Thranduil looked between Bard and Gandalf, with a slight raised eyebrow. "I can see you know nothing of Wizards." he told Bard; as he stood up from his chair. "They are like a winter storm, in a wild wind. Rolling in from the distance, breaking hard, in alarm. But sometimes, a storm is just a storm." Thranduil spoke, as he reached for a glass..pouring himself some wine.

"Why show his hand now?" Thranduil questioned Gandalf. "These Orc Armies you speak of Mithrandir, where are they?" The Elvenking rose an eyebrow at the Grey Wizard.

Kili smiled at his God-mother. He was a Durin. His father's son...Thorin's nephew. A fighter, he would not back down. It was not in his blood or nature too. He had his family, and friends to fight for. It gave him hope, to live to see another day. He tried to smile at her reassuringly, but he could see how worried she was for his uncle. Kili wondered, what it would take to save his uncle...if it was possible.

[hr]

As their eyes met. Yavanna's soft hand remained on his. Her gentle, emerald eyes locked with his blue. The look in her eyes filled with fondness, care, growing adoration, tenderness. Almost telling him, that he was not alone...that he wouldn't be. That she was there for him and understood his pain.

Suddenly an aray of bats swooped in. Yavanna ducked slightly, her body almost curling up near his. Tauriel herself ducked down...laying against the rock. Seeing the monstrous bats flying above them.

"They're swarming." Tauriel whispered.