Gold

The next day was Durin's day, and Bilbo was the one to solve the mystery about the door. When the sun set, the last rays of it shone upon a tiny chink in the rock no different to a number of others across the mountain. Thorin had a small key that Gandalf had given him, and it fit into the hole in the rock. And when he turned it, a large door swung open and showed a straight tunnel leading into the mountain. Despite all of the excitement, none of them wanted to risk going down right away, for fear of the dragon that may have been lying in wait. Eventually Bilbo announced he would go and check it out, after all, he would wear his ring and become invisible. Then he went down with Balin, though the older dwarf soon returned. There was nothing to do then but wait for his return. They spoke but a little, Idria leaned against the rock face, looking out across the long lake. She could see Lake-Town in the distance, a little smudge on the horizon. And from that high up, she could see the desolation of Smaug. There were huge gaps of barren land where trees once stood, but now only weeds took root. She thought she could see ruins of buildings, but they appeared to be made of the same stone as the mountain so she wasn't sure.

The ground trembled slightly, breaking her train of thought. She thought she could hear a roaring sound, it made her gasp. Then she heard the sound of feet slapping against the stone of the tunnel and saw the hobbit run into view. He held a single golden chalice that the dwarves examined with delight. He had spoken with Smaug the dragon, an amazing feat, considering he'd gotten back alive as well. Then the whole mountain began to shake, and the roars increased in volume. Bilbo grew frightened at that, and Idria found her hand resting on the hilt of her knife.

"I fear he's coming round now. He'll be able to guess where the tunnel leads and may tear the mountain to pieces! Our only hope is to be inside the mountain and shut the door." She was hesitant, not liking the idea of shutting herself away in the dark. But the roars grew closer and they had no choice. Grabbing everything nearby, they hurried into the tunnel and at the last moment, let the door swing shut. The blackness was consuming, but someone managed to light a single torch, and after that, it was a little easier to bear. They stayed there for a long while, time was difficult to mark. They slept when they grew tired and ate when they were hungry, they had enough food to last them for a while. It may have been several days later, they decided to chance the mountain. The door outside would not open, so if they wished to leave they would have to go through the mountain. So they paced down the corridor as quietly as they could. And once they reached the end, they sent Bilbo on ahead once again. Idria carried a torch, but it did not cast enough light to see much. Even so, there was a golden gleam before her that drew her gaze. After a few minutes, she heard Bilbo shouting,

"Light! I need a light!" She smiled and stepped forward to help him, sure that the dragon wasn't there. But she paused as the dwarves lit other torches and the full extent of the treasure was revealed. There were huge mountains of gold, coins, rings and necklaces, platters and goblets. Other metals were there too, silver and the rarer one of mithril. There were more types of gems and stones than she could name, most of them flawless. The towers of gold loomed over her; she could have climbed them if she wanted to. The others were taken aback for a second, before they did what dwarves do best. They began to explore the hall, taking the gems and other treasures that best appealed to them. After a moment, she joined in. She picked up little, but did fill her pocket with gold. Finding a ring studded with a small diamond cut in the shape of a star, she slipped it onto her finger. After that, her attentions turned to finding herself a sword. She had not acquired a new one in Lake-Town, but felt strange and defenceless without one. There were a few in the hall, but they were either too heavy or too large for her. One was too extravagant, encrusted with numerous jewels that she would have felt silly fighting with. She wanted a weapon suited for wielding in battle rather than hanging on a wall. Her gaze fell on a sword leaning against the wall, it was in a sheath decorated in small silver leaves and vines. She walked to it and drew it, and gasped at the blade. It shone with an inner light, and was a pale whitish colour, though it was translucent. When she touched the edge, it was the sharpest sword she had seen, pricking her thumb and causing a bead of blood to well up. It occurred to her that the blade was made of diamond, she doubted anything else would be as sharp or strong. A fine blade, she wondered if she could take it. The hilt fit in her hand quite well, and she decided to take it. Later, she could always find a new sword.

