"-listen. You're the one who decided you wanted to tank."

"I didn't know tanking would involve getting webbed up by a bunch of fuck-off huge spiders!"

Talion and Ioreth watched in amusement as Idril (and, to a lesser degree, Dirhael) struggled to tear off the remnants of the spiders' webs as they staggered back through the doors of Thranduil's halls. The barbarian and paladin had taken the brunt of the creatures' attacks, since the elven archers and even the magic users were far too agile to be caught. Talion was probably the best off of them all; thanks to the Third Cloak of Arachnida, he didn't have so much as a single wisp of the sticky thread anywhere on him, and when he gently combed his fingers over Ioreth's braid, the web that had gotten caught on her came right off.

She held still long enough for him to pull the rest off as well, then smiled warmly up at him. He smiled back, and gave her a gentle peck on the lips.

Thranduil was pleased that they had discovered something about the spiders, though he was decidedly less pleased that they couldn't do anything to actively stop the spiders from coming up from the south aside from pushing their own borders to the Mountains of Mirkwood. But he was true to his word, and the party was escorted down to the dungeons, where their companions were released and their gear returned. When they were ready, they were led through to what passed for the back entrance to the Woodland Realm, overlooking some sluice gates for the river. They were closed at the moment, with a dozen empty barrels rattling around against the metal as the water swirled past them. Even as Talion watched, a few more emerged with the water from the depths of Thranduil's fortress and bobbed down to join the others against the gate.

"If you follow the river," Legolas was saying, "it's a straight shot from here. It will take you right to the Long Lake and Erebor beyond, though you will need to find your own way from here."

But then a black arrow whizzed past him, narrowly missing his head, and a howling pack of orcs burst from the trees, weapons raised.

Everyone immediately moved to fight them, man, elf, and dwarf alike. Even Bilbo drew the sword he'd bought from Tyelpe and stabbed an orc in the leg with it, which distracted the creature long enough for Thorin to decapitate it with his own sword.

"We need to get out of here!" Baranor shouted, disintegrating a few of the creatures with a lightning spell, "They're after us, and ten to one there are more not far behind!"

"The barrels!" Bilbo cried, "Into the barrels - ride the river!"

"Do as he says!" Thorin shouted, and the dwarves started jumping in, though it didn't stop them from fighting. "Someone get the gate!"

"On it!" Kíli answered and raced up the steps to the long handle. He was attacked, of course, but fought his way through a few orcs to grab the release -

A black arrow slammed home into his thigh, and he cried out in pain and seemed to fall in slow motion. Kíli let out another cry when he hit the ground, and Talion whirled to see who had fired the shot-

An orc even uglier than most, with metal ridges and plates that seemed to have been embedded in his flesh so that he healed around them, creating a sort of permanent armor. Bolg (Level 100): son of Azog the Defiler.

Talion had gained another level fighting the Great Spiders (now Level 40), but there was still an enormous gap between them. He didn't let it stop him, though, nocking an arrow and firing it at the orc's almost white flesh. It connected, and Bolg staggered but didn't fall. Still, the distraction was enough for Kili, still in pain, to haul himself over and pull the lever. Then he rolled off the edge of the bridge into one of the empty barrels as they started to move, the fletching of the arrow snapping off and spinning away into the frothing water.

The adventurers jumped in as well as the barrels passed, and Talion turned and kept firing until the orcs still harrying the elves vanished from sight as the barrels bobbed down the river. Yet more of the creatures were turning to follow them, and he kept firing until the bow's grown arrows were spent. Then he unstrung the weapon (almost losing the string in the process when his barrel plunged down a sudden waterfall) and stowed it all to dry out later before drawing Urfael.

The ride down the river was probably the most harrowing of his life, and he lived and worked in an active combat zone. The orcs followed as close as they could for as long as they could, firing and leaping at the dwarves and adventurers without regard for their own safety; at least a quarter of them mistimed their jumps or lost their footing and vanished into the furious water. Yet because of the speed of the river - at least in that section - they soon fell behind, disappearing behind rock and tree.

