real legacy and prodigy to what his father had hoped for, Thranduil knew that all too well. He had always known that Oropher wished in some part for Liruliniel to end up within the army, even if her hopes of being a guard fell through. And though she may have slightly overstepped Imrathon here, he himself did not argue or quibble, he seemed ready to follow after her.

In this point in time, she couldn't be any less like her father if she even tried. Liruliniel had a trusting aura, something which drew people close no matter their race, it made them trust her, wish to listen, wish to follow; Hérion would be equally as proud of her as he was. Thranduil knew she always wished for recognition from her father, and he knew she would be getting it now; especially with partially taking over from Imrathon, accidentally of course, but she had slipped into her father's role without probably fully realising.

With a rather vocal shout, that was not all too becoming of the elves, Liruliniel ran off leading the charge. "Faro vae!" Her voice could still be heard echoing into the air, even over the sounds of the running army alongside her, even over the garbling and shouting of the goblins and orcs, and especially over the loud calls and stamping feet of Dáin's army.

There was a rush of air coming up to meet her as Liruliniel leapt upwards; she almost forgot the rush, the adrenaline of the unknown with battles. The nervous tension which had been travelling quickly through her body, had seemingly disappeared now, all that remained was this solid determination to not fall. Or at least, avoid that outcome where and if she could.

The prospect of death hung over everyone, she felt bad for selfishly worrying about herself, when there was so much more at stake. If she did fall, her death wouldn't be in vain, would it? No matter what, everything comes to pass. With a grimace, she gritted her teeth when she was met with a ricocheting block, the jarring sensation travelled up her arm and had her momentarily rattled. Shaking herself free from this feeling, she narrowed her eyes at the dirty creature before her.

The goblin was barely dressed, let alone equipped for war yet here it was, still trying. Snarling and spitting something out, Liruliniel tilted her head and lashed her sword forwards; she didn't know what this thing said to her, she didn't care to know either, at this time it was her current opponent, and she was putting it down.

She was very aware to the others who came leaping and bounding over the dwarf wall fighting alongside her. Already she could see bodies of the dead littering the floor, and though her heart was heavy that some had perished so soon, she couldn't dwell on them, on their names, their families, it was too much. War never bought happiness, not really, because what remained afterwards was always a struggle. It was a struggle the last time, the elven army never gathered its numbers back from those that fell alongside Oropher.

The mere thought of her former ruler had Liruliniel's resolve turning even more stony and serious. He had fallen in a battle much similar, a battle for the sake of peace to settle over the land. Everyone here was fighting for the same thing now, the dwarves in the Mountain were not on anyone's minds, not when so much chaos was surrounding them.

And it was chaos, the goblins and some orcs here were fighting, scrambling, ignoring those underneath their feet to get at anyone. It didn't matter if it was an elf, or a dwarf, they were trying their hardest to cut down anyone. Their attacks were methodical if not a little clumsy at times, the orcs were more precise, a lot more weight and muscle was behind their attacks and at times Liruliniel caught herself in a struggle.

An orc before her practically growled in her face before its face went slack, a sword was pierced through its open mouth. Liruliniel flinched at the blood which splattered against her skin yet tugged her sword free from the block it had against her, its dead body slipped off the sword and she turned to see Imrathon standing there with a frown on his face.

She looked thankful at him before her eyes widened, reaching out and pushing him aside she slashed and stabbed at the orc which was trying to attack from behind. It saw he was distracted and was going to take the opportunity to cut him down. Liruliniel was not having any of that, though being blocked and suddenly kicked back had her staggering. She sunk to the muddy floor and became lost to Imrathon then, there were just so many people, so many bodies that it was becoming hard to truly tell who was who, if someone was an enemy or not.

The small space between the pair was quickly swallowed up in barrelling dwarves and frantically calling goblins. Liruliniel was fine. Her armour took the brunt of the kick, and she pulled herself out of the mud, the mire sticking to her once shining armour, regardless she gritted her teeth and vaulted forwards. Both swords reflected the sunlight brilliantly, the greying clouds above didn't take away from the shining of her weaponry as she managed to switch.

