Author's Note: Spoilers ahead for anyone who hasn't seen The Desolation of Smaug; tread carefully.

That night, the company was treated to a grand feast; although hastily-prepared, it was the finest meal that they had enjoyed since Rivendell. In the past, they had been treated as simple guests or prisoners; now, many of the dwarves reveled in being treated as heroes, drinking in both the praise and the Master's finest wine with great gusto. Songs rang through the court-hall in honor of the soon-to-be dragon slayers, and the merriment was heavily infectious to everyone…

Everyone except Elsa, that is. She stood outside in the cold winter night, gazing at the moon and listening to the sounds of celebration inside. She had been inside for a good long while, eating the food offered to her and listening to the songs, but after some time she felt compelled to leave, asking to be excused and departing silently in the cacophony.

Why had she left the celebration? Her reasons were many; for one, she had adapted to years of isolation, and being with the dwarves hadn't changed that. Another reason was that it had been a long time since she had attended a party, and had not quite become accustomed to being with so many people at once. But one reason stood out to her the most; that being Bard's words concerning what had happened so many years ago. The archer had spoken with such sincerity and desperation, showing that he was truly concerned for the safety of his fellow men…she recognized something of herself in him.

She wandered away from the hall, her path leading her through the twists and turns of Laketown, all alone. She could hear the sounds of families inside their homes laughing, playing, and telling stories by the fire…such music was strange to her. She wondered, had she enjoyed that once?

Her thoughts turned back to Bard and what he had said earlier. Once or twice, she had thought of the beast inside the mountain, but now, being a day away, it had become all too real. Here they were, preparing to destroy the monster and reclaim Erebor…but what if they failed? What if they were to unleash something terrible?

She found her way to the edge of town, where the buildings and bridges gave way to the edge of the lake. Across the water, she could see the mountain; towering and imposing all at once…would she dare step foot in there? Did she even have the right to?

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a voice asked.

Elsa turned in surprise to see Bard standing a ways down the gangplank, looking in the same direction as he did. "I've looked up at that mountain all my life," he reminisced, "knowing what was in there, what it was capable of…never did I think that the day would come when someone would have the nerve to venture in there."

Elsa felt shame weighing down her soul. "Look, Bard," she said, "I'm sorry we deceived you, earlier. You have to understand, he's just trying to bring things back to the way they were."

He turned to her, asking, "Tell me, what got you involved with him? How does a woman of magic become wrapped up in a dwarf's quest for gold?"

"I…I wanted to do some good in the world," she said, "Maybe if I helped Thorin reclaim the mountain…"

"You'd be a hero?"

At first, she didn't know how to respond to this. But then the words came to her. "It's better than being a monster. Believe me, I know."

Bard sighed, and was silent for a moment. He then replied, saying, "You carry a heavy burden upon your shoulders. I can see that, and I know a similar feeling. And believe it or not, I know that Oakenshield carries a burden as well; the sin of the fathers. I know that he desires to shed it, and to do better than before."

"Then why do you believe that he can't?" she asked. "At least he's trying to, rather than cower away in the dark…" She stopped midsentence, realizing the hypocrisy of her words.

"If there wasn't a curse upon the gold of Erebor," Bard answered, "Then maybe I would believe otherwise."

"What curse?"

"It is said that a sickness, a dragon-sickness, if you will, lies upon that gold," Bard explained, "It drove King Thror mad with greed. Who's to say that Thorin wouldn't succumb to the same?"

"I know him," she said, "He's better than that."

"Maybe he is. But I don't know that. All I know is that I have three children that rely on me, that need my protection." He then started to walk away from her, but not before saying, "If that dragon is alive, and he does come, at least I'll be prepared for him." Before she could ask how, he was gone.

She remained standing there, lost in thought. The hypocrisy of her words came back to haunt her; yes, Thorin was trying to reclaim a kingdom and restore his people, but what had she done? At the first moment of exposure, she had run from her kingdom, leaving it to fate's control. But hadn't she done so out of Arendelle's best interest? She was a walking disaster, a storm fraught with destruction…

But she was still a Queen, and Arendelle was still her kingdom.

Just then, she heard a noise coming from the direction where Bard had gone, like a scuffle was going on. Concerned, she went to investigate, and the sounds of fighting grew more prominent. She could hear Bard groaning and growling; was he in trouble?

