The Beginning of the End
-March 16, 3019-
Freya sat upon the tip of Erebor watching the Great Plains below. The clouds overhead were brewing a storm of great ferocity; they were dark grey almost tinted black. Her soul fidgeted beneath her skin as she listened to the sound of drums that were ever so far away, yet so near that her heart kept time with the beats. All three cities below were quiet on the outside, but inside they bustled with a strange adrenaline that Freya had never seen before. Dale had taken most of the people out of Esgaroth and ferried them into their city.
Once before, Freya had seen the might of these Lake-Men, their devotion to their strongholds. She had seen the might of the dwarves, who never gave into fear no matter what stood in their way. But somewhere, Freya feared this would be the end for some. The Easterlings were fierce, close to unforgiving and they took no prisoners aside from women, who they ended up violating and then tearing their hearts out, literally.
Freya heard a loud crack and then the sliding of metal gears churning to ready something. She unfurled her wings, leaping down from her perch to inspect the noise. She found several Lake-Men and dwarves readying what looked like a catapult. But it did not throw boulders, but nets instead. Freya flew away from that with great haste, fearing nets greatly. The dragoness landed on an outcropping of rock, listening to the sounds of the metal whispering through the cracks in the mountain.
"Snake," A gruff voice taunted behind her. Freya knew that voice all too well. One amber eye flicked back to land upon an elderly Dain Ironfoot, still carrying himself tall and proud with his two war axes swung on his back and the last he used as a walking stick. Age had treated the old dwarf well, his eyes still glinting with a great sense of ferocity, but his hair had turned pure white; which appeared stark against the ebony armor he wore. "I thought you lived up in the mountains."
"I do live in a mountain; this one," Freya laughed as she swatted Dain with her tail. The lord let out a hearty laugh gripping her back talon as he made his way up to her head. She noted how he seemed to struggle a bit with climbing the unstable rocks. "Age has not treated you kindly."
"Age is a like an old crone; it never goes away and constantly reminds you that it's here," Dain snorted. "Suppose you wouldn't understand, you're a dragon."
"Oh, I understand that old mule known as Age, Dain Ironfoot. I get reminded of it when I fly for long periods of time," Freya agreed as she laid down on the outcropping, allowing her mighty paws to swing over the edge. Dain scoffed and she huffed out a smoke ring. "Damned old mule never seems to die."
"Beating a dead horse, stop it," Dain scolded, tapping her shoulder with the handle of his ax. Freya laughed, her voice shaking the ground a bit. Her laugh died down when she was reminded by the Easterlings riding towards this great city with a strange speed. Something gave them speed; it was not their horses but their rage and willingness to take up arms. "What's bothering you?"
"I can hear them," Freya cracked her tail into the air, causing Dain to wince. He shot her a glare, but saw her lips pull up into a snarl. Hatred filled her blood, catching her once dormant dragon nature ablaze with war's song. "They will be here by nightfall with this strange pace."
"How many leagues?"
Freya tilted her head, listening to the horse hooves beat the ground like heavy rain over stone. Their drums sounded like cracks of thunder, their chants low and fast slowly, mingling to sound like one guttural voice. She could only guess how close they were to Erebor. "Two hundred, maybe one hundred leagues from this city. Regardless, we must be ready."
"Aye, I'll go give my cousin the news. He will not be very happy about, let me tell you."
Freya let smoke slip out of her mouth, letting it tumble onto her paws, "That he won't."
The dragoness slipped back inside of Erebor to find many dwarves running left and right like little mice. She carefully weaved- the best a dragon could- through the swarms of people making her way into the throne room, where she laid herself down behind Coruwen's throne with her head resting beside her Dear One. Coruwen looked at her curiously before Dain came into the room, bearing the news that Freya had estimated off the top of her scaly head.
Now the look Thorin gave Dain was rather humorous to say the least, or rather to her it was funny. The king seemed a bit torn; Freya believed he did not know who to be mad at; her or Dain. He finally spoke a sentence of Khuzdul to Dain and told her that she had better be lying.
