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Chapter Text

Their Company had been on the run for a few weeks now, still pursued relentlessly by Azog and his minions. Gandalf sent Bilbo up to look and scout how far back they were from the Company. He was so good at remaining unseen, it had become common practice to have him look out for orc packs.

“How close are they?”, demanded Thorin as they watched Bilbo almost roll down the hill to them.

“Too close. Couple leagues, no more. But that is not the worst of it.”

Belle felt her eyebrows almost hitting her hairline.

“There’s something worse?”, she asked as Dwalin mentioned the wargs picking up the scent of the Company.

“We have another problem.”, Bilbo answered.

Gandalf began extolling the virtues of their burglar and Belle could see that Bilbo was unsettled. Rattled, even. Whatever else pursued them, it had her cousin frightened.

“Will you just listen!”, Bilbo growled a bit, “I am just trying to tell you that there is something else out there.”

“What form did it take?”, asked Gandalf, “Like a bear?”

“Yea, yes. Yes. Like a bear, but much, much bigger.”

Bofur turned to Gandalf, asking what he knew. The whole Company began murmuring amongst themselves at this new development. Belle just wanted Gandalf to come clean so they could make a plan. Run, fight, hide. It didn’t matter, she just wanted a course of action.

“I say we double-back.”, offered Bofur before Thorin cut him off, “And be run down by a pack of orcs?”

Belle watched Gandalf carefully as the others debated their next step. There was something at work behind the Wizard’s bright eyes. Something he was not entirely happy about.

“There is a house,” he began, “that’s not far from here, where we might take refuge.”

“Whose house?”, asked Thorin with a growl.

It was clear their leader still distrusted that Gandalf would hand them off to Elves. Belle wanted to spit. After all these weeks, the blasted dwarf had still maintained not only his prejudices but his anger.

“Are they friend or foe?”

“Neither.”

Belle arched an eyebrow. A neutral party. That was almost a relief.

“He will help us or… he will kill us.”

The Company fell silent for a breath. Perhaps Gandalf’s neutral party was not a relief.

Thorin spoke up first, “What choice do we have?”

Suddenly, the air itself seemed to rattle ominously with a thundering roar. It was unlike anything Belle had heard, even in her nightmares, sending the hair on her nape and her arms to stand up and her hands shook.

“None.”, answered Gandalf, “RUN!”

The whole Company took off at their top speeds. Belle had to admit, she had never been much for running, though with that roar still echoing in her ears, she needed no further encouragement to run. Faster than she had ever run in her life. They ran down the hillside through the boulders, down into the valley below, dashing among flowery mounds as Gandalf led them, commanding that they keep up. All the while, they knew the orc pack astride their wargs, pursued them.

As they once more ran past a tree line and into the woods, they heard the great roar again. It was closer this time, making Belle’s bones rattle in her skin. She looked over to her cousin, seeing his eyes wide with fear. Unlike herself, he had caught a glimpse of whatever produced such a sound.

“RUN! RUN!”, Gandalf bellowed out.

Belle looked to see Bombur had fallen behind, seemingly frozen with fear. Just as Belle was about to call out to him, she saw Thorin reaching, tugging the red-headed dwarf by his beard as he yelled for everyone to run. Thorin made eye contact with Belle, once again shouting for everyone to run.

Ahead, Belle could see a clearing and at the center, a house. Gandalf was leading them straight for it. With all her might, Belle pounded her feet to the ground, hastening after Gandalf.

“RUN! RUN!”, he ordered again.

A tall, stone wall surrounded the home. A doorway left open offered access. Gandalf led them through, calling out for everyone to run. Bombur was quickly overtaking everyone but Gandalf. As Belle cleared the doorway, she found herself between Fili and Kili, rushing right after Bombur. The red-head slammed into a door, bouncing back off of it. Fili and Kili both slammed their bodies at full force, trying to take the door down.

Behind her, she could see Gandalf ushering the Company through the doorway that had no attached door. If the dwarves could not get the door Fili and Kili were at to open, they would be sitting ducks for the roaring beast. More dwarves moved to help Fili and Kili, shoving their bodies and their weapons against the door to force it open.

Suddenly, Thorin burst through the Company, leaping and reaching to unlatch the great doors. The Company all fell into the house, Gandalf behind them. Belle found herself shoved off to the side, one of Bombur’s packs falling on top of her as the Company all rushed to slam the door behind them.

The beast roared, its large body crashing against the doors as the Company held them almost closed. Gandalf and Thorin called out orders as Belle jumped back to her feet, moving to help shove with all her might. The beast’s snoot was partly visible between the door and the frame, as it snapped its mighty jaws and growled.

With a final push from Mr.Dwalin and the others, they shut the door and brought down the beam to hold it closed. Beside her, Belle found her cousin with his weapon drawn and hands shaking. Behind him, Gandalf stood, a peculiar expression on his weathered face. Gandalf almost looked…amused. Belle shook her head. This adventure was too confusing at times.

Ori turned to Gandalf, “What is that?”

“That is our host.”, he started before turning to address the whole company, “His name is Beorn. He’s a skin-changer. Sometimes he’s a huge black bear, sometimes a great, strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. However,” he cautioned, “he is not overfond of dwarves.”

Thorin and Gandalf exchanged a look, before Thorin ordered for everyone to get some rest and to take a meal if they had one to eat. No fires were to be lit, no furniture used- or damaged. Belle found herself amazed as she looked about.

The chairs were far too tall, even for someone of Gandalf’s height, and the table matched the chairs. Everything was so large. If this Beorn moved about as a man when he was not a giant bear, Belle was not sure he would be any less frightening in that shape. Anyone tall enough to easily use the large chairs would be intimidating even before learning they were a skin changer.

Despite her amazement at the craftsmanship of the furniture, Belle knew she needed to stop gawking and make her bed. Nori grouched beside Belle as he pulled out his bedroll. Gloin and Ori appeared to pay him no mind as Nori groused and gossiped.

“It’s not natural. It’s witchcraft!”

Thorin hushed the other dwarf with a harsh look. Nori, Ori, and Gloin moved, setting up their bedrolls closer to the fire, further away from Thorin, Kili, and Fili. As everyone else was eating some jerky or such from their packs, laying out their bedrolls, or generally preparing to take their rest, Belle still felt too jittery from the running, then almost getting eaten by their host. She decided to stroll around the house a little until the shaking wore off.

Bilbo caught her eye and she gave him a smile and a nod, trying to keep him from worrying too much. Fili also shot her a concerned look, but she gave him the same response she had her cousin. With Bilbo, Bofur, Balin, and Fili, there was no way Belle needed another mother-hen. The job was already much over-filled.

All around her, she saw expert workmanship. Carvings in bedposts, above the mantle, and all around the little stables for Beorn’s animals. Some were very large, bigger than any similar creatures Belle had seen back home – while others were very small. Above her, bees the size of tea pots, buzzed and wove in the air. There were goats large enough to ride the way men rode full sized horses. It was beautiful.

“You wander freely in this skin-changer’s home.”

Belle jumped, clasping a hand over her chest.

“Thorin.”, she managed.

His eyes darkened with concern.

“I did not mean to startle you.”

She offered a small smile, “It wouldn’t be hard right now.”

“Perhaps you…”, he trailed off, seemingly thinking better of what he had been about to say, Belle could guess.

“If you are done walking around, there is still a spot between Nori and my own bedrolls. Your cousin took up a spot by my nephews.”

Looking over, she saw Bilbo already settling into his blankets, on a nest of hay, Fili resting between Bilbo and Kili. The three of them looked rather comfortable.

She nodded, “Thank you.”

Belle walked over and pulled her bedroll out, unrolling it between Thorin’s bedroll and a carved wooden pillar, with Nori on the other side. The carpentry was delicate, and beautiful, unlike anything she had seen in the Shire. It reminded her a little of some of the work she had seen in Rivendell. The intricate overlapping lines and figures appeared to each be made with a single cut.

“You seem to admire the work of our host.”

She nodded as she pulled her blanket flat over her bedroll, her eyes never leaving the intricate weave of patterns in the wooden beams.

“He’s a fine hand.”

Thorin merely grunted. Belle smirked a little. Even someone as generally disdainful as Thorin was towards non-dwarves, had to recognize the craftsmanship all about him. Blacksmithing and carpentry might be two very different mediums, though both were still the work of craftsmen who spent years honing their skills. Thorin surely recognized the level of artistry and the hard work it took to attain it.

As Belle lay in her bed, her blankets pulled to her hips, she watched the bees overhead. Their hum appeared to bother some of the Company, though Belle found it soothing. It reminded her a little of the wind in the cedars back home. If she could hear the water lapping at the shoreline and the occasional hooting of an owl, she would think herself still at home.

Beside her, Thorin’s eyes were still wide awake and focused on the ceiling. Belle wondered what their Company’s leader was thinking of. He seemed a little calmer than he had been of late.

“Do you often stare when you cannot sleep?”

After weeks on the road together, she could hear the slight teasing in his tone.

“Just surprised you’re still awake.”

“Why?”

“You’re always the first up and the last to sleep. It has to catch up to you eventually.”

He smiled, though he did not answer. Belle let out a long breath, still smiling.

“What was Erabore like?”

Thorin turned, the question catching him offguard. At this point, he should have been better prepared for the wild turns of their young Burglar’s Assistant’s mind. He swore the hobbitess never stopped thinking. Her mind must have whirled with all her thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

She looked away for a moment, searching for the right words.

“When I heard stories of it, as a child, I always pictured squarely cut walls and pillars, with golden inlays, artwork everywhere the eye could see, and just… that it would be warm, from all the forges going and that between the glittering details on the walls, and the torches, there would hardly be a dark corner to find in all of the city.”

“Is that how you pictured it?”

“I had seen a few dwarves and some of their art, swords, armour, and even a tapestry once. I imagined that Erabore’s walls, ceilings, columns, and such would be no less beautiful than those things were. It was the seat of the King and had to reflect that.”

There was an awe to her voice that warmed Thorin to hear it. Fili and Kili did not remember Erabore, having been born to Dis and her departed husband, in the years following their exile. They had grown up on the stories told with longing and anger mixed with grief and hope. To them, it was an ancestral home abandoned before their time. For Belle, it sounded like something from a fairystory told to a child about a kingdom that never really existed.

“You are right in some part. It was hard to find a dark place in Erabore, or a cold one, due to the forges and lamps. It was designed to make the most of every bit of light, even that produced by the forges.”

Belle smiled over at him, now turned on her side to face him. Thorin sat propped up a bit by the hay beneath their bedrolls, meaning that Belle almost appeared to be snuggling in close to his elbow. Orcrist was tucked against his opposite side, right under his right hand if a threat came.

“The constant burn of the forges left every part of Erabore feeling as a rock under the summer sun. Only in the deepest mining holes or nearer to the entrance of the main hall, would you find much chill in Erabore. Gold details outlined nearly every pillar, statue, walkway, wall, and stair. It gave all of the Kingdom a shimmer.”

While he could see that Belle’s eyelids were drooping, she still fought to stay awake, a small, dreamy smile on her pink lips.

“In summer evenings, a breeze could be felt through most any part of the Great Hall and surrounding chambers. It was the cool wind coming down out of the mountains and from over the Anduin. In autumn, my grandfather would order curtains to be drawn across many of the observatory balconies, helping keep out the chill at night and stopping us from losing the warmth. As children, Dis and I would sneak out of our beds and go sit outside the curtains to watch the distant lights from Dale as the humans held festivals and wedding celebrations that lasted well into the night.”

Turning, he found Belle looking at his left hand. She seemed curious, though when Thorin stopped speaking, Belle looked from his hand to his face.

“I wasn’t asleep, I promise.”

“I know.”

“What else did you and Dis do? With so much space to explore and a sister to do so with, Erabore must have been quite a fun place to spend your childhood.”

“We pretended to fight armies of goblins. Dis would shoot them with a pretend bow and arrows, I would swing a stick that was supposed to be a sword. We also had our regular lessons. Dis liked history and dancing lessons, I preferred geography and the harp.”

“The harp?”

He nodded. Even among dwarvenkind, hearing his choice of instrument always seemed to surprise.

“Yes.”, he said before looking back down into her green eyes, “What do you play?”

Belle let out a quiet snort.

“Nothing.”

Somehow, that did not surprise Thorin as much as it probably should have. An educated woman with a clear set of brains in her head, yet she was not musical. He wondered if hobbits did not push their women folk into music, as much as Dwarven kind did. From what he knew, Elves encouraged all among them to play and sing.

“Bilbo and some our Took cousins, play lots of instruments.”, she said before readjusting slightly in her bedroll to curl an arm under her head like a pillow, “When Bilbo was learning to play the pipes, I would sing along.”

Thorin smiled, imagining what her singing voice must have sounded like.

“My mum didn’t have the patience to teach me and my aunt had her hands full with Bilbo’s studies, yet no one could stop me from singing when music played. Sometimes even when it doesn’t.”

He felt her warmth seeping into his side as her eyelids grew heavy enough to close and stay closed.

“Do you sing?”, she asked so quietly that Thorin almost did not hear her.

“Some. Mostly to Fili and Kili when they were babes.”

“I bet it was lovely.”, she mumbled.

Thorin smiled, then reached to tug the blanket more securely over Belle’s arms and shoulder. He noticed a small twig in Belle’s dark, wavy hair. Carefully, he plucked it from her tresses.

“I liked hearing you all sing at Bag End, even if it was a mournful tune.”

“Perhaps, when Erabore is reclaimed, we shall have to sing a great feasting song.”

She smiled, despite the weariness in her features.

“That would be wonderful.”

Thorin smiled as he watched the hobbitess attempting to fight the sleep in her eyes.

“Sleep, Belle. It is safe and warm, enjoy it.”

Her sleepy smile widened slightly as she turned back to again face, Thorin, her eyes still closed.

“Goodnight, Thorin. Pleasant dreams.”

A light snore came almost instantly after the last word. Settling in, Thorin got comfortable under his blanket, on his thin bedroll.

“Pleasant dreams, Burglar.”

Sleep soon found Thorin, however, it did not bring the pleasant dreams he had been wished. Thorin did not expect pleasant dreams anymore. Either he had nightmares or the blackness of exhaustion.

Thorin looked, finding himself in yet another tavern. It had been a long journey and he wished a hot meal that had not been fixed over a campfire and a drink that did not come out of a waterskin. He quickly found a seat and had his order taken by a barmaid. In such a place, he could enjoy his pipe for a while, near enough to the fire that the chill eased from his back.

All around him, eyes lingered too long. Faces turned in sneers. A few hands hovered near hilts and beneath cloaks.

“Ah, young Thorin!”

Turning towards the familiar voice, he found Gandalf. This meeting had occurred before, though Thorin remembered it a little differently from what he was seeing now. This time, Gandalf sat down, his pointy hat drawing more than a little attention, and lighting his own pipe.

“My boy! My boy! Let us discuss Erabore? You should take it back, you know? It’s very simple, really.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Indeed, it is. You need only shove out the dragon’s carcass and then dust the place for cobwebs. Simple. Then you’ll be King Under the Mountain, and once more the families of Erabore will return and live in the home of their ancestors. It is simple. It’s what your father, and your grandfather, wanted from you.”

“I need not live for their wishes, Gandalf.”

The Gray Wizard waved a hand dismissively.

“That is Balin speaking. Thrain and Thror would expect better of you, for you to rise to the occasion of bringing your people home, Thorin.”

“And if the dragon Smaug is not dead? Then what?”

“Then you slay him, and enjoy the spoils.”

“Slay him? Smaug? All of Erabore’s army and Girion’s black arrows could not put a dent in him, and you want me to slay him with miners, merchants, tinkers, and toy makers, who’ve lived all these years in the peace of the Blue Mountains? You’re mad.”

Gandalf waved him off again, happily smoking his pipe.

“You’ll have a pair of hobbits, as well.”

“Bilbo and Belle are quiet Shire folk. They know nothing of battle and slaying. I would keep it that way.”

“You are a coward then. A coward and a child. Your Grandfather and King ask only for your obedience, and instead you offer excuses!”

Gandalf shoved back from the table, his body growing tall, the Black Speech roaring from him as his anger erupted.

“FOOL!”, he cried, “Fool and coward!”

Thorin ran out of the tavern and found himself again in a fallen tree, facing down the Pale Orc, as all around him the trees burned and his Company scrambled for purchase in the lone tree that held them. He charged forward, Orcrist in hand, his oaken shield held aloft, ready for the death of his foe.

Instead, he was slammed, cast down. His body beaten, his weapon out of reach and shield gone, he had no protection. Azog stared down at him, his warg’s hot drool landing on Thorin’s neck.

Just as he was about to spit out a last insult, an oath of revenge, two blades came into view. They beat back the orcs and wargs, defending Thorin. Just as when it happened on that hillside, Thorin was shocked and in awe of the brave little hobbits.

His nephews and Mr.Dwalin came next, fighting back the orcs and their wargs, with Bilbo and Belle working to help Thorin to his feet. He felt as if his limbs were made of wet straw and heavy as lead weights. Bilbo could not hold him and the pair of them fell over as a warg charged. Belle stepped in the way, shielding her cousin and Thorin, the warg slamming into her.

Thorin cried out, struggling to reach her. Somehow, Belle stabbed the beast through the neck, killing it. Mr.Dwalin moved it off of her, tugging her to stand between Kili and Fili as the eagles swooped down.

Thorin was lifted, still awake this time, able to see as the eagles lifted all of the Company away to safety. It was mesmerizing. Such a sight he never expected to see. All the world seemed laid out below.

They were left at the rock with a view of Erabore’s Lonely Mountain in the far distance. This time, no thrush flew past them and Belle’s wounds were far worse than Thorin remembered. Balin and Mr.Dwaling tugged her away, meaning to stitch her back up. Bilbo’s face curled in anger as he glared at Thorin. It was his fault Belle was injured, that all of them had been in danger.

Again, Thorin could feel her smaller, softer hand grasping tightly to his own heavy, calloused hand. Her eyes were closed tightly, all her face pinched in pain, yet she apologized for squeezing Thorin’s hand so. It was, in ways, just as he remembered.

“You cannot hurt an old blacksmith’s hands.”

“Still.”, she said before hissing as Balin continued his work, “Sorry to keep you when you ought to be resting.”

When Thorin looked up, they were not in the woods. They were in Erabore. He could again smell dragon fire and hear the combined screams of man and dwarf kind, as all around him the world burned and the dragon flew, laughing as it wrought such destruction. Thorin screamed for his kin.

“FILI! KILI! DIS! WHERE ARE YOU?”

He looked, realizing he was on the parapet, his back to the thronechair. Below, his Company stood ready to meet their enemy. Smaug.

The dwarves all stood in polished armour that gleamed in the firelight. Surrounding them, the grass, debris, and bridges burned. Smaug turned, laughing again as he changed direction.

