Chapter Fifty-Four: Inside Information

"They know if they enter the plain between Dale and Erebor they'll be fighting a war on two fronts," King Brand explained, looking over a model of the valley and the Lonely Mountain that had been made and placed on a table in the throne room of Brand's Royal House.

Bard nodded in agreement with his father. "They can't surround us. The best those Easterlings can do is stay on the east side. Possibly move their forces south and west, but that would be spreading themselves thin. There's no way we can fall to them."

Lucy felt her stomach tighten as she listened to the rulers of Dale discuss battle plans. While she trusted them to do what was best for their kingdom, she could not help an eerie feeling at her core. Something crucial was being overlooked. She studied the model.

"The only thing they can do is lay siege and wait for our storehouses to deplete," Bard said almost grinning. "That will be a long time, and they'll give up waiting."

"That's precisely the problem, though, isn't it?" Lucy remarked. "They won't wait to infiltrate our fortifications."

Bard rolled his eyes. "Why can't you just have faith in our fortifications? Nothing, not Trolls, not Smaug, not Aslan himself could destroy this wall."

Lucy felt her heart twist sharply. "Your overconfidence will be the traitor in our midst."

Brand put a hand on his son's shoulder to stay further comment. "Don't get cocky, son. Lucy is right. The Calormens did not force us back all this way to give up. If they mean to have Dale and the Mountain, they'll find some way to make entrance."

Bard's eyes hardened. "They'll be hard put to do so." With that, he marched from the room.

Sigrid watched him go, thinking again how he was nothing like his namesake. She heard Brand sigh, so she turned to face him.

"You'll have to excuse him," he said. "He has a legacy to uphold."

Sigrid gawked. "He is arrogant and cocky! What legacy that my father began is being conveyed in that?"

"Your father, my grandfather, was a man who led his people through revolt and ruin to rebuild this ancient city. Not all of us live in such challenging times. It is not what my son has seen, nor should I have ever wanted it for him." Brand sat down on his throne. "Now he is faced with that which he is not trained to combat, but he knows the legends of his forefathers and that he must take his place alongside them."

"If he doesn't put in the energy that he believes his forebears to have, then he'll only see himself as a deserter," Lucy realized in a shallow voice.

Sigrid said nothing, thinking of Peter. How her heart yearned to see him again, see that his pain of losing Narnia had changed to healthy determination rather than destructive anger. She wanted to feel his arms around her, his lips on hers. His queen. When this war was over, would they find themselves at Cair Paravel, living in those rooms that Miraz had confiscated for his own? When this war was over, would Narnia even be there for them to return? What about the Shire? The future was so uncertain, but Sigrid knew that whatever happened, wherever they were, so long as they were together, she would be happy. Yet, she knew this was a dream, that she would most likely succumb to a lonely fate.

Sigrid was roused from her thoughts by a guard rushing in, followed by one of Lucy's Elves and Bard, looking stern-faced. Brand was on his feet at once.

"What is it?" the King of Dale demanded.

"Catapults."

{Section Break}

Lucy stood on the south-facing wall, staring at the large apparatuses that were being shunted into position on the lower plain.

"Our walls are strong, father," Bard encouraged, looking up at the king.

Brand nodded. "They shall still cause some damage. Fetch all masons to the wall. I want a crew constantly watching this section of wall once they attack to make sure there are no weak spots."

Sigrid noted the slight red tone that colored Bard's cheeks. "There's no shame in precaution,"she whispered to him.

Lucy sensed unease in the Elf beside her. To most, the Elves were stoic, but since her time in Mirkwood, Lucy had developed a way to read the almost nonexistent cues that signaled a change in mood.

"What is it?" she whispered.

The Elf glanced down at her. "Queen Valiant, I do not mean to speak out of turn, but what is obvious is not."

