A/N Here's another chapter! Thanks again to the amazing reviewers! (ignore the rant at the end of the chapter)! There is going to be quite a bit of deviation from the movie in this chapter because 1) I want to 2) PJ added a lot of nonsense between the dwarves and Smaug to fill up time and add special effects 3) …I want to ;)
Lyra always hated rollercoasters. Never mind the unsettling statistics of deaths caused by faulty parts and incompetent carnies, what she hated most was the slow crawl the cars made as they climbed, pausing for the longest five seconds imaginable before suddenly, and inevitably, the passengers would plummet downward caught in an unrelenting series of twists, turns, loops and plunges. As she sat staring at the stone wall surrounded by the other dwarves and Bilbo, she could almost hear the click, click, click of the track.
They'd been traveling since before sunup, the festivities had gone all night. Having her fair share of festivals back in Mirkwood, Lyra had contended herself to spend the evening in the greenhouse off the kitchen with Thorin. The memory brought a smile to her face and heat to her chest. From across the alcove, Lyra could see Thorin sitting on the ground with his forearms resting on his upraised knees, the key clutched with both hands.
"I still think we should have waited for Gandalf," Bilbo said as he handed Lyra a mug of hot broth. The sun was nearly past the horizon, and they'd soon have to put out the fire for better view of the keyhole. Thanks to Lyra, they knew the riddle in its entirety that the last light of Durin's Day was in fact the moonlight.
"I know," Lyra said after she'd taken a drink, "but we couldn't wait. Gandalf is preoccupied with Dol Guldur, he'll be here soon," she tried to reason. In truth, she had hoped Gandalf would return sooner given her warning to him at the boarders of Mirkwood, but they hadn't received any word from him.
"I hope you're right," Bilbo said finally and Lyra squeezed his shoulder as she stood and crossed to Thorin. The eyes of all the dwarves followed her as they too felt the sting of anticipation. Thorin didn't look up at her as she sat next to him, but he shifted his weight ever so slightly to accommodate her.
"Thorin," she said as she extended the mug to him, "you need to eat something," she insisted when he shook his head to decline.
"I'm not hungry," he claimed and Lyra set the mug down to place her hand over his that still clutched the key. He smiled softly and let her lace her fingers with his. "I can't help this feeling," he said quietly, "to be so close and yet I feel far away."
"Udlag?" she asked and Thorin had to chuckle. Her Khuzdul was atrocious.
"Aye," he agreed and brushed her palm with his thumb.
"Give it a few more minutes Thorin, when the moon shines, the door will be revealed," Lyra said confidently.
"I wish I had your foresight," he admitted and finally turned his head to look at her. His heart swelled with pride as he saw the silver bead that hung from a braid at her shoulder. "I'll give you a proper one soon," he promised as he took hold of the bead, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.
"I like this one," she defied with a smile. They'd talked well into the night, Lyra finally disclosing everything she knew of the last leg of their journey. Before they'd departed the greenhouse, he'd removed the bead from his hair and carefully woven it into hers.
"What did the Bowl show you?" Thorin asked knowing Lyra had spent time that afternoon glimpsing things to come. Her face hardened and her eyes dropped. They'd crested Ravenhill just after the sun was at its highest and Lyra had snuck away to activate the Singing Bowl.
"I saw dawn," she began. "The ground was still burning with fires and the sky was full of ravens that were flocking to the Mountain…"
"That's a good sign," Thorin interrupted. "The birds of Ravenhill have long been allies to the dwarves of Erebor. My grandfather taught me Raven's Speech. He often counseled with Carc, the chieftain and wisest of birds."
"On a side note, it's adorable that you can talk to birds," Lyra teased and Thorin glared at her and mumbled something like ravens, but she continued her recount. "I could see the western shore of Lake Town where people were still scrambling to put out fires in the turrets. The rest of the town was undamaged."
"So your plan works? Mahal has blessed me with a tactician for a bride," Thorin complimented and Lyra's cheeks flushed. "The dragon?"