"All words from a dragon's mouth are true, Thorin Oakenshield," Freya pointed, letting a puff of smoke out her mouth. She felt a hand rub her snout softly, and she looked down the bridge of her nose to see Fili and Kili. "What I am telling you is the truth! Whether or not you wish to believe it is another story. Brand has already started to prepare his men by placing them at his walls. If you should-,"
"I know how to fight a war, Dragon," Thorin growled as he stood. Her blood was all ready boiling, but the king set her ire up and over the edge. "I have held my men as they lay dying in my arms, whispering the names of their loved ones. I have seen the land painted red and heard the terrifying screams of men, elves, and dwarves alike as they are ripped apart by horses and wargs." He stood before her, his anger flashing in his eyes. "If you are simply going to lie around like your son then I suggest you depart my halls." He let out a sentence and Freya heard Dain's name within his words, and he left the main hall with Dain trailing after, a bit appalled at the king's actions.
"Oh Uncle is frustrated," Fili whispered. He glanced over at his aunt, who was nervously ringing her fingers and Freya swatted her elleth's arm for such behavior. Coruwen peered up at her with her light blue eyes becoming clouded over with worry.
"Boys," Freya addressed firmly, drawing both their attentions to her. "Prepare yourselves, and find your cousin. We need to be ready regardless of what your uncle believes. Dale will not be able to hold off the Easterlings for long." Fili and Kili darted off after she spoke, leaving her with a distraught Coruwen. She let out an affectionate rumble, nudging the elf queen gently. Coruwen held up one hand, halting the dragoness' affection. "Dear One, you must fight… What makes you hesitate?"
"I fear I will not live through this," Coruwen whispered, her voice thickening with emotion. Freya snorted, picking up the queen by the back of her collar making her shriek. "Freya! Put. Me. Down!"
"Not until I have my Dear One back!" Freya snapped. Coruwen blinked in shock. "What happened to the strong, self-willed woman who married the King under the Mountain? Where did she go? What happened to the one elf I claim as my own?! How in the name of the Great Mother did you lose sight of yourself? Tell me, speak!"
"This damned illness took what power I had over my old self!" Coruwen growled, her eyes narrowing. "I cannot look at my beloved and not see him pained. I can no longer fight."
"Nonsense! You speak lies and mortality has crippled you." Coruwen swung her foot up; knocking Freya's jaws together making her teeth click. She smirked wryly. 'Good girl… That is my Coruwen, not some dainty little finch who has lost her ability to fly."
Coruwen shot her a dark glare. "Freya, you big serpent-,"
"Come now, prepare yourself, Dear One. There will be a fight before the night is through; that I can be certain of." The queen whirled around and disappeared into a corridor, leaving Freya quite content with herself.
Odin watched Balder start sheathing his knives into various sheaths on his person, silently counting each of them. The halls were all ready busy, but when a squire came with the terrible news of the Easterlings being on Erebor's borders it sent the whole lower levels into a minor frenzy. To escape it all, Odin sat in the higher level's armory not desiring to get swallowed by the swarming people below. Balder had volunteered to stay with him since they lost Tyr in the frenzy with Dwalin. The prince tapped his fingers on his knee, thinking of what this battle going to come to.
"Odin," Balder sang, waving his fingers in front of his face. Odin swatted his friend's hand; irritated by the fact that Balder was bugging him. If Odin ever had a brother or someone close to it; it would be Balder. He loved him like a brother, but some of the time he wanted to punch him. He narrowed his eyes up at Balder, who then gestured to a set of ebony armor laying out for him. He blinked, taking in the armor in its entirety. His fingers traced his family's crest on the breastplate, for the crest itself was lined with silver.
The door being opened made him jump back, and Balder snickered. Odin swatted his friend upside the head, sending a glare his way as well before he saw Fili and Kili come into the room. He saw the stern expression of Fili and then looked over at Kili, who was staying out of his brother's way as the older one picked up his armor. Fili's armor was scaled, colored dark red like Freya's rosewood colored scales. After donning his armor, Fili glanced over at Odin. There was a small flash of happiness in his eyes, but it faded before Odin could truly notice it. Fili left the room and Kili hung back, playing with his hood. In fact, Kili wore a hooded cloak of dark leather, and it obscured much of his cousin's armor.
Odin stood and tapped Kili on the shoulder, drawing his attention. Kili's gold eyes were dark and greatly concerned. Abruptly, Odin was pulled into Kili in a tight embrace.
