Chapter 9: Fire and Water, Doubt or Trust


"Do we really have to cross that?" Bilbo asked and cared not if his voice carried a wee bit of cowardice, which he deemed well-justified because of what they were faced with. It had taken what remained of the night for them to follow the path of carnage left in the panicked Smaug's wake up to Erebor's entry hall in order to find out whether he was dead. No body was found, and it was strongly implied that Smaug flew out of the mountain altogether.

The strange mechanisms that chased him out on the other hand seemed to have decided to consider Smaug chased off and instead flitted about between them and Erebor's once mighty gates without apparent care, illuminated by the light of dawn in such a way that they seemed more akin to exotic chandeliers than weapons of war, an impression made explicit as they frequently repositioned to the tune of crystals clinking gently together.

All of what little they knew pointed to H'anigi having summoned them to combat Smaug, but the ease with which they sliced scales and pieces of meat off the dragon made Bilbo loath to trust them, dreading what such power could do to a person. And for all they knew, the mechanisms are simply waiting for a convenient target to amble by.

"Believe me, I really do not like this either even half a bit..." Fili replied with equal discomfort, "Yet... we must confirm whether Smaug's still alive, somehow."

Kili nodded, "Then let us be on our way." and paced onward, filled with nervous energy.

"No, Kili!" his brother hissed, but did not dare to raise his voice, "What if those things attack? We could try and find another way!"

"Trust in the woman who brought them out if you don't trust them." Kili stopped and looked back at them, "Surely nothing bad will happen so long we don't act aggressively."

Bilbo squirmed, "We don't know what precisely they define as aggressive."

"We'll never know if we don't try." Kili stressed before he continued his approach of the gates.

While afraid, Bilbo recognized that Kili's words did ring true. So it was that Bilbo decided belatedly to follow him, though nervously. Judging by the additional footfalls behind him, Fili fell in with them.

Bilbo looked up as they soon passed under the mess of mechanisms, and watched uneasily as they seemed to take no offense at their presence and continued to idly flit hither and dither, seeming completely benign in their inaction. It was a wholly jarring experience that somehow completely outmatched his face to face conversation with Smaug. At least he was somewhat comprehensible.

Slowly did they progress underneath the swarm, with trepidation in every step. Bilbo was so entirely tense that he barely dared to breathe for the whole duration even as they eventually cleared the infested area and arrived at the gates proper.

And there like someone cut their strings, he and the twins all collapsed to the knees in naked relief. "We... we are still alive." Fili said under his breath, unable to believe their fortune.

"See?" Kili flicked a thumb up, with a brave front put up, "No problem."

Fili groaned, "I'll be more like to believe you when you've stopped sweating spades, brother." and pushed himself back up, "Now, let's see what we can find."

"... Aye."

Bilbo shook his head and followed them up the nearest set of stairs until they reached the very top of the outer wall that framed the long since broken gate. And from there, they peered outward. Bilbo wanted to lose himself in the cold breeze, but narrowed the eyes in his attempt to find any sign of Smaug... and soon noticed a strangely rounded bump that like a sore thumb stuck out from the townscape of Dale. "There," Bilbo pointed, "I see him!"

"Well spotted!" Kili commended as he came about and followed his line of sight, "Truly it must be him. But is he dead?"

"Dead or just out of it." Fili muttered in observation, "Too far away to know for sure."

Bilbo bobbed his head, "We now know where he is at least. Now what?"

"We stay and keep watch until we find out, or new orders come tell us otherwise."

By far this was not what Bilbo wanted to hear, though he could not argue with the reasoning as they agreed next on the watch order. Being the first to spot Smaug, he wound up taking the first watch. So with resignation he took a large broken brick on the side for a chair and looked on while the brothers went back down and away from the wind.

What followed was several hours of nothing, where boredom eventually threatened to crush the tenseness that first kept Bilbo vigilant before Fili came up and took the second watch. Relieved and thankful, Bilbo let the dwarf take his place and ventured down with every intent to lie down and take a nap even if he lacked a bed and any such comforts.

"Here you go." Kili appeared as though he had silently sprouted from the ground behind him and threw to him a rolled up blanket and what seemed like a pack of food.

Bilbo started and barely managed to grab onto both. "Since when...?" he blurted as he looked to the familiar wares they certainly did not bring along.

"Dori came by for an update on our situation an hour ago." the dark-haired dwarf informed him, "And brought us a few bare necessities while at it."

And I did not even hear him come. Some watchman I am... Bilbo sighed inwardly. Still, he thanked Kili and the long gone Dori as he walked to find a place well-shielded from the wind – anywhere but the entry hall – and sat down to tuck in before he tucked himself in, and was fast asleep.

When next he woke, it was to the sound of a tired Kili's voice, "Your turn."

Slightly groggy and with the blanket still wrapped around him, Bilbo barely acknowledged the dwarf and climbed the stairs to take up his prior position upon the wall in hollow expectation for another uneventful shift that threatened to put him to sleep. And the next turn of his fared no better.

Evening came eventually, if only after what felt like an eternity, followed by an encroaching night so dark he could not at all see even the faintest outline of Dale, let alone the dragon who he started to suspect had gone the stretch to hibernate as in all this time he hasn't budged an inch. It seemed equally possible that Smaug had silently kicked the bucket, but that sounded too good to be true.

The night stretched on, and Bilbo's fourth shift soon came about.

Once again he returned onto the wall, and shuddered at how the cold wind sank its fangs into him, against which his blanket offered no defense. "C-curse and damn this miserable night..." Bilbo hissed tersely, and let his thoughts wander, not for the last time, to the homely warmth of Bag End.

A moment of self-induced distraction that ended abruptly as a clamor erupted from Dale. Unable to see what went on, Bilbo could only listen dumbly as buildings suddenly crumbled and whole streets were torn in-between the labored snorts of a very much alive Smaug up until the dragon audibly spread his wings and with a few strong beats took to the air.

It occurred immediately to Bilbo that he should fall back, but he was too captivated by a strange turn of events. He thought Smaug would try and lay siege to Erebor, but rather than close in the wing-beats grew rapidly more distant.

To his own surprise, this development did not quite develop the pleasant relief he thought it would... and immediately realized why, for Smaug's seeming choice of direction did not at all sit well with him.

"Bilbo!" he heard Fili call as though from somewhere far away, "What's happening out there?!"

Pale from his realization, Bilbo was utterly silent as he stared where Smaug had gone to the south, in despair of what slaughter is about to take place, "He's going to Esgaroth..."

OoOoO

Ever since the beginning of his imprisonment, Bard had no illusion about how miserable his treatment would be seeing as for how long the town's corrupt Master has been out to get him. Food was plain rubbish, guards jeered at him whenever it suited them, and his cell was windy and exposed – the middlemost part of a bridge suspended high above a broad waterway – and his own kids were only allowed to come see him every other day.

