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

The Treasure of Dale

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.

Chapter 2

The sound of hoof beats echoed through the darkness and the companions of Sigrid's assaulter drew their swords. Sigrid's breath hitched in her throat as the man straddling her stilled his actions and grasped her hands above her head with only one hand, reaching for the hilt of his sword with the other.

Sigrid had grown up in Lake-Town amongst many sorts of rough characters. She knew how to protect herself. When she was sure her captor was distracted as the approaching horses grew nearer, she twisted her arms free and shoved at the man's chest with all her might. He grunted in surprise, and Sigrid managed to squirm from beneath him. Her long skirts were a hindrance, however, and tangled around her legs, slowing her down.

The man tackled her from behind, and she crashed hard against the ground, the impact jarring her teeth. "You dirty wench!" he shouted with a growl.

Sigrid found it hard to breathe with his heavy weight pressing down on her. Struggling beneath him, she winced as a sharp pain shot through her ankle as she pushed her feet against the ground.

The approaching horses, actually ponies, belonged to three dwarves, their silhouettes highlighted by the moon which suddenly disappeared behind a cloud and sent the night into shadows.

"Having some trouble?" one of the dwarves called as he reined in his horse and surveyed the overturned wagon.

"We're all right," one of the men answered.

Sigrid's attacker had his hand over her mouth. She trembled all over and prayed that somehow these dwarves would see her and know to send help.

"We can help you right your wagon," the dwarf offered, and his voice sounded vaguely familiar to Sigrid. She squirmed beneath her captor, and worked hard to get her mouth from beneath his smothering hand.

The moon appeared once again from behind the clouds and the dwarf noticed the prone forms on the ground. "Is someone injured?" he asked with concern, making to slide off his horse.

"No, no, just resting. It's been a long day," the man standing closest to the dwarf answered.

Sigrid turned her head sharply and managed to sink her teeth into the beefy hand clapped over her mouth.

The man yelled and reflexively jerked his hand away. Sigrid screamed. "Help me! Please!"

The dwarves were off of their ponies in an instant, swords and axes drawn. "Unhand her," the dwarf who seemed to be the leader growled. He advanced forward, the two men not holding Sigrid readying themselves to defend their companion.

With a fierce yell, the dwarves surged forward. Sigrid's captor launched himself upward and drew his own sword. Sigrid took the opportunity to push herself to her feet. Her ankle pained her fiercely, but she managed to limp slowly toward the tree line. She had to find her boys.

The fight behind her did not last long. The three dwarves easily bested Sigrid's captors. The young woman had not yet made it to the trees when the fight ended. Two of the dwarves were tying up their captives and securing them for their trip to the nearest jail while their leader cautiously approached Sigrid.

She sank to the ground, her weakened ankle giving way as he approached. She prayed he was friendlier than the men who had just accosted her.

"I won't hurt you, lass," he said quietly, the moonlight glinting off his golden hair.

Sigrid felt the ground's dampness seep through her skirts and stockings, and she shivered. Her eyes were wide with fear and luminous in the moonlight. Her chest ached from her last fall, and her ankle throbbed with each beat of her heart. She couldn't run from this dwarf if she tried. He stopped before her, and for the first time she was able to truly see his face. Her heart sped up and her breathing quickened. She knew this dwarf. It seemed so long ago that he had climbed up through her toilet in their small Lake-Town Shanty. Then, he had returned to her home a second time with his injured brother. "Fili," she breathed in disbelief.

The dwarf prince froze and stared in shock at the dirty, tussled young woman on the ground before him. Sigrid, daughter of Bard the Bowmen, stared up at him with a fearful gaze. Dirt marred her skin, a bruise darkened her cheek, and her hair hung in tangles around her face. Her clothing was covered in mud and soaked through. She had to be freezing.

"Sigrid," he murmured quietly, kneeling before her, "are you all right?"

"I-I hurt my ankle," she stammered, "but I must find my boys. I sent them to hide in the trees." She was suddenly frantic to find them and attempted to push to her feet. Her ankle gave way beneath her once again, and she fell with a cry.

Fili caught her before she hit the ground and gently scooped her into his arms. "Which way did you see them go?" he asked.

She pointed with a trembling hand. "Arne? Soren?" she called.

Fili was a bit surprised to find that his heart sank at the knowledge that she had young children. That meant Sigrid was married. His thoughts had often strayed back to the brave, strong daughter of Bard, but now he knew that it was folly to spend time on thoughts of the beauty he'd met in Lake-Town several years ago. She belonged to another.

