At this point, Thorin appears to be more concerned about Smaug than anything else. It'll be more accurate to say his priorities may reflect that of a king. Bonus points for more interactions and a longer chapter? I think so!
Curious eyes looked to the sky; bobbing behind the returning thrush was a very old raven of great size. The poor bird could hardly fly in his old age. He landed on the ground and addressed Thorin, as the dwarf came forward.
"O Thorin son of Thrain, and Balin son of Fundin," the raven dipped his balding head in respect, "I am Roäc son of Carc, chief of the great ravens of the Mountain since my father's death many years ago. Our numbers are few but never have we forgotten the king of old. I bring news of tidings in the South – some of joy and some not so pleasant."
The great bird spoke in common tongue, making it easy for everyone to understand. Bilbo stood baffled and amazed by his speech. Never did he believe a bird could speak Westron, but anything was proving possible at this point.
"Word has gone out that Smaug is dead." Roäc said and the dwarves jumped up with joy. "The thrush saw him fall with the men of Esgaroth, and we may trust his words."
Éla looked to Bilbo, whose expression adorned relief from the good news. They no longer had to live in worry or fear. Hope enlightened the end of their journey. Smaug's reign was finally over. The excitement soon died down as Thorin regained some control, enough to allow the raven to finish his tale.
"Many are gathering besides the birds, Thorin Oakenshield. You are safe in your halls for the moment." Roäc cautioned. "Men of the Lake are grieving for their loss of home and loved ones and are passing the blame on to you. A host of elves also traverse with sights set on the wealth of Thror."
Thorin's form grew rigid by the raven's warning. With the news of the death of the dragon spreading like wildfire, everyone would be looking for some form of compensation.
"Trust not the Master of Lake Town, but the one who shot down the dragon; Bard is his name, of the line of Girion of Dale. Be warned, it may cost you in gold to see peace between old allies."
"Thank you, Roäc son of Carc." Thorin seethed out of growing anger. "Your race shall be remembered, but none of our gold will be given away so freely. Not while we're alive."
Éla noticed the unsettling change. Greed had overshadowed the dwarf's cognition.
"If you have any that are still young and able to fly, I kindly ask that you spread word to my kin in the North, but specifically my cousin Dain in the Iron Hills."
"Very well." Croaked Roäc. "I will see what can be done."
The company watched as the old raven flew off, leaving them to contemplate what needed to be done.
"We must head back to the mountain." Thorin commanded. There was no question for debate as he marched down the stone path for the company to follow willingly.
Bilbo dragged his feet as the dwarves rushed ahead, murmuring to himself. "And here I thought this would all be over."
"It will be soon enough." Éla said softly.
She wasn't entirely certain how these new developments would play out, but she would remain hopeful. Bilbo pulled his jacket closer to his body. His grim features were not completely expressed by the cold weather. Éla sworn he bore a trace of guilt but didn't have the courage to ask what for. Instead, they trudged behind into the mountain early that afternoon, welcoming the emerald stone towers with fresh eyes as the company made for the caverns below.
It was discovered that the Front Gate was the only entrance not destroyed or blocked by Smaug. Down in the first cavern where the miners and blacksmiths once worked, the dwarves gathered tools from storage. The equipment was carried back to the entrance to be fortified. Éla stayed behind as they were divided into small groups. Most of them began working hard on the gate and Oin and Gloin were tasked with rallying anything else that could be of use.
Éla continued to wander further down one of the passages that use to be bustling with folk. Many forges and shops were located on this level, all built within the stone walls itself. The firelight in her hand flickered over the wooden signs painted in Khuzdul. The characters were beginning to fade with age but she could still make out the words.
As Éla progressed a little further into the dark chasm, she came across a fork in the path. The hall split both left and right, the emerald glow of the mountain illuminating slightly under her torch. Written on the wall ahead, there were signs pointing to certain destinations. To the right, it read forge. To the left, another arrow pointed towards the taverns of the blacksmiths and miners. She contemplated whether or not to pursue the paths. With the others busy, there was time to spare.