Silmacil was heavy in one hand, though useable and deadly, but if grasped onto its hilt with both hands, Cúferne levelled up quite nicely, the two blades were wielded together, the weight slightly doubled but she was still quick and deadly with her strikes and slashes.

Pausing and tilting her head, she wiped a hand quickly over her forehead, something was trickling from her hairline, looking at the black blood on her knuckles she frowned. She was currently watching as Dáin came riding past, his boar quick and bucking its head every now and again. Whatever was on the other end of its tusks got knocked down, it may not have died but the blow from Dáin's heavy hammer did the job.

She couldn't help but wince, what a dreadful way to go. Crushed ribs, broken arms and legs, even a smash to the head, everything about his attacks caused immense pain to occur. No, she did not sympathise. Yes, she didn't like taking a life; but, well, the goblins and orcs were her enemy, if she didn't kill them, or whomever crossed her path, then they'd do it to her in return. But worse.

Liruliniel whipped her arms, flicking blood from her sword as she saw in the slight clearing that an orc had stepped forwards spotting her just as clearly. Snarling and revealing yellowed teeth, Liruliniel frowned and pressed her lips into a thin line. They were steadily walking towards each other before at the last moment, the crude sword within the orc's hand was practically thrown her way. Liruliniel ducked back and cut upwards, deterring the sword from coming any closer to her. Her opponent stumbled a little from the strength behind such a simple action yet regained composure enough to turn and try with quick succession, which was surprising for the size of the orc, to parry and hit her several times.

Each quick slash or stab, she managed to block but she was very much aware that she was backing up. This orc had her on the defensive and wasn't allowing her any chance to return the favour, to change the course of this fight and land a killing blow. Liruliniel jumped to the side, avoiding another fighting pair and stabbed sidewards, the orc latched onto her arm, pulling her forward if only to hit his forehead against hers. Liruliniel hadn't seen that coming and she could feel her legs buckle. She hadn't been hit like that before, if ever. The blow was hard; it felt like a piece of rock had just crashed against her head and her eyes rolled slightly.

She was aware enough to feel herself be let go, the mud welcomed her readily, soggy and soft yet wet, she opened her eyes and stared upwards. The orc overshadowed her, he muttered something, but her ears were ringing, but she distinctly heard the word 'Dreamwalker' come from the blackened and chapped looking lips. That did it for her, with a resolute scream she lifted up her arm and stabbed upwards. The orc doubled over, looking at the sword now piercing its armour and stomach to her. The last thing she expected was for it to lean more on her sword and come closer, its sword too was coming closer still.

With Cúferne in hand, she managed to get her senses under control enough to bring it across her body. Letting out a pained yell, she tried pushing upwards, the full weight of her enemy was pressing downwards, it didn't care if it was a goner, it had still planned to kill her too. Liruliniel struggled, feeling herself sinking in the mud. So many feet had trampled it, the softness did little to aid her with purchase, she could feel watery mud seeping into her tunic, through the neckline and even through the minute gaps of her armour. It was weighing her down, pulling her down, Liruliniel's breath hitched; she didn't want to be dragged down into the ground and be walked over and on by hundreds of feet, she was still alive and panicking a little now as her grip was loosening on her hilt.

She couldn't keep the weight of the orc off of her, her arm was shaking, and it knew this clearly. With what could be considered a grin, the orc jolted, the movement sudden and sharp, sharper yet was the jagged blade which easily sought the gap between her shoulder and chest plate. Liruliniel felt on fire, her shoulder burned, and she arched as much as she could with being pinned down. The scream which was ripped from her throat did little but amuse the orc, kicking and struggling with her legs, she managed to lift them up, bending her knees she pushed them upwards.

