A/N: OMG. For reals, folks, this is chapter numero 50. The big five-oh. This requires cake and ice cream, balloons, confetti, funny hats, and kazoos. And we couldn't have done it without you. You guys are really freaking awesome, there's just no two ways about that. In honor of chapter fifty and all the Smaug amazingness that goes with it, Loki and I would like to offer our sincerest, most tearful thanks-whoops. Sorry. The most tearful were taken already. Okay, second most tearful thanks. :) Thank you so, so, so much for your readership, your dedication, and your comments. Without further ado, Chapter 50. Enjoy.
Fifty
It was indeed the dragon, huge and red, winging toward the Lake. If you want to know why Smaug was so intently bearing down on the floating town, we must go back to earlier in the day, when Billa had disappeared so bravely down the dark tunnel to Smaug's bedchamber.
She was an exceedingly intelligent and courageous hobbit, but one must admit that she didn't always think things all the way through. The smell of sulfur, the heat rising from the stone under her feet, the sound of a massive beast breathing slowly in and out. Billa was surprised when she stumbled down the last step and onto the platform, the wide open space around her echoing with the faintest whispers of her own presence and the breathing of the beast. Darkness pressed in on her from all sides in the absence of the dragon's ruby glow. The halfling hesitated. She knew he had to be here. The hall would be frigid without the dragon's huge body warming it up. But Thorin had asked her to find out what the dragon was up to. How could she report back if she didn't even know where Smaug was? Could he be in the next room? Down the hall?
Straining her eyes in every direction, stretching her senses to the utmost, she still couldn't tell where the dragon was. Was he asleep? An idea struck her. A crazy idea that could possibly get her killed. Or pique Smaug's interest.
Taking a deep breath, the little burglar spoke over the low, constant rumble of the dragon's breathing. "I have delivered your gift, Smaug." She hastily slipped her ring on, wincing as she was reminded of the tear in her knuckle, where she'd jerked it off before. A moment of eerie silence. Then, out of the warm darkness, a familiar voice washed over the halfling, slow, satisfied, like a hot desert wind.
"I trust he was pleased. Or not? Maybe you told him it was a gift, and he spent the night quaking in fear, trying to guess my motives." A rumbling chuckle, like boulders rolling down a mountainside. "And what did he do then? He sent you down here to find out what I was up to, didn't he? To see what scheme I had in mind. Between the two of us, I think I'm enjoying the game... more."
A faint reddish glow, like dying embers, sifted up through one of the dark hills of treasure, accompanied by the slow, subdued ringing of coins and jewels tumbling off. A bit of the dragon's snout, maybe, peeking up from beneath the hoard. He'd buried himself more deeply this time.
"I believe he was... unnerved." Billa eyed the sliver of red she could see between layers of gleaming gold. "He suspects you plan to hunt him down if he leaves the Mountain. It seems to me that a predator such as yourself wouldn't... expend much effort for such mean prey." She watched him, moving cautiously toward the stairs. The outline of the smooth stone steps was barely visible in the dim light, and she wanted escape options if the dragon decided her usefulness had been spent.
Smaug shifted slightly, and more little slivers of light peeked out from beneath the gold. "Oh, I wouldn't make it nearly so easy for him. He isn't worth the breath it would take to make him ash. No. He and all his ilk are nothing more than gnats buzzing about. Annoying, but harmless. I'll kill him eventually. But not until he has a chance to truly suffer. Not until he destroys himself, and becomes something else entirely." Another rumbling chuckle. "Believe you me, it will be worth the wait."
Billa felt a thrill of fear run through her. In the shadow, she misstepped and stumbled badly. Recovering only just before she took a spill down the stairs, the halfling tried to control the pounding of her heart. "It... it doesn't surprise me, I guess. After so many years of heavy sleep, it must be hard for you to... work up the energy to do anything much."
