Days flew by in rapid succession for Lina. They were mixture of excitement, pride, and long hours in the workshop. Since Thorin's birthday, the prince had never been seen without her buckle at his waist. It had not taken long for a few of the older craftswomen in the markets, upon slightly closer observation of the piece, to determine the maker's name.
Lina had suddenly found herself in possession of a veritable glut of business. Dwarves from Erebor, and even beyond, had suddenly appeared before her stall in the market to commission pieces from her. It seemed her work was too good to remain a secret for long. Her newfound popularity came with an influx of money. She was steadfast in her refusal to admit the buckle was hers, though many asked and were certain she was. To give confirmation would court disaster and jealousy for breaking the tradition of secrecy.
And so, driven by rumors alone, Lina's business in making beautiful yet durable ornaments for the dwarves boomed. Her list of orders for jewelry alone was so vast that her own projects with pottery and cloth fell by the wayside. Two assistants had to be hired to do the more mundane tasks Lina no longer had time to do herself. She did not let them actually make the pieces, or even help in the actual crafting process. Oh no, that would not do. The assistants did, however, run her errands to pick up or drop off orders at the miners' or stonecutters' stalls. They kept the bellows in her forge at whatever temperature she dictated best for a specific piece. They brought her fresh water to cool the metals in and kept the floor free from anything that might cause the focused craftswoman to stumble.
Lina was so busy that she did not have the chance to notice whenever Prince Thorin descended into the markets. He never stopped by her workshop as many nobles did to commission their pieces or to simply observe her as some did. She was never at her stall to do the small business transactions any longer, and so never knew if Thorin even passed her stall. Instead, her mother used Lina's place in the market to sell the small projects Lina thought were still beautiful yet not perfect enough for any of her commissioners, as well as selling her own embroidery and skills as a seamstress. Lina had been the one to offer the place to her mother, for it would give Lorina's talent light and temporarily rescue her from the heavy hand of her husband.
Each night Lina came home positively exhausted. Her new fame was draining on her physically, but it gave her hope and new confidence. Since the upper crust of dwarven society had taken notice of her, Lina's father had not dared vent his rage upon her or her mother. The old cuts, bruises, and burns faded, and no new ones were added. The long scar on Lina's face still marred its beauty, but it too was fading with time.
For this above all else Lina was grateful to Thorin for taking notice of her buckle. His simple act of wearing her buckle on a daily basis had brought attention to her and her mother, and so protected them from the cruelties of her father. Whether he knew it or not, Thorin was Lina's silent protector.
It became a rare day when Lina had the time to do anything other than work in her workshop. One such day, in which all commissions were completed and delivered, let Lina with the desire to escape Erebor and take some of her unsold pieces to market in Dale. Lorina agreed with her daughter's choice and decided to accompany her in order to sell her own works to the Men.
The two women dressed comfortably for the day was warm and bright. Their garments had been crafted by Lorina and were splendid to look upon. The pair arrived early in the market, before many of the stalls had been set up. This gave them a choice place to display their wares.
As the sun crept higher in the sky, turning the sky from dark purple to pink to blue, more Men, Dwarves, and Elves appeared to display their wares in the center of Dale. They were soon followed by a number of individuals interested in what was to be offered. Word quickly spread that Lina, the craftswoman rumored to have made the buckle chosen by Prince Thorin on his birthday, was present. The people descended upon the pair of female dwarves, buying much of their stock outright and commissioning further pieces from both.
Lina smiled at her mother between waves of customers. Their fortunes were changing for the better and already her heart felt lighter.
As darkness began to descend upon the land, Lina and her mother began to gather their few remaining wares along with the orders for more. The day had been profitable for them both and tonight they would rest easy, knowing, at least for a time, their fates were secure.
Then came the winds. Banners snapped and cracked as they strained against the ties binding them to poles. Thatch tore loose from the roofs of the nearby houses and flew across the market square. The trees swayed wildly, the bark and wood creaking and groaning to sound like the roar of a crowd above the town. The wind itself sounded like a million voices crying out in unison. The sound was so dreadful. The hair on the back of Lina's neck stood on end as she turned her face into the wind. Dread filled her heart as, over the cry to the wind and the people, she heard the roar.
A split second later the building to her left was engulfed in flames. People screamed and began to run. Lina caught her mother up from where she had fallen and fled the market square, heading toward Erebor. The town of Dale was ablaze as she struggled to carry her mother and the money her mother refused to release. The wood popped and shattered as the heat ate it away. Stone crumbled and dropped heavily around the two women. Some were not as fortunate as they, and were crushed by the falling stone and timbers. The fire needed no encouragement as it jumped from one rooftop to the next.
