Third Installment...sorry, it's a long tale.

Several weeks had passed since the dramatic escape of the dwarves. A few of the rafters had returned and reported seeing them in the Lake Town. But the King did not send for a host to retrieve them. For word of their mission had spread to Mirkwood as well.
"If my guess it correct, they will get their due reward in the end," said the King to Legolas. The two were in the King’s private chamber.
"You believe their quest will end in failure?" asked Legolas. "They certainly slipped past our guards unnoticed. Perhaps they can avoid the gaze of the dragon as well."
"I am doubtful," replied the King. "But with the dwarves stirring him up, we can expect trouble from the wyrm. We must be ready."
Thranduil was right. For word soon came that the Lake Town had been ravaged by the evil dragon Smaug, killing several inhabitants, and burning their town to a smouldering pile of rubble in the river bed. But the report also told of how one man by the name of Bard had killed the dragon and thereby saved many more lives.
"The time is now ripe," said the King in a royal council one day. "We will supply aid to the poor souls of Lake Town, but our armies will also be assembled, for much of the treasure in that mountain was taken from myself and my people. And knowing the nature of Dwarves, we will be in for a fight, be it verbal or physical, when it comes to gold and jewels." So without another word, the armies of Mirkwood were assembled and armed, food and supplies were readied, and the finest of the Woodland Realm’s craftsmen were assembled. Legolas, for the first time in many years, strapped on his own personal armor and his best bow and quiver. His two knives, which had been a gift from Elrond, he brought also. He was ready for battle, ready for adventure, ready to move. Something within him had been stirring for many years, and as soon as he took his first step out the great doors of the Hall, it was released. The world beyond was calling to him, and he was prepared for whatever came his way. Be it 13 Dwarves or a thousand dragons, a fire had lit inside him that would not be quenched. Behind him, row upon row of glittering spears shone in the sunlight that made it’s way through the deep branches. Swords and bows were also at the ready. Beside him rode his father, King Thranduil and the gon or commander of the armies of Mirkwood, Keirdron. Before him, loomed the prospect of battle. And the prospect was thrilling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After a few days the company of Elves left the shelter of the woods and arrived at the camping place of the refugees of the Lake Town. It was a sad sight. Mothers coddled babes and held their children close. Men searched the surrounding area for wood or food with little success, for all around them the vegetation was burned. Some were ill, others, wounded. Every face spoke of hardship and fear. Even Legolas’ restless heart was stirred with pity towards these unfortunate folk.
As soon as the Silvan people rode in the midst of them, many faces brightened. The packs of supplies were unloaded almost immediately and within a week and a half homes were built and food was restored. The men of the camp worked heartily, the thought of their families driving them forward. For winter was coming soon. The breeze began to speak of it in hushed whispers of cold that was more heard than felt by Legolas. After a suitable living place was well on it’s way to being established once more, the Elven King began making plans with the man behind the killing of the dragon, one called Bard. The Dwarves, in all probability, had met their due end by the fire or claws of Smaug, and a great deal of treasure was now to be had at the top of the mountain. So quickly and eagerly, the men of Lake Town secured their homes, made ready, and together with the Elves of Mirkwood marched forward into the desolate lands before them.
Not two days later, the great host of Elves and Men camped on the other side of the river, and now sat practically on the toes of the Lonely Mountain. Legolas, not much used to the banter of the human race and not understanding some of it, found himself wandering in the dark along the riverbank, away from the lights and the noise. Now that the cursed dragon was not puffing out huge clouds of smoke, the night sky was plainly visible. The stars shone out unusually brightly, now that the trees did not cover the view. Catching sight of one star that shone out the clearest, Legolas’ thoughts turned to Arwen and Elessar. Where was that scraggly Ranger? He could be anywhere in Middle-earth, and only you would see him, O Giliath,* Legolas thought to himself. The Elf’s gaze drifted to the river before him, glassy, reflecting the star’s light. Only the slightest ripple waved in the water. Footsteps sounded in the grass behind him, but he did not turn. He would enjoy the stillness of the scene before him for as long possible. A hand rested on his shoulder. Legolas turned. It was Bard.
"What is it that this Elf sees in the stars above besides their beauty?" he asked. "For your mind is not just upon them, is it?"
"You judge correctly," Legolas replied, "but of what my mind's eye lingers on I wish not to speak."
