Disclaimer: The Hobbit belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson and Company.

Author's Note: After taking the advice of some reviewers, I changed Esgaroth to Dale, changed the title, and took out the word "okay." The rest of the chapter is still the same. Writing in the Tolkien fandom is a bit intimidating. There is so much I don't know about these characters.

The Treasure of Dale

Chapter 1

Sigrid tucked an errant strand of her brown hair behind her ear and sighed as the wagon bounced over the rutted dirt road in the waning light of late afternoon. She grasped the wooden seat tightly to avoid being thrown over the side of the wagon. The driver next to her, a sullen, smelly middle-aged man who kept snagging looks at her bosom, only grunted and offered no apology. Just a month ago, Sigrid would have traveled in fine style in a carriage fit for a queen. Her husband would have seen to that; it was all about appearances to him. Now, however, Emil was dead, taken quickly by a fever that showed no mercy. She had sent news to his younger brother only to have him show up yesterday and claim their home and land as his inheritance, throwing her and her sons out on their own. Using some coins she had hidden away, she was able to pay for their passage on this rickety wagon back to Dale, back to Da. Sigrid's life had been harsh; she was no wilting flower. She had survived the death of her mother, the desolation of Smaug, and she would survive this as well.

"Ma!"

Sigrid turned from her position on the wagon's seat to look back into its bed. Her sons, ages two and three were huddled there together under a scratchy woolen blanket. "What is it, love?" she asked Soren, her two-year-old who had inherited her da's eyes and her husband's fair blonde hair.

"Ma, I'm hungry!" he protested wearily.

Sigrid watched her eldest put his arm around his baby brother and hold him close. Arne was just one year older than Soren. He was three, but already seemed to feel responsible for his brother. He regarded her with his father's bright blue eyes, her own brown hair crowning his head.

"It'll be all right, Soren," he said softly, pulling his brother into his side.

The little one cuddled against him with a yawn, and Sigrid couldn't suppress a smile. Her sons were her reason for living, the sole reason she could get up in the morning throughout her horrible marriage to Emil. If Da had known how miserable she was, he would have sent for her straight away. But she had never let him know. As far as Da knew, Sigrid had been happily married and had gone into the union as a woman in love. She didn't want him to ever think otherwise. Her marriage had been a great political move for Dale and a help for Da. If he had known her true feelings for Emil had never gone deeper than a strained friendship, he would never have allowed her to marry him, no matter what the price Dale would have paid.

Marriage. The word brought a bitter taste to Sigrid's mouth. It had been a sham for Emil. He'd wanted the prestige of her da's title linked to his name; that was all. Sigrid had dreaded her wedding night and had cried silent tears of fear and pain once the deed had been done and Emil had rolled over to the side of the bed to sleep. Each time after that, when she had done her wifely duty, she had sighed with relief when Emil had finished. Her boys had come from those dreaded unions, however, and for that she was grateful. Da hadn't seen the children since Soren's first birthday. She couldn't wait to show him how much his grandsons had grown.

A shout from the driver drew her attention forward. The wagon hit a deep rut in the road and the whole thing lurched to the right. Sigrid bit back a scream and held onto the seat tightly, her knuckles white. She glanced back over her shoulder frantically to see her boys sliding to the right side of the wagon, their eyes wide with fright. "Hold on!" she called to them, wishing she had the strength to climb into the wagon bed and hold them to her for protection.

The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. One of the horses, the skinny black one with the jutting hipbones, reared upwards. Sigrid was sure it was going to crash back onto the wagon. Instead, she watched in horror as the harness broke away. The horse snorted in anger and galloped away from the wagon as the driver shouted curses and snapped his whip.

The other horse snorted and pawed the ground, but the driver kept the brown gelding under control. A sharp crack echoed through the air as the wagon's weakened axle snapped in half and the wheel fell to the ground with a thud. Sigrid, the boys, and the smelly driver all tumbled to the muddy ground. The horse snorted in fright and lurched, tipping the wagon on its side.

Cold, damp mud seeped through Sigrid's dark mourning garbs. She pushed to her feet a bit stiffly and called for her boys. They lay tangled together in their blanket, crying in fright. She knelt in front of them and took them in her arms, both of them winding their arms around her neck and sobbing.

"It's all right," she soothed, pressing kisses to their cheeks that were damp with tears. "Are you hurt, my loves?"

"No, Ma," Arne answered with a sniffle as he tried to get himself under control.

"No, Ma," Soren echoed although his little chin bore a red scrape and he was trembling all over.

"Soon we will be in Dale with your Papa and all will be well," she soothed. "We will cuddle up before his warm fireplace and Auntie Tilda will have something warm for us to eat."

The boys cuddled against her and she brushed their hair back from their peaked little faces. She wanted so much more out of life for them than this. Her own childhood had been far too brief. Her mother had died and she had suddenly found herself burdened with the responsibility of raising her siblings. There had been no more time for fun and games or childish things. She didn't want that for her boys.

"I'll take the horse and go for help," the driver bellowed behind her, causing Sigrid to jump. She was so concerned for her boys that she had completely forgotten about his presence. Now she took her children's hands in her own and stood.

"You mean to leave us here all by ourselves?" she queried in disbelief.

"You should be all right," he informed her as a spat of his tobacco juice landed close to her booted feet. "Shan't take me too long, missy."

Sigrid bristled at being called "missy" as if she were some young, unmarried waif. "It will be getting dark soon; perhaps you should wait until morning. Should anyone unsavory come along, my boys and I will not have any protection."