But the river didn't stay white-water forever, the flow dropping as they approached the Long Lake. "Anything behind us?" Thorin shouted to those further back.

"Not that I can see!" Dirhael answered.

"I think we've outrun the orcs," Bofur called from the barrel next to him.

"Not for long," the dwarf prince returned, "We've lost the current."

"Bofur's half-drowned," Dwalin called after a quick survey of the party.

"Make for the shore! Come on, let's go!"

They all quickly climbed out onto the rocks. Unfortunately, neither Baranor nor Ioreth knew the spell that Gandalf had used in the Misty Mountains, so they were also wet and shivering. Even so, Talion signaled Ioreth, and they both made their way to Kili's side. The young dwarf tried to insist that he was fine, but the priestess was already kneeling at his side, murmuring a soft diagnostic spell. Kíli grumbled but settled to let her do her work.

After a moment, Ioreth pursed her lips, a grim look on her face. "I can remove the arrow and heal the wound."

"I'm sensing a pretty hefty but there," said Talion.

"The arrow was dipped in poison," she answered, "one we don't have the Components - or even the Recipe - to make a cure for, and I don't have the Cure Poison spell."

"Shit," the dwarf said under his breath.

"How long?" the Ranger asked.

She laid a hand over the wound, and it glowed for a moment. "A few days. There are a couple of things I can do to lengthen the time, but they won't be pleasant."

"Let's get under cover first, somewhere we can rest up and get our bearings," Talion said - right before the sounds of a scuffle nearby reached their ears.

They whirled, weapons coming up, to see another adventurer perched on a rock looming above them all, a black bow in hand with a sharp arrow nocked, pointing at one of the dwarves who'd tried to attack him. "Do it again, and you're dead," the adventurer growled.

Is that -?! "Bard?" Talion asked incredulously, lowering Urfael, "Is that you?!"

The newcomer lowered his own bow in shock, but then recognition bloomed on his face, a grin on its heels. "Talion? Gods, I didn't recognize you with your hair like that!"

"And the same to you, sir!" the Ranger laughed, and pulled the other into an embrace. "Ioreth, this is Bard; I think I told you about him before."

"I remember," she said with a smile, offering her hand to shake, "The company's sniper."

"Up until I lost a foot to an RPG, yeah," said Bard, "It's an honor to finally meet you, ma'am. Talion told us a lot about his kick-ass doctor wife."

Ioreth shot Talion a look, and he immediately protested, "You're doing such important research for the whole human race! Of course I was gonna brag about you!"

"Making strides on curing cancer is no small thing," Bard agreed.

Other introductions went around among the adventurers before Dwalin grumbled, "Oh, come on, come on, enough with the niceties."

Bard raised an eyebrow at the dwarf, then shot a glance at Talion. "NPCs," the Ranger said, giving the dwarves a glance of his own, "Escort quest to Erebor. But we've got wounded, and an orc pack on our tail. Don't suppose you know a quick way across the lake?"

"I might."

It turned out that Bard had been assigned a retrieval quest to pick up the very barrels they'd ridden down the river, and once they helped him wrestle the barrels onto the barge he was using, he was happy to sail them across.

Ioreth did what she could for Kíli along the way, carefully cutting open his leg and pulling out the remains of the arrow. Then she let the wound bleed as much as possible in an attempt to drain as much of the poison as possible, doing a slow healing spell on the other side of his body to replenish the blood he was losing in the process. He said it did make him feel better than before - but it also made him sick to his stomach. She did what she could for that, too.

All the while, they listened to Bard explain in brief what he knew about what was happening in Laketown. "It's a hot mess is what it is," the other Ranger grumbled, "Esgaroth is ruled by a man known only as the Master of Laketown, the latest in a long line of incompetents more interested in fleecing the people than building the town. He and his Deputy, Alfrid Lickspittle, aren't happy about all these people coming in, but they can't really stop them so they charge a hefty fee for papers to enter and leave. Legally, at least. If you sneak in or have fake ones, it's double if you're caught, or jail time. The rogues are making a mint with forgery."

"How much for legit stuff?"

"Five thousand gold. Per person."

