Emerge the Dragonborn | The Hobbit

Chapter 8 - War

It was the morning of the impending battle. The air was quiet, a stillness that belied the chaos. Anaynah sat at the edge of a lounge, her posture rigid with anticipation. She had prepared meticulously for the battle; her Elven tunic, fresh and clean, hugged her form, and her weaponry was carefully stashed within reach. Her armour was minimal, for the Dwarven attire would not fit her slight frame. Instead, she relied on the agility and precision that her Elven training afforded her.

Anaynah's mind was a tumultuous sea of thoughts, clashing and merging with each passing moment. She stared ahead, eyes unfocused, lost in the maelstrom of her reflections. Her thoughts were paradoxically both blank and swarming, a cacophony of worry, fear, and resolve. The weight of the coming battle pressed down on her, but she steeled herself against it, drawing on the strength that had carried her through countless trials.

It was time.

Anaynah rose from the lounge, her resolve hardening like steel. She made her way through the vast halls of Erebor. The corridors echoed with her footsteps, the sound a solemn reminder of the silence that would soon be shattered by the clamour of battle.

As she walked, the grandeur of Erebor surrounded her. Massive stone pillars carved with intricate runes and symbols of Dwarven lore stood like sentinels, their surfaces glinting faintly in the dim light. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting the glory days of the kingdom, now faded and worn, yet still a testament to its rich history.

The air was cool and carried the scent of stone and earth, a stark contrast to the fiery determination burning within her. She passed through grand halls and narrow passageways, each turn bringing her closer to the gate where the Company awaited. The shadows cast by the flickering torches danced across her path, as if the very essence of Erebor was alive, watching her, urging her onward.

Her footsteps quickened as she neared the gate. She could hear the faint murmurs of the Company, the low rumble of voices filled with a mix of anxiety and resolve. Anaynah's heart pounded in her chest, a steady rhythm that matched the cadence of her steps. She tightened her grip on her sword, an unknown grip it was for it was from Laketown. Her Elven weaponry had been taken from her, now relying on the craftsmanship of men. But a blade was a blade.

Finally, she reached the gate. The Company was there, each member clad in their armour, their faces set with grim determination. Anaynah's eyes scanned the familiar faces, her heart heavy with the realization that this might be the last time they would all stand together. Balin's wise eyes met hers with a nod of encouragement; Dwalin's imposing figure radiated a silent promise of protection. Kili and Fili, offered her a reassuring smile, though their eyes betrayed their fears.

She was surprised to see Bilbo there too, looking small but resolute among the heavily armoured Dwarves. He must've snuck back into Erebor in the early morning. Anaynah took a deep breath, steeling herself for the battle ahead. Her mind flashed to moments shared with each member of the Company: Bofur's cheerful laugh, Ori's quiet determination, and even Thorin's intense, sometimes maddening leadership.

Anaynah joined the Company, ready to face whatever came. Her mind was focused, and her spirit unwavering. The weight of the moment pressed upon her, but she stood firm, resolute in her commitment to protecting her friends and the home they had fought so hard to reclaim.

In the distance, Anaynah saw the Elven army marching toward the gates of Erebor. The precision and grace of their movement contrasted starkly with the tense, brooding atmosphere inside the mountain. She could feel the weight of the impending confrontation pressing down on her as she made her way through the ancient halls to join the Company at the gate.

Thranduil and Bard rode together to the front of the armies, halting at their side of the broken bridge over the moat. Bard rode atop a white horse whilst Thranduil rode a magnificent elk, native to Mirkwood. From above the blockade, Thorin stood determined, drawing a bow and shooting an arrow at the ground directly in front of the elk's hoof. The two leaders immediately stopped in surprise.