Fíli used to cherish the serene solitude of the dawn, it had been a time to feel at one with the rhythms and vibrations of the earth, to soak in the peace that seemed to radiate across the land while its evils slumbered out of sight. But for the past few dawns his head had been too full of fear and worry to find comfort in the early morning sounds. That was, until he spent the dawn with her. They had seldom spoke although at one point as the sun began to creep over the hills she had broken the silence to wonder aloud why a Dwarf, who preferred to dwell beneath the mountains, found such peace in the light of a sunrise. Fíli had replied that there was more to the dawn than the rising sun and when she hadn't responded he looked over to see that her eyes were closed and a soft crinkle had formed between her eyebrows as she listened attentively for the softly sonorous melodies that used soothed his soul. He had closed his eyes to and slowly, through the rhythmic sound of their mingled breathing he found his way back to the earth, allowing his mind to not only acknowledge his torments but also to know them intimately for only then might they be vanquished.
In his heart he knew that once he had been woken, Smaug would have put up a fight which meant that he had either been successfully driven from the mountain or, that the dragon had exacted all possible suffering upon their kin before setting off to slaughter their human enablers in Laketown. Although the desperate need to know the fate of their kin wove knots within Fíli's stomach, there was a selfish part of him that wanted to stay with the people of Laketown, to remain ignorant to whatever future waited for them in the halls of Erebor.
However there was another lurking terror that preyed upon any hope he held for the survival of the rest of the company. Fíli desperately wanted to believe that when Thorin had told a wounded Kíli to remain behind in Laketown that it had come from a place a concern for his nephew's safety, but there had been a distance in his Uncle's eyes, a malevolently lurking fixation upon the mountain. Fíli watched helplessly as devastation overwhelmed his younger brother's pallid face and he saw the fight leave Kíli's body as he slumped, utterly defeated upon the docks as the rest of the company prepared to depart. Fíli had tried to appeal to Thorin's loyalty and when that didn't work he shamelessly begged him to reconsider because no matter what it took they were supposed to reclaim their home together, as a family. But Thorin wouldn't be swayed and as far as Fíli was concerned that sealed his fate; he knew where he belonged and he couldn't leave his brother behind no matter the cost. But Thorin couldn't have known the effect his words would have on Kíli, he couldn't have guessed that his rejection would crumble Kíli's resistance to the blade's poison.
Fíli had shuddered at the memory of watching his brother begin to slip away beyond his reach and so he vowed to never voice his fears; he would endure their trapped torment for an eternity if it meant the light would never again leave his brother's eyes.
Later, when the sun had finished its dawning Fíli and the remainder of the company set off for Erebor, Óin having determined that Kíli was fit to travel and Kíli himself stubbornly refusing to wait a moment longer to make the journey.
They had dragged a boat from the rocky shore and it bobbed ready in the water. Fíli stepped one foot in, pausing for the smallest moment before his other foot left the rocky shore, reluctant to relinquish its solid stability. The sensation reminded him of Sigrid's warm grip on his hand earlier that morning; an anchor as the long smothered fears had ravaged his soul with their uncertainty. He turned back to the shore and found himself searching for her grey eyes, selfishly craving the determination he had seen in her tired parting smile as she squeezed his hand one last time before running towards the figure of Bard in the distance.
But Sigrid wasn't there and so Fíli squeezed his own hands as he stepped into the boat and they began to row towards the Mountain and whatever lay ahead.
As they rowed Fíli channelled his considerable strength into ensuring that minimal strain would be placed on Kíli's still healing muscles. His focus so intense that he did not notice the passing of time, his mind's eye so fixated that he did not notice the fragmented debris of Laketown floating by until Bofur held up his hand signalling a stop as he peered down at something in the water at the boat's bow. Fíli lent around Bofur's pointed hat to get a good look but when he saw what it was he wished he hadn't.
A man's body floated in-front of the boat, slumped over the remains of a wooden dock and blocking their passage. The dwarves didn't say anything but all paused and lowered their oars, Bofur removing his hat and placing it across his own chest as a sign of respect. It was a mark of how their time in Laketown had changed them that they could not simply move on past the man.
"What do you think we ought to do with him lads?" Bofur asked quietly. "Should we leave him here?"
Fíli shook his head emphatically. "If we leave him like this the birds will have at him."
"We could give him a hand to find his way back to his people." Óin suggested, having gathered the gist of the discussion from their sombre consideration of the man.