Her feet planted on the orc's chest plate, and she pushed him away with all her might. It was a strain, her legs hurt, her shoulder was soaked, not just with mud, her own blood and whatever had spilt from the orc. Lifting her head up, she saw its dead body on the ground, unmoving and with Silmacil still in its flesh. Liruliniel flexed her hand and winced, biting her lip she shut her eyes and let out a whimper. She could barely close her hand; she sat herself up. Getting the ringing from her ears, she glanced around with narrowed eyes, so much fighting was still happening, the clashing of steel had her tilting her head with a pained groan.

She reached behind herself and felt the back of her head, pulling her hand forwards she looked at the blood upon her palm, red. She had cut her head open somehow as she went down, pressing a gentle finger to her shoulder she winced. Instantly regretting that, she got her feet underneath herself and moved forwards. Reaching out, she grasped onto the hilt of her sword, she had switched hands, not that her injured arm thanked her for it at all.

Still being in a daze, Liruliniel's legs were taken out from underneath her again when she was barrelled into. Looking into the face of the goblin, she unsheathed a knife and stabbed it through its chin. Whatever it was trying to do, it failed, she rolled and pushed it off of herself. Collecting her weaponry again, she stood and moved onwards. To be honest, most of the dwarves and elves looked as much of a state as she did.

Feeling a hand grasp onto the back of her armour around her neck, she grimaced from the tug and screamed. Her arms flailed in the air as she was pulled back, she turned ready to hit out at whoever was there, only to pause. Imrathon. Liruliniel's eyes burned, she looked him over before he patted her on the shoulder, watching her pained expression he looked closer, they were in a lull, their own bubble and he could see the blood seeping into her tunic.

His eyes widened before Liruliniel grasped onto his shoulder and pushed him aside, taking her with him this time just to see an orc go flying from being barged into by Dáin's boar. "The city," Imrathon's voice suddenly became clear, Liruliniel shook her head.

Putting a hand to her temple and wincing, had he been talking to all this time? She hadn't heard, or she hadn't known, she didn't know. Everything was confusing, loud and confusing and sickening to her. She could feel bile threaten to come up, yet she focussed on her friend.

"There is something happening in the city. We must go!" Imrathon said imploring her to listen, he sounded desperate, he looked it too before placing a hand gently against her back and pushing her onwards. His hope was to get her from this main battlefield and to one which was more manageable, if such a thing existed.

Within the city it was more enclosed, they were more likely to use the surroundings to their advantage. Out in the open they were all doing as best as they could, but more just seemed to be coming. No matter how many orcs and goblins that were cut down, more seemed to just appear to take their place. They climbed over the dead, any and all alike without a glance. They didn't care who they were stepping on, which had Liruliniel frowning. It reasserted how much this army needed to be put down.

Swallowing thickly, she picked up her feet, she commenced running alongside Imrathon. A small band of goblins were before them, and both of them went crashing into them. Imrathon quick and precise with his sword strokes, Liruliniel a little more chaotic but no less precise, an arm went flying in some direction as she slashed upwards, another had a sword lodged in its collarbone, its head only just staying on before being kicked away by her. She spat out blood, she must've bit her lip or tongue somehow, probably from when she went down earlier.

Breathing heavily, she tilted her head and moved onwards, she couldn't stand still, being still amongst a battle was the most unwise thing ever, it would mean death. And really, well, Liruliniel believed she had just almost looked death in the eyes and didn't want to do so again. Unfortunately, she didn't often get what she wanted and got caught in another group fight, a few dwarves were present for the fight too. She heard their rallying cries, and their rather vulgar insults shot at the goblins before cutting them down. Liruliniel smiled down at them, she nodded, and they inclined their heads in return.

It was then that she realised she had lost sight of Imrathon, again. Liruliniel turned on her heels and looked about herself, she stepped forwards and her eyes roamed the area. There were just so many, so many she couldn't tell where he was, or where he would even be. Hearing a shout, Liruliniel backed off and turned and ran. Keeping up with Arthion's long legs was perhaps the most ridiculous notion ever, but she had spotted the elk, and more importantly the rider upon him.

