Uh, things get a tad intense. haha. But Enjoy!
Ten- Battles Won.
Thorin slashed and stabbed at his opponent, Smaug simply laughed as he eluded each blow. They stood in an empty, snow covered field outside the city. The moon bathed them in bright blue light, casting their long shadows upon the ground.
He would win!
He would win for his kingdom. His family. His friends. And for himself.
Smaug's weapon came at his side, fast. With a flick of his wrist Thorin summoned his shield, the oaken branch from the Mirk Wood that had seen him through the countless years. He used it just in time and the dark fey's sword struck and harmlessly bounced off.
Smaug growled. Thorin grinned.
They continued.
Slash. Parry. Thrust. Parry. Thrust. Dodge. Slash. Block. Thrust.
Endlessly.
It was a battle of strength, and speed. And pride.
The moon moved over them, a silent audience.
Time, once more, lost all meaning for Thorin. All his attention focused upon the dead man before him. Smaug scoffed.
"You really think you can defeat me? Human?! Royalty or no; I am Fey! I am Immortal! I am-"
Smaug's words were interrupted when he let out a pained screech.
Thorin had not been idle during his time as a doll, he had used those years to plan and strategize in his mind just what he would do when he saw Smaug again. Thinking of routine after routine of swordplay to use and shuffle when he met his enemy again.
He had used them during the last several days, "sharpening" his skills on enemies of old. And some he had used again, in that field. But this one, this last swing of his sword that had Smaug staring at him in silent disbelief, fey ichor beginning to spill a bit from his mouth, was an old favorite with just a bit of a twist.
He had feigned and parried to get in close, allowing Smaug to batter him a bit and to gloat. The fey confident in his skills, magic, and armor. But what he didn't know was that Thorin had prepared his sword for this night, with the kid's and Gandalf's help. Earlier in the day, Bifur had taken his shrunken weapon, at apparently Gandalf's behest the night before, and had put into place a small strip of iron along the edge expertly. Where he had gotten it from, Thorin had no idea. He bend and worked it until it was sharp around the simple rock his weapon was disguised to be.
It just seemed to materialize from the young man's very person. These actions had the effect of his lovely sword gaining a new feature, one that was not noticed unless you really had a chance to look at the blade. The boy had dwarf in his blood.
And to be sure of his success Thorin also had had the younger ones bless his blade with salt. As well as Bilbo's sword and his dagger. For safe measure.
And so, with his burning weapon forged by forefathers, sharpened by a young builder and blessed by children, Thorin had thrust up into Smaug's chest. Tearing through his trickery, his mail, and his husk of a heart, like butter.
Thorin pushed as he rose, making Smaug crash to the snow covered ground. The infuriated fey lord gasped and gurgled, hand over his wound. Only his otherworldly nature keeping him from dying right away.
"How-how, you wretched-ack!" Smaug grimaced, black veins appearing under the surface of his skin as the poison coursed through him.
"Things change, Smaug. Humans- mortals- have power now, as strong as any fey. And just because one is of the aristocracy does not mean they escape punishment. By my rights as High King of the Kingdom of Erebor I sentence you to death. By beheading.
Your lands and titles will be seized after your death and distributed as the crown sees fit, since you are traitor and have no direct heirs."
Thorin paused for a moment and then grinned darkly as he rose his sword, "I know a few humans who will benefit."
Smaug tried to move, tried to speak, tried to do something. But in a moment and a flash it was over, his glassy dead eyes looking up at the lightening sky. After wiping and sheathing his blade Thorin turned in the predawn light, somewhat tired yet satisfied.
With a small smirk of victory he rose his hands and with a snap of his fingers was gone, using his newly returned magic to get to his wife and his subjects.
8888
Bard shivered as she hid behind a tree. She and Bifur had managed to escape into the forest, but poor Daisy was no more. Frozen chunks of the once noble steed now littered the ground, she could still not stop her tears.