“MEET YOUR DEATH!”, called the worm as he dove for the Company.

Thorin screamed, calling his men to return. To hide. Fili was the first to fall, then Bombur and Gloin. Kili moved to his brother’s side as Dwalin attempted to protect him. To their side, Bilbo tucked closer to Balin and Oin. Belle pulled her dagger, brandishing at as she dashed ahead of the line.

“NO!”, Thorin screamed, “No! Run! Away from Smaug, all of you away! PLEASE! RUN!”

Just as the fire drake breathed his rage out, about to consume the whole Company, Thorin shot forward. His breath came in panted gasps as his heart galloped in his chest.

“Thorin?”

He knew that voice. Belle!

Spinning quickly, he reached, grabbing her by the lapels of her vest. Her eyes were concerned, her hair in disarray, though she was not burned. She was unharmed. Safe.

“Thorin, it’s alright. It was just a dream.”

He felt her warm hand on the back of his own, her voice quiet yet firm.

“Thorin, we are in Beorn’s home and you had a bad dream. We are safe. Everyone is here. We’re safe.”

Finally, he could begin to breathe with lungs burning, starved of air but not charred by dragon fire. Thorin slumped back into his bedroll. He could feel the sweat that stuck his clothes to his skin and his hair to his nape, cheeks, and forehead.

“Are you well?”

“Well enough. I am sorry to have disturbed your sleep.”

Belle shrugged.

“Do you wish to talk about it?”

Thorin shook his head.

“Alright.”

Belle moved, laying on her back. After a moment of still silence, Thorin felt her warm hand wrap gently around the back of Thorin’s hand.

“Go back to sleep. We’ve hours left before the sun will call us.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to find more sleep.”

She looked over at him, offering a tired smile. Thorin felt bad to have woken her, and now to worry her.

“Would a little time with your pipe help? I know some of the old Toby does wonders for Bilbo when sleep eludes him.”

“No. I am comfortable here, just my mind is restless.”

Thorin breathed slowly. In, and out. In, and out. His mind did not rest nor slow, his thoughts terrible and racing.

Then, a hum. A soft voice, lower than he might have guessed, though no less lovely. Turning, he found Belle’s eyes were closed as she hummed gently into the night.

“Home is behind, the world ahead. And there are many paths to tread. Through shadow, to the edge of night. Until the stars are all alight. Mist and shadow. Cloud and shade. All shall fade. All shall fade.”

She smiled into the darkness, the house lit only by a low fire on the other side of the room.

“My father used to sing that to me when I was wakeful in the wee small hours.”

“Did it help?”

“Usually.”

She hummed a bit more, at least twice going over the full song before he heard her repeat the haunting words. Slowly, Thorin felt the song tugging him along to slumber. Between the warmth of the house and that of Belle’s song, he was powerless to resist the call of sleep.

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Belle woke to the sound of chopping. Opening one eye, she found the bedroll beside her gone as well as it’s occupant, on the other side of the pillar Nori’s roll lay empty. As she sat up, Belle caught sight of her fellow travelers. They were all gathered around Gandalf, who was talking.

Belle sighed. It was time to get up and be on their way. She listened to Gandalf as she began rolling up her blanket and bed.

“We will need to speak to our host.”

Nori muttered something Belle did not quite catch before Mr.Dwalin snatched the shorter dwarf up.

“I’m not runnin’ from anyone, beast or man.”

Growling loudly, Gandalf struck down the conversation.

“There is no point in arguing. We cannot pass through the wilderland without Beorn’s help! We’ll be hunted down before we even get to the forest.”, he paused as he looked over the Company, stopping at Bilbo, “Ah, Bilbo, there you are.”

Gandalf moved with his staff, passed the Dwarves.

“Now this will require some delicate handling. We must tread very carefully. The last person who startled him was torn to shreds.”

Everyone in the Company, peered around at each other uneasily. Just outside, the chopping sound continued. Belle let out a slow, shaky breath.

“I will go first.”, offered Gandalf before a long finger aimed at Bilbo, “Bilbo, you’ll come with me.”

Her cousin looked between Kili and Thorin, as if hoping one of them would save him. Belle almost rolled her eyes. Kili would not go against Gandalf, and Thorin seemed to have agreed with the wizard, inclining his head to indicate Bilbo ought to follow Gandalf out.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Yes,” answered Gandalf, “now the rest of you just wait here and don’t come out until I give the signal.”

Bofur agreed from his perch near the window, most of the others nodding as well.

“Only come out in pairs.”, cautioned Gandalf before his gaze landed on a carrot-chewing Bombur, “Actually Bombur, you count as two- so you should come out alone.”

With that, Bilbo followed Gandalf out. Bofur turned to Belle, his brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?”

“He said ‘wait for the signal’ but… what’s the signal?”

Belle shrugged, unable to figure. Deciding she wanted to see their host, she climbed up beside Bofur. He moved aside a bit to let her have a better look.

Their host, currently chopping wood some ways from his own front door, was as large as she expected from the furniture inside. His hair stood tall on his head with a mane-like bit extending down his neck to follow his spine almost to the small of his back. Broad shoulders worked as he raised an intimidatingly large axe into the air and cleaved a massive chunk of wood in half.

“That’s Beorn.”, she whispered.

“Aye, lass. I think it is.”

Belle could not much hear what passed between Gandalf and Beorn, though she could tell from Gandalf’s posture that he was nervous. Bilbo was scared, half-hiding behind Gandalf like a child behind his mother’s skirts. She couldn’t blame her cousin.

As Gandalf gestured to Bilbo, their host appeared to calm a bit. Then, Gandalf waved his arms around above his head. Beside her, Bofur gestured to the Company.

“The signal! Go! Go!”

Belle turned, trying to wave them off. She did not think that was Gandalf’s signal, rather the wizard being emphatic about something. The dwarves did not heed her hissed warning.

Mr.Dwalin and Balin stepped out first. Belle was torn. Balin, she was sure, would be gracious and quiet enough not to upset even the most dwarf-averse fellow. He was a statesman and kind. Mr.Dwalin did not inspire the same confidence in smoothing things over with their host, and he took offense easily.

Belle clutched Bofur’s elbow as they watched Beorn brandish his mighty axe for a moment, his dark eyes trailing Balin and Mr.Dwalin. He and Gandalf continued to talk, until Oin and Gloin stepped out, a bit less confidently than Mr.Dwalin and Balin had.

“Somebody’s going to lose a limb.”, Belle muttered as she stared right at the axe.

Bofur gestured, Dori shoving his baby brother out ahead of him. Beorn’s eyes narrowed at Ori and Dori. Belle found herself holding her breath as she watched Beorn’s reaction.

Bofur again gestured, this time sending Fili and Kili out. They both walked so much the way Thorin and Mr.Dwalin did. It worried Belle how their host would perceive such bold, proud grace.

Craning her neck, Belle tried to look at Gandalf’s face. He appeared to be smiling, though something was off. His movements were too tight, his smile not quite natural.

Bofur shoved his brothers along. Behind them, Belle whispered a reminder.

“Gandalf said for Bombur to go alone!”

Bofur walked out first, Bombur pushing Bifur along behind Bofur.

“We’re all going to die.”, Belle despaired as she put her face in her hand.

“I thought you were the one who had the most faith in this quest?”

Looking up at Thorin, Belle shook her head.

“Up until this moment, I did. I don’t think Gandalf was ready for us to come out when we started out.”

Reaching a hand to Belle, Thorin offered a hint of a smile.

“Come.”

Belle took the offered hand and let him help her from where she had been perched in the window.

“I’ll go out, you come behind me. If anything goes wrong, run for the ponies out back. They can probably outrun Beorn in either of his forms.”

“Thanks.”, she said sarcastically.

At last, Thorin stepped out and look up to their host. Belle waited, making sure Gandalf had enough time to introduce their leader. Beorn growled out something in response before Bombur turned to look back inside at Belle, gesturing for her to join them. She didn’t dally and stepped out past Thorin, onto the stairs with Bifor and Bofur.

“Ah, and the last of our Company, Belle Took.”

“She does not look like a dwarf-woman. She has no beard.”

“Well, you are quite right. She is not a dwarf-woman. She is another hobbit, cousin to our good Bilbo here, on his mother’s side.”

“Another halfling?”

“Yes.”

“All of you were here last night?”

“We were. While out in the hills, we encountered your other-self. This was the first place we could find to take refuge.”

Beorn appeared to consider for a moment before setting his axe aside.

“I don’t like dwarves.”

Sighing, Gandalf answered, “I am aware, and if it had not been desperate, I would not have intruded on your hospitality.”

Beorn moved to reach for a shirt to his right.

“I will prepare breakfast. Once you have eaten, you can leave.”

Belle let out a slow breath. Bofur turned to her with a smile. The man was unsinkable.

“Ah well, survived that then.”

She chuckled, despite herself. Bofur beamed.

“Come lass, let’s get back in. Breakfast is waiting!”

~*~*~*~   ~*~*~*~*~*~   ~*~*~*~

There were not quite enough ponies to go around and Fili offered to let Belle ride with him. She needn’t be asked twice. Kili gave her a boost to get on the pony, behind Fili, before hopping onto his own borrowed steed.

As she sat, she thought of the nice breakfast in Beorn’s home. He kept goat’s milk in a root cellar, allowing it to be cool against all the hot tea and food. When he had said he would need a hand in getting the food, Belle and Bilbo offered to help.

Belle got a little distracted on the way back up, stopping to pet one of the goats. When Beorn turned, his large form looming, she had been a little starled.

“Sorry. She looked a little sad. I thought I’d pet her. I apologize, should have asked first.”

He shook his head.

“They are all friendly and will not bite.”

He gestured with his chin towards the gray and white goat, “She has been feeling poorly for a few days. I think she dislikes the orcs and wargs roaming near.”

Belle turned, rubbing the goat behind her ear.

“It’s alright, sweetpea. Mr.Beorn won’t let anything happen to you, so you don’t need to be afraid. Alright?”

The goat leaned it’s great head against Belle’s shoulder, making her laugh.

“Ah well, I guess you understand.”

“She likes you.”

“Well, I like her too. She’s a sweetie.”

“Do all hobbits like goats?”, inquired Beorn.

She had shrugged, “I suppose most do. We keep them, and sheep, in the Shire. My parents kept a few goats and used to have them pull my father’s cart to the market and back when the strawberries came in and later, when the apples were picked.”

“Hmm.”, he said by way of an answer.

It had seemed as if she should be more frightened of the large skin-changer, yet she was not. Even before he shared his history with Azog, Belle had sensed a deep sadness in Beorn. Not unlike that she sensed from Thorin, and sometimes from Gandalf when he sat alone, believing no one was paying him any mind.

Looking about the Company, Belle took note of how everyone seemed a little ill at ease. They knew they were being hunted and the only way to get where they were going, would take them through the old Greenwood. Elvish territory. Belle was looking forward to it, as was Bilbo, though it seemed the rest of the Company did not share their excitement.

Belle tried to listen to Gandalf and Beorn’s conversation, even as echoes of this morning’s conversation at the breakfast table still bounced in her head. Hearing how the Pale Orc had slain, enslaved, and tortured the skin changers, including Beorn, had broken her heart. Beorn was rough and scary, yet he was also gentle and kind. None of his animals feared him. Not even the pests. Belle had found a new reason to loathe Azog.

Beorn gestured for Gandalf to leave as they heard a great bird cry overhead. Belle very much doubted it was the eagles returning to lend their aid again. Thorin held out the reigns for Gandalf’s horse and the gray wizard mounted the black horse.

“Come. We must ride. We are being hunted!”, called Gandalf.

They rode hard for Mirkwood. Belle held tightly to Fili, closing her eyes against the rushing of the wind blowing the blond dwarf’s hair into her face.

“Keep your courage, Belle. We’re halfway there.”

Somehow, she did not quite believe him. The ponies’ feet pounded into the earth, carrying their Company to the edge of the Mirkwood. Belle tried to recall stories she had heard and read about the Elven kingdom. Beorn had warned the elves there were not like their kin in Rivendell or Lothlorien, that they were less wise and more dangerous.

Belle wondered what made him think them more dangerous. From the legends she had heard, the Elves were among the greatest of warriors, when the need arose. Centuries of practice had led to perfection with their weapons, skills honed to be neigh unbeatable.

Gandalf and Beorn had spoken quietly to themselves, away from the Company. Their worried looks and long silences did not inspire confidence. For the first time since joining the Company, Belle found herself truly questioning having stepped out her door to begin this adventure.

Instead of focusing on such dark turns, Belle remembered the better times. Rivendell, listening to Bofur singing as the Elves looked on in confusion. Campfires with Fili and Kili teasing between them, sometimes letting Belle and Bilbo in on it. Balin and Bofur telling stories of the Blue Mountains. Last night, listening to Thorin telling her about growing up in Erabore, before Smaug.

Belle felt the pony slowing. Risking it, she opened her eyes and moved to try to look over Fili’s shoulder. Mirkwood was close enough that she could have read a sign if one hung from the trees.

“Almost there.”

She nodded to Fili. The Company drew close and most began to dismount. Nori groused about letting the ponies go as Fili offered Belle his arm to help her down from the pony.

“We will let them return to their master!”, pronounced Gandalf in a tone that brooked no rebuttal.

Kili handed Belle her pack with all her gear inside as Fili slipped off his pony. He ruffled the black and white beauty’s ears, smiling.

“Thank you for bearing us to our destination.”

She made what sounded like a happy noise, before turning to join her fellows, galloping back for Beorn’s home. Belle smiled a little. It was good to know these ponies were safe. She still worried for the ponies that had brought the Company almost as far as Rivendell.

“This forest feels… sick.”

Turning, Belle looked at Mirkwood. Her cousin was right. The forest did feel sickly, worn thin, like an old man after a long, cold winter spent in the sick bed. She could hear no birdsong, see no little creatures scurrying in the underbrush, and the air from the forest felt too cold for such a warm day.

“Is there no way around?”, queried Bilbo?

“Not unless we go 200 miles North, or twice that distance South.”

While the Company all stowed their gear on their backs and hips, checked weapons, and nervously peered back towards Beorn’s home, Gandalf drew inward, his movements cautious and his eyes fixed on something within the forest. Belle and Bilbo exchanged a look. Her cousin appeared as unsettled as she felt.

Turning from her cousin with his distracted expression, Belle followed Gandalf into the trees. He seemed intent on a figure mostly hidden under a vine. Following closely behind, Belle watched around her for any sign of danger.

“Under the High Fells.”, whispered Gandalf as her pulled back a chunk of the vine, revealing more of the statue beneath. Belle couldn’t see the figure through Gandalf and his gray robes, though she had spotted the face. It was a beautiful elvish woman, she thought, with a crown of sorts on her forehead.

“Gandalf?”

He started, turning quickly with his staff raised as if ready to defend himself. Upon seeing Belle, he let out a breath and lowered the staff.

“Sorry, my dear.”

“Do you know who she is?”, Belle asked, her curiosity over it winning out over her worry about Gandalf whispering to himself.

Gandalf calmed a bit, his eyes looking almost… sad.

“This is the likeness of the late Elven Queen of the Woodland Realm, bride and co-regent of King Thranduil.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died, a long, long time ago, fighting to save Middle Earth.”

“The War against Sauron of Mordor?”

He nodded. Belle knew how long ago that was, yet it seemed the pain of it was still fresh to Gandalf. Not for the first time, Belle wondered what it was like for beings such as Gandalf and the Elves, who lived such long lives, watching the world change around them while they remained almost entirely untouched.

“Come, we must ready for the journey.”, he said as he laid a large hand on her shoulder, his voice going lower, “The Company will need you and Bilbo, more than ever, young Took.”

“Why?”

Gandalf did not answer her. Instead, he led her back out to where the Company waited.

“Not my horse- I need it!”

He stepped out ahead of Belle as the Company all turned to Gandalf, panicked.

“You’re not leaving us?”

Gandalf looked up to Bilbo, “I would not do this unless I had to.”

Looking up, Belle caught Thorin’s expression. He was angry and shocked. No doubt, he perceived this as some sort of abandonment and betrayal. The King Under the Mountain was so quick to believe the worst, to believe his friends would abandon him.

“You’ve changed, Bilbo Baggins. You are not the same hobbit who left the Shire.”

“I was going to tell you… I… I uh… found something in the Goblin tunnels.”

“Found what?”

For a moment, Bilbo did not answer. He wanted to tell Gandalf what he had found, the magic ring and the odd creature in the dark. Something warred within him, against the desire to be honest with an old family friend.

“My courage.”, he offered instead.

“Good.”, offered Gandalf in a deep groan like old wood in a storm, “That’s good.”

He smiled up at the great wizard. Behind Gandalf, Belle looked at him with her brows furrowed in question. Belle knew Bilbo had not said what he first meant to say.

“You’ll need it.”, Gandalf added before walking off.

“This is not the Greenwood of old. There is a stream in the woods that carries a dark enchantment. Do not touch the water. Cross only at the strong bridge. Even the air of the forest is heavy with illusion, it will seek to enter your mind, and lead you astray. You must stay on the path. Do not leave the path! If you do,” he said before turning to the Company as rain began soaking their clothes, “you will never find it again.”

Bilbo looked to his cousin. Belle shrugged, though her spirits did not appear as dampened as those of their Dwarvish companions.

“I will meet you at the overlook!”, he called before almost leaping onto his horse.

As he galloped off, Belle looked over to Bofur and Fili.

“I wonder how Beorn will react to his black horse not coming back?”

Fili scoffed out an almost-laugh. Bofur’s eyes went wide at Belle’s question.

“All I know, is I don’t want to be there when it happens, lass. Now come along. Long way to go before the sun sets. Come along. Come along.”

Bilbo watched Bofur shewing Bifor, Belle, and Bomber along.  As he turned, he watched Thorin. Their Company’s leader was watching Gandalf ride off as everyone else headed into Mirkwood.

“What do you think he’s off to?”, Bilbo ventured to ask.

“Whatever it is, he thought it was more important than our quest.”

“Maybe it was just more pressing. And you heard him, if we stay on the path, we’ll be safe to get across without him.”

Thorin turned, his eyes bright with anger. Bilbo stepped back as if those eyes might burn and send out fire like a dragon’s breath.

“We will not be safe until we are out of Elven territory.”, growled Thorin.

Sighing, Bilbo followed the Dwarf. Belle was right, Thorin’s anger was going to bring him ruin someday.

*^*^*^*   *^*^*^*^*^*   *^*^*^*

They had walked for a while, though Bilbo was unsure how long, without any real idea of where the sun sat in the sky. At last, Bofur spotted the bridge up aways ahead. Bilbo was glad of it. They would cross the water, and perhaps soon be on the other side of the wood.

