A/N: You are all lovely wonderful reviewers. I love you guys. Seriously. Thanks for all the support. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.

Chapter Summary: The door is opened and the fight begins

Bard's grip on his bow never loosened as they slunk towards Laketown. His gaze was wary as he peeked around, suspicious and terrified of being spotted. He would never forgive himself if carelessness lead to innocents losing their lives.

Especially children.

He was certain that any sentries on patrol would know that Bard was supposed to be escorting the dwarves and their hobbit into the mountain. He had no reason to be heading towards Laketown.

And that would set the suspicious creatures on high alert.

No. It was far better to remain hidden.

And he supposed that they were fortunate that no one spotted them on their entry into the outer lying banks of the river near the town, though he figured that Legolas and keen-eyed companions had something to do with that.

But as he gazed from the marshes towards the banquet hall, the sun setting lower into the sky, he knew that they could not remain hidden for long. Patrols would find the bodies of their comrades. The crows would more than likely report back to their master and the word would spread like wildfire.

They had to hurry.

"How many do you see?" He whispered to the elf prince, well aware that his eyesight was not comparison to that of Legolas.

"Eight at least. I cannot tell how many more are inside." The golden-haired creature murmured lowly, his eyes narrowed and assessing, "It would appear that this master of your is no stranger to deceptive tactics."

Bard wanted to snort. Of course The Master wasn't easily fooled.

"Still, though, if Tauriel and the others arrive soon, we might be able to launch an attack without much clamor or chaos."

Bard nodded his head in agreement.

Clamor and chaos would certainly not be advisable at the moment.

Of course, though, when evil has its sights set on you, it's hard to shake them from detecting your presence.

One of the Elven guards spied the bird too late.

A mighty cry went up from its feathered throat, even as an arrow was dispatched to silence the winged creature.

It was enough to cause a stir among the men.

"Go!" Legolas hissed lowly at his companions, "Shoot!"

Six elves rose, bows drawn, eyes narrowed.

The men of Rhun let out fierce cries and launched themselves forward.

Arrows sliced through the air and with deadly precision, embedded themselves beneath armor, sending the warrior men tumbling.

Three fell in a flash.

But three more were advancing, this time with shields raised in a protective manner.

The elves readied their arrows.

But Bard noticed the other two were not assisting their companions. Instead, one was pulling forth an object—a horn!

And the other was silently darting towards the banquet hall.

No!

"Legolas! Horn!" Bard thundered, charging from the marshes and towards the banquet hall drawing his own bow forth.

He released an arrow with a loud *thwack*as the echoes of a solitary horn blast filled the air


Thorin didn't hesitate to insert the key—pulled from the folds of his great coat—into waiting keyhole as the last bright rays of the sun filtered past the faces of the company. The key slid in easily and with a slow turn, a lock clicked and an outline of a door appeared as Thorin pushed on the rock, making Lyla's eyes widen.

'It all fit so seamlessly. How…?'

Slowly the dwarf pushed the door aside completely and a warm gust of stagnant, stuffy air, blasted into her face.

She half wondered how the door could be so silent having never been used before.

Not that she wasn't grateful, mind you.

She stared into the darkened tunnel, her heart leaping into her throat as the musty smell of the mountain filled her nostrils.

No, she was indeed grateful that a door had not woken a dragon.

A dragon!

She swallowed and clenched her fist. She was aware that eyes had turned to her, the company members staring at her unabashedly.

And she registered the low murmur sweeping through the lips of her companions.

But she couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight before her.

They had finally reached it.

They were at the door.

And it was open and beckoning her forward.

Into the darkness.

A low, numbing sensation tingled over her limbs and she felt detached but filled with trepidation at the same time.

It all seemed so surreal.

So unusual.

Yet here she stood.

'And a lot of good standing is going to do you , Lyla Baggins.' She internally scolded herself, trying to will her limbs to move. 'The longer you stand here, the longer you are denying help to those children and to the dwarves. What good are you to anyone standing still as stone?'

No. That just would not do.