Once the dwarves had filled their pockets, they returned to their senses, and decided to move on before the dragon came back. They walked for several hours, making their way to an old watchtower. The journey took them onto the battlements outside the mountain, and Idria viewed the land from the world of stone. When they reached the watchtower, they built a fire and tried to settle down. That plan soon vanished, as Bifur and Bofur found a few old casks of ale that were still intact. The drink was potent, even after many years in the buildings, and lifted their spirits. Idria drank with them, toasting their health and fortune. And even though she'd been walking for several hours, she felt no need for sleep. Instead she sat up and looked around, keeping her own kind of watch. The others fell asleep and she was left awake with Thorin. He stood and smiled, his face flushed from the ale, it made him more forthcoming than he had been before. He lit a torch on the fire and walked off a few paces, and then, wordless, he beckoned her to follow. Taking care not to wake up the others, she rose and lit her own torch, then followed him. He obviously knew his way around, which was good, for she would have been hopelessly lost by herself. He led her to a small hall, treasures heaped on the floor, not so many as they had first seen, but still a small fortune. They were far away enough not to be heard, so he spoke,

"How do you like my home?" his voice echoed around the hall, making him seem even louder,

"It's a lot bigger than I thought it would be. I fear I'd get lost if I were here alone."

"I'm here with you, we won't get lost. And someday you'll know your way around well, I can show you." She nodded and dropped her torch, then climbed onto a pile of gold two feet off the ground, and sat on it.

"I would like that." He joined her, sitting on a slightly taller mound of gold across from her, so close that their knees were almost touching.

"You could stay here as long as you wanted to, you would never want for anything." As she answered, she examined the gold and gems of her seat, admiring each for a few seconds before letting it slide through her fingers,

"I don't remember ever calling a place home. But I think I'd like to, this place feels like a good place to be."

"It will be even better once I rule properly. Smiths from all over will envy the items made here, even lords will beg us to take their children as apprentices, as it once was." She cast her gaze around the room and smiled as she saw a silver harp against a pile of treasure. Walking over to it and picking it up, she held it out to him.

"You promised you'd let me hear you play." He took it and she sat back down, watching intently. It must have still been in tune, for when he ran his fingers across the strings, they echoed a soft melody. He began to pick out tunes, slowly at first, but then they seemed to swell in confidence and the music filled the room. He even began to sing softly, in dwarvish even though she could understand what he was saying, she appreciated the way that the harsh words twined with the melody to create a song. He played with ease, and it occurred to her that he could probably play people in much the same way as the instrument; he understood how to make them sing. When he finally stopped, the air seemed flat as the last note eventually died away. Smiling, she said,

"That was… I didn't know a harp could be played so well." He set the harp aside and nodded, his eyes meeting hers and causing her chest to flood with a warmth. She reached out to the pile of treasure below her and felt what was there, for want of something to do. Her fingers found a pointed piece of gold, and when she pulled at it, a crown slipped loose of the treasure. It was golden, inlaid with small gems and intricate carvings of mithril. Placing it on her head she smiled, it was slightly too big for her, causing it to tilt sideways at a jaunty angle.

"Does it suit me?" She asked, a laugh escaping her lips. Thorin only stared at her, the crown had belonged to his father, a smaller thing suited for meetings rather than feasts, light, so it would not trouble him. Yet the young woman before him, with the simple crown on her head, bathed in the ruddy glow of the makeshift golden chair, looked more regal than his father ever had, in all his finery, sat atop his throne. He couldn't stop himself,

"You're beautiful. I cannot believe I didn't see it before." She stared at him for a moment, weighing up what to say, then she took the crown off, but it did nothing to diminish her appearance,

"Thank you. But I suppose you're the one who should be wearing the crown." She held it out to him, but he made no move to take it,

"Keep it, it's a gift."

"What use would I get from a crown?" She smiled half-heartedly,

"It's fit for a queen." She was silent, but placed the crown on her lap, her hand not leaving the golden surface. He continued, "It would please me to see you as rich as a queen." He leaned over to her until their faces were inches apart. She could smell the ale on his breath, and he himself smelled of warm earth, smoke and juniper. Whispering, she said,

"Of course, My King." And her lips were on his, her eyes closed as he returned it. The kiss was strong, fierce as his hands found her back and pulled her to him. Her own hands rested on his arms as she pressed herself closer to him. She could taste the ale on his tongue. Before, it had been strong to the taste, but on his lips it seemed almost sweet. Breaking the kiss for a second, she gave a soft laugh against his lips, pressing her forehead to his. Then his lips found hers again and she lost herself in him.