Usually, he was fond of trees and even a walk within the woods. This Mirkwood was different. The very air felt as if it sought to strangle him, heavy and damp, with a sickly feeling Bilbo could not shake. He wondered what had been so important that Gandalf would allow them to face this without him. Part of Bilbo figured anything scarier than this, was something he was glad he was not asked to contend with.

Upon reaching the bridge, the Company had a new problem. It broken. Almost as if someone larger than Beorn, had walked right through the middle.

From where he leaned on his war hammer, Bofur let out a long sigh, “We could try’n swim it?”

“Didn’t you hear what Gandalf said?”, asked Thorin in a biting tone, “A dark magic lies upon this forest. The waters of this stream are enchanted.”

Bofur looked over at Belle.

“Doesn’t look very enchanting to me.”

She gave a light chuckle, despite the darkness clinging to them in the wood. Bilbo smiled over at his cousin. Nothing dimmed her spirits.

Kili moved up, grasping on some of the vines. Bilbo found himself staring at the dark pool below, entranced. There was definitely something… wrong… Something wrong about the water, the woods, the air, all of it.

“Kili!”

Thorin’s bark pulled him from his thoughts.

“We send the lightest first.”

Bilbo realized Thorin’s meaning. He wanted Bilbo to cross. Belle stepped up behind Kili.

“Here, pull the vine. I can’t reach.”

“Bilbo is our burglar.”, growled Thorin.

Belle cast a pointed look back at Thorin, even as Bilbo started to move to replace her.

“You said the lightest, I’m the lightest.”

“Belle, you’re taller than I am, I’m sure I’m lighter, being smaller.”

She did not even look at Bilbo.

“I’m going across. Bilbo can come after me. If everything holds each of our weights, you can start sending your big dwarven company across, Oakenshield.”

Kili, looking a little uncomfortable, passed Belle the vine he had been tugging at. She inclined her head to offer a tight smile.

“Thank you.”

Once she had started across, Kili pulled another vine, handing it out to Bilbo. Behind them, most of the Company watched eagerly. Thorin glared. When they were safely across, Bilbo was sure he, Fili, Kili, and Bofur would need to stay between Belle and Thorin. For everyone’s sakes.

The vines worked more like railings on a stair, while he and Belle made their ways across, walking on thick limbs and heavier vines. Everything seemed to sway as they touched it, more so when they stepped upon it. Bilbo hated it. All of it.

Beside him, on the next limb over, Belle had to hop to get further along. Bilbo was on a branch of some sort, his arm above him to hold a thinner branch for balance. The whole thing swayed, making it hard to keep upright, though he had seen the dwarves navigate thinner footholds in the mountain pass, before they fell into the Goblin trap. He was sure they could walk on these thick branches and vines.

“It’s alright, can’t see any problem”, he slipped, his hobbit feet failing to find purchase as he slammed.

Luckily, he wrapped his legs around a thicker branch, stopping him from falling face-first into the enchanted stream.

“BILBO!”, he heard Bofur and Belle shouting, then Fili and Kili.

He felt something tugging at his shoulder. Turning, he saw that Belle was leaning, a vine wrapped around her forearm to help hold her in place, as she tugged on Bilbo’s jacket. He took the help to get himself righted on the branches.

Panting, he looked up at Belle. Her eyes were wide and her grip on the vine tight. For the first time, Bilbo took in the changes since they left the Shire. Like his own clothes, her were a bit worn and torn from the time on the road. Her vest was missing a button where two full rows should have held it tightly to her, the edge of her left pant leg had a tear in it, both knees were threadbare, and her own lighter jacket was coming apart at the top of her left shoulder. She was also a little thin, like himself, and her hair was longer than it had been since they were children.

“You alright?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

She gave a nod.

“Alright, let’s get across.”

He nodded. Moving back to the task at hand, Bilbo grasped another vine and went back to the crossing. Carefully, they made their way across.

Bilbo almost fell when he got the land on the other side, his head nearly colliding with a tree. Beside him, Belle hopped from her branch, tumbling down beside Bilbo. She was normally more graceful than that.

A thought occurred to Bilbo. He was not an overly clumsy fellow. Belle was climbing trees and scaling walls of gardens, since she was knee high to a goat. It was this Mirkwood.

He looked at the water, lapping the edge of the land just inches from Bilbo’s right foot. Then he noticed it. A mist, coming from the water. A mist he had breathed quite a lot of on the crossing.

“Something’s… something is not right… about this place.”

He turned, holding up his hand as he shouted to the others, “STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!”

“Bilbo.”

Turning, he looked at his cousin. She looked worn out, almost as if she had drank a sedative.

“Look.”

Following where her finger pointed, Bilbo could see the whole Company scrambling with the vines, to join he and Belle.

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

Once everyone had come across, they had to stop. Bombur had fallen asleep in the crossing and had yet to waken, despite repeated shoves, shaking, and calling his name. Bofur even tried waving a carrot under Bombur’s nose, to no avail. Belle, Fili, and Dwalin had quickly put together a litter for everyone to use to get Bombur around. Bilbo had a bad feeling about the rest of their trek through Mirkwood.

~*~*~*~   ~*~*~*~   ~*~*~*~

They needed the sun. Bilbo was sure of it. Beside him, Belle leaned heavily against a tree trunk.

Bofur moved around, confused, bumping into Fili and Nori. Before long, Bilbo could see each member of the Company, arguing with another. Except Thorin. He was moving, his back to the group, staring high into the trees.

“We are being watched.”, he hissed.

No one heard him except Belle and Bilbo.

“We need… we need the sun.”

Belle nodded to her cousin.

“And air.”

She looked almost as if she were panting. Bilbo felt his worry notch up another few levels.

“Are you alright?”

She shook her head.

“Climb up, Bilbo. Get our bearings.”, she panted, slumping against the tree, “I don’t think I’m in any shape…for the job.”

She looked to be nodding off. Bilbo reached, shaking her awake.

“I’ll be right back. I promise.”

Belle gave a nod. With one last look at the quarreling Company, Bilbo turned back to the tree. It was taller than any tree he had ever climbed. Taller than any tree he had ever seen, even back where the Eagles came to their rescue weeks ago.

With a hop, he started his ascent. He did not dare look down or think too much. He kept his mind to the task. Climb. Climb higher.

He climbed for what felt like hours, maybe a day even. It felt as if he might never reach the top. Until he did. The leaves were finally just out of reach, tantalizing him with the light shining through them.

Breeching the cover, Bilbo gasped in the fresh air. His lungs burned with it. After a few breaths, he felt his head clearing, his thoughts becoming less muddled, and more logical.

Looking around, he attempted to get his bearings as Belle said. The canopy looked like a sea of pinks, reds, oranges, yellows, and gold. A light breeze shuffled the leaves, the sound a gentle rustle to Bilbo’s ears. It was beautiful. Even the golden, too-bright sun as it was setting, was more beautiful than any sunset Bilbo could recall seeing.

Then, he heard it. Something moving in the trees. Too large to be another member of the Company, and too quick to be Gandalf or Beorn.

Bilbo ducked, back under the tree cover. He needed to see. Perhaps it was an elf or two, scouts, come to see what all the noise was. Their Company had hardly been stealthy.

Instead, Bilbo was greeted with an awful sight. Spiders. Spiders as large as carts drawn by the men of Bree.

He had meant to move carefully, yet his feet became tangled in something sticky. He tumbled, falling through branches and more of the sticky substance, before landing flat on his back, in a pool of the sticky substance. Too late, he realized what it was. Spider’s silk. A web.

Above him, a giant spider appeared, its giant maw opening to reveal terrible teeth. Bilbo tried to move, to crawl away, but he was stuck. The spider stabbed him with it’s fang and in an instant, the world went black.

~^~^~^~   ~^~^~^~   ~^~^~^~

Bilbo came to in a most dreadful state. His limbs tingled as he was wrapped in what he guessed was more spider’s silk, being dragged among the trees. Around him, he could see others bundled like flies in small webs back home. He knew enough of the small spiders from the Shire, to guess where he was. A nest.

As the spider hovered over him, Bilbo took two slow breaths, gathering his courage and his nerve. With a flick of his arm, he impaled the spider above him. It shrieked, then jerked, then fell.

Quickly, Bilbo moved to unwrap himself and tuck into a small spot between two branches, hoping to hide. All around him, the Company were bundled up. He could hardly tell one from another. One of them, he was sure, had Belle. He could not leave her here, nor any of the Company.

An idea came to him. The creature Gollum, those terrible goblins, and even the dwarves had been unable to see Bilbo when he wore the ring he found. He reached, hoping against hope that he had not lost it in the woods. His fingers found it, cool and smooth to the touch, tucked deeply into his vest pocket.

Carefully, he slipped it over his finger. The world around him shifted, the colour drained from it and sounds almost echoing as if he were in a cave. He heard a voice, raspy and cold.

“Kill them! Kill them now! Eat them now!”

“Ah, they are tough, but there’s juice inside.”

The spiders- they were TALKING! Planning, or disagreeing, about eating the whole Company. It seemed they had taken no notice at all of the one Bilbo had slain.

Bilbo searched, trying to form a plan of his own as his heart raced and his stomach churned. Then, he spotted it. A broken branch with a piece barely held onto the large branch he was standing on. Quickly, Bilbo grabbed for it, then gave it a hard toss. The broken bit hit several things as it fell, the noise drawing the spiders to it.

All but one. A last sentry remained, it’s hunger blinding it to danger as it rolled one of the Company around, practically drooling over the cocooned meal within. Bilbo’s skinned crawled.

With a quick step forward, Bilbo sliced into the back end of the spider. It spun, hissing and swiping in Bilbo’s direction. It was clear to him that it was blind to him.

Bilbo sliced and stabbed. Anything he could do to harm the creature and keep it away from the Company. The creature hissed out that it could not find him. Feeling a little smug, Bilbo removed the ring.

“Here!”, he boasted.

The spider dove for him and Bilbo thrust his dagger into it’s face. The beast hissed, limbs flailing.

“Sting! It stings!”

Bilbo barely was able to pull his dagger back before the spider fell, slamming into several branches on its way down. Looking at the blade in his hand, Bilbo had a thought.

“Good name.”, he leaned over to look at the dead spider below, “Thanks.”

Looking back up, he was reminded of why he was here. The Company, all still trapped. Moving swiftly, Bilbo began to task of cutting them all loose. Thankfully, he could use the spider webs to help him sort of bounce everyone down the tall, tall trees, to get to the ground. The webbing that trapped each member, did not cling to the webs as they fell, acting more like a sleigh on snow, than a stick, wet cloth.

He watched as they each finally landed in one spot, the cocoons wiggling enough for him to figure they were waking. Bilbo smiled. They were alive.

“I’m up here!”, cried Bilbo.

Below, Kili and Fili erupted from their cocoons and nearly rammed each other in their haste to escape. Turning, they found Belle, a chunk of webbing keeping her arms tuck to her sides.

“Here, we’ve got you!”

“Where’s Bilbo? I heard his voice? He must have freed us?”

Fili and Kili exchanged a look as they got Belle free.

“I heard him.”, Kili said, “But I can’t find him now.”

“RUN! RUN!”

They turned to see Bofur pointing behind them, even as he ran. Turning, they could see why. A heard of giant spiders were crawling their way, moving much faster than anyone in the Company could run in the tangled woods.

“RUN!”, echoed Fili as he shoved Kili and Belle.

Belle pulled her dagger, ready to use it if the need came, which it surely would. Then she tripped, her dagger falling out of her hand as she tumbled. She felt a strong hand and looked to see Thorin had her by the scruff, hauling her to her feet.

“Run, Belle!”

Thorin dragged her with him into a clearing, the Dwarves all chopping and slicing at Spiders who drew near enough. As they reached the clearing, Belle pulled the frying pan from her pack. It wasn’t a dagger or sword, but it hurt when she swung it.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by elves, one of which came riding down on the carcass of a spider he slew on the descent from the trees above. He aimed his arrow for Thorin’s face, blue eyes blazing in anger. Belle let her skillet fall loose at her side. She did not sign up to fight men, wizards, or elves. She was here to help reclaim a homeland from an evil dragon.

“Do not think I will not kill you, dwarf. It would be my pleasure.”

These elves were not like the few who had passed through the Shire in Belle’s childhood. Now, she thought, she understood what Beorn had meant about the Mirkwood elves. Especially when the leader of the party of elves, took up Thorin’s sword, Orcrist. He did not hold the blade in the same way Elrond had, nor did those in his party eye the Dwarves with the same curiosity and hospitality of the Rivendell folk.

“Where did you get this?”, he asked of Thorin.

“It was given to me.”

Belle supposed, technically, that was true. Elrond could have insisted they return the blades and instead let them all leave with blades forged by the high elves of ages past.

“Not just a thief”, said the elf as he held the tip of Orcrist to Thorin’s chin, “but a liar as well.”

She could feel Thorin bristling beside her. Belle prayed he would hold his tongue.

“And you?”, the elf’s eyes turned to Belle.

“What of me?”

“You are no dwarf.”

“No.”

“Then why are you with this band of thieves and traspassers?”

“We were following the map laid out by a friend, and lost our way.”

Thorin nudged her.

“It will do you no good to bother with them. They care for none but themselves.”

Belle shot him a look before returning her attention to the leading elf.

“We are friends of Gandalf. Gandalf the Gray, the wandering wizard? Tall fellow, pointy hat? He lets off amazing fireworks?”

Her words seemed only to annoy the elf, who bellowed a command to his party. They all moved, ushering the Company away harshly. Belle looked around, counting their number until she realized they were missing one.

“Where’s Bilbo?”, she heard Bofur whisper.

Thorin gave a small shrug. Turning, Fili gave the same response to Bofur. Belle looked, her eyes wide. He had been climbing, the last she saw him before she passed out at the foot of the tree her cousin climbed. For all she knew, he was still up in the spider’s nest, already eaten, captured by another party of elves, or wandering around up at the tree top with no idea where the Company had been taken.

Thorin gripped her elbow, whispering, “Perhaps it is like back at the goblin cave.”

She nodded, not entirely reassured. That had been luck. Pure chance that Bilbo stowed himself somewhere, unseen by the goblins. These were elves and wicked spiders of great size, in an enchanted wood. The dangers were greater, if only in number, and her cousin was alone.

~*~*~*~   ~*~*~*~   ~*~*~*~

They had each been shackled in turn, except for Belle, whom the one elf only tied with a soft feeling rope. She wondered if they ran out of shackles or her wrists were too thin for what they brought. Either way, she was glad of having a bit more motion in her hands than the others, even if she felt a little guilty for it.

The party of Elves led them carefully through the Mirkwood and finally, to a stone bridge that came to the doorway of what looked more like a fort than a castle. As a child, Belle could recall stories of Elves living in trees and she had heard of Rivendell for as long as she could recall, though she had never figured Elves for living in a fort. She had always pictured the Greenwood elves living in trees as they did in the Lorien wood.

None of the elves were over-gentle about prodding the Company along, making them walk single-file with Thorin in the lead and Dwalin at the rear, over the bridge and through the great door. Belle faltered a little, swearing she smelt the familiar smell of Bilbo’s pipe. She turned, looking back over Bofur, Bifor, and Mr.Dwalin’s shoulders to try to see. Bofur urged her along from behind.

“Go on, lass. A’fore these fellas kick you.”

She nodded and moved on, unable to shake the feeling they were being watched. Belle shook her head to clear it. Probably the mist off the water again.

Inside the fort it was even more a surprise than the outside. Giant trees, woven to create walls, columns, and at the heart of it all, a thronechair for what she presumed would be the Woodland King. The monarch whose slain Queen had been rendered in stone, at the border of the Greenwood.

Again, they were prodded, single-file, over a stone bridge that crossed rushing water. Belle smiled, despite their situation, as the had a thought occur to her. Elves truly seemed to like their architecture to include active waterways. She wondered if it were just for the look of it, or if they did it to make use of the water. Back in the Shire, she knew of people who kept spring houses where they used the cold of the running water to keep things stored for the season so that they would not spoil in the summer heat.

When they came nearer to the throne, Belle got a look. It was not empty. Rather, it was occupied by perhaps the second tallest being she had ever seen.

He wore a crown of branches with small, jewel-like leaves set against silver-blond hair, dark brows over bright eyes, a fair face, wide shoulders, with long limbs covered in fine, silken robes that matched the colours of his throneroom. There was something cold to his eyes, like the light had gone out in him. A haunted forge with no fire.

Belle shook her head. Her thoughts sounded like one of Bilbo’s cheap novels he read when they were tweens. She needed to keep her wits about her now and not lose herself to odd thoughts.

For whatever reasons, Belle found herself and Thorin pulled from the main group. Bofur and Balin both tried to protest about being separated from her, and their King. Their protests fell on deaf ears. Once everyone from their Company had been led away, likely to a dungeon- if Elves even had those, Belle and Thorin were moved to stand in the center of the top tier dais just below the throne.

This close, Belle could see that the throne was almost like a piece of fruit hanging from a great tree. There were no legs to support it and it seemingly had no direct connection to the ground. That gave her an idea or two of what the Woodland King thought of himself, though she would keep such thoughts to herself.

One guardsman moved forward, stepping up to Belle. Thorin instantly moved to step between he and Belle. The Elf gestured to Thorin’s hands, and in the common tongue, instructed Thorin and Belle to hold out their hands. Belle nudged Thorin.

“I think he means to untie us.”

The Elf nodded. Thorin reached out first, letting the elf unlock his bonds and take them to slide onto his belt. Thorin barely moved enough away for the Elf to untie Belle’s wrists, before drawing away from them. Thorin caught her hand, giving her left wrist a look. The rope had bitten into her skin a bit, however it was not serious as injuries went. Belle offered him a small smile. She was more worried about the Company and for her cousin, wherever he was.

The King moved, circling them like a carrion bird over a dying fox. She did not care for it. No, Belle did not care for it one bit.

Beside her, Thorin seemed as untouchable as ever. He may well have been cut from the very stone they stood on, for all he moved. Belle didn’t believe it, she could see the change in his blue eyes. He was angry. With his general hostility towards the dwarves and his history with the Woodland King, Belle did not hold much faith that this would go well, and she hoped Gandalf arrived soon to save their hides.

“Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland, and slay a dragon.”, intoned the Woodland King.

Thorin barely acknowledged the Woodland King’s change in direction, as the King drew nearer to Thorin.

“I myself, suspect a more prosaic motive. Attempted burglary, or something of that ilk.”

He now stood between Belle and Thorin, cutting off her peripheral view of the Company’s leader. The Woodland King stopped, bending to crowd over Thorin as he spoke again.

“You have found a way in.”

Backing away, his eyes still cold and hard on Thorin, “You seek that which would bestow upon you that right to rule.”

