Chapter 9

Kili, Prince of Erebor held captive in a goblin fight ring, did not agree to the bargain presented to him by the sentient spirit of Smaug.

Carry your sword into Erebor, and I will release the she-elf to the stars.

Smaug wanted revenge through Kili's sword arm. Wanted Kili to fall under his spell and kill dwarves, kill his brother, kill his brother's children…

"Here's your answer to that," Kili said aloud. He rolled for the warhammer next to the dead goblin four paces away, the long rope tied to his ankle sweeping through dirt as he did so. He wrapped his hands around the heavy weapon and swung into a defensive crouch.

Yagrat, the twisted she-goblin, hissed.

"You've beheaded seven goblins," he said to her. "Blade's gotta be dull." He kicked his ankle tether out of range.

She hissed louder, feinting at him. This was the depraved creature who'd chained him up for torture and marked him as hers.

"Come get me, sweetheart," he taunted.

She lunged at his stomach. He dodged right.

Powered by the spirit of Smaug, she launched herself at him in earnest, blade jabbing for his gut.

Kili backed up for fighting room, spun for momentum, and the warhammer caught Yagrat just under her left ear. Blood flew and the force of the blow knocked her close to the dropoff. She landed hard and lay unmoving.

On the bridge overhead the goblins hooted their approval, the noise around them rising in volume.

Kili grabbed a sword on his way past another dead goblin and hacked off the rope tied to his right foot, though the shackle remained.

Goblin sword in his hand, he limped to Yagrat and looked down at her. Ugly, pale, tumor-ridden. It was really Smaug, not Yagrat. It was just Yagrat's body.

But he shuddered at the sight of her—at the fate of someone with morgul poison in their veins—someone caught and tormented by Smaug.

Kili couldn't help it. He wanted that thing to be dead.

With both hands on the hilt of the sword, he pointed the blade down, and with his face contorted in disgust, raised his hands, aimed, and planted the blade firmly in her chest, driving the tip all the way through her into the dirt.

The noise around the ring turned deafening. The goblin horde approved.

Kili closed his eyes. He already knew the next goblin they tossed into the ring would be bigger, meaner, and tougher.

The fight would be on.


Lady Nÿr, Ravenspeaker and healer, consulted Nama, the Queen's bodyguard, in the matter of dressing for her covert mission into a goblin enclave. It was two hours to sunrise and she was focused on her task.

She found herself dressed in cast offs, her own worn travel boots…and a ratty cloak. Her hair was back in a tight braid, rolled around itself and pinned tight to be out of the way. "These are old things," Nama told her. "Cast them off and leave them behind if need be." Nama stood back with a critical eye. "You certainly look travel worn and downtrodden." She nodded her approval.

Then Nama handed her a beat-up short staff with an old metal tip, no barbs, and gave her a quick lesson.

"Thrust through the stomach up into the heart. You know that one," Nama demonstrated. "In, out."

Nÿr nodded.

"Second, hold it horizontal," Nama held the staff in both hands. "Push hard up against the throat, knee into the groin, and break the windpipe."

"Got it."

"Jabbing. Always strike from your hip," she jabbed low at Nÿr. "If you hold it high over your shoulder like a club," she demonstrated, "You leave yourself too exposed. Your opponent can grab you or it. Keep it low and jab. Much harder for the enemy to defend."

Nÿr practiced a dozen quick moves.

"Good. For defense, hold it with both hands. Jab with the ends, or use it to block."

Nÿr practiced a few more moves. Nama nodded her approval.

"Last thing: a hunting knife," Nama handed over a thick bladed knife. "You know where the big arteries are better than I do, lass."

Nÿr sheathed it and finally the two dwarf lasses looked at each other.

Nama reached for Nÿr, hands on her shoulders, closed her eyes, and leaned forward to touch foreheads.

"Thank you," Nÿr said.

"Mahal's luck, lassie. Bring him home."

Nÿr couldn't answer. She didn't trust her voice. She nodded. Swallowed. Gripped Nama's shoulder.

And then she turned away.

She had meant to avoid Lady An, the Queen. But when she turned, An was there. The Queen had been spending her time sequestered deep inside Erebor with her younger children.

One look at the Queen told Nÿr that she hadn't been sleeping well.

An offered a simple hug. "Fili told me what you said."

"About going?"

"About releasing him into Aule's arms. Mahal, Nÿr. We want Kili back alive. But if it comes to it…" She bit her lip and nodded.