"I didn't see him," Lyra said and the nerves in her voice were evident. "He was dead, I think. I can't explain it, but there was a sense of dread I could feel…like something was wrong."
"I cannot be the one to lecture you on stifling feelings of dread," Thorin said and brushed his fingers into her hair, "but I can understand. The dragon is the first of many battles we have to face. Yet if you saw he was dead and the Town was spared, this is cause for joy. Yet I see fear in your eyes…"
"I couldn't see anything past that," Lyra admitted, "I knew all along Smaug would meet his end. Sparing Lake Town was important, but beyond that I fear…"
"Put those thoughts from your mind," he said abruptly, "no harm will come to me or my sister-sons." Lyra looked over at the far end of the clearing where Fili and Kili were talking in low tones to Balin and Dori.
"You can't know that, Thorin," Lyra argued, "I've seen you die a hundred times in writing and at least a dozen times in the Singing Bowl to dragon, sword, arrow, orc…"
"If memory serves, you also saw me die in the Misty Mountains."
"Yeah but…"
"Hush," he commanded in a soft tone, "I'll give you the same answer as I did then: I am harder to kill than you think. Your foresight stands as a warning, but it is not written in stone."
"I know that, but you haven't seen what I've seen…you think it's easy for me to look into the future and see your lifeless body?" The strained prickle of tears began forming in her eyes, but Thorin silenced her with a kiss.
"Mein Anan," he said tenderly, "you think I have not seen the same? Countless dreams of harm befalling you and my nephews have plagued me for months, but I cannot succumb to fear. I cannot prevent all evils in this world, but today I can enter that Mountain, rouse the dragon and ensure his demise. Tomorrow, I will face the threat of Azog."
"I wish you had sent for Dain…"
"Leave Ironfoot to me," Thorin interrupted once again. "My cousin will ride for the Mountain when he hears of Smaug's death or the Arkenstone is presented, but not before."
"Yes but by the time the letter reached him, Smaug would be dead already."
"Dain is more brute than politician, but he's no fool. He'll have his eye on the lookout for the Ravens of Erebor. That'll be the only way to ensure our victory. Believe me on this, dwarves can be difficult to persuade." Thorin still felt bitterness when he remembered the council he'd summoned all those months ago.
"You can say that again," Lyra muttered and Thorin chuckled as he kissed her forehead again. "I saw the Ravens in my vision…"
"Aye, you did. And they would not return unless Smaug was dead, so you see Anan, things are falling into place. Do not let your fear overtake you," he advised, "have faith in me."
"I do," Lyra said sincerely as she covered his hand with hers, "I have always had faith in you."
"Thorin!" Dwalin's abrupt shout drew their attention and Thorin was quick to his feet. The clouds overhead were parting and moonlight soaked the stone wall. Collectively they all held their breath as they waited for any sign of the door. Bofur held his hand out and helped Lyra to her feet and she clutched his arm as she felt something brush past her face.
"Look," she whispered and pointed. The flutter of wings had disrupted the air as a coal black bird with yellow chest feathers perched on the rock above them. Clutched in its beak was the shell of a snail that it began striking against the wall in an attempt to break it open.
"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole…" Balin recited. Thorin was moving forward as the silver moon saturated the stone that seemed to absorb the light. Sure enough, slivers of runes began to weave in ornate designs to outline the door and in the very center with a subtle scraping noise, the indentation of a keyhole became visible.
"Let this day forever mark lamentation for those who have doubted us," Thorin said boldly as he fit the key into the lock. It turned easily and with a collective gasp, Thorin placed both hands on the wall and pushed the door open. Bofur's hold on her arm tightened as the Company stood in silence.
Such a simple act, opening a door, and yet it had taken over a century of striving and months of questing to see it done. The doorway was still illuminated like a lighthouse in fog, beckoning the wandering travelers safely home. And they were home. Finally.
"Thorin," Balin said in a cracking voice as the older dwarf joined his King at the entryway. Thorin placed a firm hand on his shoulder as together they entered the mountain.
