Tears gathered in Tauriel's eyes, aware of Realn standing in front of her. Prince Realn, a warrior until the end, willing to die first if it meant she and Kili could share one last embrace. His lips touched hers and then she knew nothing else, not even the sound of the river as it sighed with her.

"Long ago," said a voice. "I waged war on your people. Now I finish what I began."

Tauriel and Kili broke apart as a silver flash sent Bolg's head spinning from his shoulders and dropping into the currents of the water, where the foam whirled it around and around and swallowed it.

Thranduil dropped his sword and caught Realn as the elf collapsed. Realn murmured. "It is over. We lost."

Thranduil said nothing, only held him closer as another voice spoke for him. "Are you so sure of that?"

A green-blue head rose from the black water and Ciran stepped onto the bank, a gesture leeching the water from his clothes.

"Ciran," Realn said wearily.

His uncle winked. "Cinwe felt I was no longer needed in Mirkwood and sent me yonder. It is time to end this."

"I do not see how you alone can," Kili said.

"Ah," said Ciran. "I am not alone." And he strode to the edge of Ravenhill to look down.

With a curve of his fingers into an elegant point, he melted the remaining ice on the river, setting the waterfall free. In great waves, it crashed to fill the great riverbank below, filled only by a small trickle. Springs erupted across the battlefield as the ground split and Thranduil glimpsed Ellhamier on the walls of Dale, his fists clenched with the effort.

The rapids rose. And continued to rise, catching orcs by the ankles and dragging them into the gurgling water. As tiny streams flowing from the springs grew, the elves and dwarves scrambled from the confused orc ranks and ran for higher ground, retreating toward Erebor.

The tiny streams reached the main river and carried it higher, the tidal wave overflowing from the banks. It split into walls, crashing across the ground as it yawned open, swallowing whole the bloody remains of war; taking orc, elf, and dwarven corpses alike into the bottomless chasm.

Ciran's breath came in forced coughs, but Thranduil could do nothing as he held Realn, and Tauriel stood rooted, Kili's support.

Orcs fled for higher hills, scrambling up the bottom stairs of Ravenhill, but the water came after them, seeping out of the stone and flooding down the stairs, leaving them empty while clawing hands disappeared into the earth. It seemed the earth would split down to the very core and turn in to two, so far open did the ground go, until no ground was left, only the black pit with Ravenhill shuddered at one end of the abyss and Dale at the other.

The earth closed with a hollow bang. Ciran sank to his knees, his arms falling to his side as the water sank back to its hidden springs and the banks once more contained the river.

Kili looked at Thranduil with indignation. "By Durin's beard, why did you keep those two in Mirkwood all this time?"

Thranduil had no strength to reply as he slowly reached Ciran's side and gave his brother a hand to his feet. The battlefield lay swept of all corpses but Smaug's white skeleton still lay against the mountainside. Slowly, the four made their way down Ravenhill and joined the crowd clustering around the dragon.

Thorin stood at Smaug's side, trying to wrench the Arkenstone free. The dragon hissed and spat but the jewel remained budged.

"You must destroy the Arkenstone, Thorin," Gandalf said. "It gives the dragon life now. With it, Smaug will live forever."

Thorin snorted. "You jest! I will let the beast lie here and rot, then pick the jewel from his remains."

Gandalf used his staff to indicate Smaug's back. Already the bones were splicing themselves back together and he coughed up a jet of flame, weak enough to be banished by Thorin's hand but strong enough to prove Gandalf right.

"Smaug draws his life from the Arkenstone," Gandalf insisted. "As long as it is whole, he will leave and heal."

"My birthright will not be destroyed!" Thorin shouted. "No one has the right!"

"You," said Gandalf. "Have the only right."

Thorin shook his head, smoke escaping from his nostrils.

"Oh, for the sake of the Valar!" Ellhamier strode forward. "I will shatter the cursed jewel. Only one with the right, my foot! Watch me claim the right."

"I will kill you," Thorin warned, raising his hands.

"Come and try," Ellhamier said, chuckling, and he spun away, taking Thorin with him.

Thranduil looked at the Arkenstone as if contemplating his right to smash the jewel. Dain stomped up behind him and set his hammer down.

"Pointy-eared princess!" he sneered.

"I too am glad to see you alive," Thranduil said, inclining his head into a nod.

Ellhamier and Thorin battled to their left, chunks of stone breaking under the impact of lightning strikes. Smaug lifted his wings, shaking the ragged folds. He fought to gain his feet but failed, releasing his rage in a flood of blue fire.

"Oh, c'mon!" Dain exclaimed.

Ciran flung up a hand, a wall of water springing from the ground to block the flame. Sweat appeared on his brow but he held onto Thranduil and forced the water to stay.

Smaug roared and tossed his head, attracting the attention of Thorin and Ellhamier.

"No!" Thorin yelled.

Fili caught up Dain's hammer, gasping at the weight and the cold water as he plunged through the liquid into the dying embers of Smaug's fire. He raised the hammer with both hands, coughing on the ash in the air, but no one could stop him as he swung the great hammer down on the Arkenstone.

Thorin froze as a sharp crunch sounded. But still Smaug lifted off, his wingbeats jerky as he stretched his head upward, twisting and writhing. Smoke exploded from his jaw, each spidery crack spreading through the Arkenstone eliciting another roar of agony from him.

High overhead, in the last rays of the sun, the Arkenstone shattered. Smaug's bones fell apart and joined the cascade of glittering fragments falling to earth.

Thorin howled, raking his hands through the air in an attempt to salvage as many of the crystallin pieces as he could. Beat down by falling bones, the dwarf landed in the rubble and stared at the few shards clasped in his rugged hands.

Slowly Thorin looked up and fixed his eyes on Fili. Slowly, his hands clenched into fists.

"May Durin shine upon us all this day," Fili said quietly, releasing the hammer handle.

"You have destroyed our birthright," Thorin growled. "I disown you—and your elf-besotted brother!"

"You will learn, Thorin, a king needs no jewel to mark him if he is a good one," Thranduil said.

"Pointy-eared princess!" Thorin spat.

Thranduil turned. Supporting Realn and Ciran, he walked toward Dale and Ellhamier followed. He knew he walked over the graves of his people; he could see their frozen faces—their blood in his mind.

"I cannot return to Mirkwood," he whispered. "I cannot bear to see it in ruins."

"It does look pretty awful," Ellhamier admitted.

Thranduil's eyes glared through him. "Exactly what I needed to hear."

Ciran gripped Thranduil's shoulder. "You will endure. Your people need you. Home is where the heart is. Let your heart dwell not on the blackened surface but on the green roots still fertile beneath the soil."

"It will take centuries for the trees to grow to their former height," Thranduil said.

"Ellhamier and I will tend to it," Ciran said. "We will be right there with it, Thranduil, growing alongside it."

Thranduil chuckled. "Would Dain not gloat to here of us, his elven foes, condemned to dwell in underground caverns?"

Ellhamier grinned. "He would. But who says he has to know?"


What you do not know will not hurt you, I am told.

Thank you all kindly for reading; your thoughtful reactions and comments always brighten my week. I hope Dragonfire brightens yours.

Next Chapter: Elves and dwarves are rudely shocked at Thorin's coronation.