"I'll not wait out here in this cold all night," the driver snapped as he jerked on the horse's reins and freed him from the wagon's harness. "I'll send help once I reach Dale."

Sigrid watched in disbelief as the man swung up onto the horse's back. He really was going to leave them here with no food, no fire, and no protection. "Wait!" she called, letting go of her children's hands and lunging for the horse's bridle. The driver spurred the horse forward, and Sigrid found herself sprawled in the cool, damp mud.

"Ma!" both boys cried as they ran to her.

"There now, loves," she soothed. "Help will be here in the morning and then we will go to Papa's house." She pushed to her feet, wincing as her wet skirts chafed against her legs. "Come; let's see if we can make you a cozy place to sleep with your blanket." Dusk was beginning to gather around them and Sigrid shivered.

She rescued the two small bags she had been able to pack to carry with them. Emil's brother, Jari, was a jealous sort and quite greedy to boot. She'd had to argue with him to be able to pack their clothes and allow the boys to have their carved wooden animals her Da had made for them. That was now all they owned. Fury made her cheeks flush with heat, but she tamped it down. Right now she had to make sure her boys were cared for.

Sigrid used a dry corner of her skirt to wipe away their tears. She pressed kisses to their foreheads and then found them a semi-dry spot beneath a tree where they huddled together wrapped in the blanket. Sigrid placed the two travel bags beside them. "Stay here while I see if there's anything else we can use that may have fallen out of the wagon."

The boys nodded miserably and Sigrid moved back toward the upturned wagon box. It lay precariously on its side, and Sigrid eyed it warily. Finally deciding it wasn't going to come crashing over, she inspected the ground around it carefully in the gathering darkness. There was nothing of use to be found. The driver had taken both canteens with him and the small packet of food she'd packed had disappeared. She assumed that it had found its way into the driver's hands as well.

Sigrid began to doubt that the unscrupulous man would send help once he reached Dale. As soon as the sun rose, she would begin the long walk down the muddy road with her boys. Surely, someone kind would come along and offer them a ride.

She heard whimpering behind her and returned to her sons, sinking down in front of them. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine," she soothed.

"I'm cold," Soren whimpered. "I'm hungry."

"Me, too," Arne agreed, "but it will be a'right."

"My brave boys," Sigrid smiled as she gathered them to her in a hug.

Distant hoof beats played a staccato rhythm on the dirt road. Sigrid's heart was suddenly in her throat. "Get up, quickly," she urged her boys. She tucked Soren's hand into Arne's. "Take your brother and go into the edge of the trees. Don't make a sound. Let's see if we can trick whoever is coming; you hide and don't let them find you. Don't come out, no matter what. Listen to me, Arne. Do you understand?"

He nodded fearfully, took the blanket his mother pushed into his arms, and led Soren into the trees. Sigrid clutched the sides of her skirt in suddenly sweaty hands and hid in the shadows, praying that the approaching riders would be friendly and that the boys would stay hidden.

There were three riders on tall, dark horses. Sigrid could not yet make out their features in the pale light of the moon. They reined their horses to a stop at the sight of the upturned wagon. The man riding the largest horse, a big white stallion, slid to the ground and walked around the wagon, his eyes taking in every little detail. "A woman, I'd guess by the size and depth of the footprints and small children as well," he growled, his eyes darting up to rove across the tree line.

Sigrid's stomach lurched. His tone was more lecherous than friendly. In the moonlight, she could now see the muscled strength of his shoulders and the droopy brim of a well-worn hat covered his face. She sincerely doubted his companions were any better than he. Sigrid watched in trepidation as both of the other men slid off of their horses and joined the first by the wagon. There was a full moon tonight, making it easy to see the footprints in the mud surrounding the wagon.

"There," the first man hissed, darting toward Sigrid.

She gasped and made to run, her damp skirts tangling around her legs. She didn't get far before a beefy hand grasped her upper arm and jerked her back. She felt a solid chest behind her and the scent of unwashed body mixed with whiskey made her stomach roll.

"Let me go," she spat as she tried to tug herself from his embrace. She stomped her slender foot on top of his booted one and only made him laugh.

"Ha, the little lassie wants me to let 'er go," the man leered, jerking Sigrid forward toward his friends.

Sigrid felt her hair come loose from its pins and tumble around her shoulders. As she caught the greedy gleam in the eyes of these men, she knew what awaited her. She only hoped her boys didn't see the carnal act these men were about to commit with her. "Please," she found herself begging, "just let me go."

The man holding her only laughed again and dragged her toward a section of ground that was more grass than mud. Sigrid found herself being forced down onto the cold ground, dampness seeping through the back of her dress. She wanted to scream, but she knew that would scare her boys. She fought instead, using her fingernails, but the man only cursed and straddled her waist, delivering a sharp slap to her face that stunned her for a moment. A bruising kiss was pressed to her mouth, the man's breath foul enough to turn Sigrid's stomach. His hat tumbled off of his head, hitting her in the face and then tumbling over to the ground beside her. She willed the next moments to pass quickly, but she knew that this would take a while. Each of the three men would likely take a turn with her. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as she resigned herself to her fate. Her arms were pressed over her head and greedy hands squeezed at her breasts. Sigrid whimpered as she felt hands begin to pull at her long, twisted black skirt.

To Be Continued…

Hope I found and changed all the "okays" and "Esgaroths." It's been a long week, and my eyes are tired.