"I know these halls," Thorin said in a trembling voice. His hands stroked the stone walls with a sense of familiarity as though he'd pictured them every day in his mind for last one hundred seventy-one years. "Do you remember it Balin? Rooms filled with golden light, the sons of Durin walking the halls with pride…"
"Aye, I remember it," Balin agreed and the others gathered around the doorway. Lyra and Bilbo both hung back, their hands finding each other's as they felt the rush of emotion overtake them at the sight of their beloved dwarves one by one entering the Lonely Mountain. "The Seventh Kingdom of Durin's Folk, may the heart of the Mountain unite all dwarves in defense of this home," he read from the seal over the doorway.
"The heart of the Mountain?" Bilbo asked as he finally stepped inside. "Is that the Arkenstone?"
"It is indeed Master Baggins," Thorin replied, "and that's exactly what you're going to have to steal."
Balin stepped toward to the gulping hobbit and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, "come on then lad, no sense in putting it off." Bilbo looked back at Lyra one last time before he went with Balin. The dwarves all clapped him on the back and gave him cheers as the two disappeared into the dark end of the hall.
"He'll be alright," Lyra breathed as she wrapped her arms around herself and watched him walk off. The hobbit had grown so immensely since they'd first departed the Shire and she needed to remind herself that playing the mother-hen wasn't going to accomplish anything. Bilbo had what it took to do this and she had to let him. Her task was to fight other battles. "Hello there," she said almost self-consciously to the thrush that was still perched near the door. Lyra knelt and the bird chirped happily. "Right…here's hoping you're the right Thrush. You have to go to Lake Town and find Bard, he's waiting for you. Tell him we've entered the Mountain and the dragon is going to attack tonight. Smaug's weak point is a loosened scale under his left breast - near the heart. Can you do that?"
Chirp
"Does that mean yes?" Lyra asked and the bird cocked its head. "Please, you're a thrush! The men of Lake Town can understand you and there's no way we can send word fast enough."
Chirp chirp.
"Oh fine," Lyra said standing up. She glared at the bird that was still watching her and she made to turn around when she saw the pebble-sized treat on the ground between them, "oh!" Lyra cried in realization. She knelt again, smashed open the snail shell and held out the gooey critter. The bird jumped up and snatched the food, downing it with a flick of its head. "Now will you go?"
Chirp chirp chirp!
Bouncing from her hand to her shoulder the thrush took flight, his wings brushing the side of her face before it flew off in the direction of the Town.
"It's quite adorable how you can talk with birds," Thorin chimed from the doorway. Lyra stood, wiping the snail slime from her hand and smiled at her dwarf. "The others are making their way to the upper balcony to watch for Bilbo. Are you not coming?"
"I wanted you all to have your moment," Lyra admitted as she approached him. "You're home," she said smiling and holding his face in her hands. Looking into his eyes she could see they were still wet with tears and he was swallowing the lump in his throat.
"No yet," he said in a soft voice. Wrapping an arm around her back and the other taking her at the knees, he lifted her into his arms and carried her through the doorway. "Now I'm home," he said meeting her eyes in the remaining moonlight that streaked through the doorway. Draping her arm around his shoulder, she planted a firm kiss on his mouth. Stopping at the end of the hallway, he set her on her feet and turned her to face the open gallery. "Erebor," he introduced and Lyra felt herself get lost in the vastness of the hall.
The ceiling was nearly a mile overhead and the halls and walkways below were layered over ten times that distance. There was no earthly way for her to see that far down. From unseen crevices that served as windows, the moon overhead shone down and illuminated the floor they were on. Like centurions, massive stone replicas of the dwarven kings of old stood guard at every entryway and turret. The alternating textures of polished stone and jagged rock was just the first indication of the master craftsmanship of the halls. Just the enormity and scale of the kingdom made Lyra shiver.
The others were moving about, their soft shuffling feet and whispers weren't enough to pull her eyes away from the sight. She could almost imagine how the halls would glow when the lanterns were lit, how the city once bustled with jovial dwarves who moved about with purpose and confidence. Without realizing it, a single tear made its way down her cheek and she placed her hands over Thorin's on her shoulders.
