Dain arrived two days later along with his army. Thorin and the rest of his Company were able to open a small part of the front gate allowing them to walk straight in the front door of Erebor. A massive pathway was opened up through the center of camp to allow them to pass. The elves and men gathered along both sides, watching in complete silence as the dwarves passed, the only sound the clinking of the tack on their ponies and the sound of their armor and mail.

Thorin stood on the battlements over Erebor and waited for his cousin to join him. The ground was wet from intermittent rains, causing mud to splatter up in a thin mist as the dwarves marched in. The temperature had dropped even lower, the stone of the railing he stood against felt like ice against his palms.

Briefly he wondered how Bilba and his nephews were faring but he quickly pushed the thought aside. Any discomfort they suffered was their own doing.

It was the first time he'd been out of the mountain in days. It was the first time he'd been among people too. After he'd banished the traitor and his blinded nephews he'd locked himself in his grandfather's old rooms and refused all visitors. He'd received word soon after that Gandalf was at the gates demanding entrance but he'd refused to see him. The blasted wizard was the reason he'd had the traitor in his midst. Without his meddling he'd still have his nephews at his side where they belonged.

His heart wouldn't have been stolen by a thief and a liar.

He'd heard tale of a massive army supposedly on the move from Mordor but he wasn't fool enough to believe it. Quick on its heels had been the requests to allow refuge in the mountain.

Thorin's lips turned up in a sneer at the memory. They thought him a fool, that he would gladly open the mountain to them and welcome them in. No doubt their true aim was to take his throne. The story of the army was false, simply a plot to gain access.

He would not be blinded so easily.

The ever present headache still thudded in his temples. He'd grown almost used to its presence. No doubt it was caused by the stress he'd been under as well as having to deal with the cancer that Bilba Baggins had brought to his Company. Even before he'd locked himself in his new chambers he'd seen the looks they had been giving him.

It wasn't just his nephews she'd poisoned; they had just been deceived more than the rest. No matter, she was gone and soon his nephews would see the light. They would return to him and things would be as they should be. Erebor would be controlled by dwarves once more. They needed no outsiders attempting to tell them what to do, plotting and scheming against him.

His eyes went to the rows and rows of elves and men watching Dain's army enter the gate. Almost against his will his eyes sought out a small, female form, the dark hair of his youngest heir, the golden blonde of his eldest.

Thorin cursed his own weakness and spun on his heel, stalking back inside and slamming the door behind him.

He went in search of Dain and soon found him standing in the doorway of the Treasury, a grimace on his face. Thorin understood it. The stench of the rotting dragon only seemed to grow day by day. It spread as well, permeating hall by hall until he was convinced he could still smell it dozens of levels away.

"I would celebrate except it might involve heavier breathing," Dain said dryly as Thorin stepped up next to him.

Thorin grunted in agreement. He hadn't seen his cousin in many years but not much had changed. Dain was near him in age and had a similar look. He was shorter than Thorin, closer to Dwalin in bulk, with shorter, straight black hair and a longer beard. His eyes were closer to a turquoise than blue but, from a distance, they had sometimes been mistaken for one another.

"It will clear out soon enough," Thorin said now, studying the rotting carcass from where they stood. "I had thought perhaps your soldiers might help now that you've arrived."

Dain frowned at him. "I can't spare any, not with the army due to arrive any day now."

Thorin's eyes narrowed. "What army?"

"Surely you've heard," Dain's voice was surprised and Thorin felt himself rankle in annoyance. He couldn't know everything, king or not.

"I heard tale of an army supposedly marching on this location but dismissed it as treachery," he growled. "What possible reason would Mordor have for attacking us?"

"I don't know," Dain responded, "but it's no treachery, at least not the way you're thinking. My spies have confirmed it. There is an army and, from the looks of it, they'll be here sooner rather than later. My intelligence reports they've sped up. We barely made it in time to have any chance of preparing to face them."

Shock thrummed through him though Thorin refused to show any outward sign of it. The headache faded to little more than a dull ache though his mind still felt oddly clouded as though he'd not slept in days.

"Did you see my nephews?" Thorin asked.

Dain shook his head. "I did not. Dwalin tells me you banished them to the camps, along with the burglar you brought with you."

"She proved her job title fitting," Thorin murmured, his mind churning though he wasn't entirely sure why. "An army truly marches on us from Mordor? For what purpose?"

"I don't know," Dain answered. "But they do come, several thousand strong."

Thorin shook his head. Would the threats to his kingdom never cease?

Unbidden, an image of his nephews and the traitor floated through his head. The voices of his Company joined them. Many of them had come to his chambers, arguing outside the door against what he had done, trying to convince him to allow the traitor back in their midst.

"I need you to do something for me," he said slowly. He locked eyes with his cousin. "I want you to take some of your dwarves and have them escort Bilba Baggins back to her home."