Picking up speed, she ran to help him—but upon turning a corner, something struck her in the head, knocking her backwards and sending her down into a dizzying blackness…

Consciousness slowly returned; a muddle of colors broke through the blackness, light shone in the darkness, and muffled sounds pierced through the silence. Slowly, the lights and colors arranged themselves into sensible forms and shapes; she found herself staring up at the ceiling, made up of wooden bars. Then the sounds became clearer; someone was groaning in great pain, and someone else was giving directions. Was she in some sort of hospice? It would make sense; the pain she felt on her forehead was numbed by icy cold, meaning someone had tended to her injury. Raising herself into upright position, the weight on her head fell into her lap, revealing itself to be a bag of ice. She looked around; she was apparently in a small house, with all sorts of things hanging from the ceiling and lining the walls. Peering around a corner, she could see three children, a boy with brown hair and two blonde girls, grabbing for pots and pans in the kitchen. Her eyes followed the younger of the two girls as she went around a large dinner table to the other side, where Fili, Bofur, Oin tended to a squirming, moaning person lying on a makeshift bed; who it was, she couldn't tell.

"Come on, hold him down!" Oin grumbled, "I can't work like this! Where's that hot water?"

"Can't we sedate him in some way?' Fili asked.

"We've already got one person knocked out," Bofur said, "I don't think we need two unconscious folks on our hands…" He turned around briefly, and then turned around again at the sight of Elsa.

"Elsa!" he exclaimed, "Hey everyone, look who's awake at last!"

"What's going on?" she asked as she got up off of the bed and onto her feet, pressing her hand to her forehead, "Where are we? Where's everyone else?"

"Well, Thorin and the others went up to the mountain this morning," Bofur explained, "Guess they wanted to get a head's start before the last light hit."

This morning? She had been unconscious for a night and a day? "They just went and left you—us-behind?" she asked. She thought of the remaining dwarves and Bilbo, all going to face a dragon alone…

"Well, not exactly. I missed the boat, yes, but Oin and Fili here are taking care of Kili. We found you all conked out in the open as we were on our way here; what happened to you, last night?"

"I…I was talking to Bard and…" she started to explain. She felt a desperate tug on her skirt, and looked down to see the younger of the two girls looking up at her with earnest.

"Do you know where Da is?" she asked.

"Da? Who is…" she started to ask, but it was then that Elsa knew who's house she was in. "I'm not sure," she said, "But I'm sure he's fine."

"It was the spies, wasn't it?" the boy asked, "They've been watching our house for days; they must have caught Da when he…"

Suddenly there was a loud cry from the table. Elsa rushed over to find Kili lying there, writhing in deep agony, his face deathly pale.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked.

"What does it look like?" Fili said, "He's sick!"

"A wound of his has gotten infected," Oin explained, "I need some herbs to treat the injury, but at this point the best thing for him would be kingsfoil."

"Kingsfoil? What is that?" she asked.

"That's a weed," the older of the two girls answered, "We feed it to the pigs."

At that response, Bofur gave a look of pure disbelief. He then headed for the door—but not before telling Kili, "Stay there. I'll be right back."

Before Elsa could ask where he had gone, Oin put her to work with the other girls in searching the pantries for different herbs and spices to put in a poultice. But as time passed, Kili's condition only seemed to worsen; how much longer could he last?

A deep rumble in the earth caused the house to shudder, shaking dust and sand from the shelves and ceiling, and hushing everyone into a terrified pause. The boy looked towards out the window. "It's coming from the mountain!" he whispered.

The mountain…She thought of the dwarves and Bilbo, especially Bilbo. Why was it that fate decided she should here and not with them, where they needed her the most? What about Bilbo? He had told her he was the burglar; did that mean they had sent him in there all by himself?

What if they were failing? What of the three children who had allowed them in their house?

She turned to the boy. "You, take your sisters," she told him, "and leave us. Get to somewhere safe."

"We can't," he protested, "Not without Da. Where are we to run, anyway?"

She didn't know the answer, but she shook her doubts away; maybe they were handling the dragon just fine, and she was being paranoid? Was there a need to fear? With these thoughts calming her, she turned back to helping Kili.

