Oh my eyes are seeing red, double vision from the blood we've shed, the only way I'm leaving is dead, that's the state of my head.

watched as Bilbo stood from his bedroll in the middle of the night, the company was asleep with the exception of Bofur, who had the first watch and Thorin, he had not left his gold. She wished the hobbit all the luck in the world and prayed to the Valar that he would not return come morning, that he would be as far away from the mountain as possible. She turned on her side, facing a singed stone wall, her mind slipping into a light sleep when a warm cloak covered her, she recognized the scent instantly, but when she looked over her shoulder Thorin was gone like he had never even been within the room.

The dawn had come as she had told the company the previous night and indeed, it had been a long night, dark and full of terrors that tormented the fairy's mind of what was to come this day. Thranduil's army had moved into position overnight and when the company woke from a poor night's rest in heavy armor to descend the stairs upon Thorin's command, Dwalin gave a grunt of disagreement though he would not speak aloud. Arethusa felt severely underdressed for the occasion, she wore no mail, no armor, no crown or royal seal; she wore only the shambles of clothing that had been found within the mountain and the elvish blade strapped to her hip.

Bard and Thranduil moved through the lines of elven foot soldiers and archers. With furrowed brows, she watched Thorin draw back a bow, steadily adjusting his aim as they grew closer. Had she thought it would sway him from his decision she would have shaken him by the shoulders, slapped his cheek, or kissed him breathless but now he would not reconsider the course of action. The white horse and elk took slow strides up the stairs, though before Thranduil's elk, Brethildor, could lay his hoof upon the snow-covered stone Thorin had released the nocked bow and the thud of it hitting a hard surface seemed loud enough for all to hear. "I will put the next one between your eyes."

The company broke out into cries of joy, shouting chants in Khuzdul, and raising their weapons high. Arethusa looked down and saw the Elvenking's subtle nod, the well-disciplined army knew what the signal meant and hundreds of archers pulled an arrow from their quiver, nocked it, and aimed, awaiting the command to release them. The only dwarf that did not cower behind the ramparts was Thorin, he still had his own bow drawn, a cold glint of determination in his eyes.

With a single motion with his hand, the archers replaced their bows and stood at attention once more. "We've come to tell you: payment of your debt has been offered...and accepted." Thranduil looked up at the dwarves lining the rampart, a brow raised, Arethusa chewed on her bottom lip nervously as she watched Thorin's face for a reaction.

"What payment? I gave you nothing! You have nothing!" The fairy then saw the small figure join them, Bilbo. The Hobbit gave a weak smile in Arethusa's direction to which he saw her face fall and eyes darken.

The two men astride their mounts looked at each other with a silent agreement. "We have this." It was Bard who had spoken, from a pocket within his coat and mail he pulled out the white jewel, the Arkenstone. Only then did Thorin lower his bow. "They have the Arkenstone?" Kili looked perplexed, his face betrayed the calm he had tried to maintain. "Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house? That stone belongs to the king!" Arethusa's eyes shot over to the young dwarf who sounded anything but himself at the moment.

"And the king may have it - with our goodwill." The stone was tucked within Bard's coat again before he looked back up at Thorin with a burning type of resentment and reluctance, none of his people wished to fight with the dwarves after the wrath of Smaug. "But first, he must honor his word."

It was then Arethusa stepped forward to try and reason with Thorin one more time, only he was uttering disillusioned truths to himself that the others could plainly here. "They are taking us for fools. This is a ruse, a filthy lie." She halted at the statement and looked to Balin who wore a mirrored expression of her shock and concern. "The Arkenstone is in this mountain! It is a trick!"

The dwarf king's name was on the tip of her tongue when Bilbo stepped forward from behind a handful of the dwarves. "It-It's no trick. The stone is real. I gave it to them." The hobbit glanced down at his feet, his nose twitching from the discomfort of the situation. "I took it as my fourteenth share." He added solemnly. Arethusa shook her head, scolding him for doing such a thing as coming back to the mountain, he should have been halfway back to Mirkwood by now. Fili and the fairy exchanged worried looks as the conversation between Thorin and Bilbo grew more heated. "You are changed, Thorin! The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word! Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!"