Dain stared at him as though he'd lost his mind. "Why in Durin's name are you concerning yourself with her any longer? She stole the Arkenstone from you and handed it over to Thranduil of all people! You were far too lenient, Cousin. You should have executed her or imprisoned her at the least."

"She continues to hold influence over members of my Company," Thorin argued, "and my nephews. Imprisoning her would have caused problems I didn't feel like dealing with."

Was it? a voice in his mind asked. Was that why you didn't have her locked up?

Dain was already nodding in understanding. They'd known each other long enough to be in tune with how the other thought. "And you hope getting rid of her might break her influence over them." He shrugged. "Why not just have her killed then?"

"She has friends in the camps who would not take it kindly," Thorin said, trying to ignore the way his heart twisted at the thought of her death. "And, as much as it pains me to admit, she saved my life on the way here. It would not be honorable to have her assassinated."

Dain scowled. "The ones I send will most likely miss the battle. They will not be pleased."

"They won't be fighting in it regardless. I have no intention of wasting dwarven lives on those who sought to steal Erebor from me almost as soon as it was recovered." Thorin said. "Have it done."

"As you wish," Dain said mildly. He started to turn away and then stopped. "Should I find out the strategy they're planning for the army? We could coordinate our forces."

Thorin frowned. "Did you not hear a word I said? We won't be fighting. We'll take refuge in Erebor. The men, elves and orcs will kill one another and save us the trouble."

Dain didn't react, though that was not so unusual. He rarely reacted outwardly, it was one of the things that made him such a master strategist and negotiator. He never gave away what he was thinking.

As he left Thorin turned to survey the Treasury once more, gold glinting at him in massive piles through the open doorway.

Looks like you didn't need the Arkenstone after all, did you Your Majesty?

Thorin flinched at the voice in his mind.

It sounded like Bilba.

"It makes no difference," he muttered, vaguely wondering why he was responding to a figment of his imagination. "You couldn't have known how they would react. Stealing the Arkenstone threatened everything."

It was to save your life.

"Which was not in danger!" Thorin growled. "You didn't like my decision and sought to circumvent it!"

Your decision made no sense. The choice I made came from the heart.

"Then your heart was wrong," Thorin said, "as was mine."

The imaginary Bilba didn't answer.

Thorin was left alone. With a start he realized he'd somehow moved a dozen or so feet into the Treasury itself. He muttered under his breath and stalked out, past Dwalin standing guard at the door and clearly pretending he hadn't just heard his King talking to himself.

As Thorin strode down the hall it occurred to him he no longer held the same fear that his cousin or any of those with him would attempt to take the throne from him. He frowned and idly put a hand to his forehead, massaging his temples.

And what of Bard and his men? Why had he thrown them out again? Granted, a few had been stealing from him but why had he gone to so drastic a measure as to cast all of them from the mountain and deny them the treasure he'd promised?

An urge built in him to suddenly go with Dain, down to the camps to speak to the men...possibly even his nephews.

An image of Thranduil holding the Arkenstone, smirk planted firmly on his face, rose to mind and, with it, his anger renewed itself. He was a King. He would not lower himself to the same level as the thieves and liars...the traitors in the camps. Let them come to him instead. Let them apologize for their slights against him and maybe, just maybe he would allow them back into his good graces. Except for Bilba of course, she had made her choices. She could live with the consequences.

Balin appeared from around a corner and Thorin stopped as the other dwarf intercepted him. He saw Balin's eyes go toward Dwalin for a brief second and then focused on him. He seemed to radiate disapproval from every pore and Thorin fought against the rise of paranoia that sought to convince him the sons of Fundin were plotting something against him.

"Should we start preparing for the battle?"

"No," Thorin said shortly. "We shall remain here. Let the orcs sort out our problems for us."

Balin stared at him, his mouth slightly agape. Behind him, Thorin heard Dwalin shift slightly and start to speak.

Thorin responded by simply stepping around Balin and continuing on his way. He had no need of outside advice. He knew what he was doing. As he passed an open door he saw Nori inside, looking haggard and worn, standing against the wall as though unsure of where to go. Thorin ignored him and kept going, leaving him behind. Dwalin and Balin stayed where they were and were soon out of sight.

Things would be better soon, Thorin told himself firmly. The traitor would be gone. His nephews would return, the Company would see he had been right all along and the orcs would deal with the men and tree huggers outside.

He merely had to be patient a little while longer.

***

Dain was not pleased.

He stomped down the narrow trail toward the camps, barely registering the small drops of rain being flung at him by the temperamental breeze.

Behind him marched two of his youngest, most inexperienced soldiers. If he was going to face off against an army of orcs the last thing he wanted was to have to give up able bodied dwarves. They were young but would be more than capable of transporting Thorin's burglar far from Erebor, even if they had to tie her up and drag her.