There was a goading in his tone that Belle did not care for. It set her teeth on edge and he was not even talking to her, or seemingly aware of her presence. She was surprised that Thorin was, so far, staying stoic. Perhaps there was some hope that he could hold his temper.

“The King’s Jewel- the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that. There are gems in the mountain that I too, desire. White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help.”

Thorin let a small, bitter short of laughter in his throat. Belle wanted to groan.

“I am listening.”

“I will let you go, if you but return what is mine.”

That sounded reasonable to Belle. If there were gems that had, for whatever reason, belonged to the Woodland King yet had wound up in Smaug’s horde, it was a fair price to be free in exchange for letting him take his property back.

“A favor for a favor.”, Thorin mused as he walked off to the stairs.

“You have my word. One King, to another.”

For a moment, Belle had forgotten Thorin was technically royalty. Looking over at Thorin, she mentally pleaded with him to take the offer.

“I would not trust Thranduil, great king, to honor his word, even if the end of all days be upon us!”, he howled out in anger before turning back to face the Elvin King.

“You! Who lack all honor! I have seen how you treat your friends!”

Moving in on the Elvin King, Thorin kept at it.

“We came to you once, starving. Homeless. Seeking your help. But you turned your back! You, turned away from the suffering of my people, from the inferno that destroyed us. And raked our land, and soil!”

In a blink, the Elvin King pounced forward, his face down in Thorin’s, his voice an angry hiss.

“Do not talk to me of dragon fire! I know it’s wrath, and ruin!”

His face contorted as if in some terrible agony as King Thranduil moved up to his full height. Belle looked up, seeing his beautiful, cold visage melt away to reveal half a face still as beautiful as any elf’s, the other half scarred horribly, the left eye whited over like a ghost in the socket, the mouth twisted up. If that was his true face, she wondered how he endured it daily, to even try to eat or drink with such damage, to be blind to his left side if ever in battles.

“I have faced the great serpents of the north.”, he hissed out before his face, once more, reverted to the look of an unblemished, unscarred, ageless elf.

“I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon. But he would not listen.”, the Elvin King pronounced before moving to slowly ascend the stair to his throne, “And you are just like him.”

His long finger pointed to Belle.

“And you, Halfling, what brings you among the Company of the King Under the Mountain?”

Thorin shot her an angry look. Belle was not having it. Her cousin was likely spider-bait right now, Gandalf was gone, their friends were probably chained in a dark room somewhere, and Thorin had engaged in a peeing match with their captors in the middle of Mirkwood.

“I am friend to Gandalf the Gray, he asked me and my kinsman to accompany his friend Thorin, on the journey to the Lonely Mountain.”

“Why?”

“They want their home back.”

“Why did Gandalf ask two halflings to help?”, he growled out.

“We were meant to sneak in, and see if Smaug still lived. Gandalf reasoned that while Smaug knew well the smell of dwarf, he would not recognize a hobbit and we would not make him feel threatened if he noticed us at all. Hobbits are very small, Gandalf said, and easy to miss.”

“And where is Gandalf? I much desire to speak with him about this intrusion.”

Belle let her head fall, making no attempt to hide her weariness or worry.

“He left us at the edge of the Greenwood.”

“And your kinsman?”

“We got separated, just before your hunting party found us. We were running from the giant spiders, and we got split up.”

Thranduil sighed, then turned to Thorin.

“If you will agree to my terms, I will let your company replenish their rations here while my scouts go and look for this friend of Gandalf’s. If he lives, they will return him to you, and then I will allow you to complete your quest.”

Thorin looked up, answering in the tongue of Dwarf-kind. Belle did not speak the language yet his tone left no room for misunderstanding. Two guards moved to seize Thorin, a third took Belle by the shoulder to maneuver her away from the throne.

“Stay here, if you will, and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I’m patient. I can wait.”, the Elvin King taunted as the guard drug Thorin away.

Belle could barely force her feet to move, the Elf at her side half-pushing her to follow Thorin. They were led down, deep into the fortress. From what she could see, there were several cells about, with one or two dwarves per cell, scattering their Company across almost a dozen cells in total. Thorin was led to one near where she could see Balin through the bars, while Belle was led to one between their two cells. She noticed hers had very little light, unlike Balin’s or the front half of Thorin’s.

“Are you alright lass?”, asked Balin.

She gave a nod as her jailor closed and locked the door of her cell. Thorin was shoved into his and two elves made sure his door held tight as it was locked. Then, within a minute, they were alone. Elves were likely near enough to make sure they made no escape, yet otherwise, it was only Belle and the Company of Dwarves, down in Thranduil’s cells.

“Did he offer you a deal?”

Balin, ever the statesman. Thorin seethed a bit in his cell.

“Of course, he did.”, Thorin answered, before adding what he told Thranduil of the deal.

He paced his cell. It was not overly large, nor was it the smallest space he had been shoved into. It would do until he could figure out how to get them out. Or, until Gandalf got them out, as that was still a possibility he supposed. Perhaps their burglar would have again evaded capture and be able to be helpful to them this time.

“Well, that’s that then. A deal was our only hope.”

Thorin wanted to shake his old friend and advisor.

“Not our only hope.”, he answered quietly, just in case any large elvish ears listened.

A slam against the bars drew his attention to the darkened cell between his own and Balin’s. Looking, Thorin saw Belle’s face, barely discernible even to his Dwarven eyes, accustomed to working in darker places.

“He offered you a chance to save Bilbo and you THREW IT IN HIS FACE!”

She slammed the bars again with her hand, her voice wet and angry, like her cheeks. Thorin felt her accusation like a cold, iron fist to the gut.

“We trusted you! Gandalf asked him to help you, and Bilbo left because he wanted to get you home. You blasted fool! You couldn’t let go of your foolish, hateful old grudge in order to save your own men and my cousin.”

She sniffled hard enough to make his chest hurt in sympathy.

“I hope you live a very long time, Dwarf King, alone in that cell with nothing to do but think.”

Faintly, he could hear her moving away from her cell’s door and deep within the shadows of her cell. A moment later, he could hear her, quietly weeping. The only break in it being her softly saying her cousin’s name and asking his forgiveness for leaving him behind.

Thorin wanted to call out to her, beg her forgiveness, or even let her take her anger out on him with her fists, if that helped her. Looking across at Balin, he saw the older dwarf’s look. He was disappointed in Thorin and worried, for Belle and Bilbo.

Turning into his cell, Thorin realized this was the real torture. Not being held back, not being restricted in his movements, or even under the thumb of Thranduil. Those were insults. The torture was Balin’s disappointed look and Belle’s tears.

When it grew quiet, he tried to look. The shadows made it impossible to see Belle within her prison. She had tried to hide it, yet Thorin was aware she was afraid of the dark. Bilbo had let it slip one night while encouraging Belle to lay closer to the fire on one particularly cold, starless night. For her to be so silent, within such a dark hole, it filled Thorin with a mix of dread and guilt. It was his fault she was in there, and his fault that she was hurting.

“Belle?”

No answer.

“Belle?”, he tried again, a little louder.

Balin took pity on him.

“Belle, lass?”

They heard a hard hiccup.

“Are you alright, lass?”

“No, Balin. But I’ll live.”

Balin turned to Thorin, his look hard and sad at once.

“Aye lass. We all will.”

“Belle?”, tried Thorin.

“What?”

He deserved the lash of her tone.

“We’ll get out of here, and we’ll find Bilbo.”

He received no response. Leaning back against the wall, he slid down till he was seated on the hard, cold floor. This was all his own fault. He prayed that he could make this right, to at least get his Company out, find Bilbo, return Fili and Kili to Dis, and bring the Hobbits back to the Shire.

He would give up all the gold and treasure in Erabore, to save his kin, Company, and their hobbits. He was not his father, or grandfather. Lives mattered more than golden hordes or ancestral homes.

Looking towards Balin and Belle’s cells, Thorin sighed. Yes, lives were more important than any treasure. And some lives were more important than anything to Thorin, even his own breath.

Chapter Text

Bofur’s song was a sadder one. Thorin wanted to throttle him. The last thing they needed at this moment, was a song more fit for funerals than festivals. Especially if he ever hoped to get Belle to speak to him again.

Earlier, he had overheard parts of his nephew’s conversation with a female elf. He had not caught her name, though he could not miss the tone in his nephew’s voice. The dwarrow was smitten. Somehow, it did not surprise him. Kili was likely the least suspicious of other races, of the Company. Even less so than Balin.

“Belle?”, Thorin tried quietly.

It had been a good four hours since last he heard her speak or cry. She had not come out of the darkened rear-end of her cell. Thorin hoped she had merely gone to sleep.

“Belle?”

When she did not answer, Thorin took the hint. She did not wish to speak to him. Bofur’s song took a yet still more mournful turn.

“Bofur!”

The song ceased instantly. For a long moment, not one dwarf spoke or hummed. They all knew better than fiddle with Thorin when he was in a foul mood.

Thorin let out a long breath. If what he remembered of Thranduil was still how the Elf-King was, then Thranduil would likely wait till shortly before nightfall to have Thorin brought up again, to offer him another deal. This time, it would be less-generous. Thorin made up his mind as he sat in his cell. Whatever the deal was, whatever treasure and pride it cost him, he would take the deal. For Bilbo, the Company, and Belle. None of them deserved the fate he had brought them to.

“I’ll wager the sun is on the rise. Must be nearly dawn.”, Bofur offered.

Ori despaired, “We’re never gonna reach the Mountain, are we?”

“Not stuck down here, you’re not.”

They all turned, trying to catch a look. Thorin could hardly see him, though he heard the voice well enough. It was Bilbo.

“Bilbo! Bilbo!”, a chorus rung out among their Company.

Belle rushed to her cell door, tilting her head in order to try to see her cousin.

“Shhh! Shhh! There are guards nearby!”, Bilbo hissed at them.

Moving quickly, Bilbo began unlocking doors, the third door being Belle’s. She leapt forward, hugging her cousin so tightly that she heard his back pop. He held her just as tightly.

“I thought we’d lost you.”

He smiled.

“Never. I was right behind you all.”

“How? The Elves should have heard you?”

“I’ve been practicing. Guess it’s worked.”

“Here. You dropped this.”

Bilbo handed her back her dagger. Due to how much less attention the party of Elves had paid Belle, she still had her empty scabbard. They had been searched when they were found, again before being out into their cells, and later, about an hour or so after Thorin had smarted off to Thranduil. Belle had been skipped during that final search.

Wearing what was left of their gear, they made to follow Bilbo. Belle stuck close to her cousin, refusing to let him out of her sight. Mr.Dwalin and Thorin looked around a lot, their heads on swivels, as the Company made good an escape. Thought she was no expert, Belle was certain they were moving deeper into the keep, rather than up, away towards the door they had come in through. She was curious what her cousin had in mind yet she trusted him.

After what felt like an age, they arrived at what appeared to be a wine cellar. Filled with barrels of wine and slumbering elves. Belle looked towards her cousin, shooting him a questioning look. He barely spared her a look before walking among the sleeping, snoring elves, the Company following close on his heels.

“We’re in the cellars!”, Bofur whisper-hissed, “You’re supposed to be leading us out, not further in!”

Bilbo tried to defend himself, but Bofur held up a hand to Bilbo’s face and walked past him. Rather than argue, Bilbo began to direct the others towards a wall of large, empty barrels. Belle had a very bad feeling about this.

“Everyone,”, Bilbo whispered, “get into the barrels.”

“Are you mad?”, asked Mr.Dwalin, “They’ll find us!”

“No, they won’t. I promise! Please, you must trust me.”

The Company began to whisper among themselves. Fili and Bofur were for it, Dwalin and Nori were against it. Belle turned, seeing her cousin looking towards Thorin.

“Do as he says!”, he commanded the Company, with a whisper.

Despite their grumbles of discontent, they complied with his order, all starting to climb in or help one another to climb in. As they all climbed in, Belle realized something. There were only thirteen barrels though there were fifteen members of the Company present. She and Bilbo had no barrels. Before she could ask him anything, Bofur stuck his head out with a question.

“What do we do now?”

Twelve more heads popped up like gophers in spring.

“Hold your breath.”

“Hold me breath? What do you mean hold,” Bofur was cut off as Bilbo pushed a lever, causing the floor below the barrels to drop, sending the pile of barrels to roll out into the lake below.

Belle stood beside her cousin, watching their Company being poured into the water and swept away. Several of the Company shouted, cried out, and grunted. Turning, Belle looked anxiously towards the sleeping Elves, some of whom looked to be stirring from their slumber. Belle reached out, tugging Bilbo’s sleeve and pointing to the table with two Elves starting to rouse as the floor closed up. Belle and Bilbo were now in a room, with hungover Elves begin to wake up, their Company floating away down the lake, and Gandalf was not there to use some magical trick to get them free.

Holding up a finger as though he thought of something, her cousin looked about. Then he walked, decidedly towards where their friends had gone through, only to abruptly stop and scuffle back to hide next to Belle, behind a rack of wine bottles. They had to keep out of sight of the Elves.

Unhelpfully, he began to stomp around. She was not sure if he was trying to make it flip or if he was hoping for a weak spot. Somehow, she doubted Elvish carpentry had a lot of weak spots.

Suddenly, the echoes of more Elves filled the space. They were coming quickly, and they were shouting out to one another. It appeared the jig was up. Their escape had been discovered.

“We must get out of here!”, she mouthed to her cousin.

He backed away, his eyes full of fright. Suddenly, the floor moved as it had for the barrels, dropping down on the far side while the high side Belle had been standing on, flew upward. Bilbo slid, falling backwards into the water with a shout, Belle sliding forward on her hands and knees. When she came off the tilting floor, she curled into a ball, her arms around her head to protect herself as she fell into the darkness of the water below.

Belle surfaced, sputtering and splashing, as she reached out to try to find something to grip onto. Suddenly, two arms held her shoulders. Looking up, Belle could see the Company had stopped, waiting for she and Bilbo. Nori had gotten ahold of Bilbo and helped her cousin to hang from the side of Nori’s barrel. Balin had helped Belle, moving to haul her up closer.

“Well done, Master Baggins!”, called Thorin before he turned his barrel, leading the way out.

“Lass, you cannot hang off the side all the way down the lake.”

She let him help her up into the barrel, back-to-back, with Balin steering and her helping to paddle. He was right, Belle could not hold on all the while. In the barrel though, she was not sure how well this situation would work with the pair of them in a wine barrel together.

The group all paddled out, Kili and Fili sticking close together as always, Thorin in the lead, and her cousin still clinging to Nori’s barrel. This did not seem like the best escape ever made from a dungeon, though it was an unlikely one that might just work because of how mad it was. Belle twisted, catching a branch floating on the water and using it to push off of some of the rocks to help steer the barrel she shared with Balin.

Just as she thought they would succeed, there was a terrible sound in the air. An orc horn. Looking, Belle could see the orcs coming over the walls around the little courtyard they were floating down the middle of, swarming the few elves that had also appeared to give chase to their Company. Balin shouted for her to paddle faster and Belle listened, moving as quickly as she could. All around her, the Dwarves took turns dealing with the orcs who got close enough to be hit with branches or fists. Belle ducked as Balin swung for an orc just to her right.

“You steer Balin!”, she said before pulling her dagger, slicing at the ankles of another orc.

“Well done, lass!”

They were doing well, until they all became bottlenecked at a grate likely meant to filter anything from the stream from getting down into the river. It kept Thorin and some of the others under cover, yet at the same time they were sitting ducks. Almost literally.

Kili jumped up, over Fili’s shouts of protest and Thorin’s growls, climbing up for the lever on the grate. The orcs began firing a volley of arrows and Belle heard Kili let out a cry. Turning, she saw that there was an arrow sticking out of his leg.

When she went to look back, she saw another orc taking aim, but this one for Thorin. Reaching, Belle grabbed a rock off the shore and threw it for all she was worth, hitting the orc right between his yellow eyes. Balin gave her a smile.

“Good shot, lass!”

The grate came open as the Elves who had captured them, appeared and began dealing with the orcs. Belle barely had a chance to take it in before she and Balin were tumbling through the air. The barrel hit the water, hard, knocking Belle free. She sunk deep, flailing frantically.

She turned, looking. She could not see the surface. The Company. Bilbo.

Belle tried to remember to be calm, though she felt her fear clawing at her chest. She kicked blindly, hoping she was aimed correctly. Her hands felt something rough for a half a second before it slipped away from her and the current dragged her away. Waving her arms, Belle tried to stay afloat. She had never swam in water with such a current as this, more accustomed to the streams and little rivers of the Shire.

The world swirled around her. Belle felt herself beginning to sink again. Then, two hands gripped her shoulders, tearing her from the water.

Belle sputtered, still choking on water even as she felt herself again in a barrel. One of the hands on her shoulder moved, holding her against a firm, broad chest. Darting her eyes upward, she found the stern features of Thorin Oakenshield.

“Hold tight, Belle.”, he nearly growled into her ear.

The water tossed them about and Belle found herself following Thorin’s command, clinging to him like a frightened child to their mother’s skirts. Thorin moved, keeping the barrel from smashing into the rocky shores and boulders in the midst of the riverflow, as well as avoiding the other members of the Company. All the while, Belle held tightly to his chest, her fingers like claws in his shirt.

The water tossed them again, sending their barrel flying. Belle felt one of Thorin’s arm wrap around her with an iron grip, his other holding onto the barrel to keep them both within it. They slammed down, making her teeth rattle in her head, yet Thorin’s grip on her did not waiver. He held fast.

At last, the water slowed and Mr.Dwalin shouted out to them that he had spotted a nearby shore. Belle looked around Thorin’s arm to see where Mr.Dwalin was pointing to. The shore was mostly large, flat rocks but she figured they could make it. Thorin seemed to agree, ordering everyone to move that way as they floated.

“Come Belle, I’ll help you out.”

“I’ll check on Kili.”

She did not miss how the Dwarf’s eyes flew to his dark-haired nephew. Fili was holding onto the edge of Kili’s barrel, his other hand moving to paddle the pair of them over. Mr.Dwalin beat them to the shore, moving out of his barrel in a hurry and over to Fili and Kili. Belle smiled to see that. Mr.Dwalin looked after the two so well, she could have been forgiven for mistaking him for another uncle of theirs.

As everyone disembarked from their barrels, Belle checked first on Kili and then moved to check on her cousin. Bilbo appeared a bit shaken, though otherwise unharmed. Belle was grateful. Kili seemed to be the only one who had sustained any real injury, though the look of pain twisting his face and the expression of concern and fear on Fili’s face, did little to make her stop worrying. In fact, it had the opposite effect.

Thorin and Balin argued, Belle barely paying them any attention. Kili’s wound looked very nasty and Belle was racking her brain to think of something that might be helpful to him. She was no Healer or Elf, though she knew a few things to handle the wounds a hobbit might take from a fishing hook or some broken pottery.