All of them choked at that. Not one of them had that kind of money, especially the dwarves, who'd spent all their coin on provisions for the journey or lost it when they were searched by the goblins.

"I'm doing fetch and carry quests," Bard continued, "Tryin' to bring the cost down, but these rat bastards aren't satisfied with anything. They remind me a lot of Torrad. Remember him?"

"Gods yes, and I wish I didn't."

Major Torrad had been, in a word, a monster. Nothing had ever been overt enough to catch the attention of the officers above him, but no women had ever wanted to serve under him because he enjoyed leering at them and touching them inappropriately, among other things (like drugging their meals and assaulting them while they were unconscious), and the men hated him, too, because he was an equal-opportunity lecher. He also refused to acknowledge their accomplishments, publicly berated them for the slightest mistake, and was more likely to slam them back down to Private no matter what their current rank was than give them even the tiniest hint of a promotion. He'd also been extremely bad at commanding troops, refusing to communicate orders from on high and then complaining when the men weren't doing what they were supposed to, and ignoring the quartermasters' restock requests to the point where the entire requisitions team learned to forge his signature on their forms just so they didn't all starve to death out in the field.

He'd been gunned down during a rebel attack one day about four years ago, and only two people knew that their own side had killed him - Talion, who'd done the spotting, and Bard, who'd done the shooting.

"Do they… need a hand... too?" Talion asked.

"...We'll see," the other man said finally, "But I can get you in - or at least Sigrid can. She's playing a rogue, and she's seen the legit paperwork enough times to do really good forgeries. She's a lot like her mother, though - got a soft heart, charges almost nothing for it."

"Your kids are here too?"

"Yep, even Tilda. She's an elf druid, 'cause she 'wanted to play with the animals', and Bain's a wizard, too." He nodded in Baranor's direction, who grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

They ended up having to sneak into the town in the very barrels they'd come downriver in, but Bard got them all through the gate, and then through the tangled boardwalk of platforms and shanties to the hostel where he and his family had set up shop. Fortunately the hostel was shaped like a square with a courtyard at the center, and already home to a number of other "illegal" entrants, so no one went running to the Master and his Deputy when a mix of dwarves and adventurers climbed out of the "well" opening in the center of the courtyard.

Erebor loomed skyward in the north, and Talion felt a sense of foreboding fall on his heart, remembering Ioreth's words about Dragon Sickness. Even if they could kill Smaug, would they be able to hold the mountain and keep people out until the curse on the hoard expired? Baranor, Ioreth, and Dirhael were all reasonably high levels - Ioreth was actually on the leaderboard for her class, at least right now - but Talion sorely doubted their powers would be enough to cast Remove Curse on even a small part of the treasure, if by chance they did somehow find the spell somewhere in this dump.

Sigrid had their papers ready in a few hours, and the only reason that Talion knew they were fake (aside from being told) was that he scored a high enough perception check to detect the subtle differences between the forgeries and the real thing (even though he hadn't yet seen the real thing). "You'll need to stay out of sight for now," the rogue said, neatening the stacks of her other papers, "I'll make the changes to the Master's ledger tonight, after he's asleep, and after that you'll be free to roam. ...What is it?"

"Our quest is on a time limit, though not an actual timer," Talion said with a grimace, "We need passage across the lake to Erebor as soon as possible. Today would be ideal; we lost too much time in Mirkwood."

Sigrid grimaced too. "No can do," she said regretfully, "There are no ships sailing to Dale and Erebor, not anymore, which means you need to either buy or build one, which you can't do without paperwork that at least looks legitimate-"

"-which it won't be until you change the Master's ledgers. Probably can't even buy horses to go overland," the man finished, and groaned softly when Sigrid nodded, rubbing a hand over his face.

The dwarves weren't pleased either. "We're stuck here?!" Dwalin growled, barely remembering to keep his voice down, "We're losing a whole day?! We can't afford it - Durin's Day is nearly upon us!"

"Unless you're planning on marching up to the Master's house, beating down his door, and demanding he give us what we need, we're S-O-L."