Steeling her courage, Lyla took a step forward, eyes narrowed and focused on the door.

Now was as good a time as any, she supposed.

But a hand stopped her.

Lyla turned, blinking, to face her captor.

Thorin Oakenshield, flanked by Dwalin and Bofur, all who wore identical expressions of concern.

"Wait." Thorin murmured, trying to pull her back from the door, "You don't have to do this."

What?

"That's absurd," Lyla replied confusedly, "Isn't that what I'm here to do?"

"No," Thorin remarked with a frown, "I mean yes, but now…" He cleared his throat, "I just-you can't-you shouldn't have to do this."

"Aye lass," Dwalin remarked, "It's a dangerous road yer going down. Are ye sure this is what ye want to do?"

The warrior dwarf fixed her with a quiet, contemplative gaze, his eyes devoid of anger or reproach, merely searching her face thoughtfully, his lips pulled into a small frown.

Did they not understand?

Surely they understood…

"Of course," she murmured, gazing about. Fili and Kili were also close to her, their faces identical masks of surprise and….admiration?

'Well that's an odd thought,' She mused, and then shook her head.

She was imagining it.

And she needed to go face this dragon before she lost her nerve.

"I understand your concerns, but I did sign up for this. I am your burglar after all."

Her smile felt like a grimace on her face. She didn't think anyone was WILLING to enter the dragon's lair.

But she was determined. She had a duty to fulfill, and by Aule she was going to do it.

She shrugged from Thorin's grip and stepped forward again. "It's best. I have to do it."

His grip returned and he yanked her backwards, closer to himself.

"Wait Lyla, just," He turned her to face himself and Lyla caught the intensity of his gaze. "Just..." He sighed in stepped backwards his eyes squeezing shut and his fists clenching, "By Mahal…"

Dwalin grasped Lyla's shoulder and shifted her away from Thorin pulling her forehead against his own.

"Just be safe lassie," He murmured, "And don't do anything stupid."

And then he nudged her forward towards the door again.

Lyla felt her heart flutter in appreciation for Dwalin's comforting confidence.

But Thorin would have none of it. "She can't go Dwalin. You-she…it's unsafe."

Dwalin turned to his friend and gave him a long thoughtful gaze, his lips pulled into a thin line. "Aye I know that, but she's capable. Let's give her a chance."

"She can't-" his tone was soft but firm, conveying his frustration.

Dwalin's eyes narrowed, "She can!" He growled, stepping forward, "I'll not try and stop her either. I made that mistake once and I'll not do it again."

Thorin stilled, his face going slack and shoulders drooping as pain flashed in his eyes.

A long sigh escaped his lips and then turned back towards Lyla, his eyes dark, brooding and haunted.

He stepped towards her slowly and placed his hands on either side of her face and brought his own forehead down to hers slowly, his eye closing for the briefest of moments. Lyla's heart sped up.

"Yes," he murmured quietly, his warm breath washing over her cheeks, "I made that mistake too."

Slowly he released her, his fingers rubbing across her cheeks as he gazed at her with a pained expression, "Just…be safe. Please."

Lyla couldn't speak. Her voice refuse to surface and her eyes felt moist.

A warm sensation was on her cheeks.

But she managed to nod her head.

Thorin gave a small smile and nodded his head in return.

Ori came forward and pressed a small torch into her hands and gave her a soft smile of his own before scurrying back towards his brother.

Lyla cast her eyes around at the dwarves, and even in the growing dark, most wore expressions of contrition and trepidation. She noted Fili's and Kili's eyes were saddened, but small smiles lit their faces.

"Good luck Mistress Boggins. May Mahal protect you." Kili's voice was pained but resolute as he spoke.

Lyla swallowed again and straightened, giving Kili another nod of her head.

It was now or never.

She turned and, with a soft inhale of breath, stepped into the dark tunnel.

"Be safe," Thorin's low voice caressed her ears again as she disappeared into the inky blackness.


Thorin couldn't understand the emotions coursing through his veins.

He knew Dwalin was right.

He couldn't make the same mistake he made with Dis.