They had tried to stay together, but the trees and their enemies were numerous. The angry Winter King was out for blood. Her blood, specifically. That was when Bifur, in an idiotic and suicidal move in her opinion, had thrust Thorin's dagger into her hands and pushed her into the alcove of a tree to hide her from view. He then had begun yelling up a storm of insults and taunts, his hoarse voice gathering the attention of the archers in the trees, and went off running deeper into the woods.
Bard had been too stunned to stop him, and now she was alone. Well, not completely. She knew that the one specifically angry with her, the strongest and scariest one, was still there.
In the woods.
Waiting.
And searching.
She didn't know if Bifur had really thought he would follow too, of if he expected her to survive until help came. Either way, she was alone.
So she had begun to move, bit by bit. As quiet as she could, footsteps crunching only a bit in the fresh snow. To be still was to be caught, to be caught was to be dead.
She wished her father was there.
Bifur huffed as he ran, hoping against hope his plan worked and at least his Enid would make it out alive. He was pretty certain he had the whole party on his tail, the amount of arrows and icicles sent his way told him so anyway. When he could he threw a rock or some salt or even some tool or another from the depths of his pockets as he ducked and weaved through the trees.
He was heartened every time he heard he had made a hit.
His clothes were shredded and his face and hands were covered in cuts from so many close calls.
Bifur's mad dash ended, though, when he suddenly found a large boulder in his path after rounding around a large cluster of trees. He turned to run in another direction but by that time it was too late and he was surrounded by the whole company of Winter Fey soldiers. Without their King.
Not missing a beat he pulled out his final bit of defense, his favorite carving blade. The thing was small, but it was sharp and metal.
The captain of the guard laughed-as did his men-and made a gesture. Bows were raised and arrows were knocked. Bifur only glared, the lowered moon making the rock cast a long shadow over him.
He glared until, out of the blue tinted gloom, more warriors came and began battle with the Winter King's troops. Then he stared. In short order his pursuers were thrashed, the flashes of weapons and magic of both cold and heat danced before him. It was only when the snow settled that one of his apparent saviors came toward him.
He looked like Thorin and had an uneasy grin of his face. His hands, which he held up in a placating gesture, still gave off large trails of steam from his use of his flame magic. Bifur raised his tool as the man came within reach of him.
"Bifur, right? We-we're here to help. I'm Frerin, Prince of Erebor. Thorin, my brother and King, sent me." His voice was soothing, yet slightly strained and out of breath.
Bifur eyed him for a moment and spotted a familiar compass hanging from his belt; it was then Bifur lowered his tool, he believed him.
"He said there were two of you?" This came from a tall red headed woman, who was suddenly standing at Frerin's side.
Bifur's eyes widened in realization and renewed energy.
'Enid!' He thought frantically.
Bard cursed in her mind when she saw that, somehow, she had doubled back and was now on the other side of the clearing her party had tried to cross so long ago. Large chunks of ice still littered the field. She stood still, looking at the clearing, until she heard that voice again.
"Where are you urchin?! I know you're there!" Thranduil's voice seethed with anger, and seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.
Bard hadn't the slightest clue why he couldn't find her, other than that some of the salt must have gotten into his eyes. She quickly made her way along the side of the field, randomly picking a direction. She clutched the weapon in her small hands like a life line, she would not go down easy if she could help it.
"THERE YOU ARE!" She turned in alarm and saw the enraged Winter King appear from behind a tree not too far away, his face an ugly mask of rage.
Half his face was nothing but red, half melted flesh. The eye on that side milky white, and dead. The other glared at her, red and weeping. She couldn't help the scream she let out at seeing him.
He really had gotten it in his eyes.
She ran, he sent blasts of cold air and frost after her. Trees shattered to pieces all around her, barely missing her.
"Daddy! Bifur!" She couldn't help but yell in terror.
She rounded around a tree and was caught by surprise by a hit to the gut. She crashed to the ground, the wind knocked out of her. She was quickly lifted by the front of her coat and wheezed as Thranduil got right in her face. Giving her a close up of what her distraction had done.