Lucy peaked over at the Royal Family of Dale. King Brand was conversing with his captains while his teenage son and Sigrid listened closely. Lucy ushered herself and the Elf farther along the wall so as not to be overheard. "Speak freely," she told him.

"The catapults will have to be a lot closer to do any harm to these walls."

Lucy turned and studied the advancing catapults. She tried calculating their size; for the first time, she realized how small and hastily made they appeared. "How close would they have to be?"

"A distance from which we could shoot those operating the machines with long-bows."

Lucy frowned. "You are still worried."

"We have been watching the catapults move sluggishly towards the city since dawn. Why not move them under darkness? Why wait until light? Why does it take them so long to get into position?"

Lucy nodded slowly, understandingly. "This is not their intended method of attack. Our attention is being diverted."

{Section Break}

Wooden-built carpenter shops lined the west end streets of Dale, in the shadow of the western fortifications. These shops had been hastily erected in the early days after the Battle of the Five Armies, where carpenters could store their lumber and tools. In time, the shops had decorations added to their plain wood frames - scrollwork graced many of the buildings, speaking of the carpenter's talents - though the insides remained mostly as storage units for a variety of wood and tools, all doused in a heavy coating of sawdust. On this particular day, with news of the catapults spreading among the townspeople, few people had ventured into the wood-carving realm. Only by chance did an elderly man take a stroll into this area, surprised by the pungent scent of smoke. He soon found the two shops closest to the west wall ablaze, the wooden planks and sawdust fueling the inferno. It would not take long for the entire row to be consumed in flames.

The man began to shout up at the guards on the battlements. Why had they not noticed? The patrolling soldiers listlessly turned to face the man, who ceased yelling the second he saw their sun-tanned faces under the helms of Dale soldiers. He sped off away from the troubling scene, but was not fast enough to escape a Calormen's arrow.

{Section Break}

"Fire! Fire!" The shout rang from the lower west side of Dale. Lucy, with her Elves, were still on the wall, discussing with King Brand the possibility of the catapults being a diversion. Moments later, screams rent the air, and a wild-eyed Bard, who had been sent to collect the masons, rushed up the stairs to the south battlements.

"Carpenters' Row is on fire, and our troops on the west battlements are loosing arrows on those trying to put it out!"

Brand looked thunderstruck. "What? How can this be?"

Lucy watched the black smoke rising from the west end of the city. "You don't suppose this fire is somehow another diversion?" Lucy questioned. "Or the main attack?"

"But our soldiers-"

"Father, there were bodies in one of the woodworker's shops." Bard appeared sick to his stomach.

"Your soldiers were attacked and killed during the night," the Elf beside Lucy said. "The Calormen have entered your city...my lord. Forgive me, I've spoken out of turn."

Lucy offered a slight smile to the Elf.

"No, soldier, you - alas - speak true." Brand turned to the officers near him. "You two, gather your troops and advance on the west wall. Captain Bant, watch for the catapults to get in position. And Lucy, take your guard to the east gate and watch the movements of the army on the hills."

Lucy nodded. Without a word, her Elven troop about-faced and joined their leader in striding across the battlements towards the east wall.

"The smoke will be their signal," Lucy realized. "They'll know that we are distracted on two fronts and will make their move."

As they hurried, they were joined by the patrol from the east wall coming from the other direction.

"Who told you to leave your posts?" Lucy demanded.

Their leader looked surprised. "Lord Ardasha told us there is a disturbance that requires any military personnel as can be spared."

Lucy gave him a perplexed look. "Who is Lord Ardasha?"

Sigrid, who had been following Lucy and the Elves, panted up beside her, having heard the exchange. "That's Tilda's son-in-law. He married Thilinda."

"Why would he tell them to abandon their posts?"

Sigrid shook her head. "I don't know." Lucy sensed that behind the sharp blue eyes Sigrid had any idea.

"Return to your stations. Watch the enemy!" Lucy ordered to the Dale soldiers, and nodded to her guard as well to join them on the east wall. Once all were a little ways off, Lucy turned imploring eyes on her sister-in-law.