Over the edge of some rocks appeared a tall, lean figure. That of a man. An archer.

Mr.Dwalin moved to shield Ori with the only weapon at hand, a branch. The archer sent an arrow flying, nearly breaking the branch in half. His next shot knocked the rock Kili had meant to throw, from Kili’s hand.

Before Belle could blink, the archer had notched another arrow. Bilbo reached, tugging Belle closer to him. Belle looked around, seeing the whole Company at a standstill.

“Do it again, and you’re dead.”, warned the archer.

“Excuse me but uh,” started Balin as he slowly approached the archer, “you’re from Laketown, if I’m not mistaken. That barge over there, it wouldn’t be available for hire, by chance?”

The man, with dark hair and eyes in an older coat made of skins and furs, lowered his weapon. He still eyed them all cautiously. Balin’s warm manner had not totally swayed him from his first impression of them as a threat. Thorin was wary, though he trusted Balin. The old statesman had talked them out of more trouble than Thorin could count, over the years.

~*~*~*~

Gandalf entered Dul Guldur quietly, ready to face whatever may spring forth from the darkened corners of the abandoned ruins. He believed Radagast’s claims. The Brown Wizard was many things, a liar was not among them. No matter what Saruman may have believed, Radagast was perhaps the best of them all and the most intuitive of the lesser beings in Middle Earth. If Radagast believed something dark was poisoning the Greenwood, then the rest of them needed to pay him heed.

All around him, ruined towers loomed. Thorned vines curled like sickly tendrils around every bit of Dul Guldur, giving the places a threatening feeling that was more than simply foreboding. Gandalf drew his sword.

This was undoubtably a trap. Gandalf readied himself. Radagast had listened when Gandalf told him to leave, the Company moved through the Woodland Realm, and he did not count on Lord Elrond being able to see him within such a dark place. Gandalf was alone.

A noise drew his attention and Gandalf followed it. Something was living within Dul Guldur. Gandalf realized that, perhaps, he was not alone.

Before he could move, something slammed upon him from above, knocking Gandalf to the ground. Turning, he barely could make out the diminutive creature, wild hair and ragged clothes swirling around it as it dodged around Gandalf. He swung out with it staff, knocking the creature off its feet. They danced around, Gandalf swinging his staff and the creature leaping to avoid him, then suddenly pouncing Gandalf, biting and clawing till Gandalf fell.

He threw off his opponent and stood. The creature came at him again, and again Gandalf threw him off and away. Gandalf did not quite catch the creature again before it was off, scurrying away into the shadows.

Taking up his staff, Gandalf took off in pursuit of the creature. Whatever it was, it might have answers that would help Gandalf understand what was happening with this Necromancer. He needed answers if he was to convince Saruman and Elrond of the dangers lurking in the shadows of Middle Earth.

For several long minutes, Gandalf gave chase. He needed his answers but the small creature proved far more nimble than Gandalf anticipated. He had half-expected to find an army of orcs waiting around a corner, or a few men with a small spark of magic all working to summon this Necromancer. He had not expected a small creature who did not appear to have the eyes of an orc even if he did smell like one.

Running down many corridors, Gandalf pursued the creature. Spikes stuck out, some catching the edges of Gandalf’s cloak and even clipping his hands and arms as he ran. All around him, darkness closed further in.

Gandalf paused, stopping to look around and catch his breath. He did not have the time to run in circles after the creature. Just as he turned, the creature sprang out at him, knocking Gandalf again onto his back as the beast snarled above.

After further struggle, Gandalf threw the creature off and was able to grab his staff. The creature leapt, wrapping itself around Gandalf and growling as it fought him. Gandalf managed to dislodge the beast, using his staff to fling the creature across the room from him before diving down, pressing a hand to the beast’s forehead. Saying an old spell, Gandalf tried to drawl whatever this pitiful creature was, back into the light. He did not believe it was an orc or any filth from Mordor, rather some unfortunate soul dragged here.

The being calmed, seemingly soothed by Gandalf’s power. The fight drained out of the smaller being, their arms falling to their sides, breath still ragged though sounding less like a feral creature and more like that of an intelligent being.

Drawing his hand away, Gandalf looked again upon the face of his attacker. Instead of the face of a frightened stranger, he found the aged, thin face of an old friend. One he had thought long dead.

“Thrain? Son of Thror? My old friend.”

“Gandalf?”, rasped his old friend.

Gandalf nodded, already choking with guilt at the thought of all his friend must have endured while the rest of them had written him off for dead. That made Gandalf wonder about something else. Another of the line of Durin who disappeared that same day, in the same battle.

“A lifetime… I’ve been here a lifetime.”

“I’m so sorry that I gave you up for dead.”

Thrain let out a long sigh, something deep inside of him rattling hard enough to make Gandalf’s chest ache at the sound. Despite the ferocity of his attacks on Gandalf moments ago, looking at him now, Gandalf could old see the frailty of old age and years of despair. Whatever tortures were inflicted on the Dwarven Prince, they had broken him in ways that would never fully mend.

“My son?”

Gandalf nodded, “Thorin is well. He is with Balin, Dwalin, and others.”

“No! Yes!”, Thrain seized Gandalf’s hand, his eyes wild, “Frerin! When they took me, when Azog took me, Frerin was with me! He had been hurt and I could not get to him before Thror fell.”

“Do you mean Frerin is here? In Dul Guldur?”

“Yes!”

“We will find him, my old friend. I give you my word.”

Thrain nodded, starting to sit up, “What of Thorin?”

“You will see him again, my friend. Come. We must find Frerin, then we must leave.”

He helped the frail dwarf to his bare feet. A moment’s searching turned up Gandalf’s sword and hat. Thrain had to lean on Gandalf as they walked, his legs barely holding him up and moving along on his own steam. His friend should not have been so frail, he should have been a proud King in a mountain far away.

“The orcs had taken Moria… War. We were at war… I was surrounded…. Azog, the Defiler. Azog the defiler had come…”

An idea occurred to Gandalf. One he was shamed to admit how long it took him to think it up. Reaching, he carefully took hold of his old friend’s wrist and drew his hand up to look at it. There, at what should have been the middle of a muscular forefinger, was instead a scarred stump where once a gleaming ring had proudly sat. Azog had taken the ring, a dark gift from Sauron to the Seven Dwarf Lords.

“They took it.”. whispered Thrain.

Gandalf sighed, “The last of the Seven.”

Something stirred in the darkness around them. Gandalf could sense it. Looking about, he saw no change from a moment ago.

“Come. We must find Frerin and get you both out of here.”

“There is no way out. They will stop you! The serpents! They will stop you!”

Gandalf looked to see what it was that his friend spoke of, pointing his stubby finger towards. The vines, with their great spikes, seemed to swirl and stir, ready to strike. Gandalf knew it for what it was.

“An illusion.”, he assured his friend before striking his staff against the vines, making the illusion stop so they seemed to still, “Just an illusion.”

Thrain did not step forward, he did not move an inch. Gandalf was shocked. Thrain used to be a hot-head, often leaping without looking, his late father’s greatest warrior. The shell of a great lord stood now before Gandalf.

“What have they done to you?”

“I never told them! They tried to make me, but I never said a word.”

Thrain looked about, clearly paranoid of being overheard, of being watched. Gandalf wondered how many times the orcs had let him think he was escaping, to try to get him to loosen his tongue.

“Have you kept them safe, Gandalf? The map and the key?”

“I gave them to Thorin. You would be proud of him, he has taken up the quest to reclaim Erabor.”

“Erabor!”

“He will retrieve the Arkenstone, the seven armies of the Dwarf Lords will answer to a new King!”

Thrain backed away, shaking his head in horror.

“No! Thorin must not go near Erabor.”, he said definitively, “No one must enter that mountain!”

“Explain, old friend?”

Thrain let out a long sigh, “First, we must find Frerin. When last I saw him, he said he wanted to escape. He said if he did escape, he would go up into the hills and build a great fire, great enough for me to see to know he had escaped. I have seen no such fire.”

“How long ago was this?”

Thrain’s shoulders fell, “I do not know. Time… it has so little meaning here.”

Knowing how he himself felt so affected here, after so little time, Gandalf could only imagine what had happened to his old friend. Resolved, Gandalf began moving again.

“Come, let us find Frerin.”

Thrain moved, staying just behind Gandalf. They had to find the other dwarven prince. Gandalf prayed the younger Dwarf had survived a bit more intact than his father. It was one thing to turn Thrain back, a shell of what he had once been, but to also deliver Prince Frerin in such a state back to Thorin and Dis might have been too much for them to bear.

“He is waiting for them!”, Thrain said as he followed Gandalf, seemingly back on why they needed to avoid Erabor and the Lonely Mountain, “They are in league, the Dragon and the One. Hurry. We must hurry. Thorin must be warned!”

They rounded another corner and Gandalf turned his head just in time to see Azog. Gandalf moved to defend Thrain and found himself flying through the air, his chest burning with pain. Gandalf lost his sword and staff, his breath coming in pained gasps. Thrain stood, frozen in fear as Azog gloated, his rictus grin shining in the dim light.

Just as Gandalf was about to move for his staff, he heard a great, angry howl. Suddenly, a form flew out of a darkened hole, tackling the larger orc to Azog’s right, knocking the orc back with a jagged piece of metal skewering the orc. Gandalf looked, seeing better as Azog stepped aside.

It was a dwarf, Gandalf was sure, with a wild tangled mane that might once have been thick, blond hair. Dirty face and hands, his clothing as ragged as Thrain’s. It had to Frerin.

The dwarf rose, pulling the metal steak with him and brandishing it as if it were a sword. He had the fighting spirit of the Durins. Gandalf scrambled forward, grabbing his staff. Azog moved for Thrain, hissing out at Gandalf in the black speech of Mordor.

“You have come too late, wizard. It is done.”

As Azog drew his arm back, holding his mace, Gandalf flew forward with his staff to shield Thrain.

“Where is your master?”, he demanded as he held back Azog and his command.

Frerin moved, sliding over to lift Thrain onto his feet and drag his father, letting Gandalf take the lead. Gandalf felt the weight of it. He had to get his friend and the younger prince out of Dul Guldur. He had to warn Thorin.

“Where is he?”

“He is everywhere. We are legion.”

Gandalf heard a terrible noise. One he knew but dared not name. Looking over the edge of high platform he and the others stood upon, he could see it. The forces of Dul Guldur. Orcs and wargs. A whole army waited below for the call to war.

Across from him, Azog looked exceedingly pleased. The sneer of a smile made Gandalf’s skin crawl.

“It is over.”, gloated the pale orc.

Gandalf flung himself forward with his staff. The flash of his spell blinded the orcs, allowing him to draw the two dwarves with him and to slip out, away from the forces of Azog. If they were quick enough, and had a little luck, they could get out of the old ruins out into the woods. Radagast’s animals would help them once they were out there and Gandalf’s power would have more sway.

Gandalf could hear the wargs as they galloped after he and the dwarves, their rides howling out. Gandalf found a good place, a raised walkway, telling Frerin to take his father and run, while Gandalf stopped. He would make his stand on the little bridge.

A single orc on a warg came at Gandalf and he smote the two beasts and stood for another. Moving backward, Gandalf called down a chunk of a tower, crushing two more wargs, their riders, and a chunk of the walkway. Now Gandalf stood at the edge of one end, the orcs on the other side, a great gulf between them.

Turning to his friends, Gandalf issued an order, “RUN!”

They rushed off, as fast as they could with Thrain so hobbled, and Gandalf constantly checking over his shoulder. Rushing under an archway, they came to another elevated walkway to find a writhing wall of smoke. Gandalf moved to defend his friends, sensing an evil presence even before the malevolent wall began to speak.

“There is no light, wizard, that can defeat the darkness.”

Thrain clung to Gandalf’s leg like a frightened child, and beside him, Frerin looked terrified even as he held his metal stake aloft, poised to strike. Gandalf prayed he was able to save them. And to get to Thorin with Thrain’s warning.

“Tell my son I loved him. Will you do that? Will you tell my son that I loved him?”

“You will tell him yourself!”

“It is too late.”

A tendril from the malevolent darkness flung out towards them, aimed directly for Frerin. Thrain moved at the last second, stepping between his son and the dark tendril. Gandalf moved, slipping Frerin behind him. He could not save Thrain, he had to save Frerin and then Thorin.

Casting, he formed a great shell of light, like a globe around he and Frerin. Gandalf pushed, trying to force back the great darkness. If he could just get them out of the ruins, he could perhaps save his friends.

It was a battle of wills, Gandalf pushing and the darkness pushing back. This Necromancer was far more powerful than they had given him credit for. As powerful as some of the Nazgul had been, an age ago.

Their efforts broke the bridge around Gandalf and Frerin, and some of the towers nearby. They continued their battle, pressing back and forth between them. All the while, Frerin kept close, his meager weapon in hand.

Gandalf felt his strength failing him, the darkness of Dul Guldur draining him. The light shimmered out and the Darkness began to overtake him. Raising his staff, Gandalf tried to shield he and Frerin as a ball of flame formed in the middle of the Darkness. The light formed a familiar shape. A great eye.

The staff in hands began to disintegrate, becoming dust in the breeze. Once it was gone, Gandalf was nearly defenseless. Stepping back, he tried to keep Frerin close.

He and Frerin were flung about. First, to the ground, face down. Then aloft, slammed backwards against stone walls. Gandalf felt the flames of the great eye, licking at his brow and chest, stealing the air from his lungs.

All around he and Frerin, the stones fell, till at last they were pressed against two remaining, thin pillars. They each writhed, but the power of the Darkness held them in place. There was no escape. Now, looking into the Eye of the Darkness, Gandalf recognized his opponent.

“Sauron.”

~*~*~*~

Balin had gathered their coin, enough to pay the bargeman of Laketown, whose named was Bard, to take them to the floating city of men. Some among them had been reluctant to give up the last of their money until they came in sight of the Lonely Mountain. Belle had sat with Bilbo and Bard, able to see the Mountain for the first time. Bard explained that he would need to sneak them in. It made sense to Belle, especially since Thorin did not want to advertise their purpose.

As they floated through, Thorin showed his usual bad temper. Mr.Dwalin was little better. Belle wanted to stick both of them face-first into the lake until they saw sense.

They all got back into the barrels, with her cousin having a way to see what Bard did once they were all hidden. Due to the lack of available barrels, Belle had been tucked in with Fili. She could not hear much of what her cousin said, but even in the dimming evening light, she could see how much Fili worried for his brother.

“Kili is strong, he’ll be alright. We can mend him more when we get into town.”, she offered quietly.

Fili looked towards the barrel they knew Kili to be in.

“Orc arrows have a filth to them, poisons you even if their arrow strike doesn’t kill you straight off. When I was dressing his leg, I could see the veins. It’s already begun to fester.”

“We’re not far from town.”, she offered as she reached for his hand, “Once we’re there, I’m sure this Bard knows where we can get some medicine or find a healer.”

“And pay them with what?”

There was a sound that made Belle think of old wooden gates moving on hinges in need of attention. Suddenly, a load of fish was being dropped on them. Fili moved, blocking the fish as best he could, from hitting Belle and himself on their heads even as the barrel filled around them.

“When this is over,” Fili growled out in a tone remarkably like Thorin’s angry voice, “I am never, ever touching another fish.”

~*~*~*~

Warming themselves around the fire, Bilbo moved over to his cousin. Since they had come up through the privy to enter Bard’s home, she and Thorin had been downright frosty. Well, if Bilbo were honest, only Belle was being frosty. Thorin seemed more like a kicked dog unsure of coming near another soul for fear of another kick. It was almost amusing to see the great Thorin Oakenshield so shy of a hobbitess.

Not for the first time since reuniting with the Company, Bilbo wondered about what had happened in the hours between their capture by the Elves and their escape in the barrels. He brought Belle a mug of the tea Bard’s daughter, Sigrid, had made. Belle thanked him before taking a sip of the hot beverage, her hands looking almost childishly small compared to the heavy mug.

“Belle?”

Her dark green eyes looked up at him over the rim of the mug.

“Why is Thorin acting as if you might snap him like a twig, were he to speak to you? Did he say something cruel?”

If the Dwarf King had been unkind to Belle, Bilbo might borrow one of the weapons Bard had gotten for them, and thrash Thorin with it. Or at least try to. Dwalin and Balin would likely stop him. Bofur and Fili might help Bilbo.

“Not exactly. It was his reaction to Thranduil’s offer. He would have let us rot, let you be left to the spiders of Mirkwood, rather than take what seemed a decent enough deal. All because it came from Thranduil.”

Belle scowled.

“They did abandon he and his people, when they needed help the most.”

Belle shook her head, “I overheard Balin. Thrain and Thror were brought to Thranduil’s tent, near the edge of the woodlands, and he offered them sanctuary and to help them establish themselves elsewhere. He would not help them take the mountain back. Thrain and Thror turned down his offer, from what Balin said when he was speaking to Fili, I think they were not very diplomatic about it in the least.”

“Does Thorin know that?”

She shook her head, looking down to the fire in Bard’s hearth.

“Balin said Thrain and Thror made him swear never to tell Thorin. He said he was telling Fili, so that Fili understood why Thranduil feels as he does and why Thorin thinks the Dwarves of Erabor were abandoned by their neighbor.”

“But as far as Thorin knows, Thranduil left them to rot.”

Belle nodded.

“Yet still, you’re angry with him.”

She looked back up from the fire, her own eyes blazing.

“He could have taken up the offer, or even bargained. He did neither. He would have let his company, his own kin, spend their lives in Thranduil’s dungeon and would have left you to the mercy of the spiders.”

Moving away, Bilbo stepped closer to where Thorin stood, looking out the window of Bard’s home. Bard and Bain were still bringing out dry blankets and jackets, while Bofur told jokes to make Tilda laugh, and Sigrid made more tea to warm them all.

Thorin’s rebuke of the aim of men on the day of Smaug’s arrival, had done little to make Bard and Thorin come to more friendly terms between them. Nor had the Company’s overall reaction to the weapons Bard offered, done anything to improve the mood of the room. It felt as if the Company distrusted anyone not among their Company and that Bard regretted bringing them to his home.

Later, Bard left, ordering them all to remain. Bilbo noticed Thorin looking to see where Fili was checking on Kili, again. They were all worried for the younger Prince, though he seemed unhappy for the fussing.

“How is Belle?”

Thorin’s tone was quiet, clearly for Bilbo’s ears alone.

“She’s stewing.”

Unexpectedly, Thorin nodded, eyes downcast.

“She’s a right to be angry.”

Now Bilbo was confused. Thorin agreeing someone had a right to disagree with him or be unhappy about his actions. Perhaps there was some hope the Dwarf would see sense.

