Chapter Forty-Six: Something Wicked

The waiting was the worst part. Emelia had no delusions of grandeur about the dwarves showing up to whisk her back to Erebor with Chinese takeout and a few apologies about the whole dragon incident. No, she wasn't dumb. But she was cold and tired and quite sick of being so. The only thing she really wanted was to sit down and know that when she stood up, it wasn't going to be to run away, or to hike a mountain, or do anything else but sit for a while and enjoy something for once.

She was perched on top of one of the battlements, staring at Erebor. She thought she might feel something profound, being so close, but all she felt was bitter. It was an odd feeling, one she wasn't sure if she was used to from months of being disappointed, or if it was something new, more poignant and sharp. She thought, perhaps, it was the later because the disappointment was still there, settling low in her chest and burning subtly like it had for months.

The bitterness was for Thorin, she decided, and his decision to leave her in Lake-town. But even that sentiment was starting to wear thin for her.

Emelia realized that it was slightly uncalled for and that Thorin had only done so because he thought he was doing what was right, but the pain in her back, which was still agonizing despite Tauriel fixing her up, and the experience of the last couple of days without food or sleep made her resent him and his stubbornness all the more.

It was colder up on the battlements than it was down in the old market, where most of the survivors had set up camp. It was depressing, being with them, and made her feel like she was utterly useless. She pulled her coat around her shoulders a little tighter and hunkered down in her spot. Nobody could see her and she appreciated it, for the time being. It gave her time to think, which she needed, and a break from Bard, which she desperately needed.

He had been pissing her off for the greater part of the last day. He had tried to apologize for what he said but his words were tinged with a quality that made her think he didn't mean it in the slightest.

Bard still clearly thought the dwarves were greedy and Emelia still didn't want to listen to him. They hadn't spoken since he told her to help him set up a small camp for his family, Emelia, and the twins. She preferred it that way. She thought, if forced to converse, she might say something she would later regret. She liked Bard, just not right then, so she escaped to the battlements and had been there for the better part of the night.

Dale was unimpressive in the worst possible way. Emelia felt bad for thinking so and was instantly thankful no one could hear what she was going on in her mind. The thoughts were unavoidable, however, when she saw what was waiting for them down in the middle of the city. Or what could be loosely described as a city. Graveyard seemed much more appropriate.

They didn't have much to drink and even less to eat They had plenty of firewood but most of it was either too damp or already burned to a crisp, leaving them with only enough to build one large fire in the middle of the market. It was too small an area for everyone to gather around, so most people were left to use their own body heat, huddled together underneath half broken archways and the collapsed skeletons of buildings. They had made it through the first night, though, so perhaps things were looking up. She didn't imagine it was possible for things to get worse, so she tried to maintain a certain level of optimism that was foreign to her for a while before she realized it was impossible.

She had told herself that things could get worse and they had. Shifting in her spot, she stared harder at the mountain, trying to memorize every crevice and cranny. It was silly to think that Erebor would somehow look better up close. If anything, it would be worse due to the small fact that a giant dragon had called it home for who knows how long. It probably smelled awful. Still, she wanted to be there so bad it made her entire body feel like one giant Charlie horse. She thought she saw the dwarves building something, their little outlines nothing more than blobs against the blackness of the singular opening carved into the front, but that was probably her imagination running wild from lack of sleep and food.

It was early in the morning, although the cloud cover meant it could be later and Emelia wouldn't know it. She should probably stop hiding out. Her backside was starting to lose all feeling and her clothes were so stiff from the cold she was certain than they would hold their shape if she took them off. She stood up and shook her limbs, crying out softly as her back muscles pulled.

She had been staring at Erebor so long it almost felt wrong to walk away, but she needed to eat, regrettably, and use the bathroom, even more regrettably, and speak to Bard, the most regrettable of all.

Emelia avoided speaking to anyone as she walked down the practically destroyed steps towards the inner part of the city. Most activity was limited to the men who were formerly part of the city guard trying to gather supplies and the women, the ones who didn't have small children sucking up all their body heat, tried desperately to keep everyone warm.

"Emelia, I've been looking for you."