As he drew closer to the camp Dain tried to imagine what the female looked like. She was experienced enough in the world that Gandalf had chosen her for the quest and Thorin had allowed it. She'd also managed to save Thorin's life, from Azog no less from what he heard, so she must be large. He'd heard of Hobbits and, though he'd never met one, had always been led to believe they were small and genteel. Perhaps this one was a half breed of some kind though he couldn't imagine what her other half would be.

No doubt, though, if she'd faced off against Azog she must be a giant among her people, and well trained.

By the same token, however, she was cunning enough to have tricked both Gandalf and Thorin into trusting her. Not to mention manipulating the boys to turn against their own uncle. Dain sneered at the thought, his hands clenching into fists. He hadn't seen Fili and Kili in years and it galled him to think of the two at the mercy of some witch.

The thought gave him pause. Perhaps that was it? Perhaps she was a wizard as Gandalf was? It would certainly explain her ability to charm her way into the trust of so many who should have been able to withstand her.

They'd reached the encampment and Dain scanned the crowd. Regretfully, he'd been so annoyed at the task he hadn't thought to ask for a description but he had a vague image in his mind of someone the size and musculature of Dwalin with the cunning and craftiness of Nori. Maybe holding a small staff of some kind if she truly were a wizard and had indeed cast a spell over his kin.

He saw no sign of anyone matching that and, with a growl of annoyance, stomped to the tree shagger's tent. The elf on duty outside allowed him passage after a moment and, with a sharp signal, Dain left his soldiers outside and entered.

Thranduil was leaning over a table inside. An elf enough like him that he had to be a son stood on one side. There was no sign of the wizard, the Halfling traitor or the Princes.

"What do you want, dwarf?" Thranduil said; his voice cold. "Has your King finally come to his senses?"

Dain ignored the jibe. "I'm looking for the Halfling. Where is she?"

Thranduil's eyes narrowed and the elfling looked annoyed. Dain mentally wondered just how far reaching the powers of this Halfling were. Did she have everyone under her control?

"What do you want with her?" the elfling asked and Dain bristled at his tone.

"None of your business, Elf. Now where is she?"

The elfling took a step forward only to be stopped by Thranduil holding up a hand.

"I'm afraid you've missed her by quite a margin," Thranduil said, "she left two days ago, along with the princes."

Dain cursed. He should have expected she'd prove to be a coward as well as a thief, no doubt fleeing the second she heard of the army. The fact she'd taken the princes was aggravating as well but he couldn't deny a flash of relief at the notion they would not have to be in the battle. He could always take some of his army and go reclaim the boys after the fight was won.

He turned on his heel to leave only to be stopped by the sound of the elf's voice behind him.

"Will you be joining us in the coming fight or do you plan to cower in the mountain along with your King?"

It took every ounce of Dain's willpower to keep from drawing his battle axe and rushing the elf right then and there. Instead he held himself straight and barely turned his head to answer.

"You wouldn't be in this position had you not attempted to take Erebor from those to whom she rightfully belongs." He turned back and strode out the door. "Save yourself. The dwarves owe you nothing."

With that, he left, nodding sharply to his soldiers to follow him.

As he walked back to the mountain he glanced at the sky, looking for the telltale sight of black wings. When Erebor had fallen a number of ravens had been at the Iron Hills and had chosen to stay. Over the years they had slowly developed into a solid colony of their own, independent from those left at the mountain. Dain had created an alliance with them and even now they traveled with his spies to keep watch over the advancing army. When news needed to be relayed one of them would carry it from his spies and back to them.

So far he had heard little. He wasn't sure if he should feel worried or pleased over that fact.

"Sir," one of his soliders spoke up hesitantly, "we couldn't help but hear what you said. Are we really not going to fight?"

Dain waved a hand at him. "Thranduil's an idiot. I just enjoy pissing him off sometimes."

He had every intention of fighting. He had no doubt he could convince his cousin. When they'd been younger Thorin had always followed in his footsteps every time Dain and his father had visited Erebor. He could well remember the happy, carefree little boy, much like Kili in fact from what he remembered of the last time he'd seen the boy, who would follow him around, his blonde brother close behind. Dis was often to be found hiding behind Frerin, peeking out every so often only to dart back again when seen.

She had changed the most. Thorin had grown quiet and brooding. For Dis, hiding had been a luxury no longer available to her. She'd grown up and eventually become every bit the leader Thorin was.

Dain felt his spirits lift even in the face of what the future held. He had missed his cousins and even the threat of the army couldn't take away the joy of getting to see one of them. He understood Thorin's anger at the men and elves over what they'd done but he knew his cousin well enough to know, without a doubt, he would never truly leave them to their fates once the orcs arrived.

Dain would just have to help him see that. They would stand together, as they had always done, and face the oncoming hoard together, proud dwarves of Erebor and the Iron Hills. They would drive the threat from their land and Erebor would be left to rebuild and once again be the shining jewel she had been.

They would fight. Of that he had no doubt.

Thranduil didn't need to know that though.

Let him be surprised.