"Lucy...Ardasha is from the region near the Sea of Rhun."

"Sea of Rhun?" Lucy recalled all the times she and Frodo had studied the maps of Middle-Earth that Gandalf had brought for the Pevensies, saying how they needed to know the geography of the world like the backs of their hands. "That's just west of Telmar...and before the Telmarines, the land was part of Calormen."

"But the Calormen are all gone from that region. They were so horrid, Aslan turned them all into dumb animals," Sigrid pointed out.

"That was back in the First Age," Lucy responded. "There's no telling if the Calormen have settled near the Sea of Rhun since. Sigrid, our enemy might have been getting inside information all along."

Sigrid shook her head, not wanting to believe the idea - the very idea that Lucy had read in her eyes from the start. "He's married to my niece! He has children! He's a good man."

Lucy's face was expressionless, showing neither pity nor anything that would reveal what she believed on the matter. After a brief moment, she said, "Sigrid, you have to get to your family. See that they are safe." She cast a glance towards the billowing smoke. "And get the citizens out of Dale and to the Mountain."

Sigrid nodded slowly, then departed while Lucy picked up her pace to join the troops on the east wall. She was nearly to the battlements before she realized what was happening. Grappling hooks had sailed through the air and had latched onto the walltop. Within moments, the heads of Easterlings were materializing over the ramparts. The soldiers of Dale and their Elven reinforcements were quickly rushing forward with swords and knives out to fight back the enemy and hack down the climbing ropes attached to the grappling hooks. Next instant, an Easterling had mounted the wall directly beside Lucy. The Narnian Queen wheeled on him, her knee making contact with his chin. In one kick, she had sent him flailing towards the ground, over the heads of those following him up the rope.

Lucy drew the blade Thranduil had gifted her. Using both hands, she swung the weapon in a wide arc, decapitating the next foe. Lucy felt her blood boil as the enemy continued to swarm over the wall, trying to overwhelm her troops. She might be the queen who was gifted a vial of healing cordial, but she had also been gifted a knife. She had always been destined to be the protector of others.

Below her in the streets, Sigrid ran. Frightened townsfolk were hurrying into their own homes, locking doors and windows. The enemy had breached their protective walls; they were doomed. Sigrid caught hold of one old woman's arm.

"Let go of me!" the woman cried.

"Listen to me; you have to help!" Sigrid spoke hurriedly. "We need to evacuate the city for the Mountain while the coast is clear to the north. Urge your fellows toward the north gate and prepare to leave."

The woman shook Sigrid's arm away. "Crazy talk! We're as good as dead as we speak! There's nothing for it. Your family has failed us!"

Sigrid bit her tongue to fight back the sudden rage as the woman hobbled away. So long as she was the daughter of Bard the Bowman, Sigrid would not let Dale fall.

{Section Break}

Lucy was putting up a stout fight. She barely thought; all her army training by the woodland Elves came back to her by instinct. It was second nature to her now.

Suddenly, she felt someone grab her arm and whip her around to face him. She was prepared to strike, but at the last second saw that it was the Elf whom she had been speaking with about the catapults. He was also the Elf who long ago had talked to her about books when first she had entered Mirkwood, before being captured by the Dufflepuds.

He had his sword up, perhaps prepared to fend off Lucy's blow in case she did, in the heat of battle, attempt to smite him. Instead, he swiped his sword out, killing an Easterling who was getting too close to Lucy from behind.

Lucy looked up the Elf, never glancing at the body that crashed down beside her, though she was not oblivious to what had occurred. "What is it?" she demanded.

"We're going to lose the wall, Queen Valiant," he said. "You must find someway to escape."

"I'm not leaving Dale!"

"You need to live, Your Majesty. You are more good to Middle-Earth alive than dead."