Number three of list of to-dos just jumped up to number one. She tried to fight the annoyed look on her face, although she failed spectacularly.

"Bard, you're looking chipper this morning."

He noticed her tone and gave her a look. "I was about to visit Alfrid and see about his night watch. Would you like to join me?"

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "No, not particularly. Alfrid is the human equivalent of morning breath and you're not exactly my favorite person right now."

"This is unnecessary."

"Are you going to apologize for earlier?"

"I wasn't planning on it."

"Then no, I don't want to go with you."

Bard rolled his eyes. Emelia could tell he thought she was being childish and perhaps she was. "Please."

They stared at each other for a moment. He looked almost as tired as she felt. "Fine. Groveling isn't exactly your thing, Bard." Emelia wasn't entirely sure what his motivations were, but she could feel her curiosity peaking alongside the small niggling of regret at being so nasty to him. "Let's just get this over with."

He inclined his head and held his arm out, indicating the direction she should follow. She fought the strong, and quite sudden, urge to elbow him in the ribs just to make a point. She wasn't clear just exactly what that point was, but knew he would understand it. She hugged her arms to her chest just in case and kept her head down as she allowed Bard to lead her through the ruins of Dale.

It truly was the most depressing place she had ever been. The amount of people who didn't have proper clothes and food made her feel useless, like she was actively doing nothing while they starved. An older woman held onto three young children like they were all she had left and Emelia got the feeling that they might be.

"We don't have supplies." Bard said, noticing Emelia staring at the old woman. "The wood for fire will be exhausted after a few days, if we're lucky, and the food we have will only be enough to feed the women and children for a few meals."

Her stomach, choosing that exact moment to speak up, gurgled audibly. She immediately glared at it. "You can give my food to someone else, despite what this little stinker has to say." She said.

"I wasn't asking for your food."

"Oh, well then I…"

"Emelia, I think you know how serious this situation is without me needing to tell you." Bard stopped walking and grabbed Emelia's shoulder. His face, which was normally as serious as a heart attack, looked so morbid it frightened her. "We need help." Bard sounded like he didn't want to admit this to anyone, least of all her. She looked away, out of respect for the fact that it was obviously hard for Bard to say and thinking of her own tendency to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. She waited for Bard to say something else, to elaborate, and when he didn't, she sighed.

"I wish I had some sort of hotline to a food bank, but…"

"I told you yesterday that I was going to speak to Thorin."

"Yea, and you politely informed me that I wasn't invited to that powwow."

"I want you to come with me."

Emelia stared at him, narrowing her eyes. He looked exhausted, which she understood, and drawn, like he was giving all his energy to the people of Lake-town. She felt bad for him and she wondered if the reality of the situation was finally settling over him, if that was why he suddenly changed his mind about including her in the discussion.

"Bard, I know things aren't exactly peachy between you and Thorin, but I know he'll help you. He might be a little rough around the edges, but he isn't going to say no."

Bard didn't look convinced.

"We'll see." There was something in his tone beyond skepticism, although she couldn't identify it. There was a pregnant pause, one that was more awkward than any Emelia had ever experienced, before Bard changed the subject. "Alfrid shouldn't be left alone too long."

Bard started walking again, forcing Emelia to hurry along behind him. She was spoiled by the dwarves and their much more compatible height.

"I don't know why you're trusting him with anything." Emelia said, dodging a particularly gnarled bit of wood hanging down by rotted out rope that had seen better days. Bard glanced over his shoulder at her but didn't say anything. "I mean, I wasn't here very long before everything went to hell, but he was kind of so far up the Master's butt he could see light on the other side."

"He is the sort that will always do what he's told as long as he thinks the person doing the telling has power."

"That doesn't mean he can be trusted."

"I've known him longer than I've known you."

"Which has given you plenty of time to see what I saw in the first five minutes of knowing the guy."

"What would you suggest I do?" He turned around and looked at her, eyebrows raised. "He does what he's told. I can't ask for anything else right now."

"That's all you want from people? Loyalty?"

"We have already lost too many to close ranks and leave someone behind. Even someone as spineless as Alfrid."