"We can't let him wash up on the shore like that; surely his kin have suffered more than enough from his loss." Fíli said softly, remembering the anguish in Sigrid's grey eyes as she silently grieved for her people.
"We could just let him go to the lake, if we just roll him off the planks?" Bofur suggested half-heartedly.
Kíli, who felt things too deeply and compassionately for a dwarf groaned in dissent, his anguished eyes never leaving the man's own glassy ones.
Fíli couldn't stand to leave the man so exposed, even in death, so he shrugged off the coat given to him by Bard's family and, gingerly stepping around Bofur and Óin he covered the man as best he could. Looking about in the water Fíli gathering a floating stick and attached the scrap of material that Kíli tore from his undershirt before placing the crude flag upright, marking the man's resting place so that he might be found and brought home to his people. They gently pushed him towards the now distant shore from which they had come and then continued stoically on their own homeward journey.
It wasn't long before the silent group stood before the fabled entrance of Erebor, every bit as magnificent and imposing as the legends and tales Fíli had grown up with. However there was no sign of life within and Fíli squeezed his own hands once more before stepping determinedly forward, with Kíli at his side, into the mountain.
When they released each other from their tight embrace Sigrid had appraised her Da's drawn and haggard face before steering him directly towards the food station. She waved off his feeble protests with the patient air of one well practiced in managing a stubborn child and guided Bard to a spot besides a freshly lit fire, placing a meagre but warm bowl of oatmeal in his cold wind-worn hands.
A small smile turned up the corners of Bard's grim mouth as he regarded the bowl and then into the face of his eldest daughter; Sigrid, always tending to others before herself. How strange it is that he had never felt more at home than he did right now.
Bard watched Sigrid with a mixture of pride and sadness; spirit more woman than girl as she continued to move in a whirlwind around him, seeing to it that those in charge of cooking for the survivors found time to eat for themselves.
Bard gently pulled Sigrid down next to him, insisting in the same patient and practiced manner that she had used on him earlier that she should eat something herself. With concern he noted the redness of her eyes "Sigrid, have you been crying?" He asked her gently as she began to eat.
"Wha- no Da, it's just the smoke and ash. I'm fine." She brushed his concerns off airily but they both knew it was a lie. But Bard also knew that his beautifully stubborn daughter would let her pain show only when she was alone, an inherited trait and a lonely path for one so young and he lamented that if her were a better father he could have kept her from such pain.
Sigrid had always been able to read her Da and she watched him carefully as thoughts chased each other across his face. She had decided not to tell Bard about the incident with Alfred, he didn't need another worry and she wanted to forget about it.
"Is there any way I can help you Da?" she asked.
Bard withdrew from deep reverie and shook his head with a sigh. "Not unless you know where we can find resources to build permanent shelter."
Sigrid considered for a moment. "I take it that is nothing salvageable from home."
Bard shook his head sadly. "Dragon fire has no mercy. But if, by some miracle, the dwarves survived the dragon fire we do have claim to some of that gold." He but his lip doubtfully.
"But some of their company survived. Remember, they stayed and then helped Bain, Tilda, and I to escape. And," she realized, her tone cautiously hopeful. "Fíli, and I suppose his brother Kíli, is a Princes of Erebor, surely they'll be able to help."
Bard seemed to consider her words but a small frown pulled at his mouth and Sigrid could see that he doubted the dwarves and their intentions with the gold.
"They care more than we give them credit for." she said softly remembering Fíli's words and the comfort he had brought her.
They both fell back into silence, Sigrid chewed thoughtfully as she thought about the mountain, about the tales her Da had told her of the treasures that the dwarves had found buried there, about the day Smaug had come, the burning of Dale... She nearly chocked as she tried to swallow her mouthful in her haste to speak, an idea forming in her mind.
"We might find shelter in Dale." She suggested when she had swallowed. "Think about it Da, we could find shelter and seek our share of the gold from the Dwarves at the same time."
Bard raised an eyebrow, chewing his own mouthful much slower than Sigrid had. He hadn't thought about Dale, nobody ever did unless it was to warn children about the dangers of dragons and gold. Dale was a dead city, but then again, they were a half-dead people without a city.
"That is a very valid idea Sigrid. We are not so many and surely even if there is limited roofed there will be enough rubble there to construct something decent enough for the winter." He smiled widely for the first time since the fires. "My daughter a political protégé." He said proudly, giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze and thinking quietly to himself that maybe leading their people might be manageable with his family by his side.
