It could have been hours or minutes or seconds since Thror had fallen silent. Time seemed to blend into one endless moment as they stared at the brooding walls. Still there was no answer, no sign that anything lived within the Mines. And the wind, rising and falling across the desolate yet strangely beautiful rock formations sent shivers of apprehension and dread down Arien's spine. She edged a step closer to Thorin. And then suddenly, there was movement within. A light, as if a torch had been ignited, flared from the depths. Arien felt Thorin tense beside her. An orc, a single, horrible orc emerged from the gates. It spoke in its hideous language to Thorin's grandfather.

"What is it saying?" she whispered.

"It says that they refuse to surrender," Thorin murmured back. Arien's heart sank. "And they challenge us to war."

Fear thudded its strong, ceaseless beat in her chest. She knew Thror would accept.

Knew that most of the army gathered here would likely not return to Ered Luin. That Thorin might not return. But her Prince did not flinch or back down as Thror growled

"We accept your challenge. We will have war."

The orc laughed triumphantly. And disappeared into the shadows of Moria.

They waited.

The wind moaned; the cawing of a crow blasted the silence. As if anticipating the blood and carrion that soon it would feast upon.

Drums, deep and booming, sounded from the gates, echoing around the valley, the ground rumbling from their force. Meant not as a weapon, but to spread fear through their ranks, to make the soldiers tremble at the thought of the battle to come, to make them weaker. And Arien could feel it, spreading through their ranks like a disease, festering in their minds.

Even she was trembling. Trembling with fear as those drums boomed across the valley.

"Arien."

Thorin gripped her hand tightly, and he was not trembling. Not giving one inch to any kind of fear. He was not going to back down from this battle.

"Arien, look at me."

She did, and found only steadfast courage and strength in those crystal blue eyes.

"Breathe, Arien. Your fear will get you killed as easily as a weapon. They will try to use it against you. Stay calm; stay focused."

She nodded, but she still couldn't stop that incessant trembling. Thorin's gloved hand nearly crushed hers with its tightness. But she was glad of it, because he was, had always been her anchor in the rising tide of fear.

"I am not afraid, Arien," he tilted her chin, forcing her to look at him. "And neither should you be."

The thunder of drums was louder, closer now. Do not be afraid.

"Whatever happens," Thorin's voice did not falter as fires flickered from the ruined gates. "I will be here. I will be beside you always."

Arien took deep, steadying breaths and squeezed back on his hand.

"Together?" she whispered, despite their situation tears springing in her eyes.

"Together," he answered. "You and me, until the world's ending."

She took another steadying breath, and managed a tight smile, even as the rest of the world receded with the way he looked at her. "I already pity whatever god has to deal with us."

Thorin smiled back, and gave her hand one last squeeze before turning back to face the gates.

The sound of marching feet echoed from the abyss of impenetrable blackness within them, matching the beat of the drums.

And the army of orcs, so vast that their was no end to the stream of deadly killers, poured from the entrance like a tide of black locusts screaming for their blood. Setting up a cry that set the ground shifting, they raised their weapons and charged the armies of Durin.