Thranduil had the high ground upon the elk, able to reach down and easily cut down anything that dared to get too close. Even if they didn't, his reach was long and the sword in his hand even longer. But he too had come into battle not that long after she had, he had watched her with pride, he had listened to her shout and saw her leap readily over the dwarves into battle.

He had even seen her crash into the first rows of goblins which were charging forwards. But he had lost sight of her, keeping track of one being amongst so many was impossible. Simply impossible. So of course, he was utterly shocked when Arthion let out a snort, a whining noise and looked to the side. Thranduil thought it was another enemy, he was ready to attack only to see Liruliniel leaping and bounding over the dead, cutting down anyone who got in her way and letting out a groan if something hit against her shoulder, or she had to use her arm.

He glanced at her with wide eyes, worried and scared in a way he didn't know he was able to feel. Her hair was muddied, he couldn't even see her braids anymore, but even as she ran beside him and Arthion, he could see blood trickling down her neck, both red and black. Black blood was splashed across her face too, but a steady stream of red blood was coming from her lips, it didn't seem to be lessening at all as she spat to the side before skidding along the ground, turning and slashing upwards. The enemy she hit stumbled and fell to the ground gripping its stomach, trying to keep its organs in.

"Give me your hand!" Thranduil's voice was harsh sounding, loud over the clashing of weapons and shouts of the battle around them.

But Liruliniel's eyes flicked sidelong at him, he saw the panic in the otherwise calm sea-coloured orbs, yet she jumped and avoided a sword for the sake of throwing her hand in his. Thranduil didn't like the way she let out a scream from doing so, retracting his hand and directing Arthion in another direction, Thranduil saw blood on his hand. Looking over his shoulder briefly, he saw Liruliniel wince and grit out a sigh.

"The city, Imrathon said there was something happening in the city?" Liruliniel questioned, she managed to grip onto his waist with one hand. The other kept a sword in hand, the two-handed one being sheathed already, it was agonising her to use. The thought of not knowing if her friend had fallen had her stomach twisting, she honestly felt sick.

"The army has divided." Thranduil said while urging the elk on, he was running as quickly as he could. They were leaving the battlefield, the numbers thinning out yet even as they looked at Dale, they could see the army had already found a way in. He felt a weight against his back and looked over his shoulder quickly, Arthion simply mowing down whomever was in his way and trampling them down.

Liruliniel's forehead was between his shoulder blades, he could see her shoulders rising and falling slowly. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was about to pass out. Her head snapped up suddenly though, her eyes flicked to the side and reaching out to stab downwards at a nearby orc. Whatever she was doing, or whatever was wrong, it seemed to have passed for her to get back into the moment. Thranduil too commenced following suit. Together they managed to cut down, or in Arthion's case, stamp down, whoever was trying their luck. Which, to be honest, was quite a few.

No matter the fact they were clearly outmatched, it didn't stop the orcs from trying. They had taken over Dale, but they had also left a chunk of the army outside the walls to defend it, to stop anyone getting back in. They intended to annihilate whoever resided within the still derelict city, once that was done the attention would fall back on whoever was still alive from the other armies.

The bridge back over to Dale was littered with those meaning ill will, bowing his head low, it didn't take much for Arthion to impale those few on his antlers, it took even less time for Thranduil to whip his sword against their necks and decapitate them all. The entranceway was drawing nearer, the last thing expected was to be shot upon. Arrow after arrow came sailing their way, only the target was not them, it was the elk which they were riding upon.

When Arthion fell, he took Thranduil and Liruliniel with him, whereas the former had the grace to roll and crouch, the latter tumbled and wobbled to a stand. She glanced back at the dead animal behind her, feeling her heart pull, her eyes burned, and it wasn't just because of the smoke in the air, the smell of blood and death, it was because she was immensely sad.