“I acted rashly, and without proper thought. But,” Thorin let a great sigh that appeared to cost him inches in height, “had the Elf King brought me back up to offer any sort of deal that took this Company out of their cells, got you back, and returned Belle to your Shire, I would have taken it.”

“Truly? Even if he wanted half the gold in the Mountain?”

Thorin’s eyes wandered to Fili and Kili.

“Even if he wanted all of it, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo looked between the two Princes and Thorin. Whenever they were in active danger, it had been painfully clear that Thorin valued the lives of his nephews far more greatly than his own life. He did not hesitate to step between either of them, and any danger.

Then again, seeing the look on Thorin’s face when he realized Belle had been injured facing off the Pale Orc’s horde and how he let her sleep tucked against him, wearing his coat. Or the way Belle sang and hummed to help Thorin to sleep when they were in Beorne’s home. Not to mention how Thorin risked himself so greatly for Belle’s sake on the mountainside when she continued to dangle from one hand while Bilbo had been saved and was with the rest of the Company.

Bilbo turned, finding Thorin approaching Belle. She still had her back turned and held tightly to the mug in her hands. Thorin, in his borrowed clothes looked less intimidating than usual, his bearing changed to something more like a worried kid than a commanding King.

Belle turned. Thorin stood just behind her seat, blocking her view of most of the room and the rest of the Company. She waited. Clearly, the dwarf had something to say.

“Are you well, Miss Took?”

She nodded.

“I hoped to find you warming up.”

“The fire and tea helped.”, She let out a slow breath, “Is there something else, Mr.Oakenshield?”

“You may not believe me, however, I…”

He let out a breath, his shoulders sinking slightly. Belle felt her heart already thawing. Whatever troubled Thorin, she wanted to help.

Thorin moved closer. Something about the look of him made Belle hold her breath, silent and still, waiting to hear what he had to say. When he spoke, his voice so low, she barely heard him over the crackling of the fire.

“Before your cousin returned, I had resolved to accept whatever offer Thranduil would have made in the morning, that saved Bilbo, got our Company released, and would allow me to send you and Bilbo home- safe.”

“Even if he wanted a share of the treasure in that mountain? Even then?”

His pale blue eyes were direct, and Belle could not think to distrust him now.

“No matter the offer, no matter how much of Erabor’s treasure he wanted, to save you, it would have been worth it.”

His piece said, Thorin gave a nod, then turned and departed to join Balin and Bofur as they chatted near the window. Belle did not doubt him. She warred with herself, having been fully convinced not two minutes ago that Thorin was a pig-headed fool whom she would leave to face the dragon the moment she could find her way back to the Shire with her cousin, and good riddance to Oakenshield. Now, she believed him fully in his contrition and regret. In his love of his nephews, and care for the Company, being his main goal rather than a mountain horde.

~*~*~*~

Belle and Bilbo were on one of the boats the Master of Laketown had provided to them, waiting for the rest of the Company. As Bilbo looked up, he found Thorin with his hand on Kili’s shoulder. As sickly as Kili had looked when he fell, alerting the soldiers of Laketown to the Company’s theft of their weapons last night, the young Prince looked far, far worse now. Bilbo wondered if Thorin had taken note of it.

A moment later, Fili stepped off, moving to support Kili’s weight. Leaning, Bilbo tried to figure out what was going on.

“Your place is with the Company.”, Thorin said in a tone that usually took no argument from their number.

Fili looked up at his uncle, a fire in his pale eyes, “I belong with my brother.”

Oin stepped from his boat, grumbling about his place being with the wounded. Turning, Bilbo found a soft look on his cousin’s face. He reached, giving her hand a squeeze.

“You want to stay with them, don’t you?”

“I promised to help them get their home back. Fili and Oin will look after Kili.”, she looked around, “Just wish I knew for sure where Bofur went.”

Bilbo nodded. He too, worried where Bofur had gotten off to. Before either had a chance to inquire about them, Thorin was launching their boats towards the Lonely Mountain. Considering how close Laketown was to it, Bilbo did not imagine it would take overlong to arrive at the shores below the Mountain.

Balin looked over, offering a tired smile to the hobbits. Belle leaned, giving his elbow a squeeze as she smiled. He had been so kind to her this whole trip, she hated to see him looking so worried. She had hoped the prospect of returning home would have made him happier.

“Balin, are you well? Did the drinks of Laketown disagree with you?”

He chuckled, though it lacked any real joy.

“No lass, nothing a man could produce could make ill any dwarf. Leaving the others behind and Thorin’s shifting mood of late, have me concerned. Tis but the rattling thoughts of an old dwarf, nothing to worry yourself about, my dear.”

“Thorin’s had a lot on his mind.”

Balin nodded. Sometimes he wondered if Belle had any idea that she did that, how she so quickly and easily moved to understand or even defend Thorin. Yet, at times, she could be the one to hold him accountable in ways Balin and the other dwarves would not dream of doing to their King.

“Balin!”

Turning, they both moved to see what had Gloin calling out. There, larger than life and far more real than it had seemed in years, stood the Lonely Mountain. The Great Kingdom of Erabor. Their home.

Snow dressed her cap, gleaming in the late morning sun like jewels in a crown. A deep purple-black ring below the snowy cap, lead down into black shoulders of a wide, proud mountain. She was beautiful.

The whole Company had been seized by their awe, silent as the grave. They lingered a moment in that silence before Ori spoke up, bringing them all back to the task at hand.

“I don’t want to interrupt but…”, most of them turned to look at the youngest Dwarf, “current’s takin’ us away, so we might want to paddle back onto course?”

Balin nodded, “Aye lad, a good thought. Come, come. Everyone, take up your oars.”

As they all moved, Thorin remained, transfixed. He seemingly could not tear his eyes from that mountain. Even as they moved for the old inlet they could come ashore at, Thorin’s eyes did not leave the sight of the Mountain, his body turning to allow him to continue looking behind.

~*~*~*~

Soon, they had disembarked from their boats to go the rest of the way on foot. They had few supplies to carry and had gotten some rest in the past day at Bard’s home, allowing them to walk a bit more swiftly than they had been able to before their time in Thranduil’s dungeon. Bilbo was just glad to stretch his legs.

Some thoughts had been plaguing him of late, and he always thought better on his feet. A Took trait, his father had lamented. Every time his late mother had needed to sort out her worries, she would pace up and down the halls of Bag End. Over and over. Sometimes muttering to herself, sometimes with a cup of tea she would barely drink till it had long gone cold.

Chief among his concerns was what happened when they got inside the Mountain. If Smaug turned out to be dead, as most of the dwarves seemed to believe, it would be simple. Get in, look around, confirm Smaug was dead, and alert the others so they could begin looking for the Arkenstone and get everything ready for them to set to living in their home again.

If Smaug was not dead, Bilbo had a tougher task. Find the Arkenstone without wakening a dragon. Then, bring the stone back to Thorin.

Bilbo also worried about what it meant if Smaug were alive, and Thorin got the stone. Would all the dwarven kingdom rally behind him in order to battle a dragon? And if so, how many lives would retaking the Lonely Mountain, cost Durin’s Folk? Bilbo did not feel it was worth it. He supposed, if were the Shire, he might feel differently.

From what Dwalin had said, getting in seemed simple enough. They had to get to the hidden door, which he was sure Balin, Thorin, and the others could handle. Erabor had been their home for many years and they had to have known of many hidden doors. It was what came next that had Bilbo worried.

He glanced over to Belle. She was walking with Balin, laughing at the stories the older dwarf was telling her of days long past, before Smaug. It was good to see her so happy.

When they arrived, she fully intended to go down into the mountain with Bilbo. Where a dragon rested. Bilbo had no desire to take his beloved cousin anywhere near a live dragon.

Last night, while the others enjoyed their revels, Bilbo had found Belle outside the building the others drank within. She had been wrapped in a thick blanket, staring up at the stars. Fili and Kili had been with her for a little while before Fili dragged his brother off to bed. Bilbo brought her a mug of hot tea and had one for himself.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“Thinking.”

“I forget, you’re the only Took who doesn’t pace when thinking.”

That got him a ghost of a smile.

“You, your mum, and my father all have worn out a few floorboards.”

“Meanwhile, you go off in a corner someplace and don’t come back till you are sorted.”

Leaning, Bilbo reached to hold Belle’s free hand, giving it a light squeeze. Most hobbits had large families. Bilbo had never been sure how or why he came to be a rare only-child, while he assumed the illness that hit his aunt shortly after Belle’s birth, had been the reason she never gave Belle any younger siblings. Following that illness, she had been sort of fragile. That had left Belle and Bilbo to be the closest things to siblings they each had, and he truly did feel as if he were her big brothers. That it was his job to look after her the best he could.

“You can tell me what it is that troubles you. No matter what it is, I won’t give you grief for it.”

Belle let her head fall to Bilbo’s shoulder as she let out a breath.

“I was so angry at Thorin, when I thought he would let you be eaten by the spiders. All for a stupid mountain and some gold. If I had to choose between my little hole, with my tree, my tools, and my little lakes and rivers, or your life, the choice would be so simple for me.”

She tilted her head, looking back up to the sky.

“I understand that he’s a King, that it’s a kingdom, an ancestral home. Not some house with only a few decades of history to it. That he is balancing more than a home for a few people. Truly, I understand that he bears a lot of responsibility.”

“But he spit in Thranduil’s face.”

“You told me what Balin shared, and that had helped, even what Thorin said after, it helped. Then… he so easily bargained with the people of Laketown to barter for what he needed to get to the Mountain.”

“But he wouldn’t bargain with the Woodland King, to save the Company. Or me.”

“It doesn’t make sense. I know, on some level, Thorin might even feel these people are owed something. Thror’s greed brought the wrath of a dragon on more than Erabor. Smaug destroyed Dale, killed so many people in that old city. While Thorin believes Thranduil left the dwarves to the wild when Smaug came, that he doesn’t know that wasn’t the case. It should not have made me fume at him.”

Bilbo let out a breath.

“You remember when Barto used to pick on the other children? How you would tease him and get him so befuddled that the other children would laugh at him, so he would get angry and stomp off.”

She nodded, “He was so easy to muddle him up.”

“True. Now, how did you react when he came after me?”

“I threw a pot at him.”

“You threw a teapot the size of my foot, Belle. The size of my foot. And you weren’t half so tall as you are now.”

He felt her chuckling.

“He had it coming.”

“Oh, you’ll get no argument from me. I used to wish it had hot tea in it. What I’m saying is, you could be smart and outwit him when he was picking on other people. But when he had me in his sights, all of that went out the window and you became a little dragon.”

Her sigh filled the cold, damp air like smoke. It made Bilbo think of Bofus and Balin’s descriptions of Smaug’s arrival.

“Before I came out here, Thorin asked if I would ever speak to him again. Seems even he has noticed that I’m not my usual, chatty self.”

“What did you tell him?”

She moved from Bilbo’s shoulder, straightening her spine as she looked out towards the Lonely Mountain.

“I told him it would be the same amount of time it took him to understand his blind hatred for Elves would only ever do him more harm than good. He looked… I’d expected shock, or anger. Thorin looked… wounded. As if he felt he could not argue against what I said, nor blame me for thinking as I do.”

“Probably because some part of him knows what you’ve said is true. That he does need to move past it, that this grudge will only fester within him.”

Belle turned her head to look at Bilbo, “Think he’ll forgive me?”

Bilbo gave his cousin’s hand another squeeze, smiling at her.

“I cannot imagine anyone being able to stay mad at you for long.”

“You are, of course, totally impartial on the matter.”

He could hear the teasing in her voice. Shrugging, Bilbo answered her.

“More like I’ve had years of experience watching our neighbors, family, and others getting angry about something only for you to melt that anger in record-making time.”

Together, they had sat a while longer. It had been cold and Bilbo was soon sharing her heavy blanket. Soon, Oin had come out to collect them.

Now, watching Belle and Balin talking, Bilbo’s mind went back to what was to happen when they went inside the Mountain. He had his ring. It would allow him to pass unseen. However, he had yet to tell Belle about it.

He trusted her. Belle could keep a secret. Bilbo just worried about telling anyone, given Gandalf’s odd reaction to any hint of the ring.

If only Gandalf had come back. He could have asked him about the ring. It seemed Gandalf had figured out that Bilbo had found something in the goblin caves.

Once inside the home of the Dwarves, Bilbo’s original plan was to put the ring right on and walk around till he was sure the dragon was dead and no other unpleasant creatures had taken up residence. He half-expected there to be goblins feasting on the dragon’s corps.

If Belle came with him, he would need to make sure she did not see him going invisible. He also needed to make sure she was safe. Bilbo sighed.

An idea hit him. Balin had made a roughly sketched map of the halls. It had been meant to help make sure Bilbo ended up in the area where he might find the Arkenstone, instead of getting among the forges or falling off into a mining pit.

Pulling it out, where it rested in the pocket of his threadbare vest, Bilbo studied it. The plan began to come together for him. Once they got inside, there would be an area that went out like the spokes of a wagon wheel. Balin had marked two of them that lead to the throne room and the treasury, three were marked off to lead to the forges and areas for the craftsmen to make their golden goods, two went to the living quarters of the nobles and royal family members, and three more went to the main hall, an observatory, and up to the higher levels.

Bilbo could send her to the royal and noble chambers. It would be elaborate enough to make her think the stone might be there. Allowing her to think she might find the stone there. And if Balin had told her the stone was likely in the treasury, Bilbo would need to mention to her that Thorin had remarked, once, that his grandfather used to sometimes take it to his chambers to gaze at in the early morning light. It had seemed at odd habit, when Thorin mentioned it, though it would give his cousin reason to think the Arkenstone might be where the royals slept.

Looking around, Bilbo was struck by the emptiness. The silence. Not even the sound of wind over grass.

“So quiet.”

Balin stepped up from Belle’s side, moving to Bilbo’s.

“It wasn’t always like this. Once, these slopes were lined with woodlands.”

Balin gestured to the barren, angled landscape. A small thrust swooped past Bilbo to rest atop a rock, a nut in its beak.

“Trees, filled with bird song.”

Looking over, he saw that Belle looked transfixed by Balin’s words and the picture they painted. The others moved past, with Thorin bringing up the rear.

“Relax, Master Baggins.”, he heard as Bilbo turned to face their leader, “We have food, we have tools, and we are making good time.”

Thorin moved ahead, not sparring Bilbo, Balin, or Belle a glance as he used his heavy sword like a walking stick. Oddly, everyone seemed to freeze up who were lined up with Thorin, looking out over to the land below. Bilbo hastened to catch up to Thorin and the others.

As they crested a hill, Bilbo spotted it. In the distance, the great dwarven kingdom of Erabor with golden inlays still gleaming in the early afternoon sun. Closer, lay the ruins of the city of Dale, where Girion made his last stand with the dwindling supply of black arrows.

Bilbo looked to his cousin to see her dark green eyes wide, mouth agape. Bilbo understood. He too, was bewildered.

~*~*~*~

Climbing had taken hours. Belle felt as though it had taken days. Steps, steps, and more steps. Steep and carved into the very stone of the mountain.

Looking up, she saw her cousin almost crawling up the steep stair. Every so many steps, there was a landing with a twist. They would have to turn there to continue the climb. Zig-zagging their way up.

Belle cast a look back over her shoulder. The sun was hanging low. They would soon lose their light.

“We are making good time, lass.”

She smiled at Balin’s encouragement from below and behind her.

“I keep telling myself that.”

Belle could hear a slight huff of laughter from the older dwarf. He sounded a hair winded. She could not say she blamed it with their ascent.

After more time than Belle had kept track of, she heard heavy boots moving at a quick pace over rock. Someone had reached the top. Belle almost sagged in relief at the idea of being near the top of their climb.

Moments later, she and Balin reached the top. It all looked like rocks to her, no door. Belle supposed she half-expected a magnificent Dwarven door. At least to have some etching in the walls to hint at the location of their door. Though, she supposed for a door to remain hidden all these years it needed more than a steep climb to fend off the curious and the greedy.

“The hidden door.”

Thorin’s voice sounded hopeful and wistful all at once. Belle ached for him, and all the dwarves of the Company, who had been away from this, their home, for all these years. They likely all felt they were dreaming. Looking around, she could see a mixture of emotions on the faces of each dwarf, ranging from excitement and eagerness to foreboding and longing.

“Let all those who doubted us,” Thorin said as he held the key aloft for the Company to behold, “RUE THIS DAY!”

The whole Company cheered, even Belle and to a lesser degree, Bilbo. Once they found the door, they would practically be home. Thorin then began the work of trying to find the hidden door. Nori began using a pair of spoons to listen to the rock wall, trying to figure out the hollow space. When he didn’t find it after a minute, Dwalin moved to begin kicking at places on the wall.

Thorin reminded them of the dwindling light, ushering everyone to try. Each dwarf moved, trying to find any sign of the door. Belle and Bilbo moved to the wall, with Bilbo by Balin as Balin felt at his own shoulder and eye level while Bilbo felt around hip level. Belle slipped over by Dwalin, feeling along the rock and trying to tilt her head to see if the sun illuminated any particular glint or dip.

“Be quiet, I can’t hear when you’re thumping!”, called Nori.

Dwalin growled, “I can’t find it! It’s not here!”

Belle looked around Dwalin to Thorin. His pale eyes were almost panicked.

“BREAK IT DOWN!”, he bellowed.

Instantly, axes and hammers were pulled out. Balin, Bilbo, Belle, Thorin, Nori, and Ori stepped back to let the others at it. They moved together, taking whacks over and over at the wall.

“It’s not good. The door is sealed, it can’t be opened by force.”

From what she could see, and what she had seen of dwarvish construction, Balin was correct. There was no way they would make the door budge, even if they could find it. And within the span of a few breaths, the light was gone. The sun had set.

“What did we miss?”, asked Thorin with the map in his hand, his eyes falling to Balin, “Balin?”

“We’ve lost the light.”, Balin offered with a weight to him, “There’s no more to be done.”

There was a finality to Balin’s tone. Belle could feel it in her marrow. Looking around, the whole Company seemed to be weighted down by the statement. By their disappointed hopes.

“We had but once chance. Let’s come away, lads. It’s all over.”

No one argued. No one fussed. Just quietly took up their effects and shuffled for the stair that had brought them up to this spot. Everyone except Thorin and her cousin.

Bilbo looked around at everyone, asking where everyone was going, shouting about them leaving, anything he could to get them to stay. A metallic clanking sound drew Belle’s attention to where Thorin stood worryingly close to the edge.

Then she saw it. The key. He had dropped it at his feet.

Thorin followed his Company back down. Turning, Belle saw that Bilbo remained. He looked like he was almost winded by the shock of the dwarves leaving.

“Come on, Bilbo.”

“No, Belle. I’m not leaving. We came here to find the door, to go down into that mountain, and to get these dwarves back their home. We can’t give up!”