Thorin was taken aback by Bilbo's words, his eyes became ice, "Do not speak to me...of loyalty!" The fairy took another small step towards the Halfling but Fili looked at her worriedly. "Throw him from the ramparts!" None of the company moved asides from Arethusa, she stepped forward and stood in front of Bilbo, her face set in a grim line of determination and the anger and betrayal of Thorin's face only increased tenfold, his breath catching as no one followed his order. "Did you not hear me?" Thorin turned, taking Fili roughly by the arm in a blind rage, but the young heir shrugged off his uncle's grasp. "I will do it myself!"

It seemed to move in slow motion, Thorin was stomping towards Arethusa and Bilbo. She shook her head, her hand resting upon the hilt of her blade only she would never have a chance to withdraw it as Thorin roughly pushed her aside to the point where she nearly tumbled down the stairs, it was Kili and Nori who had steadied her. "Curse you! Cursed be the Wizard that forced you on this Company!"

The dwarves surrounding Arethusa stepped away seeing her fuming state, her eyes glowed with anger, energy crackled at her fingertips as she saw Thorin pushing Bilbo over the ramparts only before she could do anything that she may have come to regret Gandalf came. "If you don't like my burglar..." the wizard was using the voice he only every used when angry, "Then please don't damage him. Return him to me! You're not making a very splendid figure as King Under the Mountain, are you? Thorin son of Thráin!" The comment grounded Thorin for only a moment, his grip on Bilbo loosened and the hobbit scrambled away, Arethusa and Bofur on either side of him, gently pushing him towards the rope he had hung over the side from the previous night.

"Come with me, Arthie." He worried now for his dear friend's protection, but she shook her head and laid her hand upon his shoulder with a pained smile. "Be careful, Bilbo." Reluctantly the hobbit scrambled over the side of the ramparts and down the stone of the mountain. She watched until he was without harm on the stone cobbles beneath, "Are we resolved? The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised."

Arethusa watched as Thorin began pacing like a caged animal, the dwarf she had come to love was completely lost. "Why should I buy back that which is rightfully mine!?"

Her gaze traveled down to Thranduil as she could see a remark coming to form on his lips, he leaned only an inch closer to Bard. "Keep the stone. Sell it, Ecthelion of Gondor will give you a good price for it." The bargeman looked conflicted but for Thorin, it was if salt had been poured into an open wound.

"I will kill you! By my oath, I will kill you all!" Arethusa had never wanted to knock him on his thick skull as much as she did at that moment.

"Your oath means nothing!" The Elvenking snapped, "I have heard enough." At the words alone the archers had drawn their bows once more and this time Arethusa doubted Thranduil would have them hold fire. The grey wizard stepped forward. "Thorin! Lay down your arms, open these doors." If he would not listen to her consolation then she knew he would ignore the wizard's. "This treasure will be your death." Gandalf would not know how right he was.

Arethusa stepped up to Thorin's side, despite Fili's obvious displeasure in the action as he feared now for the fairy's safety, and laid her hand upon his. A flash of something she remembered from the start of the journey flashed within his eyes. "Thorin, you cannot win this fight." He looked down his nose at the fairy, but beneath the madness, he simply looked lost.

"Give us your answer! Will you have peace or war?" Thorin looked over the plains and hills as if waiting for something or someone. A raven perched on the stone, croaking in a fashion that seemed to be a language on it's on. Before she saw the dwarvish army come over the hill she saw their long spears pointed to the sky. Thorin looked back down to where Bard and Thranduil "I will have war." Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills had come with an army at his back. Horror came over the fairy's face as she watched dwarves and elves fight.

Arethusa stood stiffly, her face twisted in anger as Thorin turned to look at her. "I cannot remain here while they fight your battles, Thorin!" What pained her the most was that he did not even try to stop her, nor wish her a safe return. She strode over to the rope Bilbo had strung up, the company tried to stop her, but Thorin didn't.