Nÿr refused to give in to tears, though they threatened. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. We have help," Nÿr said. "Fili saw to that."

An nodded. "Let's hope it is enough."

Nÿr squeezed her hand, then turned and left.

She found Skirfir before sunrise on the western terrace, mustering with the archers as the battalions formed up. They were headed on foot for the north bank of the Forest River.

She had cleared Skirfir for duty herself.

"It will be a long march," she said.

"I'm up for it." His cheek was still bruised, but his eyes were bright and clear.

Nÿr nodded, then shrugged with a half smile. "You're a dwarf. Takes a lot to hold us back."

Skirfir looked at her, suddenly sober. "Stay alive, Nÿr. However this turns out, if I don't know where you are, I will find you. I will find both of you-I don't care if I have to abandon my post to do it."

Nÿr nodded. After a moment, she reached into her pocket and put something into his hand.

He looked down. It was her carved raven, the little gift from Kili that had become their token for a tryst, with Skirfir as their go-between.

Their eyes met. His were round, and then she saw him clench his fist around it and look back at her with a fierce determination and a silent promise.

And then the archers were moving out in formation. Nÿr stood back and watched them go.

To her right, she spotted Fjalar and Beka. She walked to them and said good morning.

Both of them looked very much on duty. So serious. So young.

She spoke to them as Ravenspeaker to Ravenspeakers. "Send the ravens after us, but try to keep them from swarming," Nÿr told them. "The goblins have killed too many of them as it is."

She spotted the odd boxes sitting against the stone wall.

"What have you got there?" she asked.

"Bird boxes," Beka said, lifting a lid to show nesting material inside.

"They've been over-flying themselves," Fjalar explained.

Nÿr nodded. "I heard about Huq."

Beka nodded. "It's especially bad in the afternoon when it's hot. Isolate them and they calm down." She held up a flask of salted honey-water. "Instead of dying, they recover."

"Several of them are already flying messages again," Fjalar said. "Like nothing was ever wrong."

"Healers call it decompressing," Nÿr murmured. "Quiet time for the body to recover." She smiled gently at them. So young, trying so hard to do good things.

She heard a call go up for her.

"My ride is here," she said to them. "Sharp eyes, Ravenspeakers." She nodded and turned for the duty commander.

But she considered their bird boxes and the concept of decompressing. Good technique, she thought.

But whether she would ever need to know that again, she couldn't say. She double checked her small stash of healer supplies, tucked into pockets and inside her boots. No satchel this time. She needed to travel unhindered.

Then duty commander pointed her toward Bruilan and a Dale man mounted on a tall horse. Dwalin was there, explaining their plan.

"There are Dale men with fresh horses along the way, so you will change mounts and travel faster." He nodded to the Dale man. "This rider will lead you as far as the pinnacles. Leave your horses there. The ravens will show you the way to the cave."

Dwalin held the bridle of the horse they were to take, and Bruilan, dressed as a scraggy plainsman, mounted, reaching down to pull Nÿr up behind him.

"You'll pass the battalions on the way out," Dwalin said. "Your job will be easier at the other end if you let the goblins charge out to meet us before you go in."

Bruilan agreed.

Then he clucked to the horse and headed down the switchbacked trail of the western slope. They were just two mismatched travelers, heading off against unlikely odds.


Three men, two dwarves, and one elf were on the Lake before sunrise. A Dale ship and barge had been alerted overnight and was laden and bound for Esgaroth.

Aragorn conferred with Haleth of Rohan, who would disembark in Esgaroth and ride back to the Prince Faramir, who, along with Eowyn maintained the pretense that Gondor's King remained with the Royal Caravan, still well south of the lake.

Fili checked the load of ale barrels that Erebor dwarves had loaded in the pre-dawn hours.

"Ale?" Legolas asked, looking down at the dozen barrels. Beside him, Gimli chuckled knowingly and winked at Fili.

"Just these two," Fili said. "Erebor Salted Wheat Ale. Only brewed in summer. There'll be lads eager for this in Esgaroth." He patted the barrel.

Legolas looked puzzled.

"The rest," Fili popped the lid on a third barrel. "Is wheel grease."

Legolas frowned, leaned forward to peek inside, then looked up sharply to add up the remaining barrels.

"Gold," he said.

Fili smiled. "Always the best way to get anything done at that end of the lake," he said. "Especially if you're in a hurry."

Gimli was laughing heartily at Legolas's expense.

As the sun rose, the sails filled, catching the brisk morning wind off the mountain.