"I could get used to this," Lyra said smiling and looking at him over his shoulder. Cupping her face he gave her a long kiss before eagerly pulling her by the hand to follow the others.
…
Despite their large feet, hobbits were capable of moving quite stealthily. Yet with every single step, Bilbo could swear the sound echoed off the marble walls. Blood pounded in his ears with each heartbeat and he felt faint from trying to hold his breath.
Not at home…maybe he's not at home…dragons need to go for a stroll every now and then…
Bilbo felt his last heat reserves drain from his body when the walkway opened to the main hall. There was no floor to be seen for the piles of gold that formed mountains as far as his eyes could stretch. The vast wealth the dwarves had acquired was grossly under exaggerated. He could search for years and never find a single jewel in this hoard!
Right…you'll know it when you see it, you'll know it when you see it… he chanted in his mind, the last piece of advice Balin had given him before disappearing and leaving him to his task. Bilbo descended the staircase and began the trek across the golden surface. Even a hobbit was unable to keep the rattling and clank of coin underfoot from making a disturbingly loud noise against the still air.
"White jewel, white jewel, white jewel…" he recited and had to force his thoughts away from the hopeless feeling of looking for a needle in a haystack. For lack of any better idea, he simply started where he was at.
Even from the surface he could see round gems, clear gems, amethyst, rubies, diamonds and strange black ones that looked like the night sky. He spent what felt like hours sifting, sorting, digging and wandering the piles of gold. Groaning in frustration, he kicked a particularly large goblet and it clattered against one of the tone pillars. Flinching at the sound, he held perfectly still as he waited for any sign he'd been heard by the dragon.
With no evidence to refute, Bilbo sighed in relief and turned to continue his search, but he froze upon seeing behind him, protruding from the coins, was a single eyelid that fluttered with movement. Instinctively he crouched behind the pillar and the rattle of coins behind him alerted him that the dragon was not only breathing, he was surfacing.
"I smell you…Thief," rumbled the dragon, his voice like cracking rock. Bilbo felt his hands shake as he removed the ring from his cloak and put it on, the veil of invisibility taking him. Coins and treasure splattered all around him as the dragon rose from his golden slumber. "I hear your breath and taste your fear. Where are you, Thief in the shadow!?" his booming voice rattled the ground and the unstable ground beneath him caused Bilbo to slip. He lay motionless on his back as Smaug prowled overhead. His talon-like claws dug into the hoard and Bilbo watched breathlessly as his gold plated belly passed above. He didn't dare move until Smaug's teeth were well past him.
"I-I did not come to steal from you, Smaug the keeper of unimaginable wealth," Bilbo called. Smaug's head turned back toward the sound, but even with his sharp ears, the echo of the unfamiliar and soft voice was impossible to place.
"Then why have you come?" he growled, the rumble once again causing the ground to shift and Bilbo slid farther down the pile. Fortunately he caught himself on another pillar and pressed his back against it to keep his focus on which direction Smaug was turning. "I know this gold, every coin, every jewel, every cup, plate, and crown…you've brought something…something new…something gold…"
"I came to see if the legends were true," Bilbo called hoping to distract attention away from the gold ring he wore, "to-to see if Smaug the Magnificent was as-as perilous as the songs and tales foretold."
"Well!" Smaug roared as he whipped around the pillar Bilbo was tucked under and rose to his full height. His wings spread wide and sprays of coins shattered around him with the force. Smaug's long, serpent-like neck stretched nearly as high as the columns and his tail was slapping the ground with such power, it cracked like a whip. "My hide is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears! The shock of my tail is a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane and my breath is death! Do your stories speak of that?" he cried. "Do they?" at his full height, Smaug's voice echoed so loudly it shook the Mountain.