"Time I repaid the favor, don't you think?" He snarled.
Her answer was to raise the hand that had managed to hold onto Thorin's dagger and strike, plunging the salt blessed weapon deep into his shoulder. The Winter King yelled in agony as he threw Bard to the floor, knocking most of the wind she had regained back out of her. The enraged fey scrabbled at the burning weapon and managed to dislodge it before throwing it aside.
With wordless malice he lunged for her but was knocked aside by someone of lithe figure and long, flowing blonde hair.
"Father! No!"
She watched as the two grappled, in a slight daze. She only tore her eyes away as she realized someone was trying to talk to her. A pretty, redheaded woman looked her over. Saying one thing or another to a set of boots who stood next to her.
Bard followed the boots up to see the legs and torso of a man dressed like King Thorin, though it was simpler. She continued up and could only stare as she looked up at the doppelganger of her father, save for the nose. Whish was much too thin, and striking.
She continued to stare as the man bent down and proceeded to pick her up effortlessly, she felt incredibly secure, and warm, in his arms. She didn't notice when the woman went to join the fight with the King and Prince of the Winter.
"Who are you?" She managed to rasp.
Frerin glanced down at the girl as he moved to use a thick, old tree as cover. Her lovely, once dazed eyes now focusing on him. Dirty and tear streaked face turned up to his.
He gripped her tighter, protectively.
"Frerin, son of Thrain, brother of King Thorin at your service." He answered, mustering up a smile for the girl.
"Where's Bifur?" She asked, voice more clear.
"With our group, Legolas, Tauriel and I went ahead to get to you. Seems we came just in time."
He turned his attention back to his friends and watched with relief as Legolas continued to ward off his father. The wounded Monarch doing his best to fend of his offspring and his battle partner.
He switched his eyes back to the girl and saw that she was still staring at him, her eyes seeming to trace the lines of his face. Surprise and sorrow filed them. Her snow covered body continued to shiver in his arms, in response he quickly rose his heat levels. Her whole image made his heart constrict.
He cleared his throat. "Y-you-ah-I saw what you did with that dagger. And the salt was you too, right?"
Ugh, he wanted a daughter, and here he couldn't even make soothing talk with a young girl.
To his surprise Bard smiled, just a little. Pride filling her vision.
"Yes, I did. My father always told me to be brave and defend myself with all I had when the time came."
"He-he, uh, sounds like a brave man himself." Ugh, fail again.
"He was."
Frerin stopped berating himself at that word.
'Was.' As in, 'no longer'.
"Was?"
"Was." She confirmed. Meaning clear.
"Mother?" He knew it was not the time, and terribly rude. But he could not help himself.
"Only for gambling, and drinking." Replied Bard evenly. She was too drained and cold to use up energy with lying or evading. Short and simple truth won.
Frerin furrowed his brows and was about to speak again when a large blast of snow and frost went off not too far away. He quickly shielded them both from the thrown up snow and when it was clear he looked over to see Legolas and Tauriel regaining their footing.
Thranduil nowhere in sight.
From behind he could hear the sounds of the rest of his group, dragging along the Winter King's forgotten one. He turned his head and called out, telling them of his location. Bard watched him in the faint light of the coming day, and felt her grip tighten on his clothes when she heard Bifur yell her name.
8888
Nori played, he played his pan flute as if his life depended on it. For in fact it did. And not just his. The giant rat beast sent by Smaug had continued to rampage all through the night, more and more of those in the castle going down to keep the beast busy.
But the thing was sniffing, and sniffing. He had had a feeling it was looking for him. Or the Queen. He'd waited in the room where his mother slept all night, princess Dis and Bilbo's mother Lady Belladonna of the Green Wood reassuring him everything would be fine and that there would be people guarding the door.
He had sat beside his mother on the bed, gazing at her pretty face in awe. Her hair was as bright as his own, and had many immaculate braids that reminded him of Dori. Her chest rose and fell sedately, and her youthful cheeks were just slightly pink.