Safe to say it was unpleasant, which was the whole point.

Unable to sleep because of the cold, and worried that he might not wake again if he did fully turn in, Bard sat against the wall by his plain bed and listened to the occasional pedestrian to happen past who were more than likely to complain about not being at home like all the rest due to one duty or another.

That, however, changed when he heard a conversation not far away from a couple of men stood upon a tall watchtower.

"Look!" one of them said, "Lights upon the mountain, something is happening up there!"

"Perhaps the King under the Mountain is forging gold." the other said, "It has been a while since he went north after all."

"Which King?" a third man joined in, "As like as not it is the marauding fire of the Dragon, the only King under the Mountain we have ever known."

"You are always foreboding gloomy things!" said the first, "Anything from floods to poisoned fish. Think of something cheerful!"

Bard wrinkled his brows at the conversation, before a great light lit up from the north and drew cries of awe from the watchmen.

"The King beneath the Mountain." the second shouted, "His wealth is like the sun, the river is running gold from the Mountain!"

Naturally this got a reaction from the villagers as windows opened and people left their houses to see what spectacle the watchmen beheld in an onrush of excitement and enthusiasm. Bard did not share in their gladness as he rose and rushed to the lone window his cell had to its name, "The Dragon is coming or I am a fool!" he muttered into the night. "Cut the bridges!" Bard loudly demanded though he knew he had not the authority, it was do or don't and hope someone got the mind to go through with it, "To arms! To arms!"

If anyone had a mind to tell him to be quiet, the words died as the light everyone cheered about was joined by a distant bloodthirsty roar delivered with such force it might as well had been delivered to their faces. Jubilation turned to dread, and hysteria threatened to overcome the people as they now fled from the onrushing calamity. Fortunate it was then that Lake-town was not wholly unprepared for a situation like this as soon trumpets were sounded and everyone who hadn't turned out of their homes in a frenzy of activity to make preparation for the battle to come, whatever little they could manage – which included the bathing of all vessels and dwellings in water to mitigate the inevitable inferno, and the destruction of the two bridges that connected Lake-town to the shores.

Another roar erupted from the north, much closer now. Bard only got the time to peer about for any way to escape from his cell before the world seemed to turn upside down. One of the buildings that held the bridge between them was suddenly turned alight as Smaug upon arrival immediately strafed the village and doused a considerable stretch of it in flames so powerful that wood no matter the strength seemed to fade away like paper in a furnace.

Neither of the buildings that held the bridge could withstand the sudden strain and it broke away to the clamor of splintering wood and fell into the waterway. Luckily for the lone prisoner, this process twisted the structure out of shape and caused the door to break away so Bard could with unsteady steps slip out and make a clumsy run across the increasingly compromised hallway till he broke through the most splintered end and leaped onto the walkway just in the nick of time before the bridge sank beneath the waves.

"What a night..." Bard said through gritted teeth as he collapsed to his knees from the exertion, and the splinter of wood that had during his frantic escape buried itself into his side. It was painful to be sure, but he had no time to suffer and fought himself through it as he rose and made his way into the more or less undamaged half of the prison to find its armory.

Along the way he with trembling fingers pulled from his side the piece of wood, and tightly tied up a length of cloth picked up from a nearby table around his waist to halt the blood.

"... and it's far from over."

Bard labored through the place till he found the armory and picked out of it a great yew bow much to his liking, along with a full quiver the guards probably overlooked in their haste as they armed themselves and left to fight.

Satisfactorily armed, Bard hurried out and down the crowded streets with a list of objectives clear in mind. First of all he needed to check on his family and make sure they disembark before he would join the town's defense.

Everything he saw along the way though pointed to a worsening situation. Much of Lake-town was aflame, and volleys of arrows left the walls in hopeless pursuit of Smaug as he strafed the village again and again. Every wind lance had been burnt down, and everywhere he looked people either set out to the lake or tried desperately to extinguish the rampant fires.

It was a terrible situation, which was made in no way better by the sight of the town's Master. Rather than lead or help, the fat buffoon and his cohorts had loaded a boat to the brim with gold and sought only to flee. Had Bard been any less decent a man, he would have gladly stuck an arrow into the greed-addled coward.

"Dad!"

Bard's turned his attention forward in surprise as the children of his, spearheaded by Bain, pressed through the crowd to reach him, "Bain, Tilda, Sigrid, what are you doing here?!"

"We were coming to get you out of prison!" Bain halted to say while the girls flew into their father's embrace, fear etched on their faces.

"You three..." he sighed in exasperation and briefly hugged the girls, "All of you better get in a boat and disembark. Get away from the fire."

"What about you?" Tilda asked.

The enormous frame that promptly passed overhead – thankfully without soaking the immediate area in fire – more than explained what he needed to do. "I must fight." he said with determined finality, "All attempts to escape will be for naught if we cannot repel that monster."

"No!" the youngest girl cried stubbornly, desperate, "Stay with us!"

"Please, my daughter, there's no time." Bain told her straight, with feeling, "Be brave."

"Come." Sigrid in understanding of the urgency pulled Tilda by her shoulder, even if she too grieved and feared to lose their father, "We must go."

He looked to his son, the oldest of the siblings, "Bain, if I should fall, you're in charge. Take care of your sisters."

"I will." Bain nodded with suppressed reluctantce, "But before you go... you're going to need this." and held up an heirloom that has been in the family since the fall of Dale.

It was a black arrow. The one thing known to them that could with impunity pierce a dragon's thick hide. Bard stared before he almost reverently accepted it from his son's hand and felt its weight as he stowed it in his quiver, "I will make good use of it. Now go, find a boat, be swift before Smaug decide to turn this place aflame as well."

His children said their farewell, which they understandably dreaded would be their last, before they withdrew. Tilda whose face was covered in tears refused to leave, and had to be pulled along by her older siblings. Bard looked on for as long as he could afford, then turned and made his way toward the nearest wall from which arrows still flew.

OoOoO

"What have we done?"

Bilbo asked this breathlessly, in shock, as he looked on at what seemed like no more than a bonfire at this distance. From the very moment of his spoken understanding of Smaug's wrathful intent, he had made his way to try and find any outlook that he could reach in a timely fashion at a mad dash – common sense be damned. Fili and Kili tried to dissuade him of course, and would have restrained him if it was not for Balin's timely arrival – who decided grimly for them to join him.

And so it was that the four of them, under Balin's guidance came to stand there at the closest and highest-positioned outlook he knew of and from there beheld the ongoing calamity with much sorrow... and horror.

With the mechanisms in place, Erebor had become nigh-unassailable, so in his rage the dragon had chosen to take his frustration out on the people of Lake-town instead.

"Poor souls." Balin sighed softly, "But there is nothing we could have done to prevent this."

Bilbo gritted his teeth, "We could have gone and killed him while he slept."

"No, Bilbo." Fili shook his head, "Even wounded as he is, in the open we'd need an army."