The dragon snorted at this, two acrid plumes that rose, backlit, from the gold, as if smoke from a volcanic vent. "And I suppose that's meant to anger me? I have nothing to prove. I was young when I laid low the Mountain King's army. These 60 years make little difference. I am still strong as the thundering sea. Clad in iron, every inch of me, and yet I move like the daintiest of birds, agile and quick." Smaug's head rose fully from beneath the wealth now, and reddish light washed over the chamber like a blood-red sun had crested the golden hills. With a little shake, the beast dislodged whatever pieces had clung to his scaly head and neck, and grinned, revealing again teeth as long and sharp as scimitars.
"To kill your precious Oakenshield would be like crushing an ant. It's much too quick for him. I want you to see him fall, little thief. That will be far more interesting for me. It's not a dragon that stands in his way. It's his own weakness. His madness. I need merely pull a thread, and his façade will unravel like an old tapestry."
"He won't." Billa was dismayed to find that her voice was shaking. Think, Billa, THINK. He's trying to get under your skin and make you panic. Use that brain of yours. What could she say to make this Worm reveal his plan? Well, he'd already done that. Arrogant, that's what he was. He believed Thorin would fall to madness, like his father and grandfather.
He won't, thought the hobbit fiercely. I won't let him. If defensive planning was out, it was time for a new tack. Edging carefully away from the stairs again, mind racing, Billa looked down at the massive, scaly head of the half-buried monster.
"Wings that bring hurricanes on the Mountain, breath hotter and deadlier than any forge of Men or Dwarves. I've heard the tales, and surely, O Smaug, even in your youth you were terrible. I've heard tell, though," and here Billa's words took on a sing-song quality that was just as much to anger the dragon as to cover her own fear, "that dragons are not so impossible to slay as you want folk to think. That even you, Smaug the Impenetrable, fear the bite of a Black Arrow."
"Black Arrow?" Smaug's voice dripped with mockery. "Is that what the LakeMen who harbored you said, then? That they'd nearly felled me, the day I burned their pathetic Dale?" The scoff that followed only barely masked the genuine rage beginning to build within the dragon. His front claws crept up through the shifting, clinking metal, and Smaug's great flaming eye was staring at the place where the little burglar stood, unseen, but sensed in every other way. "Perhaps the fools' memory of me has grown dim. That's the way it is with all rule. Show an iota of benevolence, and your subjects imagine you soft. Weak."
The dragon huffed, his great wings unfolding above him, sending showers of ringing wealth off on either side. "Perhaps it's time they were reminded that their king has not changed. Lessons in fire and blood are not soon forgotten. I've left them alone too long."
"Who said the LakeMen had anything to do with it?" Billa's voice broke into a squeak despite her best efforts to control it. Red glow, glittering coin, deafening gold. The hobbit shuffled to the side, hating the feeling of that huge, fiery eye on her, though she knew he couldn't see her. "They've done nothing against you, Smaug. Loosing your wrath on them will prove nothing, other than the fact that you're a conceited, ruthless tyrant with no sense of honor!" Billa was babbling, and she knew it. The memory of her dreams haunted her, and the reality of the scaly death that waited before her was nearly crushing in its immediacy.
Smaug grinned with genuine pleasure. "Done nothing? Didn't they harbor a party intent on slaying me? That you care about them so much is proof enough. But I'll crush their hopes for good, and when I return, I'll hunt the rest of your friends down. One by one. The moment any of the skulking cowards dares to venture outside, which must happen, as the only clear stream in miles runs by the front gate. That's when I'll strike. Like a swift shadow.
"When Oakenshield's party has dwindled to you and him alone... then I'll take him alive." The gleam of pleasure in the fiery eyes intensified as the beast's long snout moved to within a few feet of where Billa stood. His hot, acrid breath washed over her. "I'll keep him alive just long enough for you to see him descend into madness like his forebears. For him to become the monster he truly is. Before I kill you both."
Smaug flicked the claws of one forepaw at her as if to shoo her off. "Go on, little thief. Go and tell your weakling king my move. See if it eases his mind to know."
