A Treasure Beyond Compare (ThorinxOCxOC)

Chapter 27

In their gold-washed armor the army of elves were an impressive sight, like something out of an old story. The soldiers marched in columns through the gates of Dale, led by pale-haired officers on horseback, Thranduil dressed in silver armor, at the head on his large stag.

Crowds of women, children, and the elderly crowded the main courtyard, all watching the elves march to war. Bard, leading a group of able-bodied men had joined them, their bedraggled forms standing out amid the polished elegance of the elves. They made up for it with abundant determination and lots of sharp weapons.

An alliance of elves and men bred out of necessity rather than true bonds of friendship. With Thranduil's shining personality involved, a grudging alliance is the best the humans could hope for.

One golden figure stood out among the grubby mass of humanity. Aelfric was clean and impeccable in the golden armor of his people, a sword strapped to his hip. He wore a grim expression as he watched the Elves of Mirkwood march off to war.

As a healer he was expected to remain behind to tend to any wounded that might come in. Aelfric's green eyes roved the crowds, searching.

I avoided meeting his gaze, feeling awkward over his confession last night. When morning dawned, I was no closer to figuring out the best approach to handle my would-be elven suitor. I vaguely recalled from my readings how serious elves took courtship. For them it could literally mean life or death.

What if I turned him down and he withered away?

Part of me hated him for putting me in this position but I respected his need to share his feelings especially since either one of us might die when the Orcs arrived. Of course, Aelfric's timing could be better.

When fleeing the madness of Erebor's halls the last thing I needed to deal with is a confession of love when I was still reeling of Thorin's abusive treatment of me. Purple bruises in the shape of broad fingers curled around my bicep.

I clutched the handle of the dagger strapped to my hip, borrowed from Tauriel. The she-elf had found a belt somewhere and helped me strap the weapon in place before she left with the rest of the army.

I slipped through the crowd before Aelfric noticed me watching him, not willing to be drawn into conversation before I was ready.

Men and their fragile egos.

Dashing for the steps leading to the old rampart I climbed them quickly and leaned against the wall. Erebor was too far away for me to see anything clearly, yet I felt compelled to witness the coming confrontation between Thorin and the approaching army.

Though I knew he was beyond reason, part of me still hoped, perhaps foolishly, he'd see the light before hell rained down on the mountains.

Biting my lip, I looked east, where the Orcs would come from. Unlike Thranduil and Bard, Legolas took Gandalf's warning seriously and had gone to scout ahead. At least someone in the elven party possessed a level-head.

Chainmail rattled as someone charged up the stairs. A young boy, maybe twelve at most. A shock of blond hair tumbled into his eyes from underneath his too-big helmet. Far too young to be dressed for battle. "My lady, the women and children are to go to the Great Hall. Lord Bard's orders."

"My place is here. There are things I have to do." I told him, propping my elbow on the wall.

The boy clearly wished to argue but clamped his mouth shut, years of obeying adults conditioned into his behavior. He seemed flummoxed I wouldn't comply.

"Sorry, kid. Sometimes the sheep just refuse to be herded. Not that I'm by any means a sheep." I arched a brow pointedly. "I'm sure there are others who can use your help more than me."