"Kili!" Fili shouted. Kili released Odin, darting after his brother and leaving the latter confused. The prince shook himself of the confusion, walking over to his armor and began to don it. Balder smirked when Odin had trouble with one of his gauntlets, which was giving him minor trouble. Balder stopped him, helping him.
"Sometimes I wonder how you are related to the king," Balder said quietly, his grey eyes hinting mischievously. Odin smiled, gripping Balder's forearm.
"Same could be said about you and your father. You're nothing like him," Odin put in as he tied his sword to his hip. Balder snorted, looking away from his friend. The prince chuckled, "Come on, we best not hide in here. Otherwise, my father will hunt us down and drag us out of here."
"Literally?"
Odin narrowed his eyes, "I don't know if he will literally, but I know my mother will have Freya come and find us."
Balder shuddered, trailing after Odin as the two made their way up to the throne room. Upon pushing open the old doors, Odin found that Freya was laying behind the throne of his mother and father. His father was pacing, his armor and boots making his distraught pacing sound like rocks being tossed down a large cavern. His armor differed from that of ebony. It was a mixture of black and ash grey with certain layers scaled and the rest a great sheet.
Odin then looked to his mother, who he had never seen in any sort of armor in his life. His mother wore the light garb of an archer, colored dark grey with hints of white etched into the leather. On her shoulders rested a cloak of black, hiding her quiver that lay on her hip.
"Is that your mother?" Balder whispered, looking between him and the queen. Odin nodded slowly before starting off towards his parents. Coruwen glanced up at him, her blue eyes shining happily for a moment before Dain and his eldest son entered the room. Odin stood at his mother's side with Freya at his back. His cousins soon entered, standing at his father's side as more people entered the room.
"How close are the forces, Freya?" Coruwen asked, coming to stand beside the dragoness, who raised her head to listen. Many people looked up at the dragoness in awe despite her living beneath Erebor a long while. A horn sounded that was sonorous sending Odin's gaze to the doors. That horn did not belong to the Lake-Men; that much he knew.
"Five leagues," Freya replied. "Strange how fast a horde decides to move when their master's whip chases them."
Odin heard a small muttering amongst the people, mainly elders or young children. The warriors from the Iron Hills and Erebor remained stone-faced, but the air was tense. A cry of someone asked what were they to do with the Easterlings right at the foothills of their home.
"We shall do what we did many, many years ago," Coruwen stated clearly. Her voice was clear, not wavering in the slightest; a symbol of true power. "The Easterlings know what power lies here; they are fools to try to take this city from us. There is but one force on this earth that can take this city, and we have her. Erebor was not taken by other forces easily, it took a dragon to take it and a dragon alone can take it again. I do not believe the Easterlings have a dragon."
"Freya is the last of her kind," Odin thought as his mother spoke in her clear voice, hoping that it alleviate the worries of her people. The prince smiled at the floor as she ended her speech, her hand still resting upon the nose of Freya. There was a removal of tension within the main hall for a few moments until Dain and Thorin started to give orders at the sounding of the second Easterling horn. His father walked up to him as warriors marched from the hall to the main gate. His father gripped his shoulder tightly, the feeling of pride radiating off of him.
"Stay with me, and don't fall behind," Thorin ordered, releasing Odin's shoulder. He turned on his heel, meeting up with Dain. Tyr joined Odin's side as he followed his father ahead of the warriors. The gates opened revealing a great line standing upon the Desolation of Smaug. Black horses stamped their feet upon the ground, anxious to move again with their riders trying to control their ornery steeds. Behind the horses stood a line of spearmen with their weapons standing out like silver spires with small flags depicting a six pointed Silver Star set into a black and red backdrop. Instantly, Odin's heart dropped out of his chest and onto the ground somewhere far from him.
"Whoever has less, owes the other a drink," Tyr whispered with a sly smirk. Odin cast a ghostly smile up at his friend before Dain grabbed Tyr, dragging him away. The prince shook his head as Tyr waved at him as Dain placed him within his ranks. Odin's sharp eyes fell on the red cloaks of the Lake-Men, who began to swarm out of Dale with swords and spears ready to defend their home. Ahead of the column of men stood six white horses, each bearing the symbol of the Lord of Dale with their vermillion cloaks hiding their horses' hind quarters. The Men of Dale divided as two bay horses road through the middle with their riders wearing red and gold. Brand stood in the midst of his men with his eldest son, Bard, at his side.