Lina somehow stumbled to the edge of the town with her burden, only to stop dead. The entire mountain was engulfed in flames. The trees were like torches, bathing the whole mountain in a glow like the sun at dawn's first light. The gates of the front hall were shattered. Flames bellowed from within. Dwarves, some unscathed and some ablaze fled Erebor. Their terrified screams filled the valley.
An icy fear gripped Lina's heart as she stared in horror at the burning city. Dragon. That could be the only explanation. The massive claw marks upon the stone face of the mountain, the deep gouges in the earth, the flames, and the roar could only be from a dragon.
Lorina's mother went limp as she fainted away in her daughter's arms. Lina seized the arm of a fleeing guard.
"Take my mother to safety," she ordered harshly. It did not occur to the other dwarf to argue. He simply lifted the unconscious female over his shoulder, her bag of gold and silver still clutched in her hands, and continued his flight into the hills.
Many others followed him. Lina had to fight her way through the frightened throngs to get close to the gate. Flames licked the stones around her. The king and his family were still trapped inside. She dove into the smoke, coughing as it burned her lungs and eyes.
She grabbed every dwarf she found and hauled him out of the city before returning to her attempt to rescue more. The blood pounded in Lina's ears as she ran deeper into the burning city. Her own home had been destroyed, smashed by the dragon's claws, her father likely still within. No tear touched her eye for him, for she had none, but her anger burned fiercely against the dragon for destroying her city, her home. At last she closed upon the royal compound. The dwarven guard lay all around her, dead. Most incinerated, others crushed. Near the entrance of the king's throne room, she found a dwarf in armor, bleeding but still alive.
"The king! Where is he?" she screamed at the dwarf over the roar of the fire. The dwarf pointed weakly to two figures appearing from the gloom. One she recognized as Prince Thorin, his determined face streaked with blood and ash. The other, leaning heavily upon his shoulder was King Thror.
Satisfied that at least the king and his grandson were safe, Lina grabbed the wounded dwarf and drew him to his feet. They staggered out behind the prince and king. Behind them the doors of the throne room collapsed, sending burning embers flying. Lina ignored the sharp sting of burning embers as they settled over her skin, shaking her head to dislodge the worst of them before they could light her afire.
Relief flooded her heart as the city gates swam into view through the acrid smoke. Thorin and his burden stumbled out into the daylight. Lina followed closely behind. A few dwarven guards at the gates drew the massive doors shut behind them as a ball of fire roared up from the depths of the city. The stone shook and rattled as smoke poured through the tiniest of fissures, but no flame escaped the now sealed city.
"Help us!" The hoarse cry was torn from the throat of Prince Thorin. Lina saw the heartbreak and anguish in his eyes at the destruction of his city, the pain his plea had caused him. She followed his gaze to the top of a nearby ridge. The ridge bristled with the spears and gleaming helms of King Thranduil's army of Elves. For a long moment Lina watched the Elf King. He remained motionless on the ridge, his forces arrayed behind him. Hope blossomed for one brief moment within her chest. Perhaps the city could be retaken before the dragon became too embedded within.
That hope was quickly crushed as the Elves turned and disappeared from view. Lina felt despair descend upon her. Her home, her city, was gone. Tears began to cloud her vision. She swiped at her eyes with one grimy hand and turned her gaze to Thorin.
There was rage, anger, absolute hatred. His blue eyes burned with his emotions as he stared at the spot the Elves had stood only moments earlier. He was humiliated. He had pleaded with the Elves for aid, lowered himself to that, and was rejected and abandoned. The Dwarves had been abandoned in their hour of greatest need. Thorin's building rage was broken momentarily by his grandfather's wracking cough.
He laid the old king gently down and looked wildly about.
"My father!" he shouted at one guard standing in motionless shock. "Where is he?"
"Here, my son," came the answer before the guard could even glance at his inquisitor. Lina looked down in bewilderment at the wounded figure in her arms. She lowered him to the ground and removed his helm with trembling hands. The bloodied face of the heir to the Dwarven throne came into view.
Thorin's expression changed to one of relief. His grandfather and father were both saved. His line was preserved. Lina felt the relief as clearly as her prince did. The dwarves would be able to survive under their leaders. At least that one thing had not been destroyed by the dragon.
Guards came to lift Thror and Thrain from the ground and bear them to a temporary camp set up somewhere beyond the hills. Lina was left slumped weakly on the ground. The adrenaline which had fueled her long enough to rescue some of her kin from the flames was fast vanishing. Her whole body began to shake with pain and stress. Her muscles were burning beneath her skin with the pain of overexertion. Her skin itself burned from the embers which had alighted upon her in her flight from the dragon. Her legs shook so much that she doubted her ability to stand.
As she began to collapse into unconsciousness, Lina felt herself being scooped up from the dirt and ash. Piercing blue eyes caught her attention for only a moment before the darkness rolled in over her. She knew nothing more.