“The light is gone, there’s nothing to shine upon the keyhole.”

He turned his back to her, holding up the map as he paced. Belle could not help but smile. Thinking and pacing, a Took for sure.

“The last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.”, he muttered, over and over.

Leaning to look around his shoulder, Belle tried to picture it. A door. One meant to be hidden but that could open enough for a well-armoured dwarf to make their way through.

Bilbo stilled, turning away from the wall. The clouds parted, casting the cliff’s edge in the silver light of the moon. It was beautiful.

Beside them, a small thrust began to work at cracking a nut against some of the rocks. Belle could see the moment an idea struck her cousin. His eyes went bright as he rushed about, smiling as her muttered.

“The last light! The last light!”, he said before turning to Belle, “The moon, Belle! The moon!”

He rushed over to the edge, calling down below that the moon was the last light of Durin’s day. Belle looked, seeing what Bilbo had seen. The moonlight moved, just as focused candlelight with a mirror, to shine directly on the keyhole. Turning, Belle went for the key. They needed to get the door open before they lost the light to more clouds or the slow dwarven stairs.

“The key.”, Bilbo said, turning, and his foot sending the key flying before Belle could speak.

Fortunately, Thorin caught the string with his boot, holding the key in place. Taking up the key, the whole Company stood lined up with Thorin, under the ghostly moonlight. Belle stepped aside, allowing the Company to see the key to their old home.

Thorin stepped forward, placing the key into the door, turning it with a groaning sound that was both like rocks dragging and metallic. With bated breath, they all watched as Thorin moved to brace himself, pressing on the door. It fell open quietly, a dark corridor swallowing the heavy door as they all stood, silent. Barely daring to breathe.

First in was Thorin. Belle could not hear him but she watched as he went into the dark corridor. Balin was next behind him. He said something, and Thorin turned, gently laying a hand to Balin’s shoulder. It seemed the emotional return was overwhelming them. They were home.

Beside her Bilbo leaned, wrapped an arm around Belle’s back. She could see that he had teared up slight, his breathing a little uneven. She leaned her head to rest against his. They had done it. They were at the hidden door of Erabor.

They followed the others inside, with torches being lit among their Company to illuminate the room. Belle was glad of it. Hobbits had good eyes in low light but she was sure the dwarves could see better. They also were more familiar with the architecture.

At seeing several members turned to look up, and above them, Belle and Bilbo turned. Above them was a carving of intricate work done by skilled hands.

“What is that?”, asked Bilbo.

Balin answered, “That is the Arkenstone.”

“And what is it?”

Thorin looked at Bilbo, then over to Belle, and back to Bilbo.

“That, Master Burglar, is why you are here.”

~*~*~*~

Bilbo and Belle went further inside, escorted by Balin. To Bilbo’s displeasure, he was explaining the directions of the different halls, to the best of his recollection. That meant it would be a bit harder for Bilbo to talk his cousin into going far from where Smaug most likely lay, as had been his plan.

“You want me to find a jewel?”, Bilbo asked as he heard Balin describing the horded wealth to be found in the deeper recesses of Erabor.

“A large, white jewel. Yes.”

Belle looked over at Balin, “Large and white?”

Bilbo added, “I imagine there’s quite a few down there.”

Balin sighed, looking down and away from the pair of them.

“There is only one Arkenstone. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Bilbo and Belle exchanged a look, “Alright.”

He noticed Belle coming into step just behind Bilbo as he started down one stair. When he paused to consider which way to go upon reaching the bottom, he noticed Balin had stopped. Belle turned, looking between Bilbo and Balin, a look of worry on her face.

“In truth,” Balin sighed, “I do not know what you will find down there. You needn’t do, either of you, if you don’t want to. There’s no dishonour in turning back.”

Coming past Belle to stand in front of Balin, Bilbo was not ready to pack it in.

“No, Balin, I promised I would do this, and I think I must try.”

His cousin moved to stand beside him, offering Balin a smile.

“Me, too. I made a promise and I intend to keep it.”

Balin’s chuckle was unexpected. The older Dwarf had a certain twinkle in his eye, as if his laughter had surprised a couple tears to start to form.

“It never ceases to amaze me.”

“What’s that?”

The former royal advisor looked between the cousins, his smile widening a bit.

“The courage of Hobbits. Go now with as much luck as you can muster between you.”

Bilbo turned first, heading down the hall, Belle close on his heels. They reached the bottom where Bilbo intended to talk his cousin into splitting up.

“Oh, and Belle, Bilbo?”

Both turned to face Balin. His expression did nothing to ease the tension crawling up Bilbo’s spine.

“If there is, in fact, a live dragon down there – don’t waken it.”

Bilbo gulped. Belle let out a small chuckle that took Balin by surprise if the sudden lift of his brow was anything to go by.

“If I see a living dragon down here, I definitely want an army standing with me before I go stirring up the hornets nest.”

Balin gave a nod and left them. Bilbo let out a slow breath. It was all sinking in. Dragons, death. All of it.

“So, the Arkenstone.”

Turning to his cousin, he nodded.

“Large and white.”

She gave another chuckle, cheeks going rosy.

“I mean, with all the emeralds and rubies, there’s probably what, maybe 5- 10 other gems in here? One small treasury, can’t be hard to find one little stone, right?”

“I’ve an idea.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Thorin said, one evening when he and Balin were talking, that his grandfather had tried to hide the Arkenstone before they fled.”

It was true. Bilbo had heard it, he knew that Thorin had found his grandfather making off with the stone. Though, in reality, his grandfather had tried to go further into the heart of the mountain rather than rushing out somewhere too small for a dragon to follow.

“I mean, that would have made a certain kind of sense. To keep it from Smaug, since it’s so important to the Durin’s Folk.”

Bilbo nodded, hoping that he had gotten to being a better liar than he had been in childhood. That his nerves over their mission would cover his tells for when he lied.

“King Thror tried to hide it somewhere in the halls where the family lived. I wasn’t sure exactly where, maybe his own rooms, or his son’s. Probably thought Smaug couldn’t make his way through the small halls, into the bedrooms.”

“But you don’t know which one?”

“No, and I don’t know if he even made it. So, I’ve been thinking up a plan, since I heard Thorin’s talking.”

She nodded, leaning in to listen closer. Bilbo was glad she believed him even if it felt terrible to lie to her. He had so rarely ever lied, especially to his favourite cousin.

“I propose that you go looking in the halls leading to the bed chambers of the royal family. You have always been better at finding little places to tuck things away than I am, you might spot something I would miss. And I’ve seen how Nori teaching you to pick locks. You might need to do that when you get the doors.”

“And where will you be?”

“I’ll work my way the opposite direction, heading back towards the throne room. If he didn’t quite make it, he may have had to leave the stone before he got to his room, or may even have dropped it. He didn’t have it when Thorin dragged him out, or I’m sure Thorin would recall exactly where his grandfather left the Arkenstone.”

She nodded.

“You’re sure?”

“If we don’t find it, we can head down to the treasury. Once we found that door, we stopped trying to race the hourglass.”

“True.”, she conceded.

Turning, Bilbo took one more look.

“I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

He snapped his head back to Belle.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged a shoulder.

“Just a sense, in the last few days, that there was something on your mind.”

“A dragon, who may not be dead, has been featured prominently in my nightmares of late.”

Belle leaned, hugging Bilbo.

“Stay safe, and if you finish before I do,” she leaned back to look at him, “wait for me, okay? I don’t want you going down deep, without me.”

Forcing a smile, he nodded.

“And if you finish first, go up and let Balin know, then come back down to find me. You know Thorin is probably getting testy up there, waiting and waiting.”

That earned him a snort from his cousin.

“He’s been testy for a while. How would anyone notice the difference?”

“Belle?”

She met his eyes.

“When this is all over, you should tell him how you feel.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re in love with Thorin.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No.”

“Then why are you talking such nonsense?”

“Because, I’ve known you since the day you were born, and I have never seen you look at anyone the way you do Thorin. And most of the time, when people get upset with you or they do things to make you mad, you get over it in the space of one breath to the next. But not Thorin. He matters to you, I think perhaps as much as I do.”

She crossed her arms and fixed him with a look. Bilbo did not back down. Belle let out a half-hearted growl before throwing her arms in the air.

“What does it matter? He said his life is planned out, once he is back in the Lonely Mountain. He’ll be king, with all the duties and responsibilities therein, and we will go home. My feelings won’t matter a whit.”

“Yes, they will.”

“And why is that, dear cousin?”

“Because he shares them.”

Belle shook her head, turning towards the chambers of the royal family.

“You’re mad. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Bilbo let out a breath. Then he turned to face the halls. He would not linger in the halls where he told Belle he would be. He was going into the great treasury to wade through whatever gold, silver, and jewels there were to be found until he happened upon a most treasured gemstone. Hopefully, there was not a living dragon down there.

~*~*~*~

Balin paced about. The Company all tried to keep themselves busy and calm. Ready if called. None of them wished to face a living dragon, yet they all knew there was a chance of it.

Thorin stood off, away from the others. It seemed to Balin that the longer they had been on this journey, the farther away Thorin had become. Ever since they had been forced to flee from the mountain, Thorin had been distant.

In the first days, Thror had been addled, lost in his own mind, mad with his grief for their lost home. Thrain had been a bit better, though he had never been the leader his father was and did not command the people well. Thorin had always been respected and heeded, even when he had been barely old enough to grow a full beard. It had fallen unto his shoulders, in those early days, to gather their people and begin the trek towards the Blue Mountains.

When they settled in, Dis was a new mother and her husband had been injured in the journey. Thror was barely able to feed and dress himself, he was so lost and rundown. Thrain and Frerin had mostly been taking care of Thror and looking after some of the others of Thror’s old advisors who had barely been able to make such a long journey and were half-withered by the time they reached the Blue Mountains.

Thorin had been the one to negotiate for land and tools, who had first ventured into the town of men in order to find work. He and his brother-in-law worked hard to support the Royal Family, as well as those who were unable to find work among men. Dis took work as a seamstress, her husband helped Thorin at the forges, Frerin took jobs building with stone, while Thrain mostly cared for Thror and some of the older dwarves.

Thror got it into his head that they would be better off to retake Moria. To once again have a mountain kingdom and to see his family restored to their former glory. Thrain could not talk him out of it and Frerin was too loyal to try. Thorin had attempted to talk Thror out of it. The King was unmoved by his grandson’s arguments.

That terrible day had haunted Balin, and he knew it haunted Thorin worse. In one day, he lost his grandfather, father, brother, and brother-in-law. He returned to his sister to inform her they were orphans and that she was a widow with a newborn and a small bairn who would barely recall his father at all. From that day on, Thorin was not the Prince and grandson of the King, he had returned as a King to a displaced people who had lost too many to count in song.

This journey, their months of traveling from the Blue Mountains to the Shire through the Woodland Realm and Laketown, down to Erabor, had caused Thorin to withdrawal. To become a ghost in flesh. He was barely there. Balin had even found Thorin muttering to himself, here and there, as Thror once had begun doing in the months after the Arkenstone had been discovered.

There was a sickness in the royal line. Despite his loyalty, Balin saw it. He had hoped that Thorin would prove immune to the effects of the gold, the Stone, and the legacy his grandfather left him. Sadly, it seemed he would soon succumb to that same that had driven his grandfather mad.

As Balin was about to attempt to sleep in an effort to avoid watching Thorin, they all felt a terrible quake in the earth. Something deep stirred in the mountain.

“What was that?”

Balin did not spare Dori a glance.

“That, my lad, was a dragon.”

Ori’s voice was worried, “What about Bilbo, and Belle?”

“Give them more time.”

Thorin rubbed his thumb across a scar. Balin knew the scar, but did not comment. It had been given to him when he faced the Pale Orc, before the burning trees they had tried to hide in, before the Eagles came to their rescue.

“Time to do what?”, demanded Balin as he moved forward to Thorin, heedless of the fact he stood before his King, “To be killed?”

Thorin turned, his eyes not having their usual clarity.

“You’re afraid.”

Balin did not deny it, “Yes. I am afraid. I fear for you.”

And he did. He feared the loss of his dear friend, and he did not mean to dragon fire or battling.

“A sickness lies upon that treasure horde. A sickness that drove your grandfather mad.”

Thorin turned away from him, putting space between them.

“I am not my grandfather.”, whispered the King.

Balin looked at the stone silhouette of one of their great kings and the figure Thorin cut before it. Thorin’s heart was as much a piece of stone as the carving behind him.

“You’re not yourself. The Thorin I know would not hesitate to go in there, and”

Thorin interrupted, “I will not risk this quest for the lives of two… burglars.”

“Bilbo. His name is Bilbo.”, Balin reminded as his heart broke for his King and friend as well as the two Hobbits bravely facing a dragon to fulfill a promise, “And Belle, the two who stood between you and the Pale Orc. The two who have followed you through every danger. Bilbo, who rescued us from Thranduil’s dungeon and Belle who stood by your side as you faced off with the Goblin King.”

He shook his head, stepping back, away from Thorin.

“I do not recognize the Dwarf before me as Thorin Oakenshield. Thorin would have chosen his friends over gold, kept his word rather than worrying about gold.”

Thorin turned, glaring at Balin. For a moment, he saw the madness that had been in Thrain’s eyes during the battle in Moria. The same madness that had been in Thrain’s eyes as he charged into battle with a cry of vengeance against those who had killed Thror.

“Where did they say they were searching first?”

“Bilbo mentioned the passes leading to the family chambers. He overheard you saying Thror had tried to hide the Arkenstone.”

Thorin turned, drawing his sword and disappearing into the tunnel where Belle and Bilbo had gone not two hours previous. Balin smiled. That was one he could follow, one he could call his friend.

~*~*~*~

Belle felt the rumble and her heart stuttered in her chest.

“Smaug. Bilbo.”

Turning on her heel, she dashed out of the royal chambers. She was only halfway through the cavernous space that had been Thror’s kingly chambers. Either Smaug had realized he was not alone and woken because he heard or smelled a stranger in his stolen home, or Bilbo had gone venturing into the horde without her.

Belle had thought he was lying about something. She just figured it was whatever had been on his mind since he came back after the goblins had captured their party. There had definitely been something plaguing her dear cousin’s mind of late.

When he changed the subject and prodded her about Thorin, she should have known. He got her mad to get her mind elsewhere. To hide how terrible a liar he was known to be.

Hastening down the halls, Belle looked and listened. She had to find Bilbo and get him out. Take him somewhere Smaug could not follow.

~*~*~*~

Thorin charged through, rushing. He had to get to Bilbo and Belle. He would not leave them to the fire drake!

Fire raged, cutting off one of the passes and Thorin pivoted, changing direction. He remembered these halls so well that he needn’t rely on the natural homing instinct of a dwarf. He could cut through one of the lower chambers of the treasury, and go around to where Belle and Bilbo may have tucked in to avoid Smaug.

Coming through the end of a tunnel, into the open stairs around the lower treasury, Thorin could smell the gold before he saw it. Gleaming in the low light of distant dragon fire. There were seas of gold. Mountains. All the treasure of Erabor lay about him.

It gleamed like firelight. All of the wealth of his kinsmen. Thror’s gold. Thorin’s gold.

He was overwhelmed by it. There was so much gold, so many gems. It settled into his bones as if it had been waiting for his return all these long years.

He was pulled from his inspection by the sound of heavy footsteps. Running. A hobbit, running and panting for breath.

“You’re alive.”

“NOT FOR MUCH LONGER!”, Bilbo cried as he ran up to Thorin.

“Did you find it?”

His coat was heavy with several pockets, he could have smartly tucked it away before making a run for it. Not like Thror who had held it clutched in his hands so it was lost when he fell in his haste.

“The Arkenstone?”, he asked again.

“The dragon!”

“The Arkenstone.”, Thorin demanded as he blocked Bilbo’s path, “Did you find it?”

“No. No, we have to get out.”

Bilbo kept looking away. Away from Thorin. Perhaps to where he hid the Arkenstone.

Then, Thorin heard it. The vibrating sound he heard in his nightmares. The breath of a dragon.

Turning, he found Smaug with his gleaming serpentine eyes, pieces of gold stuck among the ridges of his scales. The beast crawled through the gold, among the towering pillars. A snarling sound issued from him as he seemed to recognize Thorin.

Thorin turned, drawing his sword and preparing to face off with the fire drake. He would die here, in the heart of the Mountain. As he moved into the proper stance, Nori, Dwalin, Ori, Dori, Balin, and Bifur came rushing down the stair to line up with Thorin.

Smaug charged at them, his chest glowing as he roared. The whole of the mountain trembled, their Company barely staying on their feet.

“YOU. WILL. BURN!”

Thorin called for them all to run. In unison they moved, turning and diving from their perch on the landing between stairs, tumbling into the loose gold below. Dragon fire blazed above them as they tumbled, rolling up onto their feet and heading for a tunnel. Thorin waited, making sure everyone got through and casting a last look over his shoulder for Belle.

The fire spread, and clawed at Thorin’s back. He felt the burn of it, stealing his breath away from him as he ran after his fellows. Coming to the end of the tunnel, he dropped to the floor, rolling as the others moved to help peel his coat from him. Balin and Dwalin moved forward, patting at him to put out his singed hair and part of his sleeve.

Rising to his feet, he looked around. Everyone who had been with him up top had come down, and they had Bilbo. Belle was still lost. Moving to Bilbo, he needed to know where she was.

“Where is Belle? Where did you lose her?”

Bilbo took a step back from Thorin, eyes wide with fear.

“I sent her to your grandfather and father’s rooms, I told her you had said Thror hid the gem on the way out. I did not want to risk her coming near Smaug.”

Balin nodded, “So you made her think you would check elsewhere, closer to where she was, while you went down to the treasury to look for the Arkenstone.”

Bilbo agreed.

“I wanted to keep her safe.”

“Come on.”, Thorin ordered, “We must find her and then get out of the Mountain.”

They ran and ran, Thorin leading them through tunnel after tunnel, through several intersections until they came near where Thorin knew there had been a chamber that used to lead down and away. He could send Bilbo, Balin, and Ori back to Laketown, to warn them about the dragon and to make sure Fili, Kili, Bofur, and Oin got out of the town, while Thorin and the others continued to look for Belle, and kept Smaug busy to buy Laketown time to flee. He had to give them a batter chance than they had at Dale, and he could not abandon Belle to die in these tunnels.

Entering the chamber was to enter a tomb. The floor was littered with the desiccated remains of a few dozen dwarves, the way was shut by heavy stones. Smaug’s initial attack must have closed off the exit, leaving the dwarves in the chamber stranded. Unable to go back the way they came lest they encounter Smaug and unable to move forward without the tools to tunnel out through the blocked exit.

