~Eleven~

~The Dwarves of Erebor~

The Company of Dwarves were not about to stay put. As if they were - they were running out of time after all.

Bard dashed out of the house rather urgently, giving a stern, "Don't let them leave," to his children before disappearing. As soon as he left the house, they pushed past the children and left themselves, heading for the armories.

"As soon as we have the weapons, we make straight for the mountain," Thorin ordered. The others were all in agreement.

"Won't we have to steal a boat as well?" Dahlia pondered aloud. "If we're to cross the lake."

Using their teamwork skills which had brought them this far, the Dwarves created a boost, allowing for one of them - Nori was the chosen Dwarf - to be hoisted up into the armory through the window and unlock the door, allowing the rest to climb up and inside.

They set down to work right away. Some worked to collect the weapons, while they loaded the others up with armfuls. Kili was clearly struggling with his armful of heavy weaponry.

Thorin stopped him. "You all right?"

Kili managed a brief nod. "I can manage."

However, just moments later, poor Ki tripped down the stairs due to his wounded leg, sending the weapons flying and crashing to the floor in a very noisy episode.

Armed guards arrived almost instantly. It didn't help that the guards all towered over the Dwarves and Hobbit.

They were marched to the largest of the town buildings. "What is the meaning of this?" demanded a well-dressed man, storming out of the building. It didn't take them long to guess that this was the Master of Lake-town.

"We caught them trying to steal weapons, Sire," said the Captain of the Guard.

"Ah enemies of the state, eh?"

"A bunch of desperate mercenaries if ever there was, Sire," said the man standing beside the Master, clearly of importance himself.

"Hold your tongue! You do not know to whom you speak," snapped Dwalin, stepping forward. "This is Thorin, son of Thrain, Son of Thror. Heir under the Mountain! And this is Lady Dahlia of the Iron Hills, his bride."

Thorin stepped forward. "We are the Dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland."

This arose gasps from the amassed crowd.

"I remember this town in the days of old." Thorin looked around. "Fleets of boats lay at harbour, filled with fine silks and gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake - this was the great trade centre of the North! I would see those days return, I would relight the great forges of the Dwarves and see great wealth and riches flowing from the doors of Erebor!" His declaration won cheers form the crowd.

"DEATH!" A sudden shout silenced them all and everyone turned to see Bard making his way through the crowd towards them. "That is what you will bring upon us! Dragon fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all."

"You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this: if we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the Mountain," Thorin insisted.

"All of you listen to me! Listen, please!" Bard desperately pleaded with his fellow townspeople, fighting for their attention. "Does no one recall the prophecy? 'The Lord of silver fountains, the King of carven stone. The King beneath the Mountain, shall come into his own. And the bells shall ring in gladness at the Mountain King's return. But all shall fail in sadness and the lake with shine and burn'. Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? How many died in the firestorm? And for what purpose? The blind ambition of of a mountain king? He was so riven by greed he could not see beyond his own desire!"

"Ah, ah, we cannot, any of us, be too quick to lay blame," piped up the Master. "Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast."

"Aye, it's true, Sire. We all know the story: arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing its mark," said the Master's right-hand man.

The Dwarves looked to Bard, who now appeared guilty. But he shook that guilt off and strode right up to Thorin. "You have no right, no right to enter that mountain."

"I have the only right." Thorin turned away from him and back to face the Master once more. "I speak to the Master of the Men of the Lake - will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people? What say you?"

"I say to you-" The Master paused as though for dramatic effect. "-Welcome! Welcome great King under the Mountain!"

More cheers and applause sounded from the crowd.

Thorin turned to give a victorious smirk at Bard - he even stood up a few steps so that he stood taller than the man.

Bard only scowled back before shoving his way through the rejoicing crowd.

"Do you think he's promised them too much right away?" Dahlia whispered to Balin who nodded.

"Aye, I fear he has. But he has not had a victory in so long - the least we can do is support him in this one."

"Aye. For now."

That night, joyous celebrations were held in the Dwarves' honour, arranged by the Master himself. There was a feast and drinks as well as musical entertainment and dancing.

The Master even provided them with new clothes and weapons. He had presented Dahlia with an extremely ugly dress - she had taken a tunic and trousers instead.

He was certainly being very generous - but clearly only because he had been promised great wealth in return.

A smiling Thorin approached Dahlia where she sat at the table, the great feast before her.

"Dance with me?"

"You want to dance?"

"Aye." He offered her a hand. "Come, dance with me in celebration - for we have much to celebrate."

He certainly looked the happiest he had in a long time, and Dahlia wasn't about to ruin that. She set down her empty ale mug. "Aye, that we do."

She took his offered hand and he led her out into the space that had been cleared for dancing. They were the only ones dancing at the moment, but that was nice.

"It has been a long time since we've done this," she observed.

"Aye - the last time would have been in the Great Hall at a celebratory banquet. But those times will soon be upon us again."

"Yes..." This quest had been carrying on for so long it was strange to think that it might soon be over. "You will keep your promise?" she asked as they swayed together. "About sharing in the wealth of Erebor?"

He lifted his head from where his cheek was resting against hers to look down at her. "Of course - have I ever broken a promise?"

"No, I suppose you haven't."

"And I intend to keep it that way."

Foreheads pressed together, they continued to sway.

They stayed up celebrating long into the evening.

When the first rays of the dawn light spilled in through the windows from across the lake, Dahlia found her head resting on Thorin's shoulder, he running his fingers gently through her hair. They were still where they had fallen asleep the previous night, wrapped up in sheets and each other, before the Master's grand hearth in a far corner of the room.

She snuggled closer to him, wanting to savour this moment.

"Good morning, Amralime," he whispered. "Happy Durin's Day."

Aww :.) I needed to have a sweet, tender (slightly sexy ;)) moment between them before he goes all crazy with Dragon Sickness!

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! :)