"Truly, the stories fall utterly short of your splendor, Smaug the stupendous," Bilbo said and felt it was entirely true. Smaug's head was like the very rock of the mountain, his horns longer than the length of Bilbo's body. His scales were thick and with every movement, Bilbo could see the strength of his muscles under the thick hide of his skin. "They say you may have fled the Mountain or perhaps you had died. But I did not believe them! I knew nothing could strike down the strength of Smaug the Impervious…"
"You're very polite for a thief and a liar," Smaug said as his yellow eyes shone like beams of light in the darkness, always searching for where the critter was hiding. "Do not think your flattery will save you." His head ducked down toward the surface of gold as he sniffed, the puffs of air from his nostrils disrupting in ripples.
"You know my name, but I don't recall ever smelling you before. Tell me, what are you and where do you come from?"
Bilbo barely had time to slide around the far side of the pillar before Smaug's teeth gnashed at the air near him. He went toppling down the slope as the entire pile of treasure shifted and for a moment he was partially buried in coin. Smaug's stomping steps did nothing to help free him as Bilbo was buried up to his waist. "I-I-I come from under hill," Bilbo said as he struggled to free himself without drawing attention to his location.
"Underhill?"
"Yes, yes and under hills and over hills my journey has brought me…" he said with a nervous chuckle. Smaug's tail cracked the ground, his prowling movements taking him the opposite direction of Bilbo. That's when the light caught his attention. In a glass chest a mere ten yards from him, but tucked under the back legs of the dragon, was the glowing jewel that could be nothing else but the Arkenstone.
You'll know it when you see it.
"…And through the air I have walked unseen…"
"Impressive," Smaug cooed as he shifted through the gold, sliding easily through the hoard. "Not a usual name. What else do you claim to be?""
"I am luck wearer…clue-finder, web-cutter…spider-stinger," Bilbo was inching closer and closer.
"You tell riddles…"
"Barrel-rider." His fingers grazed the chest.
"Barrels?" Smaug snapped as his head jerked around to stare directly at Bilbo. Despite his invisibility, Bilbo could swear he saw the dilation in his eyes as the locked onto him. "Most unusual, but I have solved your riddle. Tell me, do your dwarf friends call you Barrel-rider?"
"D-d-dwarf friends? No-no, no dwarfs here."
"I know the smell and taste of dwarf like none other," Smaug said rising back to his full height, "did you think I did not know this day would come?" He whipped his tail through the air with such force it smashed through the pillar behind him and sliced it in half. The crumbling pieces slammed into the ground and Bilbo ducked from the debris. "I knew one day that scheming hoard of greedy dwarves would come crawling back to the Mountain like flies to dead flesh. What was the promised price for you to do their dirty work? A share of my treasure?!"
"You are mistaken Smaug the chiefest and greatest calamity of our time," Bilbo practically hollered and he tried to discreetly conceal his stolen item. Bilbo felt the ground fall beneath his feet as Smaug launched himself toward the hobbit, his feet pounding so firmly the earth shook and Bilbo was thrown hard onto his back, the dragon crouching over him. Smaug sniffed and huffed, a smile spreading across his face as he finally discovered his prey.
"Oakenshield sent you…"
"No I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"He sent you for the Arkenstone…Go on then, Barrel-rider, take it to him," Smaug snarled, "I've killed the King Under the Mountain. I have eaten his people like a wolf among sheep. Now I will let the Arkenstone drive his grandson mad before I devour him like the rest of his kind. Where are the dwarves hiding!"
"Truly, Smaug the Tyrannical you are mistaken, there-there are no dwarves. I came only to prove the rumors wrong, to see you for all your glory with my own eyes!" Bilbo was getting desperate and the stench of Smaug's sulfuric breath was suffocating him.
"Rumors?" he asked in a suddenly eerily calm voice. Standing upright once again Bilbo let out a breath as he scrambled toward the staircase. "Darkness is spreading throughout the land. It lies in wait…but I kill when I wish! Perhaps it is time to remind the world who is the mightiest foe!"
…
Bard was pacing the boardwalk at the edge of the lake, his fists gripping both longbow and black arrow in either hand. At his back, Lake Town was completely dark. Before dawn the Master had ordered every fire extinguished, every lantern put out, windows and doors sealed and all women and children to take shelter in root cellar, basement, or burrow before midday. His own children were confined to the bottom layer of Madame Etry's, but as Bard gazed back at the Town he couldn't help but feel he'd buried its people under a mountain of kindling. Dragon fire would tear through the city in minutes. Yet what could be done now?