Éla ultimately decided to traverse the wide corridor leading opposite to the abandoned forges. Her going was slow as the torch lit a few feet at a time. Chunks of stone and rubble littered the path from black holes in the walls high above. Still she pressed on, winding around the debris until she paused in front of one of many windows veiled with dust. The area was the beginning of a small merchant district, its primary focus for clothing, armor, and if one walked further down the vast hall, a wide selection of weaponry.
She held the torch's light above her head, reading the signs as she went. Finally stumbling on what she was looking for, Éla came across an opened doorway to a small shop. Entering the confined space, the torch was set aside as it illuminated most of the room. Éla scanned the untouched merchandise hung on shelves and rods still stocked with leather bracers, belts, pouches and under-armor of varying sizes. It was an odd sensation to be back in such a familiar setting. Everything was mostly intact except for the back room as she noticed, was caved in not by the roof but the shelves and wall ornaments toppled over.
Walking around the counter that was once used for bargaining, Éla's fingers traced a line of clear wood in the dust. She stopped when her boot came into contact with a wooden chunk on the ground. Bending over in the dark, she felt around for the object until her hand brushed against its uneven surface. It can't be. Held lightly in her palm was a toy figure of a soldier. One that belonged to her young brother. She held it close for a moment before pocketing the toy in a satchel and rummaging through nearby drawers.
Nothing else of value was worth taking, so Éla retrieved the torch and made to exit the shop. She took one last glance into the abandoned space before turning around into a blinding light. A little yell escaped her when she came face to face with two sets of beady eyes and a flaming, red beard staring at her in such proximity.
Éla tried to steady her racing heart. "Gloin. Say something next time, will you?"
"Sorry about that." He apologized, then stepped aside for her to pass. "We thought we saw you come down this way."
"I was just looking around."
"Aye, and a good thing too," before Éla could ask, he pointed in the opposite direction as Oin walked towards them with a barrel in tow. "We'd best be heading back."
"The armory was just down the hall. We should be well-equipped after this haul." Oin stated as he examined the loot he had found.
Seeing the magnitude of weapons and tools only brought revolting judgements to their motives. Éla prayed that whatever happened, war would not be a viable option.
In four days the Front Gate had been fortified with thick slabs of stones. Fili and Kili had returned that evening with more food retrieved from the stores left by the Running River. Éla had left the others to busy themselves with the new provisions and reinforcing a section of the river to their liking. Down the hall, she sought out the room full of gold and treasure and hid within the shadows of one of the tall pillars.
Thorin searched aimlessly among the mounds of riches with a lost cause and a spread of determination on his face. Éla watched with sorrow as he'd move from one area to the next, consumed to find a specific item his heart desired most. She crossed her arms as if to shield herself from an unknown threat. The longer she watched the more she wanted to run down and drag the dwarf out of his new-found obsession. Her heart was wearing thin and this was getting to be too much. She found it increasingly difficult to look at him as the days went by.
After a short while, footsteps resounded quietly, drawing nearer. Balin came to stand beside Éla. He glanced in the vast chamber before looking to her with saddened eyes. How long she had been standing there, he did not know. How long Thorin had been scouring for the Arkenstone, he tried not to think about it.
"Is the sealed gate really necessary?" She finally asked, not once diverting her stare.
The question surprised Balin as it was one he didn't expect her to ask. "Thorin believes so."
"That doesn't make it right. Does it?"
"I'm afraid I can't answer that."
Balin was finding it difficult to conjure answers. He wished Thorin would not succumb to the gold sickness like his grandfather, yet he was already showing the first signs of its control.
"He's been searching all afternoon." Éla said quietly. "Every day he would make time to perform his search."
"The Arkenstone is an heirloom to him. He values it beyond all the gold in this room."
She fidgeted with her hands, her qualms clearly evident to the other. Balin reached out, taking her hands in his for reassurance. They were all concerned and not just over one dilemma.
"He's changed. It's as if nothing else matters." Éla finally met his gaze.
"Do you remember our conversation on the mountainside?" Balin asked gently. Éla nodded. "I've known Thorin all my life. When he makes a commitment, he will follow through."