"I wasn't suggesting that." Emelia said, hurt flashing on her face at the idea that she would leave him behind, whatever that meant. "I wouldn't…"

"Alfrid plays his part, just like you and me. We will survive because we work together, not because we held onto old grudges. I think we all must do things now that we wouldn't includes Alfrid." Bard stepped forward and placed his hand on her shoulder once again. She felt like a child, but she brushed that feeling off and turned her chin up, hardening her eyes and holding his gaze. "And I know you would never leave anyone behind. You risked your own life for my daughter's. I shouldn't ask for more from you, but I think soon I will have to."

He squeezed her shoulder one more time before he turned and kept walking through the remains of Dale. He stopped occasionally to speak to people who came up to him, begging him for help, crying and pleading. Bard spoke to them softly, his tone reassuring, although Emelia didn't know how he managed to sound so calm, and told them food and shelter were coming soon. He was lying, but it seemed to comfort them. Emelia didn't dare say anything, choosing instead to stay back and wait for them to find Alfrid, Bard's words playing over and over in her mind.

She didn't think, after everything, that she had much more to give.

Even so, she was certain the universe would find something else to take from her. She would just have to wait and see what it was.

When they found Alfrid he was sleeping, slumped up against the wall and drooling. Emelia wanted to dump water on him, or put his hand in some shaving cream and tickle his nose. Or maybe just push him over before he knew they were there. Bard didn't seem to feel the same way. He went over and called out to Alfrid, startling the repulsive man awake. He didn't even fall over. Such a shame. She wanted nothing more than to see him squirm.

"Always diligent, Alfrid. What news from the night watch?"

Alfrid glared at Emelia when she smirked at the surprised look on his face at being found sleeping on the job. His lips twitched, like he was going to snarl, which she would pay money to see, before Bard snapped his fingers, drawing his attention back to him. He started walking down the steps, taking them two at a time with Alfrid, and a very reluctant and apathetic Emelia, following after him.

"Nothing gets past me." Alfrid said, puffing out his chest with superiority. He shot Emelia another look. She could easily trip him. Bard probably wouldn't mind, even if he had just said otherwise, and it would make her feel better, if just for a little bit. She even went so far as to stick her foot out, but pulled it back when Alfrid peered over his shoulder at her.

"Watch where you're going."

"You watch where you're going."

"Good comeback Alfrid." Emelia mocked, which caused Bard to sign heavily and Alfrid to glower even more.

"Alfrid, I thought you said nothing gets past you." Bard said once he reached the bottom of the stairs. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised.

"I've got cat-like senses, sire. Nothing in or out."

"Except the army of elves." Bard gestured outwards. Emelia immediately skipped down the last couple of steps and stepped out around Bard, mouth dropping open at the amount of elves currently staring up at them. Bard wasn't as surprised and immediately started walking through them. Emelia stood with Alfrid, staring out at the crowd with matching looks of surprise on their faces. The only thing she could think was that they looked creepy. Like an army of overly clean, overly armed mannequins.

"Well this is new." Emelia said, letting out a low whistle at the sheer number, taking a step forward towards the elves and away from Alfrid. "Keen eye, Alfrid. Really good stuff."

"Stuff it." Alfrid seethed and Emelia snorted, flipping him off discretely behind her back so that he was the only one who could see it. There was something indescribably vile about him that grated on her nerves so completely it was almost unnatural. It was all she could do to keep her mouth shut, and she wasn't even really doing a very good job at that, and not push him off the nearest high place and be done with it. She shook her head, wondering where her sudden, and quite frankly alarming, homicidal tendencies came from. It was probably a combination of stress and fatigue, but she had the distinct feeling that she would feel the same about Alfrid regardless of the situation.

"I heard you were in need of assistance." Emelia ducked through the crowd of elves, feeling very short and unarmed, and came to stand next to Bard, catching the tail end of his conversation with Emelia's least favorite elf.

He looked just a smarmy as ever and she decided, quite suddenly, that only douchebags ride elks.