So of course that was exactly what the dwarves did. The moment the adventurers' backs were turned, the whole company slipped out and nearly stormed the fine house where the Master lived at the center of town. It did end up working in their favor, because Thorin had some skill at oratory and managed to appeal to the memories of the townsfolk - and also to the greed of the Master.

I remember this town and the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake. This was the center of all trade in the North! I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor. If we succeed, all will share in the treasure of the mountain!

And so with the blessing of Laketown, they were sent on their way - some of them, anyway. Thanks to Ioreth's efforts, the poison had slowed its progress through Kili, but it hadn't been stopped. He was starting to flag. "If you are careful, Dirhael's abilities will be enough. I will stay here, and do what I can for Kili," she told Talion, then glanced around and stepped closer. "If nothing else, I may be able to ease his passing."

"Nothing good comes from splitting the party, love," the Ranger said, equally soft.

She gave him a grim smile. "Tell that to Thorin."

Fíli decided to stay behind as well, saying that he belonged with his brother, and together with Óin and Bofur, he managed to help Kíli back to the hostel.

The remainder of the company moved on, sailing across the lake together with the remaining adventurers. It was on that leg of the journey that the dwarves finally told them what they sought above all the wealth within the mountain - the Arkenstone, the King's Jewel. With it, Thorin could unite the seven dwarf tribes, muster all their might and resources, and lead them against Smaug to retake Erebor.

"But that means getting the Arkenstone first," said Balin, "which is where I imagine you will come in, Master Baggins. You are the quietest and sneakiest of the party, your friend notwithstanding." He gestured to Talion. "Once the passage is open, most likely it will fall to you to slip in and find the jewel, and bring it up out of the mountain."

"Smaug will know it is gone the moment he wakes, if he wakes, so we must move in all haste," said Thorin, beginning to look more than a little manic as he stared ahead at Erebor, looming ever larger on the lake's northern shore, "There are places in the mountain we can make safe, even against him - it's just a matter of reaching them, once the Arkenstone is in hand and our message sent."

Talion exchanged a tight look with Bilbo. "Just go with it for now," the Ranger said quietly to the hobbit, "but if there are any libraries within, search for those first. There have to have been dwarven artisans who used magic if they truly made this Arkenstone as a symbol for the king to unite all the dwarves. Maybe there's a Remove Curse in there somewhere. - And don't take anything from the hoard except the Arkenstone. Try to avoid touching the treasure with bare skin, if you can. I don't know how Dragon Sickness will take hold, but we should cover all our bases."

Bilbo nodded subtly and looked toward the mountain with the same grim expression as Talion.

Dale was a massive ruin - in some places more wreckage than city - a few miles beyond the mouth of the mountain. Even now, a hundred and seventy years on, the streets still stank of ash and burning, and the party hurried on through it as fast as they could. Gandalf had told them to wait at the Overlook, but there was no time. Durin's Day dawned when they reached the foot of the mountain, and they had to continue on without him.

Bilbo and Talion both succeeded on a perception check to find a narrow, mostly overgrown track leading around to the side of the mountain. A massive statue of a dwarf and a set of zig-zagging stairs had been cut straight into the rock there, leading up to an alcove in a fold in the mountain.

"This must be it. The hidden door." Thorin looked over the back wall of the ledge, then turned to the others and held up the key with a wide grin. "Let all those who doubted us - rue this day!"

The other dwarves cheered as well, though their voices were slightly subdued just in case the sound carried too far. Then as many of them as could fit stepped up to the wall themselves. "Right," said Dwalin, "We have our key. Which means that somewhere, there is a keyhole."

"The last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole," Thorin murmured, looking towards the west. The sun was setting over the Misty Mountains, turning the grey stone of Erebor to gold.

There wasn't enough room for the adventurers to get in and help, not even Bilbo. Some of the dwarves, too - Balin and Bombur, among others - could only wait as their companions worked, all growing more tense and frantic as the sunlight began to fade. Finally after the others started swinging - and breaking - their weapons on the wall in desperation, Balin could bear it no longer and stood up. "It's no good! The door's sealed; it can't be opened by force. Powerful magic on it."