The Elf promptly ducked and Lucy stabbed the Calormen who had crept up behind them. The Elf straightened.

"Please, Lucy," he begged.

Although Lucy was considerably shorter than him, she did not feel small in his presence. In fact, during her time among the Elves of Mirkwood, she found herself enjoying their company. Of course, she loved all company, regardless whose presence she was in. Yet, something about the Elves had changed her: in the Shire, she had been one of the Hobbits, as short and homely as they; with the Elves, she felt elevated and regal. They had recognized the queen in her that she had kept hidden in Hobbiton, the queen she had not had a chance to be in Narnia. Men like Brand had been less accepting of her as a powerful ruler; they only saw a short, childlike female. Yet, Elves bowed to her. Elves called her Queen Valiant - the title Aslan had given her - while King Brand called her "Lucy."

The way the Elf spoke her name just then was far from insulting. It was moving, caring. Lucy thought back to how she viewed herself that day when the Fellowship departed from Imladris. She had been jealous of Susan for her beauty, that it was no wonder that a simple little Hobbit had been the only one to take any kind of interest in her. But that was not true.

Both Lucy and the Elf spun around and slew two would-be attackers. Facing each other once more, Lucy nodded. "I'll go."

"You'll save Middle-Earth," the Elf grinned. "I have faith in you, my Queen."

His sword flashed outward and cleared the way down the stairs. Lucy hastily descended them. A part of her felt like a traitor for running from battle, but another part knew the Elf was right. She would find a way to make all this right, somehow.

It suddenly occurred to her that she had never once asked for the Elf's name. Or if she had - since she could not believe that she had not at some point - she must have completely forgotten. She turned at the bottom of the stairs and looked back up to the ramparts. She saw the Elf, kicking one Easterling away while stabbing another with his blade. She had not noticed before that his back was bloody. Was it his blood? Suddenly, one of the foe jumped on him. Next instant, something shiny appeared through the blood on his back. Lucy covered her mouth with her hands even though the cry still sounded loud and tormented as she realized that the enemy's sword had run the Elf through. The Elf collapsed, but so did the Calormen soldier, the Elf having stabbed him at the last second as well.

Then, Lucy realized that only a few of the original troops from Dale and her Elven Guard even existed on the wall. The Calormen were spreading out, racing over the battlements. Some were descending the stairs above her. Lucy turned and ran.

{Section Break}

Sigrid ran into Brand's throne room to find her family gathered there in a debate with Lord Ardasha.

"Surrender to the Easterlings? Have you gone mad?" Tilda put in stoutly, her eyes fierce in her otherwise docile face.

"I've already met with one of their leaders. We shall be spared if we give them Dale."

Thilinda came over to her husband. "Surely they will not let us live here once Dale is taken."

"Most likely not," Ardasha confirmed ruefully. "But we shall live. It is most certain death if we resist them."

"We might have stood a better chance at defeating them and surviving on our own if you had not allowed them into our city!" Sigrid felt her blood boil at the betrayal before her.

"What's this?" Lidia looked at her father. "You let them in?"

"In exchange for our safety," Ardasha stressed, pale-faced. "We give them Dale. And we live!"

Lidia drew back from her father. "You think they shall keep their word?"

"They are my countrymen."

"They are corrupted." Tears poured down Lidia's face. "The outside world you left, father, is not the same. If it were, there would be no attack. Sigrid and Lucy would not be here. We would not be having to question if we shall live to see the morrow."

Sigrid felt her stomach tighten. Even if the Calormen kept their word and did not kill the Royal Family of Dale, what of Lucy? They might be duty-bound to take her to Suaron. Suaron knew she had the Ring at one point; did he know that Frodo had it now? If not, he could torture her to learn of the Ring's whereabouts.

Lucy had to leave Dale.

They all had to leave Dale.

