It has actually been about seven million years since I wrote a chapter to this fic. I can only apologise. I was stuck with a giant case of writer's block, and had no idea how to transition from the previous scene to the battle. But I'm back now, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.x

In one hand you tightly grasped a short dagger, the leather handle steady in your palm, and in the other was the hand of Legolas, his warm fingers gripping yours almost painfully tightly. You were running, hand in hand towards the battlefield. It would have been poetic if you weren't scared out of your wits.

Luckily for the pair of you, you weren't far from the entrance to Erebor, not far from the army of elves that threatened to attack Thorin and the Dwarves. The cave that you had been staying in was only a short distance from the entrance to the mountain, and at the pace that you were running, you reached there quickly.

Legolas stopped to a standstill when you got there, holding you back. His warm fingers encircled your bicep, keeping you in place and preventing you from running forwards. Instead, you stayed together in the shadow of the mountain, hidden from view.

"We need to get back to Dale."

His voice was low, urgent. You quirked an eyebrow in confusion. Dale? The battle was happening outside Erebor, what was the point in running away from it?

"Why?"

He bit his lip and looked down at you, pain in his blue eyes.

"(Your name)," He said teh word almost reverently, "You're still wanted. If they see you, they'll still try to kill you."

You didn't need to ask who 'they' were. Thranduil and his army had a vendetta against you. You had disrespected the King by escaping, and then rubbed salt in the wound by turning his own son against him. If Thranduil caught sight of you, you were dead on the spot.

"I need to help Thorin," You protested weakly. Deep down, you knew that Legolas was right. It was smarter to go back to Dale and see what help you could be from there, but you still felt guilty leaving your friends to the hands of an elvish army.

"How much help do you think you're going to be to Thorin if you're dead?" He replied scathingly. You rolled your eyes, beaten.

"Alright. Dale."

He nodded, and grabbed your hand again, with no hesitation, dragging you behind him. The journey from Erebor to Dale should have taken twenty minutes, but the back alleys and underbrushes that Legolas led you through in an attempt to avoid detection caused it to be more like an hour. You were out of breath by the time that you finally reached the small town, but you managed to sneak up into the main square without arousing too much suspicion. You couldn't hear the distinctive clang of the elvish army's metal armour, so deduced to yourself that they must have already left. You rubbed your tired face with your hand and placed the dagger back in the slot in your belt and looked up at Legolas. He seemed worried.

You nudged him gently and he looked down at you.

"You alright?"

He almost rolled his eyes at your question.

"I'm an experienced fighter. This is nothing that I can't handl-"

"That's not what I asked."

He pursed his lips at your response but didn't say anything, instead looking forwards at the stone and rubble of Dale. You nudged him again.

"I'm serious, Legolas. What's wrong?"

He didn't seem himself. He was troubled, you could tell that. His eyes flicked from side to side nervously, and he was stood far closer to you than necessary. It was almost... protective?

He let out a deep sigh and looked down at you, his eyebrows forming unnatural wrinkles on his usually smooth face.

"I've never felt like this about anyone, (Your name),"

You raised your brows in surprise at his admission, shocked that he would say something like that to you. He was tall, so much taller than you that you had to crane your neck upwards to look into his eyes. His face was pained.

"I've lived a thousand lifetimes to find you, and now I have you," He stumbled over his words, "I don't want anything to happen to you."

You grabbed his hand in your own almost instinctively, and you saw him visibly relax at the contact. It was strange how at peace he seemed when you were near.

"I'm a fighter, Legolas." You told him, your voice soothing, "Have been all my life. You should be more worried about the orcs than about me."

He rolled his eyes at your bravado, but lifted his hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear regardless.

There was a crash behind you, and you both spun around in shock, Legolas reaching for his double-edged sword and your hand flying to your belt, but you both relaxed when you saw the source of the noise.

"I should have known you two would find your way back here," Bard almost laughed to himself as he hoisted the weapons he was carrying further up on his shoulder, "I thought you were dead."

You gave him a smug smile and walked forwards, lifting a few swords from his weighed down frame in assistance.

"I'm a pretty hard person to kill off, Bow-man," You joked, lifting up the swords and following him as he walked through the cobbled paths of Dale. Legolas was quick on your trail, his light footsteps making no sound against the stone floor.

"Where's Thranduil?" The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it, and you felt Legolas stiffen up next to you at your words. Bard didn't notice the elf's discomfort and turned to you casually.

"He took an army out a few minutes ago. He's going to take the mountain."

You nodded in response, feeling the anxiety leave you as you walked. Thranduil had left Dale. That was good, it meant that he wasn't here. He wouldn't find you.

You followed Bard up to a large courtyard, where he placed the weapons down on the ground. You followed suit, offloading your own handfuls onto the pile. Laketown-folk were sat or stood all around the courtyard, talking in hushed voices, their fear obvious. Bard let out a deep cough and they silenced, looking up at him expectantly. You didn't fail to notice that some of their eyes flicked towards you and Legolas, confusion on their muddy faces.

"Those who can fight," Bard's voice echoed regally around the square, bouncing off the stone walls and pillars, "Pick up a weapon. Those who can't, hide. Today we fight as one people."

You turned to look at Legolas, and he smiled down at you, placing his arm over your shoulder. The weight was comforting, and you couldn't help but lean into him slightly, listening to Bard's hypnotic voice as he continued his speech.

"The time is now to pick up your swords."

Legolas' hand begun absent-mindedly fiddling with the short hairs on the back of your neck, his long fingers cool on your warm skin. Bard's speech finished, met by cheers from the people of Lake-town, and there was a rush as men young an old ran up to collect their weapons, feeling the weight of them, unfamiliar in their inexperienced hands. You grabbed Legolas' hand and took a step back, away from the crowd.

"They're inexperienced," You muttered. He nodded silently. These boys weren't fighters, they wouldn't last ten minutes against an orc army.

"They have heart."

You rolled your eyes, "Heart isn't going to stop them getting their guts sliced out."

Legolas said nothing in response, merely pursing his lips. He placed his hand on your waist and led you from the courtyard into the alleys leading to the main gates. You could see Erebor from where you were stood, looming dark and mysterious on the morning horizon. The army of elves, however, was nowhere to be seen.

"Legolas."

Your heart leapt in your chest at the painfully familiar voice. No. Not now. Not after everything you had been through together. You could tell that Legolas heard it as well. His face was stony, but you could see the fear in his eyes. The pair of you turned around slowly, dreading who you knew would be behind you.

Thranduil King Of Mirkwood stood so tall that his shadow cast a silhouette that was nearly as long as that of the stone pillars or walls of the houses. His face, however, was anything but immobile. There was a fury in his eyes that surprised you, he had always struck you as calm, collected. The expression on his face told you differently.

Behind him was an army. A legion of elves, clad in gold and plated silver and grasping onto weapons that looked more expensive and well-made than any of the ones that Lake-town dwellers were still scrambling over in the main courtyard. You felt Legolas' arm snake around your waist protectively, as he looked up into the eyes of his father, flanked by every member of the Mirkwood guard.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow at his action, a look of seeming amusement on his face.

"Legolas. We need to talk."

God I come back after a million years and I levae you with a cliffhanger I'm such a dick. Regardless, thank you to everybody who has returned to read this, i really really appreciate it, and I assure you, the end is almost in sight x