Soon Sigrid returned to the healing tent and set to work again. Although it seemed as if most of their patients were past the worst of their suffering, there was still much pain to be had and endurance was scarce in such a place. Sigrid followed the head healer's directions and when a few more young girls entered the tent to volunteer their services Sigrid was the one to teach them how to best tend to burns and for the first time she felt proud a glimmer of pride as they worked; as if they were beginning to constructing a future.
By mid-morning Sigrid was utterly exhausted. Her eyesight was beginning to blur and her movements were lethargic, at least they were until she saw him. He was lying on one of the furthest stretchers and was accompanied by a solemn looking man who surveyed his every twitch like a bird of prey. She hadn't realize who he was until she had gone to turn him to check his wounds and he had flinched. She wouldn't have been concerned if the man had flinched at her touch but Alfred cowered as soon as he saw her face and Sigrid froze, suddenly alert and very much awake.
Somewhere in the soft morning light by the lake she had felt her guilt ebb away, not entirely but enough that Fíli's words sunk in; she had had every right to retaliate in her own defence and Alfred had brought his suffering upon himself.
She closed her eyes for a moment and squeezed her hands as she whispered his words like prayer; 'you are brave', before opening her them again and moving with determination to inspect Alfred's injuries. She knew what colours to watch for and although there was nothing medically alarming about the bruises, it was distressing to think that she had been the one to do such damage. Alfred didn't move while she worked, avoiding her eye and flinching whenever her hand came anywhere close to his face.
"Why did you do it?" She asked in an undertone so his guard wouldn't hear.
He didn't meet her eyes and his response was muttered, his voice sounding hollow as he spoke. "The Master was dead, I 'ad nothin; nobody cared if I was alive. I 'oped people might want me if I could give em what they needed."
Sigrid nodded slowly, putting his shirt back to rights. She looked down at the ruins of a man before her with pity and made her choice. She turned to his guard and politely asked him to find out where Alfred was to be imprisoned so that they could use the space and when he had left she hurriedly turned back to Alfred.
"I will give you one more chance Alfred, go far from here and make a new life, I don't care what it is you do but if you ever come back I won't save you from what others might do."
He nodded emphatically and, looking around to make sure nobody was watching Sigrid tugged free the tent flap and as covertly as she could, she rolled a shocked Alfred out of the tent and onto the cold ground outside, never to be seen by the survivors of Laketown again.
Dusting off her hands and suddenly overcome with the weariness she had put off for so long Sigrid stumbled from the healing tent with a mumbled apology to the head healer who waved her off with words Sigrid didn't quite catch. If they hadn't known her better others might have thought that she had found a casket of wine for the way she tripped over her own feet.
She wanted to find Fíli, to thank him for keeping her company and a small, vaguely delirious part of her wanted to tell him off for not convincing her to sleep. But when she reaches the space where their tent had been she found the ground empty, now seriously considering the possibility that she was completely delirious she looked around confused.
"They left this morning." Sigrid turned to see Tilda gazing mournful across the lake. "They took one of the boats and headed towards the Lonely Mountain before I could say goodbye, they didn't even tell anyone they were going." Tilda's lip quivered.
Sigrid pulled her into her arms as they gazed over the lake together. She knew they had to leave, their home was waiting for them to return, but still she felt a deep pang of regret that she hadn't been able to thank them for protecting them from the Orcs and the dragon fire. She especially wanted to thank the Fíli, the Lion-haired dwarf with the deep blue eyes and the soul weighed by many of the same troubles as her own.
She sighed and Tilda looked up at her, the younger girl's forehead creasing slightly as she appraised her sister. "You need to go to bed Sigrid." She said matter-of-factly.
Sigrid raised her eyebrow. "I thought that I was the older sister here?"
"Yes you are," Tilda's wide eyes glinted mischievously "and those bags under your eyes make you look about 50 years older."
Sigrid grabbed the young girl around the waste and ruffled her hair, Tilda's peels if laughter echoing around the survivors camp. And although they didn't say anything, the survivors took it as a sign, a sign that their future might not be so bleak after all.
Thank you guys so much for your support! I really didn't need much convincing to keep on writing so now I have plotted out the rest of the story and it should come to about 11 chapters. I will be using the plot of the movie/book as a very basic skeleton for my own plot because here in Denialville the BOFA didn't leave us traumatised and broken-hearted.
Keep on letting me know what you think, I love all questions, suggestions, and comments.