Sigrid worked her way to Tilda while the rest of the family tried to comprehend the consequences of Lord Ardasha's ill-fated, though well-meaning, act of desperation. Sigrid nudged her sister to get her attention. "I need a Raven."

{Section Break}

Lucy ran through the streets. Her heart was pounding so rapidly that it felt like it had flown out of her body, and its wings were flapping loudly against her ears as it tried to get away.

"Lucy!"

The Narnian Queen turned to the frantic voice, surprised to see Bard trying to get her attention from a perpendicular alleyway. She veered off toward him. King Brand was behind him, talking hurriedly to a couple of his captains who appeared tired and battered already. He looked up when Lucy joined them.

"The East Wall?"

"Fallen." Lucy panted for breath. "I alone have survived."

"I should have sent one of my captains," the king said slowly.

"Sending someone else would not have earned you a better report," Lucy snapped. "All your troops on that wall are dead because of a brilliant sleight of hand. Our attention was distracted by the catapults because we were so fixated on their methods to try and destroy the fortification, when really they knew better than to attempt such a foolhardy endeavor. They took us because they knew how to distract us."

Bard looked at his father. King Brand was at a loss for words.

"Your majesty, if I might be so bold," one of the captains began. "With both the east and west walls overrun with Calormen, it might be wise to journey farther into the inner city and take up fortifications."

Brand nodded reluctantly.

As they pushed forward, they met more and more townspeople crowding toward the city center. Lucy looked at their haggard and worried faces. They were too young and too old to fight against the invading enemy. They also stood the chance of being completely surrounded, losing their only escape to the north.

Where was Sigrid?

"We have to get the children and elderly out of Dale," Lucy spoke up.

"There is no way to do so safely," King Brand responded. "You think sending them across the open to Erebor will save them?"

"Surely the Dwarves have seen our peril; they would provide protection." Lucy fell into stride with Brand. "I have already asked Sigrid to start an evacuation party."

"You are Queen of No Country, Lucy," Brand shouted, turning on her. "How dare you command my subjects, my own family, while I yet still draw air in my lungs, in the city of my forebears."

Thunderstruck, Lucy stood still as Brand moved away, his eyes full of pity as he scanned the hopeless faces around him. Bard came up to Lucy, and she half-expected the same tirade from him. Instead, he sounded like his father had earlier that day.

"He has a legacy to uphold, you know."

Lucy stared at the boy. His eyes held nothing but defeat.

"Our fortifications have failed us. Dale is already lost, yet he knows he cannot stop fighting. It will not be for victory, but none shall say that one of the line of Bard the Bowman went down without a fight." Bard the Younger scuffed his boot in the dirt. Lucy knew the boy felt the weight of his namesake's legacy, just as his father did. "Bard the Bowman never gave up, even when all was bleakest during the Battle of the Five Armies."

Lucy scanned the faces of the people of Dale. They all looked ready to surrender. This was the bleakest moment, the moment that in all legends the hero stared defeat in the eye and conquered. The part where the hero was the only one to not back down. Although Lucy had been up on the ridge while the Battle of the Five Armies had been ravaging Dale, she doubted for some reason that Bard had been as fearless as his great-grandson believed. That was what happened as ordinary people became legends. The reality was that even said hero felt as low as his descendants did now. Lucy continued to look around, wondering again how she knew this when she had barely even known Bard at that time. Then she spied the oak tree, and she remembered Bilbo's story.

{Dale - over sixty years earlier}

"Get some bowman up to those towers!" Gandalf panted, nursing a hurting arm as he pushed through the destruction around him towards Bard.

A weary face met the Wizard's. "There are no bowmen left."

Gandalf stared in disbelief. The fighting continued behind him, the cries of the people formerly of Laketown as they were killed. They were running out of soldiers who could protect the ruinous city of Dale, who could later on rebuild their lives there. Gandalf staggered back to sit on a ruin. Bard sensed what the Wizard was thinking.