Thranduil gestured sideways, a look of smug satisfaction on his face, and steered his elk out of the way as a cart came barreling into the small square, laden with every type of food of the green variety imaginable. The elves driving the cart stopped it just in time, rocking it back and forth for a moment before the people of Lake-town realized that the food was for them and descended on it like locusts.

"We did not expect you." Bard said, his voice breathless. "You have saved us."

Thranduil inclined his head ever so slightly. Emelia stared up at him, narrowing her eyes. There was something off, something wrong about the look in the elf king's eyes that made it feel like this wasn't legit. She clenched her fists behind her back and stepped out of the way of the people clambering around the cart, reaching for the first food they could get their hands on.

"You should know that I did not come on your people's behalf. I came to reclaim what is rightfully mine and you are going to help me."

She snorted. He certainly didn't beat around the bush.

He hopped down from his elf with all the grace of a male ballerina and started surveying the crowd, causing Emelia to immediately want to slink back before he could notice her. Even if she had never agreed, she got the distinct impression that he thought she was somehow obligated to help him. She recalled something about locking her in a dungeon so deep no one would ever find her again. All of bunch of hot air, as far as she was concerned, but he did have an army of elves on his side and was currently carrying a sword that looked longer than she was tall.

And she, well, she had nothing to her name but some oversized clothes and her sarcasm.

He stared at Alfrid for a brief moment, lip curled up in disgust, before his lamp-like gaze finally settled on her. There was something almost wicked about him, something witch-like and unsettling. She wanted to look away so badly but maintained her gaze.

"Do not think I have forgotten you, Emelia Kinsington Montgomery, and what you did to my butlers." He handed the reigns to his elk off to the nearest elf and took a step towards her. Emelia blushed, looking down at her feet, taking three small, almost nonexistent, steps back. The butlers had technically done it to themselves. It was only a little bit of convincing on her part. Definitely not something deserving of the look Thranduil was giving her. "You remember our conversation?" She nodded, not sure if she spoke if it would come out as a weak series of squeaks or a string of curses that would make most people uncomfortable. It could go either way, really. She bit her lip and looked back up. "Wonderful, because you're going to help me as well. Or I'll follow through on my offer and make sure that not even the dwarves will know where to look for you when this is done. Somebody guard her to make sure she doesn't do anything," He paused, looking her up and down, "Regrettable before I get back."

Point Thranduil.

Kili was restless, twitchy even. He looked at his reflection in the helmet he was holding, noticing the deeply etched circles under his eyes, before he tossed it aside along with all the other helmets he deemed useless. This one had an almost imperceptible dent just above the right eye. It was defective, sort of like himself at the moment. He picked up the next, flipping it over in his hands for half a second, before he threw it at the pile, more violently than was strictly necessary, and groaned in frustration.

Fili noticed, as he always did, and leaned over, eyebrow raised. "Problem?"

"It was dented." Kili said gruffly, reaching for another one before his hands dropped down to his side, punching it.

"They're all dented." Fili pointed out, thinking he was being helpful. All he accomplished was aggravating Kili even more. His hand traveled to his leg wound, pressing on it as it twinged painfully. He rubbed it, pressing his knuckles against the stitches and closed his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Kili said quickly. He had noticed that Emelia always pressed her hand to her chest when she was stressed. He used to think it was a silly tick of hers, a nervous habit, but now that he couldn't stop the bubble of anxiety and panic building in his chest, he found that it did make him feel better. The sting allowed him to focus on something else, for half a moment at least, and clear his head. Then he thought of her again and the whole process started over.

Fili snorted at the assertion and stepped closer until their shoulders were touching. "She's fine, Kee."

It wasn't just that Kili didn't believe him, although that was probably the largest part, and it was not that he didn't think it was possible for Emelia to survive on her own. He knew better than anyone not to underestimate her, but he couldn't see her and that made it all so much worse.

"We shouldn't have left her." Kili has said it more times than he could count in the last two days, but it was still just as true as the first time.

"We didn't have a choice." Fili had repeated that as well and every time it made him angrier and angrier. "The people of Lake-town were going to start pointing the finger at someone. You know it would have been us. People do stupid things when they're desperate. We didn't have a choice."