Kili somberly agreed, "Alone... we would have only managed to get ourselves killed."

"Had our original plan gone off without a hitch, this would have never happened." Balin weighed in sorrowfully, with great meaning, "Once it derailed, the future became uncertain."

And it could have been completed without wakening Smaug in the first place, had he been more cautious. Bilbo seethed with regret as he looked back at that moment where he in a fit of carelessness uncovered the dragon. So much could have been avoided, but he was stuck in the morass of the present, powerless to do anything but watch, as Smaug butchered with abandon.

Bilbo swore that he would make amends, one way or another.

OoOoO

From the beginning of this night's struggle, no one could imagine this battle to have a happy outcome. A prediction that proved true insofar the battle has gone on as what little hope lived in the hearts of men flickered and faded. Already men jumped into the water on every side, while women and children are being huddled into laden boats. Weapons were flung down as what bravery kept the guardsmen going failed. People mourned and wept, and they cursed the dwarves who had gone up to the mountain and incurred the dragon's wrath.

But still there remained warriors upon the walls and among the dwellings even as Smaug turned more of the town into smoke and embers with every swoop. Storms of arrows were stubbornly loosed upon Smaug in every pass he made, when the dragon flew the lowest.

It was a brave resistance that held ground even as their arrows bounced harmlessly from the enormous beast in large part because of the grim-faced and grim-voiced man among them who encouraged and cheered on the others. He was no Captain, nor in any position of authority, but they knew of his worth and courage, and what respect the villagers held for him before became all the stronger in this darkest of hours where he fought steadfast against Smaug and refused to yield.

Bard shouted further encouragement into the fiery wind as he with his newly appropriated great yew bow launched another arrow skyward, and absently noted to himself the lightness of his quiver as the dispatched arrow broke harmlessly against the passing dragon's belly before he made a quick climb up a nearby ladder and positioned himself atop the roof it leaned on, with the hope that a more equalized altitude would better aid his effort.

Still the black arrow remained in his quiver. It was the only one available to him, and needed to be used only if he had no other choice.

From atop the roof he saw almost the whole village had been turned ablaze, and watched as Smaug unstoppably strafed yet again and sent even more structures crashing down. It was during this when finally the dragon slowed to look on his handiwork, the fruits of his labor, with an infuriating amount of satisfaction.

And in this fleeting moment, when the dragon hovered in place, illuminated by the sea of fire and a naked moon as the clouds faded away, Bard finally saw what had so far been masked by smoke and the incredible speed Smaug could muster.

Contrary to the impression Smaug made, he was in fact gravely injured. Bard was stunned to learn of all the massive scars and wounds that had been torn across what would otherwise had been an impeccable coat of scales. Bard also, if momentarily, met the dragon's gaze and learned an eye was missing – a conclusion drawn from how tightly closed Smaug kept its lids, and the shaft of a weapon that stuck out of it along with tendrils of gore.

Days before, the Master claimed that the dwarves most likely ventured forth with a plan of action in mind. It seemed the fat buffoon was right about in that respect, even if it was poor consolation given how the plan had failed to firmly put the dragon down.

"Warriors of Esgaroth!" Bard cried to those who remained below, "Send word to all who still fight! Look close, Smaug is wounded! Aim upon his injuries and we may yet drive him off!"

A cheer went up, and the company of archers renewed in their determination scattered.

From there, not long passed before their struggle was renewed as from many fronts scores of arrows were sent to the sky, and this time rather than bounce off harmlessly, the arrows stabbed into Smaug's frame, much to the dragon's consternation.

But still, though the arrows now found their marks and fastened into Smaug's damaged flesh, they would not be enough to fell him. Bard expended what few arrows he had left till when he for the last time reached into the quiver, his hand met with only cold metal.

Bard hefted it, and wondered whether this was a stroke of fate. The dwarves injured the beast, every wind lance was down, and here he stood with the only readily available black arrow at a perfect vantage point.

Amidst his musing, the now irate Smaug landed on the fiery townscape and brought his massive claws through men and dwellings alike, both smashed aside with equal impunity, his side presented to the lone bowman.

So be it.

"Arrow." Bard said as he brought the arrow to his bow and drew the string to his ear, "Black arrow! I have saved you to the last. You have never failed me and always have I recovered you. I had you from my father, and he from of old. If ever you came from the forges of the true King under the Mountain, go now and speed well!"

The great bow twang, and the black arrow sped straight and true for Smaug's exposed side, into one of the open wounds, and in a fierce rush of blood it pierced the stripped flesh and sank so it all but vanished, bard, shaft, and feather.

From this, such a shriek of pain exploded from Smaug's throat that it deafened the men closest to him, and crashed upon the surrounding structures like a shock wave. Bard was flung back by this wall of noise, yet he grinned victoriously amid his flight at how thoroughly the arrow had found its mark.

OoOoO

Every precaution had been taken.

All possibilities were brought into account.

Nothing was left to chance.

But Smaug at the very end, on the brink of victory, lost himself to complacency at the worst possible time, and suffered for it. He failed to consider that among this smattering of pitifully powerless defenders, there could be a skilled archer armed with a black arrow that just waited for a perfect target.

A target he unwittingly provided when he least could afford it.

It already took every ounce of his will to fight through the blinding pain that haunted his every step since the night before. The addition of the arrow now lodged within his chest proved atop of his existing injuries to be altogether too much.

Smaug reared back and he screamed out in his misery, made all the worse as the deep breath of his made the arrow stir and tear against his innards.

Throughout all this, archers came out from every nook and cranny and launched arrows upon him, emboldened by the one archer's success and his own sudden weakness, his position rendered more and more untenable by the moment.

So it was with impotent rage and all the mightier frustration at having been defeated twice in so short amount of time that Smaug finally decided he had had enough. He grit his great jaws hard enough to draw blood and brandished the massive wings.

With great beats that buffeted the men around him, Smaug laboriously took to the sky and withdrew from the miserable village that would at the very least soon sink to the bottom of the lake, and contemplated on what to do next.

Revenge was of course what dominated the wounded Smaug's mind as he flew further out. It needed to be had... Only... how?

Then he remembered. Smaug's thoughts strayed to a particular point of the conversation he had with the diminutive creature that last night disturbed his long decades of sleep.

Dravania.

A great Kingdom of Dragons.

At the time he dismissed it as some fairy tale born from of an imaginative mind. But now, after what happened since, the claim seemed increasingly likely to have a sliver of truth in it... and therein lay the means to bring about his revenge. Whatever it takes, he would find a way to cross over to this other world and summon to his banner an army of dragons the likes of which hasn't graced the skies of Middle-Earth since the War of Wrath. A force that would paint the land red with the blood of those who wronged him, them and their equally wretched kin.