When her feet touched the Earth she was running forward, headfirst into the battle with her blade drawn. Arethusa was searching for Gandalf and Bilbo but they were nowhere in sight, orcs poured forth from the holes made by the were-worms, "Afar Vadokanuk!" They cried out. The dwarves next to her looked stunned to see such a graceful and delicate form dancing across the battlefield, painted with the blood of orcs, the speed of her thrusts and slashes never faltering. She saw the city was being overrun but a wall of trolls and orcs blocked her path. Her hands tightened on the hilt of her sword and eyes narrowed upon her destination. "Gurth anin yrch!"

While she did not see the orc approaching her from behind, Thranduil had, an armored head fell next to her feet and a hand gathered the material of her tunic, hauling her onto the back of the Brethildor. They needn't speak any words to see the most effective method of cutting down the enemy. Orcs that came upon them on either side met their demise. "Ci ben-ind."

Arethusa twirled her blade around her back and sliced open the neck of some hapless orc. "Ú-thand!" There was the slightest hint of a laugh in her voice. The Elvenking too had his eyes set upon reaching Dale, with only the lightest of taps to Brethildor's sides the elk steered through a line of orcs, head lowered and wide antlers impaling and tossing orcs to and fro. Trolls were storming over the city's outer walls and units of orcs marched on the causeway. The fairy felt herself slipping from the saddle and clutched onto Thranduil's cloak, the enemy fell from the bridge as they plowed through the standing obstacles, and when the elk lifted six orcs trapped within his antlers the Elvenking beheaded them all with a single stroke of his blade.

What was unforeseen was the sudden jolt that sent both the fairy and elf tumbling the beast's back, she landed atop a pile of rubble sword laying but a foot from her reach. Brethildor had been killed by four arrows, the animal who had been a gift of the Valar to Thranduil upon Oropher's passing was dead after living centuries. Her old friend unsheathed his second blade and the orcs that surrounded him fell away, staining the snow black. Arethusa reached for her blade but a heavy boot came down upon her arm, the weight felt to be enough that it would snap her bone. She cried out, squirming violently as the vile creature pressed a jagged blade to her throat. Despite knowing well what occurred in battles she had never thought it would end like this, but if it was to be an end then she would face it like a warrior and a queen. She had learned to die a long time ago when she watched her home sink into the sea.

The fairy closed her eyes and waited for the orcs blades to come down upon her throat, but it never came. Thranduil hauled her back to stand. Something about the look in her eyes unnerved him, perhaps it was the utter indifference whether she lived or died. Arethusa took up her blade and fought beside the Elvenking for what felt like hours until they were separated. He had nearly decided to recall his company upon seeing the fallen elves amongst the chaos. She came upon Bard and a handful of his men, they were exhausted, defeated in spirit and hope. If they could not hope for victory then she would cling to hope for them.

The streets of Dale ran red and black with the blood of men and Orcs alike. Too many had already perished. The fairy held tight to the shreds of hope within her, her blade was clutched in her hand, the diadem upon her head sat crooked but made her look regal nonetheless. Bard stood where Bilbo and Gandalf had come to stop, she followed, ensuring the protection of the Halfling. The bargeman looked around at the corpses of his own people that had been left mangled in the streets, "What hope is left, Arethusa? We are outnumbered and our dead is beyond the count of grief."

The fairy searched Bard's face and turned to her dear friend and the wizard before standing upon a heap of stone, others in the vicinity had taken notice and approached, swords held limply within their hands. "Never give up hope; for I have seen even the smallest of lights defeat great darkness. As long as there is one man left standing, able to wield his sword, there is hope. As long as there is one archer left with an arrow to shoot, there is hope. As long as there is still breath in our breasts and courage within our hearts, there is hope. As long as we are here, standing, our swords in hand, there is hope, and I intend to fight and if fate has it I will die this day too!"

