I don't own The Hobbit, the book or the movie. This fic will be based on the movie, with some tidbits from the book. I do own Astrid and Nerys and their backgrounds, and Idhril, who makes an appearance for all of like, five minutes later on. Treasures is rated for violence mostly, and drinking and smoking, some language. You know how dwarves are. There may be some sexual stuff later on. This fic will be written in three parts, one for each of the movies. Please enjoy!
Treasures Lost and Found
—Memories of Erebor
In the first light of dawn and from Lake Town quite some distance away, The Mountain looked almost peaceful—as if there wasn't a dragon slumbering somewhere deep inside, buried in the gold and gems of the dwarves who had once called Erebor home.
Almost peaceful, but I know he's there. I remember the heat of his fire on my skin.
Nerys leaned on the window ledge and sighed, propping her head up with one hand, her fingers lingering on the twisted scars on the left side of her face beneath her ear—only a fraction of the scars that marred the left side of her body. She'd barely managed to escape the blast of fire in time and the thought of how close she'd come to dying still haunted her, even after so long had passed. Smaug the dragon had taken everything from her except her life: her love, her family, her home. All gone.
And she couldn't even bring herself to leave the shadow of The Lonely Mountain, to get on with that life.
I sit here every day and remember everything I lost; everything we all lost. I remember the sound of the stone crumbling, of his claws in the hall…
The day had started off fairly normal. She'd woken early and dressed for hunting, an activity she took joy in, especially when she could be joined by one of her older brothers; Dwalin joined her much more than Balin did, the eldest of the siblings often being caught up with the king and the courtly business he was learning. That day held true to form and Dwalin and Nerys headed away from Erebor in hopes of finding some game in the early summer morning.
"You sure you remember how to use that bow?" Dwalin teased as they trudged through the long grass leading up to the trees. "It's been a long while since you shot anything besides a bale of hay."
She whacked the end of the bow in question against the top of her brother's head but joined in his laughter; he was quite a bit taller than her and she had to reach to preform her assault. He let her. "It hasn't been that long, brother, and besides, Thorin has resumed training with me."
"Your prince can show you all the tricks he likes—you were always hopeless with a bow." He turned just in time to catch the second assault with one hand, a smile on his face at the flush in Nerys' cheeks, the one that was always there when reference was made to the recent betrothal. "Come on, Nerys. Let's get moving or we won't catch a damn thing."
Giving into the childish impulse, she stuck her tongue out at Dwalin, but followed his lead anyway, dropping into silence as they entered the shade of the trees.
They weren't away from The Mountain for more than a few hours when they heard the first eerie howls of the wind. Thinking it was naught but a storm coming up, Dwalin and Nerys turned from the deer they'd been tracking and started back towards Erebor. The valley they were in would flood if it rained hard enough and, as the noise increased, that seemed the likely outcome. It wasn't until they were free of the small forest that they knew something else was up. The wind had picked up and the trees higher up the mountain were whipping violently back and forth; beats like muted thunder shook the air around them, but there was not a cloud in the sky.
"This is no storm," Nerys yelled, raising her voice to be heard above the wind.
"Aye. Let's hurry back."
They were almost home when they saw the first burst of fire, when those notes like thunder resolved themselves to be beats of enormous wings in the air. Nerys stopped dead, the wind pulling her chestnut hair across her face. A dragon, come to Erebor.
"Nerys!"
With difficultly, she tore her eyes off the massive beast and sprinted to catch up with Dwalin. He wrapped his hand around her forearm and pulled her through the gates, into the dim light of their city. Almost as if they'd been waiting, Nerys and Dwalin met up with Balin and Thorin just inside Erebor, standing at the head of the guard preparing to meet the dragon, preparing to hold him off so the majority of the population could escape, get somewhere safe. Balin tossed Dwalin his war axes and Thorin handed Nerys her swords. When she grasped the belts however, Thorin pulled her close.
"I want you to get out of here. Go with Dis and the others; get somewhere safe."
She narrowed her eyes. "Then why are you handing me my swords?"
He looked like he was about to plead with her, but the loud thud of the dragon landing outside the gates cut him off. Thorin looked between her and the looming threat before he leaned down and kissed her, quick but thorough. He didn't say anything else, but they shared a quick look and Nerys' mouth split in a wide grin that almost hid the fear in her eyes. Thorin couldn't help but return the smile. Almost hesitantly, Nerys moved a few steps behind her betrothed as she strapped her swords about her hips and drew the blades into her hands, for all the good they'd do against a dragon.
When the beast finally burst through the gates into Erebor, he did so with a tremendous roar that rattled the stone pillars and weakened the resolve of many. Heavy chunks of wood flew in all directions, joined soon by armoured bodies and screams. The dragon was huge, feeling the expansive halls with its bulk and wings and claws and fire. The assembled dwarves, the guard, charged at a cry from their leader, their prince.