When he said it again, Kili gritted his teeth, muscles tightening with the desire to hit something.

They did have a choice and they chose the wrong one.

"I don't want to talk about it." Kili grabbed the nearest helmet, finding it unnaturally interesting.

Fili sighed and grabbed the helmet out of his hands, setting it down on the pile they were sorting through. "Look at me." When Kili didn't, Fili had to forcibly turn him so that they were looking at each other eye to eye. "This isn't your fault. You can't control what happened."

"What happened? How do you see the last two days, Fili, because from where I'm standing, we had every option to stay and wait for Emelia and we walked away. You made me walk away from her."

"We couldn't stay with the people of Lake-town."

"You keep saying that like it's supposed to make me feel better." Kili hissed, shoving his brother away from him. The other dwarves, who were each ordered to look through separate piles of armor and weapons, were starting to glance at them. Kili felt his anger bubbling. They had been staring at him since they showed up without Emelia and hadn't stopped since.

"You need to keep calm."

"And you need to mind your own damn business." Kili seethed, shouldering out of Fili's grip and walking away from his pile of useless helmets. "You swore to me that you would look after her. Do you remember? At Beorn's house, you swore to me that you wouldn't let anything bad happen to her."

"You aren't the only one who misses her." Fili snapped back, voice raising an octave. "And you and I weren't the only ones who were supposed to look after her. I know I shouldn't have let her go get the poppy seeds bu…"

"What?"

Fili's face blanched. "Kee, I didn't know."

"You let her leave?" He was practically shouting at his brother. "The same way you let her chase off after Tilda. What were you thinking?"

"She wanted to help you."

"Lads, this isn't helping." Bofur stepped up, a nervous look on his face at interrupting their fight.

"Why are we just sitting in here?" Gloin stopped sifting through piles of chainmail and peered over his shoulder at the brothers, bushy eyebrows raised. He elbowed Nori, who was trying on a rather ornate chest plate, and inclined his head towards them. Nori dropped the breast plate and nudged Ori, all of them watching the fight with interest. Kili pointedly ignored them. "They're gathered in Dale right now. She's right there. Why can't we…"

"Kili!" He froze at the abruptness of Thorin's voice. He walked out from the side room he had taken up residence in, muttering something to Dwalin as he walked towards them, a stern look on his face. "Enough fighting. There are more important things than Emelia."

And there is was again, that tone that made them all glance at each other nervously, the callousness and disregard that was so unlike Thorin it was alarming. Fili and Kili had noticed it almost the instant they came back, but neither of them had dared to say anything out loud.

"She's…"

"With the people of Lake-town, where she belongs." His lip twitched, almost as if he could tell how wrong the words were, before his mouth turned down into a scowl once again.

"Emelia belongs with us." Kili said, ignoring Fili's warning hand on his arm.

"Thorin, you should come see this." Bombur, who was perched on the top of their hand built barrier, called down to them, interrupting the tense moment before it could carry on any longer. Even from the distance Kili could see the look on panic on Bombur's face. He was gripping his axe tightly, turning it over and over. "There's so many of them."

"What's happening?" Dori asked, picking up a small knife.

"A rider's coming."

"Come on." Thorin snapped, the coldness returning. It hardened his face, made him look shrewd and cruel and all sorts of things that Kili did not normally associated with his uncle.

The rest of the dwarves followed Thorin to their built up barricade, shoulders tensed and hands wandering to the nearest weapon they could find. Kili stayed rooted in his spot, breathing heavily. He barely registered as they climbed the steps to the top, muttering amongst each other about who it could be or what they could want. Kili didn't need to wonder. He knew, without looking, that it was a man of Lake-town, Bard most likely, come to barter with them. He also knew, without needing to listen, what Thorin's response would be.

"We'll get her back as soon as possible, Kili." Fili stayed behind as well, placing a hesitant hand on his brother shoulder. "She belongs here the same as you and me." Kili stared at the ground, anger flaring up again. They shouldn't have to go find her in the first place. She should be there. He thought she had earned that right. His heart beat faster, the pressure building in his ears until he couldn't even hear himself think. The last real conversation they had had they had been upset with each other.