"You sent for me?" Captain Brynmund of the Western Guard asked as he and two of his soldiers approached.
"I've received word from the mountain," Bard said to the taller man, "they've entered the Mountain. The dragon is coming." Overhead the messenger, the exuberant Thrush, still circled.
"We'd best get you on the barge then," Brynmund replied. As per their agreed upon plan, the eastern shore of the lake, some five miles from the Town, dozens of fires and lamps were lit in attempt to draw the attention away from the actual city. Their best bet was to try to keep the dragon preoccupied until it could be brought down. Brynmund's own men, combined with the able bodied men of Lake Town, were lining the eastern shore armed with spear, arrow, and bola. In reserve, a contingent of men occupied the western shore, an equal distance from the city, ready to ignite the massive bonfire they'd spent the day constructing. If Smaug wanted fire, they would give it to him.
"Captain!" a rider called not two minutes after Bard with a company of six soldiers had departed onto the open water.
"What is it Dorl?" Brynmund asked as the panting man quickly dismounted. Dorl was one of his chief officers he'd entrusted the oversight of the western shore to.
"Sir," he said swallowing a large breath, "scouts have spotted an orc party crossing the Celduin River from the southwest."
"How many?" Brynmund asked feeling this the worst possible time for orcs to attack.
"Our scouts spotted twenty torches," Dorl answered as the two men fell in step to return to the streets.
"Orcs travel best at night. There will be at least ten orcs per torch, likely more. We've only twenty men left in the whole of the city and the dragon is on its way…"
"I've thirty men at the western shore; we can stand between them and the city." Brymund stopped to clamp a hand on Dorl's shoulder.
"Bard rides for the East, he'll alert the camp of the dragon's approach. I ride with you to the west. We'll take what men we've left and barricade the shore. We'll draw them away from the Town as long as we can."
"Yes sir!" Dorl agreed and remounted to ride back to the encampment. Brynmund slid into the saddle fo his own horse and rallied the men around him to ride for the western shore.
Now they would face a battle on two fronts: an orc pack to the west and a dragon to the east. Brynmund could only hope help was coming from the Mountain.
…
Lyra was gazing at the stories of conquest and glory that were etched in the stone walls along the gallery level. The dwarves were experiencing waves of nerves for their missing burglar, elation to finally be in their lost kingdom, and hesitation with every rumble and rattle that echoed from the distance.
From their vantage point in one of the highest turrets above the hidden passage, they could see every staircase that led back up to them. The moment they saw Bilbo returning, they could flee for the exit. Their journey could end easily if Bilbo was able to retrieve the stone undetected and Thorin could send for his armies, or the more likely result, the inevitable one, the dragon would awaken and it would come down to the men of the lake to kill it.
"I'm proud of you," Lyra said as she approached Thorin. He was standing before a replica of his grandfather, the figure carved from red granite and gold. His ears perked at Lyra's arrival. "The oath you made to the Master and Lake Town to make recompense for their help. It feels like it wasn't too long ago we argued over my promise to do the same for the Eagles and Beorn."
"It's what you would have done," he stated as he looked down at her. "Your voice rang in my mind as though you were with me still. You'll never know the impact you had when I last saw your face before the river took me away."
"I would apologize for pushing you, but in truth I'd make the same decision again," Lyra confessed.
"Don't mistake me, I don't mean that as a reprimand, I meant it as a compliment."
"Well we both know how good I am at taking those…"
"Thinking it may be the last time I saw you, what you'd imparted in me became more than words. At the prospect of your sacrifice it became as engrained in me as my own oath. I knew that on your behalf I would need to honor the promises you made with your life."
"You're an honorable man Thorin, you would have done it with or without me," Lyra said and watched as Thorin's shoulders tensed.
"Honorable…" he muttered darkly.
"What is it?" she asked taking his arm.