Even as he spoke, the sun disappeared behind the Misty Mountains. "No!" cried Thorin, as grief-stricken as all the others, "The last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole. That's what it says. What did we miss? What did we miss, Balin?"

"We've lost the light," the other dwarf said sadly, "There's no more to be done. We had but one chance."

"...or have we," Bilbo murmured, "Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks…"

Talion followed the hobbit's gaze just in time to see a thrush scoop up a snail in its beak and start hitting it on a boulder on the ledge. The sound was very like the knocking the words had spoken of.

"...and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole," the hobbit finished, turning his gaze skyward, "Not all light comes from the sun."

They all looked up at that, and as if by magic, the clouds parted to let the light of the moon, Isil, lance down in a single silver beam to touch the wall where the door was concealed - revealing the keyhole in a divot in the stone.

Thorin walked slowly forward, one shaking step at a time, put the key into the hole, and turned it. Muted clicks and clanks came from the wall. When it had gone as far as possible, the dwarf prince took a deep breath - and pushed.

Where once there had been flat rock, seams appeared with poofs of dust, and the door swung open, hitting the inner wall behind with a soft thud.

Quest Complete! Erebor: You have reached the Lonely Mountain, and found and opened the Hidden Door. Reward: 200000 XP, +1000 reputation with all dwarven factions.

There were soft ding!s as the adventurers leveled up, but even that couldn't disturb the quiet air of reverence that hung heavy around the party as the dwarf prince stood on the threshold. "Erebor…" he whispered.

"Thorin-," Balin began, but fell silent again when his throat closed up, tears starting to fall.

The dwarf prince patted his shoulder, then took the first steps inside. "I know these halls… these walls, this stone. You remember it, Balin? Chambers filled with golden light."

"I remember," the other dwarf whispered, following him in.

The rest of the company - and the adventurers with them - filed in behind them, barely making a sound. Above the door there was an inscription, and Gloin read it aloud in a breathless whisper. "'Herein lies the seventh kingdom of Durin's Folk. May the Heart of the Mountain unite all dwarves in defense of this home.'"

"The throne of the king," Balin murmured, "and above it is the Arkenstone."

Then everyone looked to Bilbo, who swallowed but still said, "All right. Let's go."

Bilbo refused to go down to the hoard to search for the Arkenstone - at least alone, and insisted that Talion come with him, as the only other member of the party who could use Pass Without Trace and the one who had the Flametouched Pendant. Balin went with them part of the way, describing the Arkenstone as best he could before finally sighing and saying, "The Arkenstone defies true description. It is a large white jewel - a singular jewel, and you will know it when you see it. There is only one."

"All right," Bilbo said with a nod, glancing over to where Talion was listening as well, bow in hand and arrows at the ready. They didn't know if it would do any good at all against the dragon, but it was better than nothing - especially if the Ranger managed to shoot Smaug in the eye. Talion nodded to signal he was ready, and Bilbo inclined his head in return, turning to follow the Ranger out into the main hall.

"Oh, and…" Balin began, making them both look back for a moment, "If there is, in fact, a live dragon down there... don't waken it."

"No pressure," Talion muttered as the dwarf turned back down the tunnel, and Bilbo made a noise of assent.

Then they walked into the main hall - and stopped. And stared.

"Shee-it," the Ranger whispered.

A sea of gold spread out before them in the dim light coming from… somewhere. There were hundreds of thousands - maybe even millions of gold coins, with literal tons of gold bullion and other assorted artifacts; platters and bowls and cups, weapons and shields, statues of solid gold, boxes of precious woods inlaid with metal and ivory and jewels, gemstones of all rarities and sizes - including some which would never be found naturally-occuring in the real world.

Bilbo and Talion slowly turned to look at one another. "Shee-it indeed," the nobleman murmured in reply.

They had rigged up cloth boots and mittens for the hobbit to avoid direct contact with the cursed treasure, and he put them on now, then began climbing over the treasure with the utmost care, looking for the Arkenstone - but also anything that stood out as a spellbook. Sometimes their covers were plated in gold and inlaid with precious gems, so they might have been added to the hoard; there was no way to know unless they searched.