With a hideous rumble of laughter that reverberated off the chamber walls like thunder over the hills, the dragon turned away, propelling himself with the same, terrifying speed he'd exhibited before toward the smashed doorway at the far end of the hall. His wings, like the winds preceding a gathering storm, swirled the treasure in his wake with a raucous report, and the last Billa heard of the dragon was the shuddering rumor of his furious passage through the ruined interior of Erebor.
Darkness closed around her in the echoing, churning chaos. Silence fell gradually, but for the ringing in her ears, and the hobbit only knew that her knees had given out because of the pain shooting up her legs. Laketown. Gone. Doomed to perish in fire and water. Billa couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for this impending destruction.
"Thorin," she whispered, feeling the tears collecting in her invisible eyes. "Bard was right. The Lake will shine and burn."
Fili was keeping a sharp ear out, just inside the door as Thorin had instructed. When the rumble of Smaug's laughter reached him, the blonde jumped back out into the sunlight. "Uncle!" He pointed toward the tunnel, from whence now came the the whistling rush of wind and the cascade of coins unnumbered.
The silence had barely settled before Dwalin called a warning from the edge of the shelf. "The dragon is out! Everyone inside!"
Thorin leapt up from where he'd been leaning against the cliff wall, dropping a whetstone and retaining his blade. "Inside! Now!" He gestured frantically toward the half-open door, though the command was, perhaps, a bit superfluous considering the terrified speed with which the Company was already dropping everything and rushing pell-mell for the tunnel. When they were all safely inside and the heavy door pushed shut, they stood in the darkness, panting, trembling. Listening. A long, horrible moment passed, and nothing happened. No sound of the beast or his fiery breath against the cliff wall. Nothing at all.
"He doesn't attack? Why would he give up so easily?" The voice was Nori's, but it might as well have been anyone's, as that same question was on every mind.
"I don't think he was after us." Thorin seemed to be in some amount of shock. He'd been the one to heave the door to, and had thus had the last glimpse outside. "The dragon... wasn't headed this way. He saw us-I'm sure of it-but didn't turn aside." A beat of heavy silence. "He's going to Laketown."
If the Mountain had suddenly split asunder and spewed gold to the very clouds, Fili wouldn't have noticed. His world had gone suddenly, awfully, dreadfully dark. He moved blindly toward the door, pushing the others aside. He tried to open it, but there was no catch on the inside.
"No. No, we have to stop him. We have to stop him." The blond wished he could have screamed and torn out his beard and pounded the stone until it gave way. But where there should have been unbearable emotion swirling inside, there was only painful emptiness. "Kili." The door refused to budge. "Please, no. Brother." His hands slid against the stone as he sank to his knees. "Ori."
It would have been easier to bear if Fili had been frantic. His quiet, broken protests tore at Balin's heart. "Thorin, the only way out is through the front gate. We need to go while he's away." Only then did the dreadful thought dawn on him. "What about the burglar?"
Thorin turned away silently, taking one of the torches Gloin had just lit and moving with heavy tread down the tunnel. He didn't care overmuch if anyone followed. One thing alone occupied his thoughts, and he could scarcely breathe for the tightness in his chest. Something had gone very, very wrong, and he couldn't understand now why he'd dared to hope it wouldn't end this way. He'd foreseen this, and still he'd sent Billa back.
I failed you. I didn't try hard enough to stop you.
When the torchlight shot up to reveal a high, stone ceiling and glinted off a rolling sea of gold, as if a thousand thousand eyes had opened all at once to stare accusingly at him out of the darkness, he didn't notice the staggering wealth. It might've been tin for all it moved him. His gaze passed over it apathetically as the dancing light illumined-dimly-one end of the hall to the other, and an immense sigh issued. Either she was in hiding, or. Or. He didn't want to finish that sentence in his head.
"Billa?" There wasn't much hope in his voice, but all the same, he hadn't quite despaired of finding her.