He'd tentatively took a hold of her soft, warm hand. And felt the tingle of a long lost memory in his brain. He wondered why she had left, and could not wait to ask. Because he knew it had to have been for good reason.
It was then that the sound of crashing and yelling was heard. The screaming of the word "Snake! Snake!" could be heard through the doors. Nori barely had time to rise to his knees on the bed before the room's doors were thrown open and the largest and ugliest snake he had ever seen was before him. Its scales where a dirty brown color and were interrupted every so often by tufts of scraggily fur.
It gazed at him with hateful eyes, their golden irises filled with malice and hunger. The rat-beast had transformed. Nori could hear several voices call his name in panic, but they were all trapped on the other side of the creature's coils; it was using them to block the door.
They stared at one another, still as stone for a moment.
The snake-rat flicked out its long black tongue. Smelling his fear. Nori took a gulp and wet his lips.
It lunged and without thought Nori had brought his instrument to lips and began to play.
He played the song that had been humming in his mind since he had first touched the instrument three long days ago. The notes sang from his very blood, and he did them justice.
The beast, miraculously, had been stopped by the notes. Just moments away from killing the boy and sleeping Queen. Slowly it had backed away just a bit and closed its mouth. It then began to sway, it's now clouding, golden eyes staring right into Nori's. The snake rat's tongue flicked out every so often, but otherwise there was no further action.
As Nori played he gradually became aware of several things. One was that he could-and would-hear noise from outside the room due to Dis and her entourage trying to get to him. Two was that none of their efforts seemed to bother the beast, or even budge it. And due to the wards in the room, Dis had told him this, none of the magic users could simply transport into the room.
Third was that the notes of his song seemed to be more than simple musical tones. They vibrated and seemed to have presence in the air. They held so much more power than should come from a trinket like his own.
He remembered Gandalf's words to him and wondered how much the older man-fey- had known. And if he was behind this sudden magic.
The human boy played his flute until the moon had almost disappeared, never once breaking eye contact with the thing before him and never once missing a note. It was to his utter surprise when, in the time between early morning and sunrise, the snake suddenly reared back and let out a large pained screech. He saw dark liquid squirt from its mouth and then the thing fell to the floor next to the bed, body suddenly limp and eyes dark.
Nori stopped playing, eyes wide in amazement. They remained wide as he turned and watched the others run into the room. The thing's body now deathly relaxed and no longer barring the way. Dis and Belladonna running to him in concern.
"What happened?!" Answered Gimli, awe obvious in his tone as he gave a quick kick to the limp body.
"I-I don't know." Answered Nori. Voice slightly squeaky. Tears of fear, relief and so many other emotions starting to spill from his eyes.
"Smaug has been slain. His magic is done." The voice was lilting, sweet, and thick with deep sleep.
All turned, stunned silent, to watch as Queen Ori of Erebor sat up in bed. A smile upon her face. They all stared at her, unable to react. Her gaze fell on her son and it brightened immediately with happy surprise.
"Nori!" In a moment the Queen had snatched up her suddenly crying son and hugged him to her chest. Tears of her own spilling from her eyes.
Everyone was so caught up in this scene, that none noticed when King Thorin made a grand entrance just outside the room. If they had, they would have seen the comical range of expressions that went over his face as he realized the scene before him and stared at Smaug's fallen beast.
"Thorin."
The King turned his head at the sound of his Queen's sweet voice and was at her side in a moment, lips upon hers and arms around her and Nori.
"Thank Mahal." Said Dis decisively.
Everyone shared her sentiments.
8888
Bofur held on to Bilbo for dear life, his heart pounding. The fey lad and the stag had charged each other again and again over the course of the night. Myrtle never tiring or acting skittish.
Bilbo had managed to slice one of his opponent's antlers off and the stag had managed to land a few strong hits on Myrtle and Bilbo himself. Each time the animal had landed a hit his brethren had let out a mighty noise, sending out calls, snorting and stamping their hooves.