Not knowing how yet, he made the decision to offer his services to the one he knew would take great interest in this other world, the only lord since Morgoth he willingly would bow his head to, whose darkness he sensed has begun to cover the lands once again. And so he turned his back on Esgaroth and the Lonely Mountain for the time being, and for lack of a better destination made his way east.

To the blackened lands of Mordor, where the shadows lie.

OoOoO

Blood has been shed this night... Gandalf observed glumly through barely open eyes as he watched the approaching dawn from within the hanging cage he had been confined to in the wake of his brutal defeat by Sauron's hand, which alongside the dark magics of Dol Guldur had weakened him profoundly. The loss of his staff also helped him none.

It was weakness such that he hasn't felt in an age.

"No spells will aid you here, old man!"

Being spoken to in the black speech of the orcs was certainly not what he needed right now... even less so the following treatment as the brutish creature plucked the cage from its hook and threw it roughly onto the ground.

"You have something the Master wants!" the orc demanded as it flung the cage opened and pulled the enfeebled wizard out by his collar.

Of course the Master wanted something, and knowing that provided a small comfort. Prying into one's mind is no simple task, and while Sauron had proven more powerful than Gandalf anticipated, the dark lord remained a pale shadow of his former self, otherwise he'd already have drained his mind of all knowledge.

And while their Master rested, this orc would try and force him to speak through simple torture.

"One of the three elven rings." his would-be torturer demanded further and threw him back onto the hard ground, sans the bars, "Where is it?"

Gandalf put on as stony a glare as he could muster, and with much effort deadpanned his drawl of a reply, "And... w-where else... would someone put a-a ring, orc?"

The orc was decidedly unimpressed and drew from its scabbard a crooked scimitar before it in a show of strength upended him and inspected his left hand, where it found a single spotless ring. "The Ring of Fire." the orc appraised and brandished the sword, "Where are the others?! Answer me or lose your fingers till none are left!"

This time, Gandalf kept silent. For that knowledge he would never divulge. In so doing, he prepared for the pain to come... before a musical note spoken in elvish danced in his ravaged mind.

Fear not... for you are not alone, Mithrandir...

Such a beautiful voice, so rich, so gentle, and so warm, could belong to only one person in all of Middle-Earth. Gandalf turned far as he could, and looked upon none other than Lady Galadriel, the greatest and fairest of the Eldar.

Upon the sight of her, the foul orc too was stunned.

"I come for Mithrandir." Galadriel declared, "And I will leave with him."

To flee did apparently not cross the orc's mind as it reacted and stood, the blade held high.

"If you try to stop me..." the Lady of Light continued menacingly as she gained in power, "I will destroy you."

A roar of defiance left the orc as it charged for all of the instant it took for Galadriel to shatter the creature as though it was a statue of clay before she motioned to Gandalf and with much grace and strength that belied her slight frame pulled him free from the cold ground.

More at peace than he has been for days, Gandalf surrendered entirely to the weakness that has only grown since his capture and collapsed into a half slumber where all he could do was let what followed pass in a daze. Only barely did he acknowledge the battle that soon followed when the dreaded Nine, Kings of Men who fell to the power of their rings, appeared from thin air to surround Galadriel, only to be beset by the great white wizard, Saruman, and Master Elrond.

Against the likes of these, the Nine, even cursed as they are, stood little chance.

"Mithrandir..." Galadriel spoke softly to him while they fought, "Come back..." and gently leaned in to place a kiss on his forehead.

Gandalf drew a sharp breath and started awake, invigorated by the power imbued in her words and gesture. He blinked repeatedly, and gasped in attempt to warn the Lady as everything came back to him.

"Yes," she nodded gravely before he could speak, "the darkness has returned."

Next to arrive was Radagast, who brought his rabbit-drawn sled to a stop next to them. "Gandalf, climb on!" the brown wizard shouted with urgency, his eyes directed nervously toward the battle waged around them.

"He has been weakened by the blackest of magic." Gandalf heard Galadriel tell the new arrival as she brought him onto the sled, "He can not remain here. Take him away, quickly!"

While he more than understood the reasoning, Gandalf refused to leave and caught her arm pleadingly, "No my Lady." he strenuously exhaled, "I cannot leave yet... for there is a matter of greatest import... that can no longer wait."

Galadriel was about to argue the point and demand for Radagast to depart, when the battle with the Nine ended with astonishing abruptness, and the Eye of Sauron emerged as though from the horizon in a storm of demonic fire. "It has begun!" the dark lord declared darkly to his startled audience in the black speech, "The East will fall. So shall the Kingdom of Angmar rise. The Age of the Elves is over. The Age of the Orc has come. All shall bow to the New Age, in this world and beyond."

A shudder of recognition ran up Gandalf's spine as tendrils made out of the darkest shadows of the world surged from the eye and threatened to envelop them all, so powerful that the ancient masonry crumbled and splintered where the tendrils touched. One broken brick newly launched by accident or design took Radagast by surprise as he was about to urge his rabbits to get going, and bowled the brown wizard over.

Seeing this, fury took Galadriel and she brought from her robes a single holy phial that beat back the shadows with its light before she even imparted her might upon it. When she did, its radiance became like a star and flooded the unholy bastion with warm light and vanquished the sea of tendrils completely. But nothing of this display compared to Galadriel herself who exuded such power that even Saruman quailed before her. "You have no power here, Servant of Morgoth!" Galadriel intoned so her voice boomed as she through the phial attacked Sauron directly, "You are formless. Nameless. Begone from whence you came!"

Fierce was the struggle that followed, as Sauron and Galadriel fought a bitter battle of will so terrible in its fury that Dol Guldur was shaken to its foundations. Yet last for long it did not, for it was not yet time for the dark lord in his current state to contend with the likes of Galadriel. So it was in a brilliant wave of light that Sauron amid a dark howl let go and withdrew from the castle and vanished.

Having thrown Sauron away, the exhausted Galadriel dropped onto a knee and fell against Elrond who was quick to lend her his support. "We have been deceived." he whispered solemnly.

"The spirit of Sauron endured." Galadriel exchanged a sad look with them.

Saruman was more dismissive, as was his tendency, "And has been banished."

"For now..." she closed her eyes, "He will flee into the east."

"Gondor... should be warned." Elrond's voice turned steely with every apparent intent to travel to this southern Kingdom himself in spite of his own grievances concerning the race of men, "They must set a watch on the walls of Mordor."

"No." Saruman said resolutely, "You must tend to Lady Galadriel, for she has spent much of her power and her strength is failing. Take her to Lothlórien."

"My lord Saruman. We cannot wait overlong." the half-elf protested sternly, "He must be hunted down and destroyed once and for all."

"Oh, I could not agree more." Radagast quipped breathlessly far in the back as he recovered from the earlier blow, and for his effort earned a stern glare from the white wizard. To his credit, he was not overly bothered by it. "But is there no one concerned with the dark lord's emphasis on... you know..." he quirked a bushy brow, "'This world and beyond'?"