His voice echoed quietly in the huge hall, a startling change to the absolute silence that had preceded it. Or the silence had seemed absolute. Billa, kneeling on the stone, hadn't heard the others approach, her thoughts consumed with the sheer, terrible death that they had unleashed on those that had sought to help them.
"Thorin?" Her voice was thick with tears, her cheeks dripping with them, and she scrubbed them away vigorously.
Thorin's heart leapt, and he nearly dropped the torch. So she was here. His eyes closed momentarily in a prayer of gratitude, and he moved a step toward where he perceived her to be. "You have your ring on, Billa. I can't see you." His voice caught a little, and he strove to master it. "Are you hurt?"
The halfling's weak laugh drifted from the edge of the platform. She blinked into view as she removed her ring, still having difficulty with the fact that she couldn't stop crying. "I'm not hurt. He didn't even try to touch me. He just said... said that if any of us set foot out of the Mountain, he'd kill you one by one, then force me to watch you go mad before he killed you, too." This summation made the tears fall even thicker and faster than before, and they splashed onto her trousers as she wiped them away desperately.
This display was interrupted as Nori let out a surprised cry. Fili had charged past him and grabbed his torch, face set in lines of fury and grief. Without even a glance for the mass of treasure or the crying halfling he made for the stairs and leapt down them with all speed, skipping three steps at a time in his haste.
"Where are ya goin', lad?" Oin's voice echoed as Thorin's had, but Fili plunged doggedly on, even as his feet hit the gold.
"I have to stop him. Kili and Ori are still there. I won't let them die!"
"Fili! Wait!" Thorin's voice echoed after the blond, but Fili didn't even slow. "You know it's no use! Smaug will finish with Laketown and return before you've made it five miles from Erebor!" Even this didn't dissuade Fili, and Thorin wondered if the young dwarf had heard him at all.
"I'll bring him back." Dwalin sheathed his axe with a dull clunk and plunged intently down the steps.
"Don't go beyond the front gates, Dwalin." Thorin's command was firm, but tinged with something the others couldn't readily place. "If you can't catch him before then... you must let him go." He held out little hope that Dwalin would succeed-not with the lead Fili had, and the madness of grief lending wings to his feet. All the same, if anyone among them could, it would be Dwalin.
The light from Fili's torch was already disappearing into the vast track of gold and shadow when a strangled sort of groan came from the area near Thorin's feet. He was almost surprised to find that Billa hadn't moved, though she was now staring after Fili, her expression stricken.
"He'll be the first," she whispered. "Spirits... what have I done?"
Thorin sank slowly onto his haunches, shaking his head mournfully. "I wonder if I wouldn't have done the same thing at his age." He pulled the devastated halfling into his arms. "Don't blame yourself, Billa. This has always been my quest, and what's happened is on my head. Not yours."
Billa only shook her head in response. She buried her face in his mantle and tried to get herself back under control. There was a very Baggins-ish voice near the back of her mind that whispered "I told you so" in haughty tones. If she'd never come, if she'd stayed in Bag End where she belonged and sent these dwarves on their way as she ought to have, then this terrible burden wouldn't be hers. She would never have seen such death and pain. And she never would have woken the dragon.
I never should have come.
But the idea was followed almost immediately by a much stronger, louder, more Tookish thought.
Then who would have cut them down from the spiders' trees, or broken them out of the Elvenking's dungeon? Who would have made Thorin smile?
The halfling tightened her grip on Thorin, eyes tightly shut. "I don't regret coming," she told him in a muffled voice. "But I wish we could have saved them."
It was a long, exhausting hour trudging through the dark, forsaken halls before they reached the main gates. There, quite as Thorin had expected, sat Dwalin, leaning against the base of the stone doorway, his forehead resting against his drawn up knees. The dwarf king glanced at Balin and shook his head sadly, placing a hand on the hulking dwarf's shoulder. "You gave it all you had, Dwalin. I asked no more than that. Fili's made his own choice." Now the rest of them had to make theirs.