"Very well," said the man. "Then will you not come and join us around the fire?" Legolas slowly nodded his consent. The man smiled broadly. "Come." Legolas followed, grumbling a little to himself in his own tongue. Why is it that men always feel they need to be in the company of others? I find joy in solitude and quiet, not the carousing and noise of a group. Nevertheless, he went with Bard to the fireside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day dawned early. A company of Elvish bowmen and a few men of the Lake Town were dispatched to find an entrance into the mountain and find out what they could. Late that afternoon they returned. Their report was not what anyone had expected. They had found a way into the mountain by some falls at one side, but a wall had been constructed to hinder their passage. As the group had whispered amongst themselves of what to do, a voice had sounded from behind the barrier. It had yelled out: "Who are you, that come as if in war to the gates of Thorin, son of Thrain, King under the Mountain, and what do you desire?" Startled and very surprised, the company had returned without a word, awaiting orders.
After a little conference of sorts, the armies were moved to the east side of the river, and that night was filled with the songs and mirth of the Elves. Legolas reveled in some of the tales that were sung, and as they told of the valor of the Eldar and their exploits in the wars over the years, a pride swelled within him. Battle seemed ever nearer, and he was ready for it.
In the morning, Legolas, along with his father, Bard, and a company of spearmen set out up the mountain. It felt good to have his bow and knives with him, but he despised the cumbersome shield he had to carry with the emblem of Mirkwood emblazoned upon it. As soon as a battle started, he would loose it for sure, for it hindered his ability to grab a quick shaft. When they reached the falls, it was just as the earlier group had said. A roughly hewn wall was laid up to the very ceiling of the mouth of the opening. And the same words were uttered from behind the barrier. Bard strode forward. "Hail, Thorin!" he said, "Why do you fence yourself like a robber in his hold? We are not yet foes, and we rejoice that you are alive beyond our hope. We came expecting to find none living here; yet now that we are met there is a matter for a parley and a council." A moment later, the voice, presumably of Thorin, sounded again.
"Who are you and of what would you parley?"
Bard then went on to tell of his slaying the dragon and of the gold and treasure that was stolen from his ancestors and now sat in the mountain. Also, he told of the burning of the Lake Town, and wished that their share be returned to him to help rebuild. After a long silence, the muffled voice of Thorin spoke.
"You put your worst cause last and in the chief place. To the treasure of my people no man has a claim, because Smaug who stole it from us also robbed him of life or home. The treasure was not his that his evil deeds should be amended with a share of it. The price of the goods and the assistance that we received of the Lake-Men we will fairly pay–in due time. But nothing will we give, not even a loaf’s worth, under threat of force. While an armed force lies before our doors, we look on you as foes and thieves. It is in my mind to ask what share of their inheritance you would have paid to our kindred, had you found the horde unguarded and us slain."
"A just question," replied Bard. "But you are not dead, and we are not robbers. Moreover the wealthy may have pity beyond right on the needy that befriended them when they were in want. And still my other claims remain unanswered."
The parley went on for some time, with many a gruff comment towards the Elves and Men from behind the wall, but in the end, the Dwarf would not give in. So, with the threat of return, the company left. Several hours later, Legolas found himself back at the opening in the cave mouth. A trumpeter blast and the Elven Prince stepped forward.
"In the name of Esgaroth and the Forest, we speak unto Thorin, Thrain’s son Oakenshield, calling himself the King under the Mountain, and we bid him consider well the claims that have been urged, or be declared our foe. At the least, he shall deliver one twelfth portion of the treasure unto Bard, as a dragon-slayer, and as the heir of Girion. From that portion Bard will himself contribute to the aid of Esgaroth; but if Thorin would have the friendship and honor of the lands about, as his sires had of old, then he will give also somewhat of his own for the comfort of the men of the Lake." Legolas had only just finished saying this when out from an unseen hole shot an arrow. It smote with a clang into his shield. Wrath flared up within the Elf. Those cursed stiff-necked Dwarves care for not but their own purse! he thought angrily. He threw down the shield and reached for his own bow, but before he could get to it, a hand clasped firmly around his wrist, and he found his arm thrust down to his side.
"Stay your anger," his father said in the fair Elven speech."The time for it will soon come, but it has not yet." Biting his tongue, Legolas nodded. Then, regaining his composure, continued.