The all three armies watched as the sun fell behind the horizon, signaling the dwarves to march down to Brand and his men to join the armies before the Easterlings charged.
Coruwen ordered Frigga and Sol to have the elderly, women, and children start down into the lower levels should things turn for the worst. While Thorin took the battle to the Easterlings on the field, she took up the mantle of watching Erebor's walls unless a signal was sent up for the forces inside to head out. Her forces were mostly Kili's guards and archers, people who could defend from high places and knew the slopes well enough to navigate them easily. She threw her hood over her head with Kili and Balder joining her up on the wall above the gates.
Darkness had fallen like a hammer, revealing thousands of red, flickering lights on the Desolation of Smaug. She could see the shapes of the Easterling forces in the dwindling light, but she was surprised that Khamûl was not present. This bothered her.
"Patrol the wall, watch for the Nazgûl," Coruwen ordered. Balder nodded, darting off to the left with another guard. Kili passed the order onto his guards, who then passed it along to the others.
"Where's the Nazgûl?" Kili asked, watching the sky like she had ordered. Coruwen had a strange sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Why; she had no idea. She was all ready worried for her family that went to fight below on the plains and having Khamûl not present was making her worry turn into panic. Her mind began to wander when Khamûl had attacked Thranduil, which ended up hitting her instead. The scar was still on her back from that little incident, along with her warg scars and scar on her arm; she was a mess. She felt Kili tug on her hauberk, making her gaze flick down to him. He was looking forward, watching something. "Their meeting and the Easterlings have begun to burn Esgaroth."
Coruwen looked past the Easterling lines to see flickering red flames kissing the sky. Brand had made the right decision to move the people of Esgaroth out of that place. It was a city guarded by wooden walls; an excellent signal for the people of Dale had anyone been inside. Her ears picked up the sounds of orders being shouted at lines of men below as the horses of the Easterlings started toward the enemy.
"Will we have to use Freya?" Kili inquired. Coruwen tightened her fingers around her bow. She glanced down at him and then back up at the sky.
"Only if Khamûl appears," She replied quietly. In truth, she did not know if Freya could handle fighting Khamûl. Her scales may be strong and unable to be pierced, but she was old. As dragons age their body becomes fragile, their bones brittle, scales soft, and their fire less potent. Freya was becoming an elder dragon. Thankfully, Ancalagon's blood flowed through her veins allowing her to keep her potent fire and strong bones.
"What if things get out of hand?"
"Then I will let her choose whether or not to fight."
As hours passed by the battle below began to wear thin, many had passed, many wounded, and the Easterlings were succeeding in their fits of wild slaughter. Khamûl had yet to make his appearance, leaving his men to fight his own battle. Coruwen had remembered the amount of blood split in the Battle of Five Armies, how the metallic scent coated the air. She hated that memory; yet here it was replaying itself for her. The Easterlings had lost their horses and lost many men, but something drove them; a wild feral behavior that no ordinary man possessed.
Her gaze fell on a group of Easterling archers positioned high up on an outcropping of rock, firing their arrows at the Lake-Men from behind. Beyond anger, she notched an arrow into her bow and pulled back, aiming at the back of one Easterling. The arrows twanged and embedded itself into the archer's back, causing him to fall forward like a ragdoll. The archers wheeled around, looking at her, then their ally. One pulled back a notched arrow, his dark eyes focused on her. Coruwen heard the whistle of an arrow behind her and the arrow met its mark into the chest of the second archer. Soon, the last archer was left with many other bows pointed at him, ready to fire. In a panic, he scurried down the rock like a frightened mouse.
Coruwen notched an arrow, firing at the Easterling's heel while another caught the back of his neck. Her ears picked up the sounds of men screaming as they neared Erebor's gates. Her gaze flicked down to the skirt of the mountain, and found that a small regiment of Lake-Men and dwarves were backed up onto the slopes, fighting the Easterling spearmen. Her heart sank when she saw Brand, nearly beaten and bloody, fighting against a ruthless spearmen, who used swung his spear like a great fan, knocking back the Lake-Men. She didn't see Fili, Odin, or Thorin… Why didn't she see them?