They were making good time for Esgaroth.

Fili looked west, into the trees along the shoreline. Somewhere in that forest was the goblin enclave where his brother was held captive.

Legolas looked south. He'd sent messages to the Woodland Realm. The woods should be alive with their hunters by now.

Gimli sat, looking forward toward Esgaroth, contemplating the odds for battle and sharpening his axe.


It was Corax who met Nÿr and Bruilan at the Pinnacles. He swooped but refused Nÿr's upraised arm.

"Can you let me down?" she asked. Bruilan was courteous and gently handed her down, concerned about the drop.

She smiled to reassure him. She wasn't made of glass, after all. Then she walked several feet away and raised her arm again, and this time Corax coasted in, pulling up at the last minute with feet outstretched.

He was shy of the man.

Nÿr asked if he would take them to Raven Prince.

"To the cave, then we hide," she said. "After many goblins leave, we go inside. You come."

Corax shook himself. "Bad place…baaaad place."

"Yes. But Raven Prince is there, true?"

"Yes. Raven Prince. First friend." Corax ducked his head as if struggling with the idea of both avoiding and entering the goblin cave.

"We will go inside to get him back."

Corax ducked, flapped, then sharpened his beak on her gauntlet.

"Can you do this, Corax?" Nÿr asked, her voice low.

Corax pinned her with one beady eye, bobbed, and then took off, landing in a tree across the clearing, quorking loudly. That was the way.

Nÿr walked back to Bruilan, who had dismounted and was handing the horse's reins to their guide.

This is where they would part ways with their horses.

"It is one of the most curious things I've seen, this ability to talk to ravens," he said to her. "Can it be learned?"

"No," she said, trying to meet his eyes without getting a kink in her neck. "A Ravenspeaker is born with it. From a healer's point of view, I can't explain it. It's much like being born with perfect pitch or the sense of always knowing true north."

Bruilan shouldered a travel sack full of tradable copper and tin scraps.

"He agrees to be our guide?" he nodded toward Corax.

"Yes. That is Corax. He knows Kili well and he's been inside the goblin cave once already." Nÿr considered the raven. "He is afraid to go back in," she said, swinging the tattered cloak over her shoulders. "But he will do it for me."

Bruilan nodded, checked his sword and led off. By mutual agreement, Nÿr followed a meek three steps behind, playing downtrodden slattern to Bruilan's black market trader.

From here on, they would be on their own.


Fili's barrels of "wheel grease" had commandeered a crew of longshoremen with a large dredge who brought them to the remnants of old Laketown. The newer city of Esgaroth had been built a quarter league away from the dragon's resting place. It was one hour past noon and they already had a pile of dragon bones pulled up from the lake bottom.

The biggest haul: the massive dragon skull, resting on the long, wide barge. It was easily the size of another ship.

Fili could only stare with a mix of revulsion and awe at the wicked teeth and the sheer size.

"I've heard stories about you all my life," Fili said to it, brows drawn in concentration. He'd just sent off a raven, alerting the mountain to their prize.

"So have I," Aragorn said, eyes wide. The massive skull was taller than Gondor's King.

Gimli poked his axe at the fangs, testing their mettle.

Legolas had a faraway look on his face. "I can sense him. He knows we have disturbed his resting place." His unfocused eyes went to the sky. "And he is…not alone." His voice was quiet, disturbed. He made a hand motion, as if trying to touch something.

Fili didn't quite know what to make of the elf's odd behavior, but Gimli seemed to take it in stride. "I'm just happy to see the dragon's neck is still attached," he announced. "It will make fine axework, that-chopping it off."

Legolas turned sharply to Aragorn. "I am leaving you," he said. "I sense I am needed in my father's halls."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows, but didn't object. "By all means."

Legolas leapt from the barge to a smaller boat, swung himself into the rigging and took a rope to the vessel beyond. In moments he had gained the rickety line of an old dock, a remnant of Laketown that was, and had darted for the woods.

Fili watched him go, then turned back to the work at hand when Bard shouted, "Ho!" and the longshoremen pulled on ropes, bringing a large chunk of the dragon's breastbone to the surface and pulling it, wet and dripping, to land on the barge near the great skull.

Fili's heart lifted. So far, so good. He wanted this dragon's final destruction like nothing else. They would burn it, sure. But he'd also left Bofur with a clear set of instructions for something special, just in case this dragon needed an extra incentive to clear out once and for all.

And he had no doubt that Bofur would follow through.