Hello! This is the first chapter of my BOTFA fix-it AU, "A Merrier Place". I'm not quite sure how long it will be, but probably around twenty chapters is my estimate, maybe a little less. I'll probably update about once a week or so, though that is not a garuntee.

This fic is primarily focused on the Durins, but also features POVs from Dwalin, Bilbo, and Tauriel. It outlines how the Durins survived, recovered, and built their new lives. This is also a Tauriel-positive fic. If you don't like her, that's fine, but this probably isn't the fic for you.

Please read and review! Thank you!

A Merrier Place
Part One: Life and Death
Chapter One: Battle Renewed

"Go!" Fíli cried out, held aloft by Azog. The pale orc laughed and spat out what sounded like a malevolent threat to Thorin in his awful orc language, standing below and white as the ice beneath his feet.

Bilbo was panicked. He took quick, shallow breaths, his gaze locked on the horrific scene above. No—not Fíli! Azog was about to kill him, he had to save him, he had to do something he had to do something, he had to—

Bilbo tore his eyes away from Azog, who lifted his sword prosthetic and prepared to run it through Fíli's midsection. The hobbit saw a large rock, about the size of his fist, and snatched it up.

"Run!" Fíli shouted, and as Bilbo looked up, he saw a fierceness in the young dwarf's eyes that rivaled even Thorin's lust-filled gaze from when he was still infatuated with dragonsickness and a desire for the Arkenstone. Fíli looked directly at Thorin, who stared back helplessly.

Knowing it wouldn't help, knowing that it was futile, but still full of a last, desperate hope, Bilbo threw his rock.

It soared through the air, up and up and up. Bilbo's breath caught as it stopped rising and fell, right onto Azog's false arm.

The blade jerked away from its intended target, but only slightly, stabbing Fíli in the side nonetheless. Bilbo closed his eyes in despair as the pale orc roared in anger, pulling his blade out of the blond dwarf and tossing Fíli's body down to the ground far below.

Bilbo held back a sob of grief. Fíli was dead, despite his efforts to save the young dwarf.

Then he heard a roar of grief and rage. Bilbo jerked his head up, staring in shock at the source of the awful sound.

It was Kíli, standing in an opening beneath the tower. He had watched his brother's limp, dead body fall to the ground, and his face was now terrible to behold. Bilbo watched in horror as Kíli leaped down and ran toward the approaching orcs.

"Kíli!" Thorin bellowed, trying to stop him, but the young dwarf did not listen. He was gone, and now Azog's other orcs approached.

Bilbo took a deep breath and hefted Sting his sword, preparing for the coming attack. Fíli was dead, but he was alive, and there was still a battle to fight.

Tauriel reached Ravenhill and immediately began to fight her way through the swarm of orcs. She was looking for Kíli. She immediately regretted the loss of her bow, broken by King Thranduil. She still burned with fury toward him, but he intimidated her. She could not stand up against him.

Tauriel brought down orc after orc, wielding knives and a short sword. Ravenhill's ground was icy and treacherous, but she whirled and fought expertly, light and nimble on her feet.

She killed the orc she was fighting and rushed out into the open space, gasping for air. She could hear fighting above her, and a familiar cry, one of rage mingled with grief.

Kíli, she thought. It had to be him.

"Kíli!" she cried out, yearning for him to call back. "Kíli!"

Out of the tunnel nearby there was a roar, and Tauriel turned to see Bolg, spawn of Azog the Defiler, running toward her. Too late, she drew her daggers, but the orc jumped her from behind. She twisted out of his grip, hitting him with the hilt of her dagger, but he twisted her arm and disarmed her after only a few strokes.

Bolg threw a few punches at her, but she dodged them nimbly. Her heart pounded, and she admitted she was afraid: this was no ordinary orc. He was well trained.

He gripped her wrist and glared at her, his eyes full of malice. He raised his fist and hit her on the head, grabbing her by the throat before she fell to the ground. Panic flared in her mind: was he about to beat her? Was she about to die?