Gandalf crinkled a small smile at that piece of observation, another reminder that Radagast was far wiser than his eccentric countenance usually implied.

"Valinor, no doubt. Foolish words and nothing more." Saruman shook his head, completely indifferent, "It speaks well for how far gone Sauron is, for no one passes into the Undying Lands but elves and those with the Valar's blessing."

"You speak the truth, Saruman the White..." Galadriel hitched and shuddered as she took her gaze off the horizon and looked onto the sled-ridden wizard, "Yet... Valinor may not be what the dark one meant... Mithrandir, what you needed to tell onto us with such urgency... does it concern this?"

"It does, my fair Lady." Gandalf gave a grim nod, "Behold..." and without mincing further words opened his mind to them. With great immediacy did he sense surprise from every one of them, even the unflappable Elrond and Saruman, as the image of H'anigi Tohl asserted itself in their thoughts... along with the conversation the company and she engaged in upon their first encounter. Everything Sauron gleamed from his memories by force, he now showed almost eagerly to his long-time friends and allies.

Needless to say, the assembly of fellow ancients were stunned by the knowledge.

"I cannot believe it." Elrond whispered in what bordered on shock, his gaze fixed on the female miqo'te's image, "For other worlds to exist. For there to exist upon Arda the means to cross over into these other worlds... Why did not the old songs tell us of this?"

"Because these Aetherytes are not of this world." Gandalf explained of what was his hypothesis on the matter, "I can only guess that some time, long ago, travelers came here from the world of Hydaelyn and placed an unknown number of these Aetherytes across Middle-Earth without anyone's knowledge."

Radagast frowned as he brushed some leftover dirt from his beard, "What do you suppose their reasons were?"

"I know not," Gandalf shrugged, "but suspect said reasons have long since become irrelevant. What is relevant however..."

"Is that Sauron now covets them." Galadriel haltingly finished for him, realizing more and more the implications even as she struggled to stay awake. "He desires this other world."

"And the means to redeploy his forces effortlessly to any place, at a moment's notice." Saruman noted thoughtfully.

Elrond cursed softly in elvish as he processed this, "Which means we too must covet these Aetherytes for our own use, and for safe-keeping."

"That... is precisely what I suggest we do." Gandalf concurred, "We must contact all who will listen, and conduct a search across the free lands."

"Many will find all this difficult to believe." Radagast cautioned.

"Yet it must be done."

"I concur." Saruman agreed, with the expression of someone who just swallowed something greatly sour, "We must do all we can for the safety of Middle-Earth, but for now let us focus on what we must do now." and looked to Elrond then Radagast in a pointed manner.

"Of course." Gandalf coughed his agreement in due turn, "I for one must make my return to Thorin's company. Sauron knows there may be an Aetheryte in Erebor, and as such it need to be secured into the dwarves' hands soonest possible more than ever."

"Yes, about that..." Radagast commented absently as he looked at a strangely excited bird that sang as it flew past, "It would seem that Smaug has been driven from the Lonely Mountain altogether somehow."

That got Gandalf's attention, "Did it mention how?"

"No, only that the dragon was greatly hurt by the time he fled from Erebor." the brown wizard mused perplexedly, "Do you know what could have gone and done that?"

"Frankly," he weakly grimaced, "I have not even the foggiest notion. Erebor could not possess a weapon capable of such a thing, or it would never have fallen in the first place."

"All the more important for you to depart Mithrandir, before Sauron picks up yet more advantages." Galadriel murmured, "Make haste, friend."

"Yes, do that." Saruman growled, "Radagast, it is about time you and Gandalf take your leave. And for pity's sake find him a new staff while at it."

Radagast shrugged as he took up position on the sled, "I can do that. Hang on Gandalf."

And he did so the best he was able after a faint wave of farewell as the brown wizard with a jerk of the reins made the rabbits spring into action. The last he heard from those quickly left behind followed as such: "And what do we do about Sauron himself?" Elrond demanded.

Saruman's solemn reply was prompt, "Leave him to me."

"Now how did you navigate these ruins anyway, Radagast?" Gandalf mused as his ride progressed rapidly, and took several sharp turns along the way that most would have thought of as... impossible. It was quite harrowing really, particularly as they approached at high speed what might once have been a bridge, only now with enough wide holes to make it seem more like a set of pillars placed far apart. Enough to cause the sled-ridden gray wizard some pause.

"Improvisation, speed," Radagast replied evenly, "and a little bit of luck. Hup!"

Gandalf's opinion on the matter could be summarized thus: "Oh dear."

OoOoO

When Bard next woke, by which time dawn had belatedly come, it was with a thunderous headache. Considering how much worse it could have been as he was by the force in Smaug's cry of pain flung from where he had stood on a dwelling's roof, this little bit of pain did not even warrant a complaint.

Instead he focused on where he was, on a boat being brought to the shore by a band of rugged men armed with bows. Survivors from the battle.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" he heard the nearest fellow, a gray-bearded old man, ask concernedly, "You had a really tough landing, Bard."

"Nothing I can't handle, Hans." Bard sighed as he sat up and groggily rubbed his head, remembering the name of the old hunter, "Where is Smaug now?"

"You hear that, men?" Hans laughed to the others, "The bargeman's not nearly done with the dragon yet."

"Bard's of the line of Girion," a haggard fellow grinned like it made all the sense in the world, "so of course he isn't. Fought to the last breath his forefather did to drive off the dragon, and what he started, Bard finished."

"If only the beast had died, it'd be even better."

Another joined eagerly, "If he hasn't already, hurt as the dragon was I reckon the bastard keeled over somewhere out there."

"Don't tempt fate," Bard sighed, "it might just decide to prove you wrong. Instead let us help our people, for there will be many hard days ahead."

"Aye." they all replied in near-unison.

While the dragon was indeed driven away, the damage had been done. Most of Lake-town has collapsed beneath the waves, and made its denizens homeless. People in their hundreds filled the vista ahead from the shore to hills further up, all of them either milling about almost aimlessly as they looked for friends and loved ones, or mourning from the losses Smaug had inflicted on them.

Bard disembarked as they hit land, and ignored the coldness of the waters as he waded ashore and committed himself to search until a nearby commotion drew his attention, along with plenty of ire soon as he found the source of it.

That source being no other than Alfrid, who argued petulantly with a woman for the blanket she carried, which she had no intention of handing over. Frustrated by her refusal, he attempted to take the blanket by force.

Yeah, he wouldn't let that come to pass.

So Bard went and quickly grabbed the pathetic weasel of a man by the wrist before he could strike her with it, "Right now," he growled, in barely veiled fury, watching as Alfrid's sullen face turned a shade paler, "I wouldn't be turning on your own, Alfrid. Not now."

Without a beat, he span the man in place and applied a foot against the ankle so Alrid fell hard on his back.

"Dad!"

