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The Elves never got their formal handover ceremony.
Because Jimmy never gave them the chance.
He reached into his chest armor, pulled out the white-gem ornaments, and handed them to Legolas as casually as if he were passing over a cheap parcel.
Legolas froze.
He accepted them almost instinctively, then stood there, stunned.
The treasures his people regarded as sacred… were treated like nothing at all.
"This…" Legolas began, then stopped.
"…Thank you."
"You're welcome," Jimmy replied. "They're yours anyway."
He paused, then added calmly.
"I suggest you stay here for the next couple of days."
Legolas frowned slightly.
"By custom, the Elves must attend Thorin's coronation as King Under the Mountain once Dain Ironfoot arrives."
Jimmy smiled faintly.
"I doubt your father would be thrilled to attend. This way, you can represent him."
He shrugged.
"It saves him from finding excuses not to come. And it saves Thorin from having to invite him out of courtesy."
Legolas thought about it… then nodded.
"That actually suits me."
He secured the ornaments and chose to remain.
…
"No, I don't want to work with them," Dain bellowed. "What business do Elves have in the King's Hall. Elves are not to be trusted."
"And humans," he continued, scowling, "even less so."
Jimmy raised an eyebrow.
"What about Bard?"
"I saw the greed in his eyes," Dain snorted. "Humans will turn the moment gold shines."
He jabbed a finger toward Gandalf.
"And you, Pointy-hatted wizard."
"You were part of Thorin's company. When they slew Smaug, where were you?"
"Wizards aren't trustworthy either."
Gandalf rubbed his temples.
As expected.
If Thorin was oak, Dain was solid granite.
Convincing him was like negotiating with a mountain.
"Hey!," Jimmy cut in. "Dain."
"What!," Dain growled.
"What exactly is untrustworthy?"
Dain paused.
"You," he admitted grudgingly, "are trustworthy, Reliable Jimmy."
"But aside from you, I trust no humans."
Jimmy nodded.
"Fair, I don't trust humans either."
Dain blinked.
"But here's the thing," Jimmy continued calmly. "Do you really want Thorin's coronation to be just us?"
He gestured vaguely.
"That would look like children playing king in a cave."
"Those who understand will say we don't trust outsiders. Those who don't will think we're afraid."
Dain snorted.
"Afraid of them."
"Exactly," Jimmy said. "You afraid they'll cause trouble?"
"Of course not," Dain barked. "If they try anything, I'll hammer their heads into their chests."
Jimmy spread his hands.
"There you go."
"If you're not afraid, let them attend."
Dain narrowed his eyes.
"…Wait."
"You're tricking me."
"No," Jimmy said immediately. "Absolutely not."
Dain crossed his arms.
"I still feel like I've been tricked."
Jimmy coughed.
"Look, Erebor isn't the Iron Hills. Thorin needs to rebuild."
He spoke more seriously now.
"He needs Elven grain, Human labor. Trade routes."
"Without that," Jimmy continued, "the Lonely Mountain recovers slowly. Painfully."
He met Dain's gaze.
"And whether it's Elves or the people of Dale, they're future customers."
"The weapons forged here will need buyers."
"Thorin doesn't have Iron Hills caravans."
Jimmy tilted his head.
"You don't expect him to rely on you forever, do you?"
Dain grunted.
"…No."
He sighed heavily.
"Fine. I didn't think it through."
Jimmy's grin returned.
"That's all I needed to hear."
He reached into his pack.
"Oh. Right. King Dain."
"I have one last bottle of excellent ale. Interested."
Thorin's head snapped up.
"You said that last time."
"And the time before that," Thorin added darkly.
"Last one," Jimmy insisted. "I swear."
Dain's eyes lit up.
"Good ale."
Jimmy nodded solemnly.
"Very good ale."
…
The arrival of the dwarves changed everything.
Morale surged. The outer wall's construction accelerated. Stone after stone locked into place, the breach nearly sealed—
Then the horn sounded.
"Woooo… woooooo…"
A sound ancient, Hollow. Filled with death.
"They're here."
Jimmy stood atop the watchtower, eyes fixed on the distant ridgeline.
Banners unfurled against the sky.
Beneath them stood the Orc warlord.
Azog.
"That handful of Orc whelps won't be enough to take Erebor," Dain scoffed from the wall. "Gandalf, you exaggerated."
"That's impossible," Gandalf said grimly. "Dain… I hope you're prepared to be proven wrong."
Then—
Boom. Boom. RRRRRUMBLE.
The ground split.
"Earthworms. Damn it."
"Howwwllll…"
Shrieks and inhuman cries erupted as tunnels burst open across the plain.
Endless Orcs poured forth from the depths, swarming like ants from a shattered nest.
The sheer numbers drained the color from Dain's face.
Legolas went pale.
Bard, however, exhaled slowly.
The Orcs barely glanced at the ruins of Dale.
Good.
Humans were many things. Greedy. Cunning. Brave.
They would abandon gold. They would abandon safety.
But they would die for what they loved.
And Dale… was loved.
"Fight," Bard said quietly. "As long as they focus here, Dale survives."
Jimmy clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"You're learning."
He turned, voice carrying across the walls.
"All units, prepare."
"Dwarves. Shield wall."
"Elves, Bows ready."
"Everyone else to the wall."
"Those who can shoot, shoot."
"Those who can't, man the ballistae and stone-throwers."
"If you can do nothing else take Flashfire. Aim well. Burn them."
His voice hardened.
"This is not a war for prisoners."
"It ends when one side is dead."
"If you don't want to be wiped out… then kill faster."
Jimmy raised his blade.
"Fight."
There was no retreat left.
Only one regret remained.
Fifty meters of wall are still unsealed.
That gap would take the brunt of the assault.
Only dwarves and Elves could hold it.
The humans were former fishermen. Net-throwers. Spear-handlers.
Placing them at the breach would be murder disguised as command.
Jimmy turned to Bard.
"You command the ballistae. Large targets only. Keep them away from the wall."
Bard nodded.
"Dain," Jimmy continued, "you know your people best. Counterattack when the moment is right."
"Legolas," he added, "empty your quivers."
"Thorin," Jimmy said last, "form a strike team."
"Your target is Azog. Nothing else."
"And you," Bilbo asked suddenly, voice trembling. "What about you?"
"Oh. Me," Jimmy laughed.
"I'm going to enjoy myself."
Before anyone could stop him—
Jimmy leapt.
He vaulted from the wall, fist-blades extending, rebounded twice against the stone, and hit the ground running.
"Kill."
One man.
Charging an army.
"Oh no. Jimmy."
"I think," Dain said slowly, eyes shining, "he needs a mount."
…
Bard finally understood.
What stirred Jimmy's blood wasn't gold.
It wasn't power.
It was a slaughter.
…
The defenders froze.
Azog froze.
He recognized him instantly.
The human who had chased him for miles outside Mirkwood.
The one who refused to die.
Azog watched as Jimmy sprinted toward the horde.
Alone.
Straight into the tide of Orcs.
And for the first time in years—
The Orc warlord hesitated.
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