No. Her training kicked in and she kicked her feet up, swinging herself up and over Bolg's shoulders.

He realized what she was doing and threw her aside. She crumpled to the ground and he advanced on her. Fear welled up inside of Tauriel, and she knew she was about to die.

Then she heard Kíli's shout.

He came in running, his sword drawn, straight toward Bolg. Tauriel's hopes rose, but now she feared not only for herself, but for Kíli as well. He attacked the orc, and Tauriel, though her body hurt and screamed for a respite, scrambled to her knees, grabbing her weapon and joining Kíli in the fight.

She was still unsteady on her feet after her defeat. Bolg had grabbed Kíli and held him in the air. Tauriel ran toward the orc, rage in her heart. "Kíli!" she called out.

He was turning blue from lack of air. Bolg threw him to the ground, releasing his grip on Kíli's throat, and turned to face the trembling Tauriel, who still advanced on the orc, albeit slowly.

He smirked at her, then raised his mace, about to drive it into Kíli's frail body.

"No!" Tauriel shouted, flinging her dagger into the air. It embedded itself in Bolg's arm, and the orc howled in rage, dropping his weapon. Tauriel watched in horror as the mace dropped onto Kíli's stomach, cutting it open. He let out a yell of pain.

Tauriel resisted the urge to run to help him—she still had an orc to fight. Bolg growled and turned toward her, balling his fists. Tauriel reached for her second weapon, a short sword still undrawn. She drew it now, ready to fight to the death against this great and powerful orc.

There was a noise of commotion over her head, and she saw Legolas leap down.

"Legolas! Help me!" she cried out, rushing the orc, cutting her blade along his flesh and the metal embedded in his skin.

Legolas only grunted, pulling out his daggers. He had no arrows left, she noticed. Together they descended upon Bolg, making nicks in his half-armored body but not really doing him any harm.

Bolg roared in rage, punching Legolas out of his way with one huge fist. The blonde-haired elf went flying, hitting the wall. He groaned, but managed to pick himself up from the ground.

"Tauriel..." a weak voice said from behind. It was Kíli. Tauriel whipped her head around, staring at him as Legolas once again launched himself at Bolg.

"Am..." the dwarf whispered. "Amrâ...amrâlimê." There it was, that word again, the word in the Dwarvish language that sent chills up her spine and warmed her heart though she didn't know it's true meaning.

Kíli's breath caught, and his eyes closed. Tauriel took a step toward him, but Legolas shouting her name behind her forced her to turn around and rejoin the fight, though tears were in her eyes.

A fury burned in her chest, rage that warmed this cold, snowy rock. She was fire, she was rage, she was revenge. As Legolas kept Bolg busy, Tauriel shouted, "I'm coming!"

She turned and raced not toward Bolg but up the stairs, to the top of the building under which Legolas and the pale orc's spawn fought. She took a deep breath and braced herself, jumping recklessly back down and landing on Bolg's shoulders, her short sword raised high over her head. She yelled curses in Sindarin, then drove the blade deep into Bolg's skull.

The orc grunted, his eyes rolling up into his head. Legolas grinned up at her, taking a step back as Bolg fell to the ground and she jumped off his shoulders.

She landed beside Legolas, breathing heavily. He nodded at her. "Good job, Tauriel." He glanced up. "There is still a battle left to fight. We must help Oakenshield."

"Kíli..." she whispered, turning to face him. He was dead. Sorrow and horror welled up in her chest and tears slipped from her eyes.

"Tauriel, we must fight now," Legolas urged. "The time to grieve will come. I..." He took a deep breath. "I am sorry for your loss. The dwarf was...worthy. But we must go."

"Yes," she whispered. "We must fight." She tried to get a handle on her emotions, straightening her back and lifting her head. She walked over to Bolg's carcass and pulled her sword out of his skull.

Tauriel took off her quiver and handed it to Legolas. "Here. Thranduil broke my bow, and you're out of arrows. Take it."

He nodded and accepted the gift, in turn giving her one of his daggers. The two elves then raced up to the ground above, ready to fight some more.