A good portion of the attacking dwarves were killed when chunks of rubble fell from the walls, the ceiling, when pillars collapsed; the dragon kept moving, pushing through towards the treasury as if the dwarves were no more than a mere annoyance—which they probably were—his claws crunching over the fallen rubble, tail sweeping from side to side. More were killed when the dragon tossed them to one side. Nerys rolled out of the way of the falling masonry, getting to her feet and looking around for Thorin and her brothers, trying to see through the dust and smoke. She caught Thorin's eyes over the dragon's tail just as some of the remaining dwarves sounded another charge.
The dragon turned its head back, a column of red-orange fire erupting from his mouth.
"NERYS!" Thorin cried, his voice the last thing she heard before the world around her became nothing but the heat and roar of dragon's fire.
"Nerys."
The sound of someone calling her name brought her back to the present, in Lake Town, many, many years after the attack. The dwarf woman shook her head, clearing the last of the memory from her mind for the time being—it would come back, it always did. She turned to the young woman who was standing in the doorway.
"Yes?"
"We're heading up to the orchards after breakfast. Will you be joining us today?"
She nodded. "I will. I'll meet you and the others by the boats shortly."
The woman paused like she was going to say something else, but settled for offering a slightly awkward smile; it didn't matter how long Nerys had lived in Lake Town and Esgaroth before it, there was always someone who wasn't sure how to act around her. Being the only dwarf in permanent residence though, Nerys couldn't really blame them.
When she was alone again, Nerys turned back to the window and gazed once more at The Lonely Mountain before she pulled the shutters closed, shutting off the view and her thoughts of the past.
"Thorin, could I have a minute?"
The Would-Be King Under the Mountain turned to face Dain Ironfoot, not bothering to hide the scowl on his face. Thorin finished pulling on his cloak before he said, "I am sure you have said everything that needed saying."
"This is not about your quest to reclaim Erebor."
While he was still rather incensed by the other dwarf's refusal to join him and his company on their quest, Thorin had to admit he was mildly curious. What could be important enough for Dain to bring up now? He turned to face Dain squarely. "What is it?"
Now that he was free to speak however, Dain looked unsure of how to start. He held Thorin's gaze as he searched for the correct words, which was a mark in his credit. Many would have withered. "There were rumours of a dwarf woman living in Lake Town," he finally said. "Of a woman who has been there since the dragon attacked."
Something inside Thorin's chest tightened and his anger came to the surface, full force. But he held his tongue, just in case.
"We came through Lake Town on our way to Erid Luin and I saw her."
"Don't," Thorin said, the word unmistakeably a command.
Dain looked hesitant, but he inhaled a short breath to continue speaking anyway. "It was Nerys."
Thorin moved almost without thinking. He slammed Dain into the wall and put his face close, his expression dark, and when he spoke, the commanding tone back in his voice. "Do not speak of her to me! I watched her die; I watched her burn. It was not her you saw."
Dain was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.
Something crossed over Thorin's face, the sting of the loss threatening to come to the surface after all the years. He gave Dain one last look of warning before he backed up. After another second's hesitation, Thorin left the room. With effort only lessened by years of practice, he rid his mind of the image of Nerys as he'd last seen her, surrounded by dragon fire. She couldn't be alive. He'd heard her screams as she'd burned. Heard her stop screaming. With considerably more effort, he rid himself of the image of Nerys as he remembered her: vibrant and stubborn and smiling.
The quest wasn't about revenge for one dwarf, or the loss of one dwarf. The quest was about reclaiming their home and their gold and re-establishing the great city of Erebor. The quest was revenge against the dragon.
"Are you sure this is the way, Fili? This doesn't look right."
"Of course I am. Look, there's the inn: The Green Dragon," Fili said, pointing to a squat building aglow in the shallow valley. "Kili, do those wagons look familiar to you?"
Kili moved up beside his brother and peered into the circle of dim light in front of the inn. He could make out two wooden wagons with their hitching posts resting the ground, one painted a dark green and the other blue. Four ponies could be seen grazing on the grass nearby and the windows in one of the wagons was illuminated. Kili could just make out the painted designs around the window, designs he and Fili had painted with the tinker's little daughter.
"Are those Bran's wagons?" he asked, eyes wide with excitement. "It's been years since we last saw the tinker!" Kili started along the road again, a smile on his face and Fili following behind. "I wonder if Hild has any of those delicious apple cakes made…"
Fili laughed at the gleam in his brother's eyes, brought on by the memory of the delectable baked goods. "Kili, I don't think they're open for business."
The brothers continued to laugh as they reached the wagons. Kili adjusted his hold on his weapons belt, hitching it farther up on his shoulder, and reached up to knock on the door at the back of the wagon. A moment and some shuffling later, Bran opened the door. He studied the dwarves for a moment before his lined face broke into a grin and he descended the short staircase to stand in front of his guests. The man would be nearly eighty years old now, but he moved with surety and looked no older than fifty, despite the grey working its way into his dark brown hair. He was only about the same height as Fili.
"Fili, Kili! How long has it been?"