But, Lyla? She was…

He couldn't bear the thought of her entering that cave alone.

To face a dragon.

A dragon!

But what could he do?

A hand came to rest on his shoulder as he stared into the doorway, watching the soft flicker of torchlight slowly fade away.

Thorin didn't need to guess who it might be

"She'll be alright Thorin," Dwalin's voice echoed in his ear.

But Thorin couldn't tear his eyes away from the doorway.

"You don't know that," He murmured, "None of us know that."

He heard Dwalin sigh deeply as the large hand gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, "Aye, Lad, I do not. But I have hope. And faith in that little hobbit. She's stronger than she looks. Let's hold onto that, aye?"

Thorin nodded his head absently, but did not reply. Fear pricked at his heart, the memories of Moria still far too fresh in his mind.

'Be safe' he thought again silently, 'Please be safe.'


He was walking slowly along the corridors of the city, in the company of The Master and his insufferable expulsions of praise and wonder, when Thranduil's ears picked up the sound of the horn.

It was almost a welcome relief from the tedium and annoyance of The Master's voice.

Almost.

Instantly his grip tightened on the hilt of his sword hidden beneath the folds of his cloak.

He watched as realization dawned on the men's faces and as they scrambled or their weapons, eyes narrowing at the elves.

"They've tricked us!" one man hissed, his bloodshot eyes narrowed as he pointed his sword towards Thranduil.

The elf just cocked his eyes brow and gazed back at the man, his lips pulled into a thin line.

But The Master did not appear ruffled by this panicked declaration from his guards.

No, he'd started laughing instead.

"You think that I did not know that?" He chortled, his round face reddened in mirth, "Of course I KNEW that hobbit couldn't be trusted! Slimy little sniveling rat that she is. And you, to think that I was so easily deceived? Ha!"

He turned his beady eyes on Thranduil, his brows raised in challenge, "Tell me then, great king of Mirkwood," he sneered the name, "Did you really think that I would believe your ruse?"

Thranduil snorted and then smirked at The Master, "Indeed I did not." He remarked lowly, "I knew that your guards would believe me however, and that's all that I needed." Chaos exploded around the elf king as he drew his sword, One of the guards came towards him even as The Master scuttled backwards his eyes widened.

Apparently the man had not considered that his attackers would be aware of his suspicions.

The king of Mirkwood deftly sidestepped the lumbering man and with a quick jut of the hilt of his sword, knocked the man into the water.

His guards charged the other men who hand their weapons brandished and were snarling and careening, headlong into battle.

But the elf king had his eye set on The Master who was stumbling backwards calling up to the rooftops.

"Shoot them! And secure the hall! Don't let them break it down!"

A few paltry arrows were shot towards Thranduil, but his own archers had been ready and waiting for their chance.

Apparently Gandalf's plan was working.

He heard splashes of water as them were felled, their bodies dropping into the water like stones in the river.

He continued towards the fat, stumbling man, a scowl on his face, his eyes narrowed. His mind was clear, his understanding of justice precise. He knew that his earlier actions and accusations and declarations of flippant disregard for the welfare of the people of Laketown were planted in his mind by the same wicked seed that was overrunning his kingdom. Had he not chastised Thorin Oakenshield for showing no compassion on the people of Esgaroth with his foolhardy quest?

No.

No more of this.

His frown deepened as the battled raged on around him, but his eyes were locked on the sniveling fat man who was tumbling and tripping, trying to get away.


The men were pouring from the banquet hall, and from across the bridge.

Bard dodged one man and stuck another with his knife as he gazed about, noting the runners along the rooftops, their bows drawn. This was bad.

He twisted again as another man launched himself at the bowman, his fist catching Bard in the jaw, sending him sideways.

But he was quick to recover, sending a mighty kick into the man's knee, a small 'snapping' sound and a howl from his attacker assured Bard that he had broken the man's kneecap.

But another was atop him before he could blink, a jagged knife slicing into his arm, causing the bowman to wince and twist. He grabbed ahold of the man's wrist and arched upwards, slamming his head into his assailant's, knocking the man temporarily senseless.