"Alright. Dwalin, you'll lead a party-four or five will do-to Dain in the Iron Hills. Tell him the stone has been found and bid him honor his oath by sending every dwarf he can muster to our aid. You may not make it back in time to help us, but I trust you know Dain is a capable leader and would make a worthy king should I fall here." He spoke quickly, flatly, as though these words issued only from duty and did not touch whatever emotion he may or may not have been feeling. "Take those who are the most fit. The rest of us will stay here and wait for the dragon, distract him as long as we can so you can make it far enough away before he realizes our move."
Dwalin grunted an affirmative and started organizing a group to go with him. Bofur, Dori, Gloin, and Balin were the fittest, but Balin refused to leave the Mountain, and Dwalin wouldn't force him. Nori watched his brother move out of the front gates, following Dwalin with short, mincing steps. They were all losing someone. There wasn't a family in the Company that hadn't been torn apart. Except Billa, who apparently had no family to be torn from. Bifur was following them silently, their remaining water skins and canteens hanging about his person. They'd agreed that they needed water, especially since the last of it had been used to clean Billa's tear-streaked face.
"Thorin." Billa was looking at him, her eyes dry and red, her expression full of grief. "We're not going to live through this, are we?" There was a defeated sort of tone to the question, as though she had never honestly expected to die out here.
Thorin glanced at her, face mournful but not completely desolate. Not yet. For someone facing the imminent end of not only his own life, but also that of his remaining male kin, he was remarkably composed. "Perhaps. You will, if I can help it." He turned to Balin. "If you still honor me as king, old friend, you'll follow my next order without question. Take Miss Baggins as far from here as you can. Where you go doesn't matter so long as she's not in danger." He gripped the old dwarf's arm bracingly. "Save her, Balin. Do what I cannot."
"What?" Billa stiffened all over, eyes wide. "No! I can't-I'm not-Thorin, you can't mean that!"
Balin's expression was dark with pain, but he reluctantly nodded. The halfling cried out as though his nod were a death sentence.
"You can't send me away, Thorin! I won't go! Don't make me. Please."
Thorin's face was adamant. Whether his heart was also as firm, though, wasn't immediately clear. "Billa," he said gently, lifting her chin a little, "this is my wish. Don't make me die knowing I've caused the death of everyone in this Company I love. Please. Go with Balin. Remember this time, and remember me. Live, and hold on to what we shared."
Billa gazed back into those fathomless blue eyes, and felt the burning anger and grief in them as though it were her own. Her chest felt tight, and the halfling nearly hated herself as she slowly reached up, pulling him down into one last kiss.
"I'll be back," she whispered, her eyes filling slowly with tears she hadn't known she had left. "This isn't goodbye. It's not. I won't let it be."
Balin gently separated them and steered Billa out onto the causeway, a rucksack over one shoulder. She went, without a look back or a complaint. Bombur sighed heavily as he watched her go. Of the thirteen that had set out together, five now remained in the Mountain. Bifur was just returning with the water, and looking tremendously sad. He had clearly seen Billa and Balin leaving. The quiet dwarf turned a slightly reproachful look on his king.
Thorin acknowledged Bifur's look, nothing more. At the great, ruined gates, he watched the little hobbit lass grow fainter and finally disappear between the hills, knowing full well this would be the last time he saw her. His burglar would be safe. And Balin... old Balin, his faithful friend... he'd be safe, too. All the same, the parting was very bitter. The crushing weight of it settled within him, and he swallowed, turning away. He had only one task now- he and the others who remained. In a way, that made it simpler. They all knew they were little more than a distraction now, bait for the dragon so the others could get away. It was a noble death, one any dwarf would be proud to claim. Didn't make it much easier, though. The dying part.
"Come on." Thorin's voice was decisive, but faint. The voice of someone who had lost everything but his sense of duty. What remained of the Company slipped back into the shadows of the Mountain. They had a dragon to prepare for.