Fili exchanged grips with Bran and clapped him on the shoulder. "Twenty five years, I believe. When you came back to The Blue Mountains, Kili and I were off hunting with our uncle. We were sorry to have missed you."
"Ah, that's right." Bran smiled again as he exchanged grips with Kili. "What brings you two to the Shire?"
"A meeting with our uncle," Kili answered. "Where is Hild? And your daughter?"
Bran's smile turned to laughter. "Hild is inside doing business and the girl… she's been travelling on her own for quite some time. She's not here to steal your knives or cut your hair." The travelling tinker waved away the apology on Kili's lips. "Do not fret. Perhaps you will encounter her on your travels," he added with a wink.
"How did you know we would be travelling?" Fili asked. Kili could see his brother's defences going up. The quest was supposed to be a secret.
Bran, sensing he might have said something wrong, held up his hands. "Dwalin stopped by and mentioned he would be travelling with some of his kin—that is all. I sharpened his axes and he went on his way." Bran gestured at the weapons the dwarves were laden with. "Do you need anything sharpened while you're here?"
Fili fell back into his normal, jovial set, and started handing over his collection of bladed weapons. "That would be great."
"Would you be able to tell us if we are headed in the right direction as well?" Kili asked.
Having spent most of her life travelling across Middle Earth, first with her parents and then on her own, Astrid knew better than to travel alone at night. But she was nowhere near a settlement and there were no farms or lights or any signs of people in sight, and the cries of the orcs or goblins or whatever they were in the valley were far too terrifying for her to stay in one spot. She wasn't going to be able to sleep anyway, not with the threat of an attack in the middle of the night, so she might as well keep moving—maybe it'd make her more difficult to catch.
Another high-pitched cry echoed through the valley and Astrid shuddered, leaning closer to her pony's neck and pulling her cloak tighter about her shoulders. Midnight gave a small whiny beneath her and she reached out to stroke the pony's neck, doing her best to hush the loyal animal at the same time she urged her mount a little faster.
A twig or branch snapped to her left and she jumped.
"Real good idea Astrid, taking the road next the mountains, devoid of all civilization," she muttered as the pony's pace quickened to a trot. "Should have just found a hole and hid for the night."
She heard a low growl in the trees and knew the orcs or goblins or whatever had found her. Adjusting her grip on the reins, Astrid dug her heels into her pony's sides and hoped the animal was fast enough to get away from the deformed creatures. The growling turned to snarling and whooping as the hunched and grey-skinned goblins burst through the trees and from the rocks on either side of the narrow path, grabbing for Midnight and Astrid. As startled as her rider, Midnight leapt into a gallop, leaving Astrid to just hang on.
The burst of speed separated them from most of the creatures, but Astrid knew from the hollering that they weren't far enough behind, and two had managed to cling onto her saddle. Astrid reached under her cloak and drew one of her knives, spinning it into the proper grip and stabbing it down into neck of the goblin to her right. The blade glanced off bone, but the wound to the shoulder was still enough to get the foul beast to let go.
Midnight screamed and Astrid switched the hands holding the knife and reins as quickly as she could. The other goblin had sunk its teeth into the pony's side. There was blood gushing around its lips. Before Astrid could attack, the creature pulled back from the bite and reached up, a gruesome sword in its hand. It slammed the blade into Astrid's side, the awkward angle preventing any immediately life-threatening damage, but as she felt the blood begin to soak her clothes, Astrid knew she'd probably be dead if she didn't find help soon. The goblin lifted itself up, trying to climb farther up the saddle, and Astrid drove her blade into its mouth, using as much strength as she could muster. As the creature fell, it twisted and pulled the knife from Astrid's hand.
"Damn," Astrid breathed, trying to snag the hilt as the creature fell. She cursed again as she pressed her hand to her side, attempting to stem the flow of blood. "Damn it."
She could still hear the goblins behind her, running and growling and yelling, and she knew that Midnight couldn't keep up her current pace forever. Astrid cast a hopeful glance at her surroundings and knew she could make it to Rivendell before morning. As long as her pony could hold out. As long as Astrid could stay conscious.
For the record (and since no one reads disclaimers) I'm following the movie canon in which Dwalin and Balin are both older than Thorin, and the places/things I'm describing are from the movies. This is a movie-canon fic. The only bits I'm taking from the book is some of the timing stuff, like the dwarves spent two weeks at Rivendell, and later on, two weeks at Lake Town. Stuff like that. This is an unimportant message, but I feel I should clarify, just because. Also, I'm taking some liberties with dwarf women, since there isn't a whole lot of information on them.
I hope you all enjoy this fic! And if anyone's interested, there's a short prequel thing called Since Day One, which is about Nerys and Thorin and their relationship before Smaug, and another prequel thing called The Adventures of Tiny Astrid which is about the time she spent with the dwarves in The Blue Mountains when she was little. You don't have to read them to understand this fic, but they were fun to write and they might give you some more insight into the characters. They'll be up after this fic.