"Kili," Coruwen said sharply over her shoulder, "Help Brand with his little problem."
"Right," Kili answered. Coruwen started down the narrow walkway, watching Brand like a hawk. She spied Dain, fighting beside the Lord of Dale. She began to worry and in her concern and worry, she loosed an arrow on an Easterling. In a way, she liked watching them fall; they were pests and ruthless ones at that. She narrowed her eyes at Dale, the once great city torn to shreds by the Easterlings, who now ran ramped through her streets.
A loud yell drew her attention downward to Brand and Dain, who stood against the Easterlings still killing off their men. The yell came again, a sentence in the tongue of the Lake-Men that she did not know. It was a command, not a plea. The command was shouted again, but cut off towards the end and Coruwen froze; watching Brand drop his sword and fall to his knees. An Easterling stood behind him, gripping the hilt of a jagged scimitar that had slipped through the opening in Brand's armor. Before the realization of the shock came to her, Dain had swung his ax, cleaving the Easterling's head from his shoulders.
"Coruwen!" Dain barked. She whirled around, descending down to the gates and found that Mora stood awaiting her at the bottom. She paused, surprised to see her horse standing ready. The black mare tossed her great head, stomping one feathered foot on the ground. She smiled faintly before mounting the mare, and slipping through the gates as they closed. Mora's feet beat the stone until there was a loud splash, like the horse had run into a puddle of water. Coruwen glanced down to see an ashen, horror stricken face silently screaming for help with blood seeping from his chest and pouring onto the ground.
The queen shook off the horror and slid to the ground near Dain, finding him greatly injured, more so than she would have expected from a great warrior like him. The ash grey stone was painted a murky red, matching the red of the Easterling's garb. The scent of blood made her wince mentally, as it made painful memories rise in the forefront of her mind. Brand lay against a rock, barely hanging onto life with him far from her healing expertise. Gently, she tried to get him to speak.
Brand's eyes cracked open, his eyes losing their life quickly and his breaths staggered and growing shallow. "They…Have Bard; they took him." Brand managed. Coruwen heard him clear his throat a bit and his fingers tried to find their way into the side of his armor, but she stopped him. She hooked her fingers on a chain, and she pulled free a bracelet formed of wooden beads. As the life in Brand's eyes died, he smiled faintly, passing into the Halls of Mandos.
"Be safe, my friend," Coruwen whispered, clutching the bracelet to her chest. She turned to Dain, who had a grave look on his face. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "Dain, you're gravely injured. We-,"
"I'm fine; it's nothing," Dain snapped, his steely eyes narrowing. Her heart constricted painfully in her chest as she thought of losing more people close to her. Such an emotion must have been clear to see, for Dain patted her hand before starting toward the battlefield again. "I don't know where Thorin or Odin ran off to, but I can assure you they're fine."
"Dain," Coruwen muttered.
The lord laughed, "You worry too much, woman; seems that all you girls do sometimes. Take my advice, go kill some of these buggers and then see how much you worry." He left her sight, but she could hear him taunt the Easterlings all the way down the slope. She smiled weakly, shaking her head at the silly nature of Dain.
As she approached Mora to return, she thought she had heard the sounds of someone behind her. She whirled around, her gaze flicking around for signs of movement but all she saw were the motionless bodies belonging to the dead. She reached Mora, gripping the course mane of hair before attempting to pull herself up. The sound of an arrow being loosed made her hair stand up on end in fear and before she could turn around her body was sent jerking forward into Mora causing the mare to rear up on her hindquarters. Hot pain spread through her back and soon she couldn't move; her muscles were rigid and frozen.
In the sides of her vision, blackness began to crawl up and swallow her. Coruwen refused to be broken like this, and her mind began to churn thoughts over and over. She needed to find her son, her husband, and help her people. The pain that coursed through her system was steadily becoming more and more unbearable, stopping her from thinking. She silently cursed stupid mistakes. She made one like this once, but instead of fighting men, she was fighting a warg. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of men; her people being slaughtered like lambs. Coruwen could feel her heart slowing down and her breathing become shallow.
'Keep them safe; both of them…'
A/N: This chapter was the biggest thorn in my side.. I know you guys are going to hate me for giving you a bad cliffhanger AND a short chapter. I promise the next one will be longer! Stupid writer's block and its inability to go away...
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