She remembered the city in beginning, the struggle just to survive the day. As the years passed, it grew and grew, growing stronger. She recalled how proud she was, that their hard work had paid off, that they finally had a place to call home. Eventually, it grew so big that there was a merchant from every land inhabiting it's welcoming walls. She remembered children, so many children, playing and laughing, joyful as only children can be. She sometimes wished she could be one of them, utterly carefree and happy without bounds. The multicoloured tents of the stalls fluttered about in the wind, dancing, as if they too were children. Yellow brick walls glowed with warmth, reflecting the light of the sun, making the whole market light up with the sun's smile. The mountain, ever looming over them, like a caring father, protected them from the rest of the world.
She loved watching from the city walls as new peoples came from across all of Arda to trade. There were the darker skinned ones from the south, the Haradrim, who came on their massive oliphants, an animal so large it could carry 50 people on the tower on its back. Occasionally, even the elves came, not to trade, just using the city as a resting point on their way to Erebor. But she didn't care. They were so beautiful, light on their feet, almost glowing, as if the valar themselves had blessed them. Her favourite people were the dwarves, who would come down from the mountain, with their intricate carvings, set forever in stone. Their skill had astounded her. The carvings were so delicate, and yet durable, as if the carvings would last for years, as she had thought the city would.
Nothing lasts forever.
The days had grown dark. The mountain was cold, no longer a caring father, but an unforgiving fortress. Thror's disease of greed had affected everyone, especially those in the city below his kingdom. Her people were being cut off, the flow of gold from the mountain deteriorated from a steady stream to an unsteady trickle. Times were harder, as they began to rely more and more on the merchants for survival. The dwarves were spoken of, no longer with reverence, but with distaste and hatred.
Everything was falling apart. The red terror, a firedrake, had come down from the north, attracted to the vast amount of gold accumulating inside the mountain. A heat tornado swept through, wiping out everything in its path, leaving a trail of burning destruction. A great shadow, foretelling the doom that soon would come upon the city. The wailing of women and children filled her ears. The shrieks of the men, who had rushed to protect their families, perished in a wave of ferocious fire. In that moment, she hated them, the dwarves that she had once loved so much, for bringing this horror upon her people.
She saw the wall, her place of solitude, go up in flames. An unearthly scream of anguish echoed in her ears. Only when it stopped did she realize that it came from her. She fell back against the only house still standing, glaring out though tear blurred eyes at the calamity that had befallen her beloved city. She wanted to scream, shout, curse the monster that had done this to her people, but her body couldn't bring itself to do it. Instead she lay there, amongst the rubble and mangled bodies of the people she'd grown to love; in silence, remembering, and waited for her end to come.