"Was I not a distraction during our stay in Esgaroth?" Éla took in a breath and exhaled deeply. Her face twisted in a mixture of hurt and comfort. "Two weeks we lived in freedom, disregarding the quest and all other responsibilities. Knowing Smaug is dead, I grow wearier every day and wonder which time portrays his true personality."
"If you were a distraction, it was a positive one." Balin encouraged while trying to keep some composure. He could see this was eating away at her. "As our king, Thorin would never indulge in infidelity so you have no worries there."
Balin patted the top of her hand. "Come, you don't need to watch anymore. He will come around before the end." At the very least, the old dwarf prayed that he would.
"I appreciate the kind words Balin, but giving false hope won't help spare the worry."
"Your level of tolerance exceeds what most are willing to give." He tugged at her arm to follow. "We don't need you withering away too."
Tired eyes refused to close and sleep that night. Over chatter and the soft tunes of instruments time and again, heavy lids shut out the world.
As the mountain stirred from sleep the following morning, Éla quickly noticed several bodies missing. The pale sky extended its openness to her as she vacated outside to find Balin, Thorin, and Dwalin overlooking the valley.
"They must have come under the cover of dusk." Balin stated.
"Who did?" Éla asked, creeping up with great caution to stand on the other side of Dwalin.
"Elves and men." The dwarf specified with distaste.
Éla gazed over the city of Dale. A few flickers of fire and streams of smoke could be seen, accompanied by a vast shadow of possible soldiers. The camp spread over a great area. It was a nervous sight to behold.
Their attention drew to that of a small company that approached the wall. They waited in silence as the group navigated as closely as they could until they stopped short of their destination, still overlooking the new cleaved gate. Thorin called out to them in a loud voice.
"Who are you to come armed for possible war to the gates of Thorin son of Thrain, Kind under the Mountain?"
Éla anticipated an exchange of words, but none came and the company took its leave back down the slope.
"I don't like the way they were staring at the mountain." Dwalin grumbled and turned to head inside.
"They'll be back soon enough." Balin added before following.
When the two were gone, Thorin turned to Éla.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better." She did not look at him. A noise escaped him but it was indistinguishable, sounding more like a grunt. Éla assumed he didn't believe her and so she faced him with a gentle smile. "I'll be alright."
"Remember what happened the last time you said that?" Thorin was not convinced. Éla studied the harsh lines engraving his features – he was aging, and so was she. He looked exhausted with no trace of warmth that usually filled his sight when he gazed upon her. It was visible that he was not content. His appearance was more distraught than anyone's.
"I turned out fine in the end." Éla said coolly. She did not want to cause concern when he mistakenly was doing the same. Being reminded of previous injuries was invaluable and unnecessary. It was a lost cause for him to delve back into that.
A frown lengthened his face as he spoke. "Why do you do this?"
Thorin closed the gap, forcing her to look up ever so slightly. "Why won't you let me in?"
Éla's voice caught in her throat as he brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. The action caught her off guard as she focused on the cool touch. Closing her eyes for a second, she reveled in silence to his closeness before covering his hand with hers.
"I'm afraid." Éla was hesitant as he bore into her with darkened eyes awaiting an answer. "I'm afraid that this isn't real."
Revelation shot him back to reality as she gestured to the two of them. "There is no reason for you to believe that."
"Then prove me otherwise!" Éla covered her mouth, eyes wide in surprise. She had shouted a little louder than originally planned.
Thorin was begin to piece the puzzle together. For many days, he barely said two words to her, if any at all. He'd been so preoccupied with everything else. He gently removed her hands away from her face. "Nothing will replace you, Éla."
"Not even the Arkenstone?" She whispered in a calmer tone as she searched him for any sign of liability. His sight narrowed, whether it was taken in offense or disbelief, she couldn't tell.
"No," Thorin lifted her chin as his gaze switched to her slightly parted lips, "not even for the Arkenstone."
Éla's heart began to pound in her chest in an involuntary fashion as Thorin leaned in and gently planted his lips to hers.
Well I'm glad I got that issue settled. For now, at least. (It's been pre-written for a while.) Would you believe Thorin's words?