"I let myself imagine this city restored," Bard admitted defeatedly. "We would take what had been destroyed and rebuild it. We would wash away this sadness. And the streets would once again be filled with life. Full of hope."

All just a dream.

Just like believing that Narnia's four thrones would be filled by his children. But instead of saving Narnia, he had lost it along with his wife and son. He had not wanted anything to do with meddling Wizards again after that, but here he was, once again believing that he might save another country. How many more loved ones would he lose this time?

Why did his dreams for happiness and life become nightmares?

"No, no, no, no," suddenly came a voice. Bilbo, with Sting drawn, hurried over to where Bard and Gandalf were, the fighting somehow steering clear of them for the time being. "Come now! Don't despair!"

"What would you have us do?" Bard demanded, turning towards the tiny fellow. Gandalf got to his feet behind the bowman. Even the Wizard's face revealed his uncertainty.

"Do?" questioned Bilbo. "Do?" He stared into the tall people's doubting face. "Here. Here, I'll show you."

Bilbo hurried over to some soft ground and dug a hole. Bard came closer to watch as the Hobbit produced something round from his pocket: the acorn from Beorn's garden that he had been saving to plant in his garden if and when he ever returned to Hobbiton. He popped it into the hole and covered it.

"What is that?" Bard asked, not understanding what Bilbo was showing him.

"That's a promise," the Hobbit said, straightening. "Under all that blood and dirt is a chance at new life. I may sound hopeless, I may sound foolish, but really what else can you do when faced with death. What can anyone do? You go on living."

{Dale - present}

Lucy looked back at the great-grandson of Dale's first king. "Never give in."

Bard gave her a curious stare as she suddenly turned from him and mounted an abandoned flatbed wagon.

"No matter what happens this day, every soul before me has the best of Dale in their hearts."

The nervous murmurings softened as people turned to face the strong, courageous voice that addressed them.

"Your love for your country and for each other is what the balladeers will sing of for generations to come. Together, you have lost and rebuilt your home. Together, you have faced war and triumph. Together, we can do it again. So now is not the time to fall to fear. Be strong. Never give in. Our world, our lives, depend upon it. Think of Eru. Think of Aslan. Think of Dale."

A part of her did not expect the people of Dale to see her as someone they would follow into battle. She was not their queen. She was a queen of nothing.

When she had first ridden into Dale to warn them of Orcs in the west, she had found herself unexpectedly and unintentionally fortifying the city for the impending battle with the Easterlings. She did not know how she had come to be in this position — maybe it was her connection to Sigrid and Dain, maybe it was the way the awe-inspiring Elves who took orders from her. What she did know was that she wanted to protect these people.

The air was cold and silent as Lucy stared across the uncertain faces that returned her gaze. King Brand was the only one to move, coming to the front of the wagon. Lucy looked him straight in the eye.

"Bard doubted himself in this very spot because he wanted so much for the people." Lucy's voice softened. "His legacy is them."

"Do you think I don't know this?" Brand asked puzzled.

"You speak of the legacy of your forebears as though they were gods, but Bard was just as human as you. You - and your son - have gone into battle to make yourselves in Bard's image. But Bard's legacy is not in who he was, but what he did."

King Brand turned his head a moment, gazing around him. At length he said;

"Queen Valiant speaks true. We are stronger together, not apart. And that includes having Queen Lucy of Narnia, Captain of the Woodland Guard on our side."

Applauds and cheers began..

Lucy turned to the King of Dale, humbleness possessing her. She bowed her head to the King of Dale.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to speak out of turn with your people."

When Lucy raised her head, she was met by a look of wonder. It reminded her of long ago at Cair Paravel, after Gandalf had given the Pevensies the Silver Apples.

"I am very much afraid," Gandalf admitted, staring down at Lucy. Then, there was a faint grin. "It's you little ones that give me courage."