Thorin looked around. Heavy cobwebs covered what remained of the dead dwarves. He saw soldiers with their weapons held close, mothers clinging to their babes, couples intertwined in a final embrace. All had come here, hoping for an escape. All perished.

“That’s it then. There is no way out.”

Thorin could not disagree with Dwalin’s pronouncement. All behind him, the Company shared his despair at seeing what had become of their kinsmen.

“We could try to reach the mines.”, offered Balin with no trace of hope in his tone, “We might last a few days.”

Grim days. Days of starvation and gasping for air with the heat of Smaug’s breathing filling every chamber of the Mountain. Thorin thought of Belle, of how she was likely burned to nothing in some hall of the Mountain, like so many of his kinsmen had been. A new fire raged in Thorin’s blood.

“No.”

He stepped closer to the bodies, looking them over, the fire inside of him growing hotter.

“I will not die like this. Cowering. Clawing for breath.”

He turned back to what remained of his Company. A desperate, terrible plan was forming in his mind.

“We make for the Forges.”

“He’ll see us. Sure as death.”

Dwalin was right.

“Not if we split up.”

“Thorin, we’ll never make it.”, argued Balin.

“Some of us might. Lead him to the Forges, we kill the dragon. If this is to end in fire, then we will all burn together.”, he swore.

At least if they could kill the dragon, their deaths would not be in vain. Laketown would survive. Most importantly to Thorin, Fili and Kili would survive.

Thorin moved, Bilbo and Balin following him. Dwalin and Nori made up a second group, with Gloin and Bifur making a second team, and finally Dori, Ori, and Bombur as the final set. They each went a different direction with the intent to lead Smaug to where they might create a fire hot enough to kill even a dragon.

“This way.”, Thorin called over his shoulder, Bilbo and Balin running to keep up to him.

They had barely made it halfway across the raised bridge when they heard Smaug’s approach. Thorin’s plan was working.

“Flee! Flee! Run for your lives.”, taunted Smaug as he drew near, “There is nowhere to hide.”

“BEHIND YOU!”, shouted Nori.

Smaug turned his grotesquely long neck to look over at Nori, Ori, and Bombur, who stopped in their tracks. As Smaug moved to close in on them, Dwalin yelled, drawing his attention to where Dwalin and Dori ran. Gloin and Bifur shouted, Smaug turning and breathing fire after the hole the pair ran into.

Such they went, each group running, all heading the same way as Smaug raged at his frustration. As Thorin, Balin, and Bilbo turned, it was clear Smaug was following them. Good, Thorin thought.

They came to where several smaller tunnels came out, one Thorin recalled went from his grandfather’s chamber and lead down to the cutting rooms, where once dwarvish craftsmen cut gems and polished them till they shone like starlight. Another went from the throneroom to a small backspace, where his grandfather used to oversee plans his master craftsmen had for crowns, necklaces, swords, armour, and all manner of things they made and sold.

The sound of coughing drew Thorin’s attention. He did not think anyone from the Company should have ended up down in this chamber, though he had to be sure. With the heat emanating from the tunnel, he was sure Smaug must have nearly gotten whichever team was in there.

“Wait here.”, he ordered Bilbo and Balin, before moving down into the tunnel.

He could hear the slight cough here and there, yet he heard no footsteps. None in their company were so silent. Whomever it was must have been unable to move for their cough, perhaps injured by Smaug’s fire.

Coming around a turn in the tunnel, he found a most unexpected sight. Belle. She was leaned against the wall, one hand to her chest as she coughed so hard that she looked ready to fall over.

“Belle?”

Her head shot up. This close, he could see that her clothes were singed and soot-covered. Her green eyes went wide.

“Thorin?”

He moved, coming to wrap an arm around her, supporting her weight as she coughed again. Belle was alive.

“You’re alive?”, he could hardly believe it.

Her eyes were red from being somewhere smoky, skin covered in sweat and soot. She seemed otherwise unharmed. He could see no burns, no bleeding wounds.

“Where is Bilbo? Is he safe?”

“He is with Balin. Come. We have a plan to slay the dragon.”

She coughed again, hard, her breath barely returning to her for speak.

“Lead the way.”, she rasped.

Thorin held his arm around the small of her back, “Come on.”

Careful not to constrict her ribs any further, Thorin led her up and out to where Bilbo and Balin wait. Both sagged with relief at seeing Belle. She smiled at both of them before another round of coughing almost took her off her feet, if not for Thorin’s grip on her. Balin reached, pulling out a small water pouch and ripping a piece from his sleeve, wetting the cloth and handing it to Belle.

“Here. Put that over your mouth and breathe through it while we walk. It’ll help.”

Thorin did not release his grip on her, keeping her close to his side as she used Balin’s remedy to try to calm her cough. They ran, heading for the Forges.

Soon, they came to another larger hall with many ways to leave it, and few leading to the Forges. Balin moved to one as Thorin and Belle went on ahead, Bilbo in the middle. Thorin looked around, getting his bearings, trying to remember if there was a faster, more direct route.

Balin called out, “This way! It’s this way.”

They had all run past it except him, and all of them stopped, turning to look. As Thorin and Belle turned, they spotted Smaug. He was coming around the corner to enter the larger hall. Thorin quickly calculated and shoved Belle, calling to Bilbo.

“Follow Balin.”

Bilbo dashed forward, grasping Belle’s wrists to tug her along, Balin calling to both of them as Thorin ran. He needed Smaug to follow him, not the others. Belle tried to call out for Thorin and he shut out her voice. To buy the rest of them any chance, Smaug needed to be following Thorin and only Thorin.

Thorin ran, flinging himself into the air, down into a mining hole. He was able to catch one of the cables as Smaug followed him. Smaug raged as Thorin moved, trying to evade the great fire drake. The cable he held dropped, Thorin falling along with it as he held it tight.

Above, someone worked at the gears above, the cable Thorin was holding came to a sudden stop. Smaug moved, going past Thorin as the cable tugged upward, bringing Thorin out of the firing range of Smaug’s breath. Smaug turned soon enough, getting a grip on the cable below Thorin’s feet, yanking to bring Thorin down.

The anchor above him groaned and the cable snapped. Thorin fell. He landed hard and it took two seconds for Thorin’s mind to catch up.

He had landed on Smaug’s lips. He stood atop a dragon about to strike. He heard the sound of the dragon’s deep breath just ahead of the sweltering heat as Smaug’s mouth opened and his belly gloat at the other end of his throat. Desperate, Thorin flung himself wildly away from the beast’s mouth.

Thorin caught hold of another cable that had once held a miner at his work. One of the anchors fell, smashing Smaug between the eyes before the drake could roast Thorin at close range. There was a metallic clang above Thorin before suddenly, the chair and cable he clung to thrust upward rapidly, nearly dislodging Thorin’s grip. He was catapulted upward, rapidly moving for the surface of the pit as Smaug growled, sending a torrent of flame upwards to chase Thorin’s progress.

The cable brought Thorin up and he leapt, landing hard on the outstretched stone overhang. Dori appeared, grabbing Thorin’s hand to help him to his feet. Thorin looked to see some of the others heading the last few yards for the Forges.

“Go. Go!”

He shoved at Dori, the pair of them rushing to meet the others at the Forges. As he entered the disquietingly cool space where once the forges had burned day and night, leaving the whole space well-heated, Thorin did a head count. Bombur and Bifur stood with Gloin to look over one of the forges, Nori and Ori stepped forward to check on Dori. Dwalin stood with Bilbo to look back where Thorin had come from, and Balin was sitting next to Belle, a hand on her back as she breathed through the wet rag.

Thorin drifted closer to where she was, needing to see that he had not dreamed it, she was alive and well enough. Balin noticed Thorin, giving him a quick nod of assurance. Belle was alright.

“The plan’s not goin’ta work. These furnaces are stone cold.”

Dwalin had always been a warrior, but even he knew well enough how the furnaces and forges worked. What heat it took.

Balin looked up from his work with Belle, “He’s right. We’ve no fire hot enough to set them ablaze.”

An idea occurred to Thorin. A terrible idea.

“Have we not?”

He moved to the fence that had once been meant to allow an elevated walkway above for goods taken across between work areas and for fuel to be brought down to the furnaces. Thorin stuck his head between parts of the stone fence.

“I did not look to see you so easily outwitted.”, he taunted the freshly emerged snake, “You have grown slow, and fat, in your dotage.”

The drake turned his ugly head on his snake-like neck, glowing eyes glaring at Thorin.

“Slug.”

Turning to the others, he warned, “Take cover!”

Everyone rushed to do as Thorin did, tucking into the stone columns that held up the raised walkway. Fire flew around them as Smaug meant to smote them. However, Thorin could see his plan had worked. The flames of Smaug’s own efforts lit the furnaces and soon, they would have a fire hot enough to slay a dragon.

The furnaces blaze and Smaug stopped, seemingly confused by the light. Thorin moved, calling out orders as Smaug changed tactic and began to bang his large head against the metal workings of the bridge, above the stone pillars that made up the bottom. They would not have long before he would break through.

Thorin began to issue orders. They needed the bellows working, he could get Balin to make one of his old tricks, and Thorin needed to have Bilbo and Belle out of the fray as much as possible. Moving to Bilbo, he gave an order.

“Bilbo! Up there.”, he gestured with one hand while his other moved to help Belle back onto her feet, “On my mark, pull that lever.”

He pushed Belle into Bilbo’s arms, “Take Belle, the lever is high.”

Smaug pushed again. He had nearly broken through already.

“Balin, can you still mix a flash flame?”

“Aye. It’ll only take a jiffy.”

Dwalin growled, “We don’t have a jiffy.”

Above, Bilbo and Belle hastened up the stairs. Belle kept turning to look as they reached each landing. Smaug had torn through the gates and was hovering by the furnaces, like a snake resting next to a firepit. Belle wondered if he figured out Thorin’s plan or if he even had any sense to be afraid of fire at all.

As they reached the top, it proved that Thorin had been right. The lever was indeed higher than either Belle or Bilbo could reach. Bilbo let out a huff as he stood, fists on his hips much as his late father stood when vexed over something.

“If I get on my hands and knees,” Belle coughed, “you could use my back as a stool.”

“I’m not standing on you!”

They heard the rumble of Smaug’s chest. Turning, they saw that he had spotted them and was intent on them as he loomed high, drawing closer to them. He was almost to them when he stopped, pausing for a breath, and turning his ugly, giant head to look over to his left. To Thorin.

Belle looked between Smaug and Thorin, then turned, assuming a position on all fours. She hissed in her teeth, trying not to cough again. Smaug turned, readying to strike at Thorin.

“NOW!”, called Thorin.

Bilbo turned and did as Belle and Thorin ordered. Using Belle’s offered back, he was able to reach, grabbing the lever and using his own body weight to pull it down. Belle rolled onto her back, tugging on Bilbo’s feet to help him pull. Sudden geysers of water sprouted from the carven mouths on either side of them.

Belle heard the hiss of steam and the rumble of Smaug’s chest. Rolling onto her side, she saw the water extinguish Smaug’s flame. The mist off the water told her how cold it must have been, kept deep in the bowels of the mountain. Belle could imagine the very purpose had been as a back-up, in case the forges and furnaces ever burned too hotly, and had to be cooled fast, ahead of some calamity.

Smaug moved into the air, battering his wings and tail every which way. He roared out at them as he moved, trying to get away from the icy water. All around them, the water rushed out.

Then, Belle noticed the water causing some wheels to turns. She could hear the working of gears and overhead, metal tubs suspended on ropes were moving about just as they would have decades ago. She could see how it all had worked. These tubs brought in raw material to be worked and the water wheel made the rigging move the tubs from one end of the work space to the other and back.

Belle could see how the forges burned almost white, with a burst of blue here and there at the one Bombur was working. None of it appeared to bother Smaug with it’s heat. He simply walked between two of the furnaces, heedless of touching them. His eye was on the prize – Thorin Oakenshield.

As Smaug closed in on Thorin, Dwalin, and Dori, a wave of blue fire rushed over Smaug’s shoulder. Belle and Bilbo rose to look. Dori, Nori, and Balin appeared to be sending out bottles that blew up with a bright, blue flame when they hit Smaug. It barely slowed him down.

Belle heard a noise and looked up just in time to see several of the tubs and part of a cable falling. They crashed across the back of Smaug’s neck where a yoke might have gone if he were a cow. It threw him off balance, and he wobbled on his feet before turning away from Thorin and the others.

Belle could see that Smaug was tied up in the chord with the heavy tubs working almost like a slingshot. He whipped his head and body around, attempting to dislodge the cable. As he did this, a river of molten gold began to flow in a channel around Smaug and the furnaces. Belle tilted her head to look at it, Bilbo beside her doing the same.

“What is that?”

“Probably a leftover from the days when this was an active mine.”, Bilbo commented.

Smaug’s tail flew overhead, barely missing Bilbo and Belle. Both flattened themselves to the floor and waited. As the beast spun around, it’s tail hit the base of the platform they were on, fracturing the stone. Bilbo groaned beside Belle. She could understand why.

Suddenly, the platform they rested on jutted to the side and they could feel as the bottom went out from under it. All around them, stone cracked and crumbled, falling towards the mess below. She could hear Bilbo let out a cry as they flew through the air.

Both of them tumbled through the air, landing harshly on the stone floor. Belle hit a piece of a wall and bounced off, Bilbo rolled nearly to the end. Both of them looked up to see if Thorin had made it in his mad dash to ride a wheelbarrow through the molten gold.

“Keep going Belle, Bilbo! Keep moving!”, he called out to them, before disappearing from their sight in the chaos.

Bilbo reached, grabbing Belle’s hand to help haul her to her feet. Together, they made a run for it. Smaug was hot on their heels, sending a torrent of flame after them just as they dove, sliding down a stone slab, cut in a sharp angle downward. Smaug chased after them as they came to the floor, rolling away as more stones fell around them.

Bilbo got to his feet first, Belle had to use part of the wall to pull herself up. As they ran, Belle realized where they were. She recognized it from Thorin’s description weeks ago. The Hall of Kings.

Smaug burst in, breaking down large columns of stone and scattering flags that were each several stories high in length. One such billowed as it fell, covering Bilbo and Thorin in the heavy, silken material. Belle curled, protecting her head as she anticipated the fall.

“You! Think you could deceive me?”, shrieked Smaug, “Barrel Rider!”

He turned and glared at Bilbo, as her cousin peaked from a hole in the flag. Belle looked out from a hole near her head, watching as Smaug drew nearer and nearer as she and her cousin hid beneath very flammable covering.

“You have come from Laketown. This is some sort of scheme, hatched between these filthy dwarves and those miserable, tub-trading lake men! Those sniveling cowards with their long bows and black arrows! Perhaps it is time I paid them a visit!”

Smaug made to leave, turning to face the main entrance of the Mountain. Bilbo muttered something Belle could not hear before he rose, shouting out after Smaug.

“This isn’t their fault! WAIT! You cannot go to Laketown!

Smaug stopped. Then he turned first his large head, then the body followed.

“You care about them, do you? Good. Then you can watch them die!”

Twisting his giant body, Smaug moved for the front entrance, his steps thundering as he did. Bilbo chased after and Belle crawled from beneath the wall hanging to follow after him. She was not sure what they could do. Perhaps there was a horn they could blow to give the people of Laketown a couple minutes warning.

“Here! You witless worm!”

Thorin. Belle froze in place. What mad plan had that Dwarf come up with now?

She nearly collided with her cousin as they slipped around the corner. Thorin stood tall, proud above a pile of rocks with all manner of straps, chains, and scaffolding surrounding it. Belle wondered if they had meant to carve some great statue or if they had been building a backdrop for something wider than any of the columns about the hall. Whatever it was, being atop it allowed Thorin to look down upon Smaug’s great height.

The drake turned, slowly moving for Thorin’s position. Belle felt her heart seize up in her chest. Thorin was alone. That had to mean the others were in position, to do … something.

“You!”

“I am taking back what you stole!”

“You will take nothing from me, dwarf.”, he spit out the last word like a soul bit of bread, “I laid low your warriors of old. I instilled terror in the hearts of men. I am King Under the Mountain.”

Smaug pulled himself up to Thorin’s height, looking him near eye to eye. And Thorin just stood, looking as a captain at the prow of his ship.

“This is not your kingdom. These are dwarf lands. This is dwarf gold. And we will have our revenge.”

Thorin then shouted something in Khazdul and Belle could hear as the chains and ropes were pulled, snapping parts of the supports for the great pile of rocks Thorin stood upon. Bilbo reached, grabbing her hand tightly, both of them fearing the same. That Thorin intended to bury Smaug under that pile, and Thorin would go along with it.

Belle could hear the other dwarves grunting and working, as the ropes, pullies, and more broke away from the statue. The rocks began to fall away and Thorin disappeared, a roped pulling up and away from the statue. Smaug stood, watching and making little sound or move to flee.

Rocks fell away to reveal a gleaming, golden statue that looked polished as a new mirror, in the shape of a proud dwarven warrior king. Thror, if Belle had to guess. It stood taller than Smaug and expertly crafted as one would expect of the dwarves of Erabor.

Smaug was entranced. Her curled his terrible wings around it as a bird on a cold night might curled around a small lamp on a table, in late autumn. He almost seemed to purr at the statue.

Then the statue moved. The one eye watered and liquid springs of gold spurted outward. All through the statue, pieces did the same, shooting gold left, right, and center.

The statue seemed to collapse in a mighty wave, cresting over Smaug and filling the carven center of the floor. The bottom several feet of each column now gleamed with a fresh golden layer, the floor now higher for the several feet of gold that lay as a molten lake where a depression had once been to put visitors below the level of the King and his court. Smaug would become part of the floor of in the Hall of Kings, for them to walk over below a carpet of gold. Belle thought it strangely poetic.

Suddenly, Smaug rose! Gleaming gold and screeching in pain. His wings, tail, and head shook, sending heavy droplets of still-liquid gold flying like hot rain. Belle and Bilbo quickly ducked back behind the pillar, not wishing to be pelted with the hot metal as Smaug dashed from the Hall.

“REVENGE! REVENGE!”, cried the drake, “I WILL SHOW YOU REVENGE!”

He burst through the hole he had made decades ago, shaking the mountain as his girth widened the existing hole. He galloped through before taking up, up, aloft in the sky. Bilbo made to follow him while Belle stood with a clear view out of the newly widened hole. The spray of glittering shapes told her that Smaug had been able to dust himself off from Thorin’s attempted death-by-coating.

Terrible wings beat the night air, sending Smaug closer to the next target where he would vent his rage. Laketown. Belle felt tears. Fili, Kili, Bofur, Oin, Bard and his children, the whole of Laketown. And it was all their fault, for coming into the mountain for a rock.

“I am fire.”

Belle trembled at the terrible words on the wind.

“I am… death.”