And they did search. And search. And search. The treasure seemed endless, great priceless dunes rolling off in all directions on the lowest floor of the main hall.

Talion dug in his pockets, then passed Bilbo a note. We've been down here almost four hours. Seen anything?

The hobbit shook his head. Not the Arkenstone, but that looks like a bookcase of spellbooks over there. Might be worth investigating.

He pointed, and Talion squinted to see what he was pointing at. There was indeed a gold-plated bookcase lying on its back on top of a gold dune, a few books scattered around it, but it was some distance away. Still, the Ranger nodded and carefully picked his way along after the hobbit.

The books were in good condition despite being abandoned for so long - likely because they were spellbooks; magic had saturated them over their use and still lingered, holding off the rot of age.

Talion flipped through a few, then passed Bilbo another note. I think we hit the jackpot with this; some of them are really good. Some of them are in Khuzdul, though, so we'll need someone to translate. We should take them back to the others, then continue the search.

Bilbo nodded in agreement, and they did exactly that. Once he learned what they had, Baranor started going through the spellbooks (carefully, without touching them directly), and though Thorin was less than pleased they'd put the search for the Arkenstone on hold, once he understood why, he just grunted in their direction and resumed pacing with a somewhat manic air. Balin sat down next to the stack of dwarven-language books and started translating in a whisper for Dirhael and Idril, who copied it all down as fast as they could on spare pages the wizard gave them.

Talion and Bilbo returned to the hoard and resumed their search for the Arkenstone, this time striking out in another direction. They climbed more hills of gold - until Bilbo finally summitted one ahead of the Ranger, stopped, then turned back and waved frantically. Talion climbed up after him as quick as he could, then looked in the direction the other pointed.

There was a soft white glow coming from a valley between two hills of gold. The source of the light wasn't immediately visible - but the great snout and massive wing of a dragon protruded from the waves of gold around the light, scales glimmering a matte red.

Fuck, Talion thought, and nocked an arrow again, then nodded to the hobbit.

Bilbo led the way again, moving slower than ever before. It seemed like it took them another four hours to cross the last few hundred meters, but the caution was worth it in their minds when they saw the dragon up close. The smallest of Smaug's scales was still larger than Talion's spread hand, and the wicked claws that tipped the fingers of his wing-hand were almost as long as a man was tall.

The Arkenstone lay in the valley between the treasure hills, almost on top of the dragon's wing, glowing with a benign white light, though the jewel itself seemed as if it had a stellar nebula caught within.

Talion went to one knee atop the hill of treasure and signaled for Bilbo to grab it. The hobbit descended even more carefully and approached the Arkenstone - and the dragon - with the utmost care, taking one slow step at a time. Then he carefully reached down, scooped up the stone in his mitts, taking nothing else with it, before turning and starting to leave.

Smaug moved and stretched, and both rogue and Ranger froze, hearts in their throats. But when the dragon resettled and showed no sign of moving again, they resumed their careful flight to the secret tunnel.

When they arrived with the Arkenstone, every single dwarf - even Thorin - went to their knees, gazing on the stone with undisguised awe. Even the other adventurers looked amazed at the sight of it.

Then Thorin rose and approached, and Bilbo tipped the Arkenstone into his hands. The dwarf prince shuddered, and for a moment they feared the worst - but no. Fresh tears of pain at last released and grief resurfaced trickled down his smiling face as he cradled the Arkenstone like a child in his hands. "At last," he whispered, "Now, we shall have our home again. Balin?"

The old dwarf was already hobbling down the tunnel with one of the mountain's ravens on his arm, a message on a scrap of parchment in his hand with a leather thong to tie it on.

"Now what?" Talion asked.

"Now we wait," the prince answered, "Dáin is my cousin in the Iron Hills not far from here; he, at least, will come and see that we have reclaimed the Arkenstone. Once he has confirmed it, we will send messengers out, rally all the dwarven tribes to the mountain - and any other adventurers who will come."

"And then?"

Thorin looked up, and now Talion saw the renewed fire in his eyes. "Then we wake the dragon - and kill it."