"Nothing to forgive, Your Highness," King Brand began. "I overheard the Elves in your Guard speak of you. All good things. You have apparently made an aimable impression on His Lordship, King Thranduil. If we survive this, you must divulge your secret with me as I would like to be on better terms with Thranduil."

Lucy could not help the little grin. Still, it was there for only a moment. The Elves in her guard were gone. Would Thranduil still regard her fondly when he learned of the deaths of the troops he had placed under her?

She had no time to dwell on this because a loud cawing was screeching overhead. Everyone looked up to see Ravens descending upon the city.

"Carrion birds," an old woman moaned.

Just then, Lucy spied the Raven that had brought the news back to Dale of Brand and Thorin's retreat. Lucy instantly scrambled up the tree, climbing high into its bare branches. The Ravens were winging from the direction of the Lonely Mountain. The doors of Erebor were opened, and a warhost was ploughing across the expanse on rams.

"The Dwarves are coming!"

{Section Break}

Sigrid urged her family toward the city center where everyone was gathered. The noise of bird wings and squawking alerted her of the Ravens' arrival. The Dwarves were on their way. Now, with the aid of the Dwarves, they might have the soldiers to retake Dale and get the innocent safely out of harm's way.

Lord Ardasha was following, if reluctantly. Sigrid could not decipher his mood. She understood his good intentions, but his judgement had been strained under pressure and he had given in unreasonably. Thilinda was quick to forgive him, but his children were a little more wary. His son was perhaps too young to understand, while Lidia felt betrayed in every sense. The wet nurse, carrying the youngest daughter, kept her opinions to herself; Tilda, leaning heavily on Sigrid for support, did not.

"I don't like this," she croned.

"I daresay none of us are fond of the situation," Sigrid tried to say calmly.

"He's a traitor. We would have walked into a trap had we given in to him. He'll be the death of us yet. His loyalties are still with those he perceives as his fellow countrymen. Imagine, aiding them in the takeover of our father's city!"

Sigrid missed a step. In trying to keep Tilda upright, she twisted her ankle slightly in the wrong direction. Sigrid gritted her teeth as she continued to help her sister hobble along. Screams of war and death sounded down the next street. The fighting was working its way toward the center of the city. Someone rushed by them, warning them that the market had been overrun with Easterlings. Sigrid shuddered at the memories of the Battle of the Five Armies. It felt like history was repeating itself. She glanced over at Ardasha, wondering if his continued presence in their group was a threat.

Suddenly, two Calormen soldiers burst forth from the next street. Their weapons were doused in gore. Sigrid realized that none of her family carried a weapon. Lidia and her brother were in the lead. The Calormen captain gave them one glance and rushed past them, down another road.

Thilinda hurried forward to wrap her arms around her children. "At least, they don't hurt children," she breathed.

Sigrid studied Lidia's dark features that she had inherited from her father. "They thought they were Easterling children," Sigrid realized. Would the Calormen really not hurt Ardasha's family because they believed them to their own?

The family continued on their way, soon arriving at the city center where King Brand and King Dain were sorting out would-be soldiers from those who would be leaving the city for Erebor. Already, the north gates were flung wide open and Dwarves were escorting refugees.

"Ardasha," Brand commanded, "I need you take men and secure the north battlements so that no Calormen archers can shoot down on the children and elderly."

Ardasha nodded, waving for a small band of mostly boys, recently outfitted in Dwarf armor and weaponry. He quickly ascended the wall, the boys marching behind him. All was over before Sigrid could get to Brand. Sigrid felt a hand clamp over her upper arm. She turned back to see Thilinda.

"Let him make amends for this."

Sigrid, for as much as she believed in second chances, hesitated to not reveal his crime to the king.

Just then, the clash of blades was closer than before. Sigrid turned to witness the last few defenders from the market being forced back. In the next instant, their only protection between themselves and the Calormen were slain. In another second, Calormen weaponry was clashing against those of hastily recruited troops, the too young boys and too old men who did not know how to use the swords they had been given by the Dwarves.