"I feel it," he said barely above a whisper, "had you not confided in me what you knew, perhaps I would not sense it now…"
"The gold sickness?" she asked feeling the pangs of fear. Since Bilbo's departure, Thorin had grown quiet. She and Balin, whom she'd also spoken to on their journey, were watching intently for any sign that their King was losing his bearings.
"I felt it before we even entered the Mountain. I stood on the bow of the bargeman's boat and I turned my back to the woods. I forsook you for Erebor…"
"That's what I wanted you to do. You put the quest first…"
"I told myself that too," he interrupted. At his sharp tone, Balin and Dwalin turned to listen in and Lyra cast a concerned look their way. "I had convinced myself that I was putting the triumph of my people first because at the time it aligned with the quest. Until last night when you told me of how-how I would betray my oath to the citizens of Lake Town and abandon them the way we were abandoned by the elves. I knew it was true. I knew I was capable of it…because I'd already left you.
"I feel the hunger growing, like an abyss opening in my chest. With every passing moment I grow more impatient waiting for that burglar to bring me the Arkenstone! Where is he?!" Thorin slammed his fist against the chest of his grandfather's likeness.
"Bilbo." Thorin turned his head to see Balin standing with tears in his eyes. "His name is Bilbo."
"Look!" Dori cried. Lyra's eyes lingered on Thorin a moment longer before they rushed to the balcony edge to see Bilbo scrambling up the steps.
"He's done it, he's found the stone!" Thorin said racing to meet him at the bottom of the stairs. Before any of them could reach the hobbit, the wall behind him exploded and the dragon poured through the new entrance.
"Now you will all burn!" Smaug roared and his golden belly lit up before flames erupted from his throat.
"Get back!" Thorin yelled and tackled the train of dwarves behind him before any could be consumed with flame. Smaug didn't stop as he tore through the mountainside like the walls were made of paper. The walls shook and rubble fell around them as the dragon took flight outside and flew toward the lights in the distance.
"Bilbo!" Lyra screamed as she tried to untangle herself from the heap of bodies. Tripping over limbs toward the stairs where she'd last seen her friend, Lyra fell hard on the ground. She screamed in pain as the burning ground singed her hands.
"Lyra!" Kili cried as he pulled her to her feet. Neither of them hesitated to scramble the rest of the way down the partially severed staircase. The secret entrance beneath them had been collapsed in the wreckage. A single small hand protruding from the bottom.
"Bilbo! Bilbo!"
"Clear the rubble!" Thorin ordered. Every set of hands began pulling and tearing at rocks, the pile slowly dwindling. Dwalin and Balin each took a hand and pulled Bilbo free.
"Bilbo, open your eyes," Lyra begged as she shook his chest. His small frame was covered in dirt and his head was bleeding.
"Move," Thorin barked as he pushed Lyra aside. She fell backwards and into Dwalin. "Where is it?" he asked as he searched the hobbit, patting him down from head to toe.
"Thorin!" Lyra choked out as they all stared in disbelief. "Thorin Bilbo is dying, we have to help him!"
"It's not here," Thorin growled as he looked back at the Company, but his eyes were no longer their brilliant blue. Instead, they were pitch-black and his snarl rivaled the dragon's. "Find me that stone!"
…
"Captain we're being overrun!" Dorl yelled across the battlefield. Their small company of men had fought valiantly, but the hordes of orcs had them outnumbered five to one. Brynmunds blade was soaked with blood and the ground was littered with the bodies of Rangers, Lake Men, wargs and orcs. "It's only a matter of time before they reach the Town."
"I know," Brynmund said, his breathing coming out heavily. "Gather the men that you can. Ride to the village and sound the alarm. We need the forces from the eastern bank."
"But the dragon…"
"The orcs will get to the villagers long before the dragon does if we don't stop them. Now go! I'll draw them off." Dorl knew better than to argue with his Captain.
"To me!" Dorl shouted and led the charge back to Lake Town. Brynmund retrieved a fallen torch and leapt over the fallen bodies at his feet. He had to strike down two orcs in his path before he reached the beacon. Tossing the torch onto the wood, the bonfire quickly took flame.