Her gaze turned towards Erebor, the company of Thorin Oakenshield remained fenced within the mountain while Dain and the dwarves of the Iron Hills spent blood for the protection of the reclaimed kingdom. "Rally your men, stand with me, Bard. We shall live to fight another day." The bowmen that remained raised their bows among swords and cried out, not for victory, nor for the luck of the old gods, but for death. Hundreds of able-bodied persons cried out in death's name, Arethusa knew well that there was nothing more frightening on the battlefield than a man who had already accepted death. With a simple nod, the fairy stepped down from the pile of stone to stand next to Bard and with a simple nod, they charged back into the city streets.

Bilbo waved his hands about frantically when the war horn of Erebor was sounded. The thundering horn stopped the fairy in the midst of her sword stroke, even the orc had looked in the direction of the battle cry. It took only a second for the fairy to slice through the creature's legs and then its neck before she ran to rejoin Bilbo, "Thorin." He pointed at one of the figures that could have been easily lost in the battle but her eyes trailed upward to where Azog the Defiler stood above the plain, commanding his legion of orcs.

"He'll go to Ravenhill." She breathed, eyes wide. Bilbo looked to his side but the fairy had already fled. Her lungs burned by the time she reached the frozen ruins. Her blade was stained black, her hair and face spattered with the blood of orcs and goblins alike. An icy wind swept her hair and cloak back as she crossed the frozen river seeing four figures in the distance.

"Thorin!" Like a shadow or wind, she seemed to appear from thin air in front of the four dwarves and in disregard for all the previous words spoken between them she leaped forward and threw her arms about Thorin's neck with half the mind to never let him go again. He looked over her bruised face and the bloodied scrapes and cuts on her arms and neck. Thorin looked past Arethusa to his nephews, "Fili, take your brother. Scout out the towers. Keep low and out of sight. If you see something, report back, do not engage. Do you understand?" His eyes returned to Arethusa, "You are to stay by my side." She almost laughed at his command.

The fairy gently pulled his hand away from her cheek, "And you know that I cannot do that. I will see that Kili and Fili are well-protected." Thorin cursed her stubbornness even if there were worse things she could have done than see that his nephews return safely.

Arethusa unsheathed her sword as they crossed the ice, she turned back to look at the two young dwarf only to see that they were terrified, like small boys learning the truth of how cruel the world is. The crumbling stone and broken stairs to the watchtower and abandoned rookery came clear from the fog. She led them into the halls, her pointed ears listening attentively to the surroundings. "You two remain here, search the lower levels." The fairy smiled at Kili and Fili if only to assure them that it would be okay.

"But-," the elder of the two brothers stepped forward in protest but Arethusa pressed her hand to his shoulder, her eyes had darkened with a malice that neither had ever seen. "Just do as I say Fili, trust me. Keep your brother safe, should anything happen return to Thorin immediately. I've got this." The brothers looked at her cautiously, it was a poorly told lie yet in their frightened and timid state they believed her. Her grip on the hilt of the elvish blade tightened until her knuckles were drained of color.

Stone corridors crept around her on all sides, as did the darkness of the innermost halls. Silence had caused the air to become suffocating, the sound of her heartbeat drummed in her ears loudly, the crunch of dirt and rocks beneath her boot seemed loud enough to rouse a sleeping army. She came to a stop at the sound of heavy footfalls, then there was the cry of their names but the footsteps became louder and more numerous. Torchlight lit the stone walls with a red glow from both directions, war drums resonated off the rock. "Atigat iuk narvend avo vrapog." The voice repeated until orcs had flooded the hall on both sides, leaving her with nowhere to go.

Azog came forth, but halted when she swung her blade at him, a pale light surrounding her body, "Afar gith avhinguk mir shal avhiuk tok, lat liwo mat." Arethusa did not stand down and the orcs began chanting; their voices were guttural, and their tongue was like the crack and boom of rolling thunder. The Pale Orc laughed if it could be called such and stepped closer.