For an absent second Bard wondered how many times more they would be reunited like this before he turned from the scum with a relieved cry in Tilda's name accepted the gladdened girl into his arms, along with an equally relieved Sigrid besides. "It's alright, darling." he hugged them tightly, and shared a smile with Bain who had come out in the girls' wake. "We're here, alive and well."

"It was Bard!" Percy, one of the town's toll men called aloud to the people, "He fought the beast off, I saw it with my own eyes!"

And naturally, this announcement had to be carried out right at this precious moment. And like they were summoned, people flocked in from every direction to better hear what Percy said. "Sent him away with but a single black arrow!"

"He led us," Hans who remained nearby shouted in continuation, "when no one else dared to!"

Bard was forced to recall the Master's ship, and that his cohorts who elected to flee with the gold included the Captain himself. Lake-town's warriors were left leaderless because of this. Between the timing of this announcement and not knowing whether the Master and Captain made it out, Bard settled his expression into one of moroseness though he kept it relatively mild as all around him people cheered at the news. Many dozens of people closed in from all around, with a couple hundred more on the way and showered him with praise and cries of gratitude.

"Thank you!"

"You saved us all!"

"Bless you!"

But of course there is no party without one to break the mood. A role served by a tactless Alfrid as he took Bard's arm and thrust it into the air, "All hail King Bard!" Needless to say, the cheer vanished instantly.

With disgust, Bard pulled his arm from the mewling man's grip, but he did not seem to pick up on the abruptly foul mood. "I've said it many times!" he blatantly lied with a forced cheer, "This man is of a noble stock! A born leader!"

"Do not call me that." Bard growled, "I am not the Master of this town. Where is he?!"

An aging woman stepped forth, "Dead or halfway down the Anduin – with all the gold I don't doubt." and leveled a finger accusingly at Alfrid, "You helped him empty the treasury."

"No," Alfrid shook his head, "I tried to stop him!"

It did not at all help his case, because people knew how much of a treacherous worm he is. Rather than apologize he made excuses till the villagers would hear him no longer and swarmed in to take him to a nearby tree, with every intent to see him hanged. While Bard did not at all care about the sniveling man, he decided this was taking it too far.

"Let him go!" he called loudly over the many voices of condemnation, and was surprised at how quickly the riot stopped. He continued regardless, "Look around you! Have you not had your fill of death?!"

Bard waited a scarce moment, "Winter is upon us. We must look to our own, to the sick and the helpless. Those who can stand, tend to the wounded. Those who have strength, follow me – we must salvage what we can."

"What then?!" the woman Alfrid had tried to steal from asked, "What will we do then?"

More softly, he replied, "We find shelter." and made way to the shore and found himself followed by almost the entire village. Whether he wanted it or not, they already saw him as their leader.

OoOoO

Back when H'anigi fainted, she deep inside figured the thing to stir her from the deep sleep she expected to come would be a terrible nightmare. Given what she experienced those hours before that moment, it was at least a reasonable assumption... that ultimately proved to be quite wrong. Instead what followed her loss of consciousness was utter nothingness.

There was no dream at all... only an inscrutable silence that felt as though poised to be everlasting.

So instead of a nightmare, what prodded the miqo'te into the waking world was instead a hollow sensation that grew till it all but overwhelmed her. And so the eventuality came where H'anigi could stand it no longer and snapped her eyes open, whereupon she discovered just what was wrong.

Her stomach was to an almost painful extent empty.

"What a way to wake up..." H'anigi drawled as she pulled herself free from an ancient and worn but eminently usable bed, and took in her current surroundings – a dwarven bedroom by all accounts, and probably used to be quite homely back in the day before the place got abandoned, then caked by dust and cobwebs.

Not about to stay put any longer, she pulled open its heavy door and wandered out across the hallway beyond at a laborious pace till she found what was perhaps the dwarven equivalent of a living room. It was empty except for a great number of lined-up chairs, a long table, and upon it a fair amount of used cups and scraps of food that testified to a recent dinner. This included a plate of meat that looked like it had been left to turn cold.

Not about to care at this junction about the food's readiness, H'anigi snatched up the plate and had the meat upon it and whatever else lay available take its proper place within her. "I feel alive again~" she cooed after the swift conclusion of her meal and subsequently took a half-full mug of water to slake her thirst.

Now if only this place included a bath, then her 'morning' would be complete.

Determined to see if that might be the case, she left the chair and room to embark on further a tour of the place that after several rooms culminated in a peculiarly built but well-equipped area that most visibly included a tub-like depression in the granite floor with what appeared to be a plug at the bottom, and a channel that ran up to... a fireplace of sorts, freshly stowed with what wood the dwarves had gathered sometime during her untimely... coma, perhaps.

It made her momentarily wonder for how long she slept, before the thought was shaken off in favor of trying to see how this whole thing here worked. H'anigi walked up to the stove and opened a rounded lid on the top side to find it was at least a quarter full with water by the looks of it. Enough to adequately fill the tub.

Intrigued, she closed it and went on to get this thing started. H'anigi threw in some of the tinder that lay nearby, then used the flint and fire striker besides to finally light a fire that quickly took to the wood, then blew on it for good measure. She then sat back to wait until the room turned comfortably hot before she rose and checked the water through the aforedescribed lid.

It was pleasingly warm, just a few steps short of steamy.

Encouraged by the success, she opened the mouth of the channel and let the water pour into the tub. And not about to waste this boon, H'anigi after a quick look to the door proceeded to undress and discarded the clothing into a steadily growing pile before she, fully bare, lowered herself slowly into the rapidly filling tub and released once she was shoulder-deep a long drawn-out moan that was positively euphoric.

"Oh~" H'anigi reclined with a broad smile, "By the Twelve, it's been way too long."

"Now... all I need is a..." the busty marauder continued, and started on a turn when she spotted an old-looking brush close at hand and raised her brow in appreciation, "Well, I'll be damned."

She took it and went through with the long process of cleaning and grooming herself from the tail and feet and up, all while she softly hummed to an old bar tune, glad to finally be rid of many days worth of sweat and grime. All of that would somewhat be for naught though if she did not clean her clothes while at it. Thus, once H'anigi deemed herself suitably clean, she pulled herself out and searched the lone delipidated closet that sat in the corner, and was glad to find a serviceable washboard, which she took back to the tub, brought the clothes, and put them in the still-warm bath water.

Eager to get the vile-smelling articles back up to an acceptable standard, she soaked and rubbed each piece of clothing vigorously against the washboard, with special care to be absolutely thorough though some of the long since dried-up blood on the shirt and simply refused to come off – courtesy of the time she had an arm thrust deep into Smaug's eye. Something she just had to accept as she pulled out one clean length of cloth after another to wring the water out of and put aside till she eventually was done.

By then the water had turned quite filthy, naturally.