"Kee?"

Thorin was shouting something.

The air seemed thick, almost solid, and hard to take in. Kili's chest heaved and he clenched his fists tighter, one of them reaching for the wound on his leg, his finger finding the sorest point.

More shouting, louder and angrier, as Thorin fought with the person on the other side of the wall. He was at their level now, although it did little to change the tone of the conversation, not that Kili noticed. Time seemed to slow for him as the pressure continued to build.

"Kili, you need to sit." Fili tried to lead Kili over to an upturned boulder but Kili pushed him off. Something was wrong. He didn't know how he knew, he just did. He pressed his wound once more before he looked up. Thorin was speaking to someone now, voice soft and yet somehow more intimidating than before. "You're pale as death."

"What?" Fili stared at him, eyebrows knitted together.

"What just happened? You got this horrible look on your face." When Kili didn't respond, he waited a moment before he spoke again, voice lower so that no one else could hear. "It's Bard. He'll know where Emelia is."

And just like that, Kili turned his attention back to what Thorin was saying. He realized this is exactly what his uncle warned him of, all those months ago, and that he was letting Emelia distract him. He didn't care. That was the difference. He only wanted to know that she was alive and then he would go back to helping his kin.

"Tell me, Bard the Dragonslayer," There was so much contempt in Thorin's voice it didn't even sound like him. Kili struggled to figure out what was going on, trying to piece together what he had missed. He should have been paying attention. There was that feeling of dread again, stronger than before. "Why should I give you anything? You gave us nothing without us needing to peddle away our birthright. You speak of my greed and yet stand on the doorstep of my home, demanding for something that isn't yours."

"You gave us your word."

"And you gave me yours. I can see now that it is worthless."

"Do my people mean nothing to you?"

Thorin said nothing. He turned away from the small opening, mouth slightly agape. Bard sighed heavily and Kili thought he heard the sound of something hitting the rock on the outside, before he spoke again, voice softer and more upset. "Did she really mean so little to you that you would ignore the suffering of those she tried to help in favor of your own pride?"

"Speak plainly, Bowman, for I have grown tired of your malcontent."

"Emelia died because of you; Drowned in Smaug's attack."

The bad feeling came back. Only this time it was real and so painful Kili thought he was going to pass out. He reached out for the nearest supporter, Fili in this case, and did all he could to keep standing. The pressure returned, now spreading to encompass his entire head, making the colors flicker in front of his gaze, alternating between blindingly bright and deafeningly black. It wasn't real. None of it was real. He shoved his fist against his leg wound, harder and harder until he felt something warm. She was in Dale. Emelia was in Dale. He told himself it over and over again, drowning everything else out until it was all he could hear, all he could think. She was alive. There was nothing else he could accept.

"Leave. Now, before I kill you myself."

Kili staggered, losing his grip on Fili's shoulder. He ran into one of the rock pieces, using it to keep himself standing as the room started to spin.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Emelia should be here with him. "Kee?"

He stood up, pushing away the way his vision blurring and his legs felt like metal. He stared at all of them for a moment before he turned sideways and slammed his fist into the rock. Once, twice, three times, over and over again until blood was left on the surface and his hand was numb. Someone said his name again but he ignored them, choosing instead to punch the rock one more time before he walked out of the room altogether, leaving the rest of the dwarves in stunned silence that seemed to radiate through the entire mountain.

Way to go Bard. So, in case anyone is wondering, he made a split second decision to lie to the dwarves about Emelia to see if it would change Thorin's mind. It obviously didn't. I hope I have portrayed the gathering tension on all sides because things about about to explode. Like I promised, this is the last chapter that they are separated, so get excited for that reunion. Also, don't hate Bard too much. He was only trying to help them out, Emelia included, and said the first thing that popped into his head.

Thank you to all you lovely readers who have stuck by this despite the sporadic updating. I know its frustrating, but I'm trying my best. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE let me know what you think. This chapter was probably the most depressing so far and I hope I captured the horrendous way everyone is feeling without just rewriting the movie lines.

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