"Come on then," Brynmund said quietly as the fire lit up the hills to the west where warg riding orcs flooded the plane. Brandishing sword in hand, he stepped into the clear. Lake Town at his back, he solely occupied the space between the onslaught and the village. "For Lyra!"
…
Bard could feel the moment the dragon departed the mountain. The air was so still, the flap of his wings echoed off the water like a coming storm.
"Light the barges," he instructed. The longboat he and the other men were in was situated nearly dead center in the Lake. The men each lit an arrow and fired it into the darkness. Though nearly out of site, the men could still make out the faint rowboats they'd lashed together. When the fiery arrows hit their mark, the oil soaked wood ignited and spread quickly. Combine with the bonfires lit along the shore, the makeshift floating city would prove a bearing for the dragon. He only hoped the near two centuries in wait was sufficient to disorient Smaug to fall for the decoy long enough to bring him down.
"Here it comes!" one of the guard yelled. The clouds overhead were a blessing as they shielded the stars and moon. The extra darkness was in their favor. Yet the dragon tore through them like a whirlwind, his wings blowing so harshly it nearly tipped the boat as he passed overhead.
Smaug's fire lit up the night as bright as the sun, but the distraction worked! His breath shredded first the rowboats and then spread to the coast. "It's working," Bard said as the dragon circled back. "Get me close enough for a shot!" Their oars hit the water and they made chase. Smaug's terrible roar shattered the silence and he sent another blast of fire at the coast.
"Where are you, vermin!" his booming voice echoed. The fire was spreading quickly and despite the arrows the men along the shore were firing sprays of arrows, as Bard neared he could hear them ricocheting off his steel-like scales. Smaug landed and his roar of anger shook the earth. Amidst the firelight, he could see there was no town where he once thought. "I will destroy you. Your flesh will melt from your bodies and I'll bury your bones in the rubble of your city!"
"Steady!" Bard called. The dragon was still enough, his belly glowing as he prepared another blast of fire. Bard's keen eyes could pick up the fragmented scale on his chest. "I've got the shot." His arm was strong and his bow was steady as he drew the string back.
And then they heard it.
The tolling of the steeple bell from Lake Town rang through the air. Bard turned sharply to look back at the Town. Though it was barely visible, he knew the sound of the warning bell that was being tolled.
"The village is under attack," the guard at his side said. "There! They've lit the second bonfire!" Across the lake, their backup plan was burning uselessly. Bard turned back, his bowstring drawn, but the dragon was already stretching his wings to take flight.
"No!" Bard yelled. He'd lost the shot. "Quickly, make for the Town!" Bard yelled and once again their oars hit the water. The sky trembled once again as Smaug took to the air. Bard looked back at the terrible sight, knowing that they'd never make it in time to stop him from reaching the villagers. The dragon's golden eyes gazed down long enough to spot their boat and his fire erupted from his mouth. In seconds, their boat was incinerated and the black arrow sank beneath the water.
On a side note, to the person who felt it necessary to send me a PM for every chapter telling me about every spelling mistake and your personal opinion on the names I use in the story (seriously 'Hanks' was a joke, I don't know how I could have made that more obvious)… If you're still reading, apparently this horrendous story full of inaccuracies: No, I'm not going to continue the conversation with you. I have had more than one person send me messages with construtive criticism that I welcome! You however feel it necessary to bash anything you don't agree with. Well honey, it's Fanfiction and I can do whatever the hell I want with this story. Bilbo has green hair? Yep! I prefer to call her Goldenberry to make her more OC? Yep (obviously the symbolism of the color themes that are rampant in this story were lost on you)! Lyra sprouts wings and spits nails, abso-fucking-lutely! If you don't like the story, that's fine! Don't read it. It doesn't hurt my feelings. You don't like my ideas? Ok, go write your own story! In the meantime, yes I'm going to block you and delete all of your reviews because you literally blew up my email with your spam messages that were 0% helpful. Oh, and I hope you have a great fucking day.
End rant.