H'anigi did not at all favor wading into it to pull the plug, and checked the closet yet again for something to help with that little issue, and found an iron stick with a blunt hook at the end.

"Hoh, those who used to live here really thought of everything." the miqo'te commented mirthfully as she took it, "I suppose that's why this place was chosen." and returned to the tub to put this tool to good use, and removed the plug without any further fuss. "There we go."

All that remained for now was to hang up her clothes and wait for them and herself to dry. H'anigi thus picked up the pile of articles and hanged them onto the convenient rail that ran along the wall before she then stretched herself out in front of the still crackling fireplace and quietly luxuriated at the warmth it radiated plentifully.

"I wonder how long it'll take for them to get back." H'anigi mumbled to herself before she did all she could do at this juncture: To settle down, take patience for company, and wait.

OoOoO

Another evening had come. It did not show this deep in the mountain, but the bodies of those who currently wandered its halls felt it weigh heavily on their exhausted bodies. Ever since Smaug fled the region, Thorin had relegated to all of them whenever possible the task of finding the Arkenstone. A search that has so far been fruitless.

Dwalin complained about it not at all knowing fully the importance of its finding. Instead he worried about Thorin who has been like a brother to him since their childhood. Between them they shared a special bond they had with no one else.

Having known Thorin for so long, the moment when he held a sword to Bilbo's chest had been shocking... but thankfully brief as he quickly snapped back to his senses. Dwalin concluded back then that it was desperation that pushed him so far, but lately he had grown to be not so sure. For as the Arkenstone continued to elude them, Thorin only grew more intent on finding it – bordering on an obsession.

It needed to be found, Dwalin understood, but hoped it would not deliver his friend to madness in the process.

The rumination of his promptly ended as Bifur up ahead pushed open the door to the domicile Glóin had chosen for all of them. It was a mansion by all accounts, and large enough to house an extended family of considerable size. Perfect for housing them all in other words. And in spite of long abandonment, some of the furniture remained in serviceable condition.

Soon as they entered, Óin split off without a word to check on H'anigi who probably remained comatose.

"Gather up." Thorin declared as he took a seat by the table.

Dwalin was tired, as they all were, but he slumped onto a chair all the same – eager to get the daily debrief over with. Soon as their leader was about to start though, Óri with thunderous steps returned to them. "She's gone!" he shouted.

"What?" Glóin stood so his chair fell away, just one of many startled reactions.

Bilbo who had on their trip back been the most silent rose and demanded sharply; "What do you mean 'gone'?!"

"She must have awakened while we were away." Óin stated what was obvious to all of them in professional concern, "Durin's beard, she could be out trying to find us for all we know. At worst..."

"At worst... what?" a door was kicked open to reveal a squeaky clean and slightly amused H'anigi dressed in just her pants, boots, and sweater, "Thal's balls, calm yourselves the heck down. I'm right here."

"Damn girl..." breathed Balin closed-eyed in relief, "We've been worried about you."

"Sorry for the trouble." the miqo'te scratched her head as she paced to the table, her tail swishing animatedly, "For how long was I out?"

"... H'anigi, you have been sleeping for five days."

OoOoO

"Oh." H'anigi dropped her look of amusement in favor of shock, "I was aware I've been unconscious for a while, but not that long."

"Better a few days than forever." Glóin commented reassuringly, "You looked as though dead down there."

"And the timing could not be better." their leader declared as he steepled his fingers, "Now that you are up and about, I believe it is about time you explain what happened in the mines, of what the mechanisms flitting about the entry hall now are."

H'anigi smiled grimly, "I suppose an explanation's in order."

"Then by all means," Thorin spread his hands, "Take a seat."

And she did so without aplomb, aware that every dwarf and hobbit now watched her with anticipation.

"First, before you start," the dwarf leader stated, "I must thank you for your intervention on my behalf. Was it not fo-"

"About that." H'anigi cut through the gratitude, not at all glad to recall that particular incident, "I did not at all do that on my own volition."

A look of confusion passed between those assembled, Thorin especially as he blinked, bewildered and unsure how to react to that piece of information.

"Thinking back, it did seem... odd..." Glóin narrowed his eyes speculatively, "Was it the nasty spell by any chance?"

"Aye..." she shuddered at the memory and nodded, "Upon seeing Smaug's positioning relative to my own, the entity behind the spell decided to take full control of me. I was made to jump, chop the dragon's eye in twain, and stuff my arm into the socket so it could extend the spell onto Smaug."

"I'm guess that's where all the blood came from." Óin grimaced.

H'anigi showed the dried splotches of blood she could not wash off from the sweater, "Yeah... the spellbinding was a success, and through me Smaug was made to travel to an area within the mines and do a quick dig through a seemingly random wall to reveal within it a chamber..."

"You mean a cave?" Balin asked for clarification.

"A chamber." she corrected with a shake of her head, "A very much artificial, very square, and very elaborately constructed chamber. Within I encountered the entity responsible-"

"What kind of entity?"

"Um... it's... some kind of machine I guess. It referred to itself as 'Guidance Node' in any case."

"Machine?" Bofur mouthed.

"And about the magic it put on you..." Glóin pointed out in obvious concern, "Is it still-"

H'anigi raised her hands, "All gone. Soon as I was made to arrive at the chamber, it was no longer needed."

"So that's where it wanted you to go...?"

"That's the case, aye."

"Why?" Thorin asked, "For what reason would this 'Guidance Node' require your presence?"

"... Because there's an Aetheryte within that chamber, a dormant one in need of repair." she pushed on even as the whole bunch of dwarves gasped, "Something the Guidance Node could not do on its own."

"Wait." the dwarf leader's mouth had dropped open agape from shock as that particular information sank in. "I do not understand. Was not the Arkenstone an Aetheryte... or do we now have two on our hands?"

"Neither, I'm afraid." she took a deep breath, knowing what was to come would not sit well with Thorin in particular, "While I'm no expert concerning the inner workings of Aetherytes, a look inside its pedestal told me all I needed to know." and hesitated momentarily, "The thing you revere so highly, the Arkenstone, is the final machine component that's been missing and must be slotted into the Aetheryte to activate it."

And as expected, Thorin's expression darkened severely in a manner all too familiar. Having seen his dark side concerning the Arkenstone, she had a feeling it would rear its head, but knowing it would happen made it no easier to experience. Balin among others also spotted the storm brewing and hastened to slightly change the subject:

"Did you find out anything else?" the old dwarf asked, "About the mechanism that chased Smaug through the mountain, and the chamber besides?"

"More than I care to know." H'anigi solemnly replied, "It, those, the Aetherytes, the Arkenstone. All of those were products of my world, built by an ancient civilization that at one time dominated all of Hydaelyn. An ancient civilization I only know about because one of my former shipmates used to be a scholar from a place called Sharlayan told me about it once in passing."