"Ma! Ma!" The cries of two small boys echoed through the night. They emerged from the trees, muddy and cold and ran toward their mother, skidding to a sudden stop at the sight of her in the arms of a dwarf. The smallest boy clutched his big brother's arm tightly.

"It's all right, loves," Sigrid soothed. "Prince Fili is a friend. You've no need to fear him."

"Just Fili," the dwarf prince told her kindly. He lowered her to the ground and watched as the boys ran to her and threw their arms around her. Sigrid held them close and pressed kisses to their cheeks and their hair.

"I'll find some blankets and start a fire," Fili told them, frowning at the dull ache that filled his heart at the thought of Sigrid belonging to an unknown man somewhere in Dale.

Fili's companions, guards his Uncle Thorin insisted accompany him whenever he was outside of Erebor's gates, had the three criminals bound tightly against trees far away from Sigrid and her children. The dwarf prince fetched his blanket from his pony and hurried back to Sigrid, spreading it on the ground. He helped her move onto its dry warmth and felt the eyes of her two small sons on him.

"Fili," Sigrid said softly, "thank you for saving us."

"You are most welcome, Sigrid. In a way, I'm only returning the favor of years ago when you aided in saving my brother's life."

"Are you a real dwarf?" the oldest boy piped up from beside his mother.

Fili chuckled as Sigrid admonished her son. "Yes, I'm a real dwarf. My name is Fili. What is your name, lad?"

"I'm Arne," the three-year-old replied stoutly. "And this is Soren. We won't let you hurt Ma," he said with fierce intensity.

"Arne," Sigrid chided, "Prince Fili is a most kind dwarf. We have nothing to fear from him." The child looked unconvinced as he cuddled his little brother close.

The boys reminded Fili of himself and Kili as children. A smile curved his lips. "Let me get a fire started and warm up something for you to eat. Then I will see to your ankle."

"Fili, you really don't need to go through so much trouble for us," Sigrid told him, wincing as Soren stumbled over her ankle.

"It's no trouble. We were getting ready to stop for the night anyway," he told her.

Fili's guards soon joined them and quickly had a roaring fire going, and he introduced them as Daru and Naru. They were brothers, big and muscled with dark hair, thick beards, and twinkling eyes. Sigrid felt safe in their company. They greeted her and the boys politely, but hung around the perimeter of the small camp, their eyes alert and watching.

Fili returned from the tethered ponies with another blanket which he draped around Sigrid's shoulders. His eyes widened as he realized now that he could see her in the light from the fire that she was wearing the long, dark clothes of a widow. She must have heard his sharp intake of breath because her eyes sought his.

Sigrid offered a quiet explanation as her boys huddled beneath her arms. "My husband, Emil, died a short while ago. His brother claimed our home as his inheritance, so we are going to my father in Dale." She said no more while her sons were awake and listening.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Lady Sigrid," Fili told her solemnly.

"Do you got two swords?" a little voice asked from Sigrid's side.

Fili grinned, "Yes, I do, Soren. Would you like to see them?"

The little boy nodded eagerly and pulled away from his mother to approach the dwarf. Arne was a bit more cautious, but his curiosity won out in the end. Both boys admired Fili's swords in awe. He allowed them to touch the hilts as he explained how the swords were made.

"Da had a sword," Arne said softly. "He never let me touch it."

Fili gave the boy an encouraging grin. "It sounds like your da was a very smart man. Swords are dangerous for little boys."

"I miss Da," Arne sighed before he wandered away with his brother.

Sigrid watched her sons sadly. She knew that they missed their father. Emil had truly loved them even if he had never loved her.

The boys, seemingly no worse for the evening's ordeal, found sticks nearby and began a play sword battle. Fili hung a pot over the fire and began to warm up a hearty stew as a chuckle escaped his lips. "They remind me of myself and Kili."

Sigrid smiled wearily. "They are forever finding mischief, I'm afraid. I dare not take my eyes off of them for more than a moment." She winced as Soren tumbled over backwards and began to wail. Arne immediately dropped his stick and went to his little brother's aide. He led the crying child to their mother and soon both were curled up by her side sound asleep.

"Sigrid," Fili began hesitantly as he dished up their stew, "tell me about your husband. What happened?"

To Be Continued…