Blinking her eyes, she looked forwards, Thranduil stood slowly upwards and flicked his eyes to the side to see her step beside him. Unceremoniously, she spat blood to the side and clicked her neck before painfully reaching over her shoulder. Hoisting the sword in her good hand she glanced at him before nodding slowly, the orcs before them wasted no time in charging forwards, garbled sounds coming from their lips.

Their helmets were as dark as their mottled skin, their swords were heavy in their hands and crashed loudly against the finer swords of the elves before them, it didn't stop them from veraciously fighting, nonetheless. Liruliniel's shoulder was failing her and all it took was for one to truly pay note to this and take advantage. Her aim was knocked wide, her arm splaying to the side and for the second time that day, she found a jagged blade cutting into her, only this one had the sense to go straight for her chest straight away.

Her armour dented inwards, she could feel it pressing inwards against her skin, but the point of the sword was what she could feel the most. She could feel it pierce against her skin just below her collarbone, the aim was off, it wasn't near her heart, but it didn't stop it hurting. Biting back a scream, she mustered something if only to be dropped like a rag doll, when her body went limp.

When the orc picked her up, she didn't know, but she crashed to the stone below her with a pathetic thud. She was laying on her side, her arms stretched out in front of herself, and her legs slightly bent, her eyes were staring at nothing, but she could hear movement, marching and more sounds of steel clashing against steel.

She couldn't help but grit her teeth and groan when she was gently pushed onto her back, Liruliniel stared upwards dimly, "I'm getting too old for this." She muttered and flicked her eyes to Thranduil, he had seen her dangling there helplessly and wasted no time in dispatching the orc which had her impaled. The rest were easily dealt with, with thanks to the elven army appearing too.

"Can you still fight?" He asked, his low voice worried as his eyes assessed her. If she answered no, he didn't know what to do. Where was there to go? The city wasn't safe, and yes, he could protect her as they continued on, but she would hate being a burden.

He, however, would do anything within his power to protect her, he did not want to see her harmed anymore. His world stopped when he saw her with a sword entering her chest, a cold seeped into him and everything else blurred away and all that was left, was the distant feeling of a world without her being here. His question was his own way of asking if she was fairing as well as anyone could be, within these circumstances, and she knew this from her soft smile. She understood, of course she did.

Liruliniel pushed herself up, she put a hand to the hole in her armour, how hard had the orc stabbed her? Or tried to, at least? He was doing it slowly, trying to drag the pain out because that was something they liked. Why end things quickly, when they could watch how much pain they were inflicting before the end came? Liruliniel looked up at him, she couldn't really feel her shoulder anymore, her arm too was going numb. As for the new stab wound, she didn't know how deep it was, but she could feel a steady throb from it.

Thranduil waited for her to speak, he looked behind himself to see the small faction of the army take up a defensive position, waiting for him to stand and move and move with them. Liruliniel grasped onto her sword hilt, she sheathed the other and nodded his way, "I'm still breathing, so yes." Until there was no breath in her body, she would never stop.

Thranduil shook his head, how he wished to lecture her, but he couldn't, he knew her drive all too well. "Then we move," Thranduil stood up, glancing her way as she stood slowly, wincing and stretching a little before she nodded. She looked pained, muddied, bloodied and tired, yet she didn't pass any negative comment.

She just looked his way, waiting for him to instruct in some way. Whipping the blood from his own two swords, Thranduil inclined his head, the small number from the army parted ways to let him through before following after him, although they didn't totally move and follow until Liruliniel went first.

——

Inventory:

Draw your swords - Maetho i megil dhîn

Fight to the last - Maetho na lû n'i maethorath dengin

Will you join me in war? - Go-vaethathab ned auth?

Lead - Togo

Good hunting - Faro vae

(A/N: Think I gravely messed up Arthion's age aha, slightly eternal elk here. My bad. Just, ya know, overlook that...clearly has some fountain of youth thing going on, or magic, we'll go with magic xD)

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Edited: 11/July/2025