She did not say the reason he told her, that being a haul that included some really fancy tomestones that were somewhat different from the one she now carried. Not knowing that bit, the company clung to her words with the kind of interest one would associate with the anticipation of hearing a story never told before.

"It was called the Allagan Empire." she continued, "A nation that existed more than five thousand years ago, and upon that time held all of Hydaelyn with an iron fist. It was said to be utterly unstoppable, able to slaughter dragons and gods alike – both of which lay as powerless before them as sheep before giants of rock and fury. When it moved, kingdoms died."

"Having seen those wee little machines at work," Bombur shuddered and brought up a handkerchief to remedy a shock of sweat, "I find that easy to believe."

Agreements, nervous or grim, were passed all around.

"Likewise." H'anigi nodded, "The Allagans had a mastery of magical technology that superseded all civilizations before and since..."

"And they used that to eventually found a way, somehow, to cross over into other world, huh." Fili reclined on his chair and muttered, "But why would they even bother doing that?"

"That part, is so exceedingly obvious I'm surprised you haven't figured it out already." Balin grumbled to the younger dwarf in pungent disbelief, "Such nations are always out to grab more territory for itself, consequently if they could reach other worlds, they would attempt to conquer them."

"And that was their plan." H'anigi agreed somberly, "From what I learned down there, the Allagans placed an unknown number of Aetherytes across the Middle-Earth. Upon the completion of this network, the Allagans most likely planned to launch an enormous world-wide invasion aimed to take on all the realms simultaneously. Unable to support one another and assaulted from everywhere at once, the native kingdoms would irrevocably have fallen in short order."

"You paint a most terrifying picture, H'anigi." Dwalin growled, a little pale, "Had it happened, those of us alive now would have likely been slaves, never knowing anything else. Nevertheless... it didn't. What happened?"

"The Empire weren't monolithic and included rebellious elements opposed to their tyranny. Guidance Node said that a rebel stole away the crystal your people came to refer to as the Arkenstone and collapsed a tunnel upon himself to keep the Aetheryte dormant. I've no idea if this also happened elsewhere, but it put a dent on the schedules during what was probably a critical time."

Balin leaned a little closer, "And what do you suppose happened?"

"Well... given that the Empire's no longer around," H'anigi shrugged, "I'm guessing that was the time of its belated collapse. I honestly have no idea how that came to pass, only that it happened. All that remains of the Allagans now are their creations." and pointed out, "So there's no longer any need to fear an invasion, and it's perfectly safe to get that Aetheryte back up in order."

"Maybe it is so." Thorin muttered as he pushed his chair away and stood in an almost slovenly manner, the embers in his eyes not yet quenched, "But as of yet we have not acquired the Arkenstone, and before you joined us we were about to debrief. Instead, given the lateness of the hour, I will provide our respective tasks for tomorrow." he pointed at her, "You will with Dwalin and Bifur go out to hunt for food. Can you do that?"

Word by word it sounded agreeable, but the tone didn't, and made her tail droop between the legs. "Did you ju-" H'anigi started to object.

"Our food stores are running low again. Can you perform the task given, H'anigi Tohl?" Thorin demanded pointedly.

She fumed at the irascible dwarf, "Yes."

Thorin nodded brusquely, "Good. The rest of us will continue the search. That is all." and without a single further word turned on his heel and left the room in stony and disbelieving silence.

OoOoO

"What was that?"

Thorin had just left the living room door behind when Balin too came, his words absolutely frigid. While the manner of tone the kindhearted old dwarf had suddenly taken to was startlingly different from that of his usual demeanor, Thorin brushed it off and sneered frankly, "I want her nowhere near the Arkenstone."

"You can't possibly suspect that she intends to steal it..." Balin growled, "After all that have happened?"

"Why not?" Thorin returned in cold anger, "For all we know, that Aetheryte's in perfectly working order and she's just waiting for a chance to take the Arkenstone for herself. Even if she didn't, would it ever be returned to us? Would those damnable mechanisms let us retrieve it? Would the contraption that transported her allow us to pass?"

"To that we won't know until we try. Maybe if..."

But he wouldn't have it. "The Arkenstone... is mine..." Thorin said steelily, "I will not let anyone else have it."

"Old friend, be reasonable." Balin pleaded.

"This conversation is over." he demanded as the other dwarves came through, "Get some rest. We got much work in the day to come."

OoOoO

Far as Bilbo – among others – was concerned, H'anigi's awakening from her little exhaustion-induced coma was supposed to be a moment to savor and celebrate. But now, after what they all now knew, his skin had turned pale, and then green with nausea and he only wanted to get away in fear that he would buckle under the merest look into her eyes.

That had very nearly turned to be the case when their eyes briefly met at the end of the meeting, and he saw hers widen in concern at the sickly look he adopted so suddenly before an apologetic Dwalin pulled on her attention.

He used that to file out with the others and made for his room, where he closed the door and threw himself beneath the blanket of his assigned bed. And under this cover, he unfurled the bundle of cloth from the bag he used for a pillow to reveal a peerless crystal of brilliant starlight.

During his initial flight from Smaug, he had unknown to everyone else managed to find and pocket the Arkenstone. Bilbo had at first fully intended to deliver it onto Thorin, only to be stunned when the dwarf leader suddenly threatened to run him through if he had failed to find the Arkenstone, or had found but decided to withhold it.

After all that happened, he now feared how Thorin would react if he after all the hassle decided to hand it over, and feared what would happen if Thorin did get his hands on it given his slow descent into wicked greed and paranoia - the latter all too clearly shown by how he decided to treat the miqo'te. A fear supplemented by a wave of regret and guilt so strong that he very nearly fell ill when H'anigi brought up her findings, and revealed the Arkenstone's needed in making the newly uncovered Aetheryte whole.

Her home was just one component from being laid open... yet remain closed it would because Bilbo in his selfish shame realized that he did not at all trust her to not leave once the Aetheryte's active. He did not want her to leave at all. Not yet at least, or so he told himself.

"Some friend I am..." Bilbo whispered as he gazed emptily into the gleaming crystal.

Then someone's hand fell on the door.

Bilbo hurriedly packed up the Arkenstone and shoved it into the bag, then shoved it in turn under his head. "Y-yes?"

"Are you alright?" he heard H'anigi ask gently.

"Nothing's wrong." he lied, and felt the burden on his shoulders grow all the heavier.

"You looked awful back there. Are you sure?"

"I'm just tired, is all." Bilbo pressed miserably, "Nothing some sleep can't cure."

"Okay... take care, Bilbo." she accepted.

He murmured a "Later." and buried his face in the makeshift pillow as a depression reared its ugly head.


Author notes: As has been the trend, this included passages from both the film and the book mixed together. In the movie, the black arrow was large enough that it needed a ballista to shoot it, while in the book Bard needed no more than a great bow. Chose to favor the book in this instance. Oh, and I decided for Smaug to survive and see LotR in this story.

Oh, and many thanks for the reviews.