"Since such is your answer, I declare the Mountain besieged. You shall not depart from it, until you call on your side for a truce and a parley. We will bear no weapons against you, but we leave you to your gold. You may eat that, if you will!" It was an embittered company that descended the mountain that afternoon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night Thranduil, Bard, and Legolas sat by one fire in the King’s tent, contemplating what to do about the stubborn Dwarves in the mountain. It was a rather chilly night, so most of the camp’s inhabitants sat quietly around their own warm embers.
"At least now we have Mithrandir," said Legolas, mostly to himself. The wizard had appeared earlier that day and was met with great enthusiasm. Presently, the sound of approaching persons was heard, and suddenly before them stood two Elven scouts, guiding a very cold looking and very wet...Hobbit.
"Good heavens!" cried Bard with a start.
"We found him crossing the river from the mountain side, my lord," said the first scout.
"I’m not sure what harm he could do though," replied the second.
"Tell me," Thranduil asked the small shivering creature before him. "What is a Halfling from the Shire doing this far from home? I have never known your people to be found of traveling, and by the look of you you have done a great deal of it."
"Th-th-that is a l-long t-tale, sir," said the Hobbit through chattering teeth. Seeing the poor thing’s plight, Thranduil excused the scouts, and invited the Halfling to draw near to the fire and get warm. After a while, he explained some of the basic elements of his adventure with the Dwarves, and that he was to be granted a fourteenth share of the treasure. He said what they all guessed about that the stubborn son-of-a-goat up in the mountain, that would sit on his gold and starve, rather than give any of it away, for such is the nature of Dwarves. But the wet little creature before them then offered an alternative. Suddenly he drew forth something that none of the three around him ever expected to see...the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain. A diamond sphere that shone as if it held moonlight within it, and without a word, he handed it to Bard. After a great deal of explaining and prompting, Bard accepted the gift, and because the Hobbit, who was called Bilbo, wished to return to his friends, the King sent after him, with many a blessing, an escort to be sure he made it back to the river. After he had gone, the three still stood in wondering amazement.
"For one so small, he had a lot of pluck to do such a thing," said Bard.
"Indeed he did," replied Thranduil. "A Halfling just stayed a war when we ‘big folk’ as they call us, could not."
"Remarkable," Bard replied. Legolas nodded.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once again a new day arrived, and the Elven prince found himself once more ascending the Mountain with a company of twenty others, including Bard and Thranduil. Mithrandir also joined them, carrying the Arkenstone in a chest before them. Just as they reached the opening the group laid down spear, bow, and sword, and then approached. Bard called out to the inhabitants. There was a speedy reply.
"My mind does not change with the rising and setting of a few suns," called Thorin. "Did you come to ask me idle questions? Still the Elf-host has not departed as I bade! Till then you come in vain to bargain with me."
"Is there nothing for which you would yield any of your gold?" asked Bard.
"Nothing that you or your friends have to offer," replied the Dwarf hotly.
"What of the Arkenstone of Thrain?" asked Bard. There was a long stunned silence within the cave. Then the wrath of Thorin raged.
"That stone was my father’s and is mine! Why should I purchase my own? But how came you by the heirloom of my house—if there be need to ask such a question from thieves."
"We are not thieves," Bard answered. "Your own we will give back in return for our own."
"How came you by it?!" shouted the Dwarf. He appeared at the top of the wall. His face was bright red.
"I gave it to them!" a voice squeaked from the other side of the wall. All turned and saw it was Bilbo. Thorin looked up suddenly and grabbed the poor Hobbit, yelling so much so fast that it was hard to comprehend what he was saying, even for the Men. The Dwarf shook the Hobbit like a rabbit and was about to toss him over the wall shouting, "I wish Gandalf were here! Curse him for his choice of you!"
"Stay! Your wish is granted!" shouted Mithrandir, coming forward. Many hot words were exchanged, but in the end, the Hobbit was released. Thorin, in a rage, excused Bilbo from the Mountain and from his share, and sent him down to join the party below. After a bitter argument, it was decided that the gold and silver would be repaid, but until that time, the Arkenstone would stay with Bard. Bilbo climbed down and began to leave with the rest of the party. As he left, the small creature cried out to those behind him,
"Farewell! We may meet again as friends."
After a few choice words from Thorin and the announcement that the Dwarves had until the following day to give up their share, the party went down again into the valley.