Dain Ironfoot swept a panicked look over the scene. "We naught brought enough warhammers. Ach! Ah didna expect ya to be widout your own weapons."

King Brand nodded grimly. "I sent troops to try to reach the armory and bring back weapons. They've not come back yet."

Lucy overheard Brand just before she threw herself into action. Slashing out with her sword, Lucy slew a few more of the enemy. Her mind was racing faster than her sword was spinning. If they could not secure more weapons from the armory, what would the last defenders of Dale do?

Lucy realized then that once the refugees had fled within Erebor, the last of the defenders would have to retreat there as well.

As she continued to fight for all she was worth, Lucy spotted Sigrid assisting the elderly Tilda toward the north gate. She was hobbling under the weight of her sister, as well as favoring her left foot.

"Leave me be, Siggy," Tilda said. "Save yourself."

Sigrid gawked. "I will never leave you, Tilly. Never!" Sigrid tried to hurry the old woman along, but Tilda was already out of breath.

"No, leave me, Sigrid, and see that the others make it safely to the Mountain." Tilda came to a halt still a fair distance from the north gate. By now, nearly all of the refugees had gotten out. Sigrid had not realized how stubborn her sister had become in her old age. Now that Tilda had made up her mind, Sigrid feared they would be left standing there within sight of safety.

"If you want me to save myself, you have to come with me," Sigrid informed. "I'm not moving from this spot without you."

Sigrid tried to imagine away the wrinkles, like those of the most ancient sage, that crinkled disappointedly around Tilda's eyes. "I'm old, Siggy. My brother is dead. Our father is dead. Let me join them."

Sigrid fought back sudden tears, then hugged the old woman who once had been her baby sister. Then, with a mighty shove, she half-pushed, half-carried her sister the rest of the way to the gate. "I told you, I am not leaving you. You can die in peace in the Mountain; you will not die to an enemy sword."

Next moment, a corpse from the wall above fell across their path. Sigrid helped Tilda over the body. She looked out over the expanse between Dale and Erebor. The Dwarf escorts were already a fair distance ahead. Sigrid panted as hard as Tilda did. She had spent much of her energy in getting Tilda this far. Now, between weariness and a swollen foot, Sigrid realized she was unable to assist Tilda farther.

Through the sweat stinging her eyes, Sigrid noticed that someone was coming toward them.

"Lidia!" Sigrid cried in recognition. "Take Tilda's arm."

Lidia came quickly, catching hold of her grandmother's other arm. Sigrid let go of the arm she was holding onto.

"What are you doing?" Lidia asked, watching as Sigrid turned back to face the destruction of Dale.

"Get Tilda to safety. I'll cover your retreat," she explained, picking up the bow and quiver full of arrows that the dead man had been carrying. "I'll join you once I know the coast is clear. Get going!"

"Sigrid!" Tilda wailed.

"Take care of your granddaughter!" Sigrid hollered back, before letting loose an arrow into an advancing Calormen.

Lucy realized sadly that their numbers were dwindling. She and the others were being pushed back toward the gate. But they could not retreat until they knew that the refugees were safe. She glanced over at Sigrid who was handling her own, keeping the enemy from going after her family. A sudden movement out of the corner of her eye alerted Lucy too late to a threat to Sigrid. A Calormen with a sword rushed at her from the side. Sigrid spun and released the arrow, just grazing the man's arm. His sword sliced her side.

"Sigrid!" Lucy screamed, yet her voice barely made a sound over the din. She tried to push her way through the fighting towards her sister-in-law.

Sigrid staggered. With one arm clutching her side, she was unable to use the bow properly. The Calormen turned back to face her.

Lucy was never sure what happened next. Something rammed into the side of her body, shoving her over an embankment. The last image in her brain was of the pale blue sky and the blood that splashed across her vision her head made contact with something hard.