Long enough to allow him to rise.

He pulled out an arrow and his bow and released on into the next man that charged at him.

And again at the next man that made a move.

But Aule help him, he needed to get inside, though no matter what he did, men crowded towards him

There were too many of them.

The elves were scattered around, as men clamored after them, their weapons drawn.

He punched another man in the face. And then pulled an arrow from his holder and sent it soaring into a man's chest. Where was Tauriel?

And Gandalf?

They needed help.

HE needed to get inside the banquet hall.


The tunnel wasn't as long as Lyla had expected.

Or hoped.

Soon, the musty, narrow channel opened into a wider room with an alcove off to the side. And beyond that it widened even more.

Lyla caught snatches of flicker light and a warmth washed over her, heating up her face and producing sweat at her hairline.

She was close.

Hesitantly, she set the torch down in the alcove, where its soft light would not be noticed, and where it would be safe (hopefully).

She edged her way closer to the wide opening, her heart hammering. She noticed, coming to the edge of the opening that a few stray coins had landed at the edge of this hidden room. A small incline led upwards into what she assumed was the treasure room. She crouched low and slowly crawled up the walkway, her eyes darting about wildly.

Lyla bit back a gasp of astonishment at the sight the greeted her. The soft light was coming from the stone walls themselves. An intricate swirl of greens, grey, and white, the stone stretched upwards, high into the ceiling, forming the pillars and walkways. These stones seemed to exude an iridescent light of its own, bathing the cavern in something akin to soft moonlight.

And beneath this soft lighting, mountains of gold twinkled like stars, their shine taking Lyla's breath away. She hadn't expected treasure to be so beautiful. But here, now, in this setting, it almost reminded her of many nights sitting out under the stars, watching the shift of the heavenly atmosphere revolve around in the sky.

It was spectacular.

But there was no dragon, much to Lyla's curiosity.

Where could it be?

She raised her head a little higher, peeking past one of the small dunes of gold.

She shoved her fist in her mouth to bite back the scream of surprise.

There, in front of her and not fifty feet from where she crouched, a large, scaled beast lay sleeping. His long snout curved in a sinister way, his warm breath making is unbearable hot.

Smaug's head was turned to the side, exposing the underside of his neck and his chest, his massive clawed front legs resting one atop the other.

But, most of his body was buried beneath piles of gold and jewels.

But something caught her eye and she edge closer to get a better look.

Perhaps…

Her hand knocked a large golden goblet off the small pile of gold she was slowly crawling up, sending a soft tinkling of coins clattering downwards, towards the entry into the doorway.

Lyla grasped the cup before it could fall and ducked away, her heartbeat reverberating in her ears as she heard a loud snort of air escape the massive beast.

Oh no.

A living, breathing dragon lay before her.

And she had dropped a cup.

'Oh you fool of a Took.'

She needed to leave.

A low rumbled started to echo through the mountain, growing steadily louder as Lyla slid back down and scrambled away from the gold, away from the dragon, her eyes wide. The rumbling grew, deafeningly loud as Lyla darted down the walkway, scrambling to grab hold of her torch.

"THIEF!" The dragon's roar pierced her ears, "THIEF! FIRE! MURDER! I WILL FIND YOU!"

The whole mountain shook as she sprinted down the walkway and towards the door.


Thorin stopped pacing when the mountain started to shake.

The hairs on the back o his neck rose and his eyes widened.

"Was that an earthquake?" Dwalin ventured, his brows knit in confusion.

Balin shook his head lightly, his face pulled into a worried scowl.

"That, my lad," he remarked lowly, "Was a dragon."

Thorin turned towards the doorway, his heart filling with dread.

Oh Mahal, what had she done?


Thranduil's movements stopped and he gazed upwards as the ground shook lightly beneath his feet.

Everyone had stilled for a moment, straining and listening.

Suspicion lanced through the elf king.

He hoped that it wasn't…

The shaking grew louder and a mighty roar filled the air.

His eyes narrowed.