Bofur's fingers had ached from hanging on for so long but he didn't dare loosen his grip for an instant during all the violent action. Especially when Bilbo began to sag, and his breathing became hoarse, his time as a fleshly being obviously nearing its end.
Just in the nick of time things changed in their favor.
A tremendous noise occurred in the distance and gained the attention of all for one precious moment. Afterward Bilbo had righted himself and Bofur could only stare as the fey lad momentarily began to glow with an aura of magic and let out a laugh.
The curse was lifted.
Then, with a wink to Bofur, that made him blush despite himself, Bilbo urged his steed forward to charge the stag again. For what, Bofur quickly discovered, would be the final time. With renewed energy and precision Bilbo swung his sword and the stag's head separated from its body.
Bofur watched in mute horror as the decapitated body continued to run for a bit before collapsing. He didn't have chance to watch more than this before Myrtle was charging again, but this time down through the forest.
Once more the plethora of beasts in the trees let out their tremendous noise and were now giving chase of Bilbo, Bofur and Myrtle. The three of them quickly abandoned the road; Bilbo explained over his shoulder that the path was useless without an aid and it left them more vulnerable. So Bofur could only watch as Myrtle wove her way through the mad woods and Bilbo did his best to block the way behind to try and slow the herd pursuing them.
But despite their efforts they never could gain enough ground to lose them, only ever managing to be just a few steps ahead. So on and on they had continued, traveling farther and farther into the bowels of the Mirk Wood.
It was in the middle of all of this action packed confusion that they heard it. The sound of a mighty horn, it echoed through the woods and was followed by the sounds of a mighty hunting party. The noise somehow rising above the cacophony of the violent herd of stags at their heels.
To Bofur it seemed only moments later the group appeared, heading right toward them. The young mortal could only stare at the magnificent pageantry that was the participants of the Great Hunt. The biggest sight, in his opinion, being that Gandalf was one of those at the head of the pack. Dressed, just as Nori had described him, in armor and helmet. His entire appearance looked both young and old to Bofur.
Bilbo hailed them heartily and confidently steered Myrtle on, soon enough they met up with the group and the plethora of fey riders effortlessly glided around them. Each hailed Bilbo and Bofur in turn before continuing on, Bofur turned to watch them and gazed in amazement as they began scattering and decimated their pursuers.
Before too long it was all over and Bilbo had twisted in the saddle to try and comfort Bofur as the hunting party made its way back to them. Bilbo frowned when he saw that the younger lad was only staring through him, obviously at least a little overwhelmed. His heart constricted at having caused the usually happy boy unneeded trauma. Gandalf was the first to come up to them.
"Well, that was exciting. Wasn't it?" His question seemed to be aimed at Bofur more than Bilbo.
In either case Bofur answered. Suddenly raging.
"Excitin'?! I have had one o' the longest and most insane nights o' my life and all you think to ask me is if I found it 'exciting'?!" He stared at the fey man in utter disbelief, his disheveled appearance and youthful reaction making for a very comical sight. Bilbo's possessive soothing and doting on him only making it worse.
Small bits of laughter could be heard about the party.
Gandalf shrugged.
"Well considering you are alright and it is pretty obvious why you were being chased I thought that would be the most useful question to ask my lad. In either case it broke you out of your shock, didn't it?"
Bofur expression of sudden realization was priceless. Gandalf smiled at him and then turned to the other leaders of the Party.
"The night is done. As is the Hunt. Shall we go to the Kingdom of Erebor and help celebrate the return of its proper King?"
Zealous cheers erupted from the crowd. The two loudest coming from the youngest of the group, a Prince Fili and Prince Kili from Erebor who quickly made their way to ride alongside Bilbo and Gandalf as the Party set out. Each had a multitude of questions and seemed very friendly to Bofur.
He looked up and smiled as he watched Bilbo talk and ask his own questions, his brown curls shining in the early morning light. Bofur was sure that when they got to the Kingdom he would see his friends and his cousin, all safe and sound and smiling.
He felt tired and happy.