As time passed, however, there were yet more quakes, and whatever mental placebos she had fed herself were slowly starting to wear off. Please, she prayed, don't let them get hurt…

There was a bumping sound that came from the outside. The elder girl ran outside to the balcony. "Da?" she called out, "Is that you, Da?"

Inside, the group heard thumping sounds coming in from above, as if something—many somethings—were walking on the roof…

Something landed on the balcony outside, uttering a hideous howl and the elder sister ran inside screaming and slamming the door shut—but it was kept open by an orc blade. The owner forced his way in, leering in with a fearsome snarl. Elsa recognized the garb the orc wore; it was similar to the kind that the followers of Azog had worn…

Instinctively, Elsa cast a freezing cloud of frost at the orc's face, blinding him and sending him back out the doorway, but then another orc threw open the front door, only to be repelled by Oin throwing several dishes at it. Three more orcs crashed in through the ceiling, and engaged everyone in battle; the girls ducked under the table for safety, while the dwarves did their best to fend off the fiends with whatever they could use, even their bare hands. Elsa, meanwhile, became more and more overwhelmed; having to maneuver around furniture and dodge the swinging blades aimed to kill, she had very little opportunity to do more than throw ice bolts, and even that wasn't doing much to protect her from the frighteningly determined orc bearing down on her.

Suddenly, the table was flipped onto its side, hitting Elsa in the side and causing her to stumble. She heard and felt the wind of metal swinging over her head as she fell onto her knees. Looking up, she watched the orc raise his blade, ready to strike down—but was thwarted when a fire-haired elven woman jabbed her dagger into his throat, black blood flowing onto her hand. She withdrew the blade out in an instant and the orc fell to the ground, drowning in its own blood. In that instant, Elsa recognized her as the same red-haired woman she had seen speaking with Thranduil back in the Woodland Realm. The Elf then set upon the other two orcs with unparalleled ferocity, taking them by surprise.

Through one of the holes in the roof, Legolas dropped in and joined the fight. Elsa rejoined as well, taking courage with the unexpected reinforcements. Caught up in the heat of battle, she whirled around and casted frost at whatever orc was unfortunate to come in her way, adrenaline fueling her actions.

And then, almost as soon as it was started, it was over. Gathering herself, Elsa looked around at the damage; the bodies of dead orcs lay strewn across and draped over damaged furniture, some missing limbs and heads. The two elves looked silently over their work, while the children stared in awe at the damage from behind the overturned table. "You killed them all…" the boy said in wonder.

"There are others," Legolas declared, as he headed towards the exit. "Tauriel, come."

Elsa looked over at her to see the she-elf standing over a heaving Kili, who had wound up on the floor during the battle, with Fili and Oin at her side. She seemed unsure of her actions, torn between the dwarf at her feet, and her superior.

Legolas repeated her name again, and went out the door, but she stayed behind.

Elsa went to Kili's side. Looking up at Tauriel, she said, "Go, it's alright, we can take care of him."

"No," Tauriel replied, "You can't; he's been poisoned by a Morgul blade…death will take him soon." Elsa could see confusion and fear in those formerly fearless eyes—and was that longing as well?

"Is there nothing we can do?" she asked.

Just then, Bofur stumbled into the room, holding a small bundle of green plants tipped with white flowers in his hand. "Sorry I'm late," he said, "I got distracted by an orc along the way—what in the blazes happened here?"

Tauriel saw the plant in his hand, and her eyes became alight with hope. "Athelas!" she whispered, and snatched the plant out of the hapless dwarf's hand. She then looked at the children. "Quick," she instructed them, "Get me some hot water", and to the dwarves, "Get him onto the table."

They all did as they were told; upon receiving a bowl of hot water, Tauriel doused the kingsfoil in it and ground it into a paste in her hands.

"Will it help?" Elsa asked.

"Hopefully it will," Tauriel answered.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means we're running on a huge gamble; it may or may not work, but the only way for it to be truly effective is if it were applied by the hand of one with the pure blood of a king in their veins."

The pure blood of a king…those words couldn't have applied more so to Elsa than they did now. But she felt fear chill her heart; she knew she had already revealed this secret of hers to Bilbo, but was it worth exposing to the other dwarves? But then she saw Kili lying upon the table, writhing in terrible pain…

She turned to Tauriel. "Give that to me," she said.

"What can you do?" the elf asked incredulously.

"Just tell me what to do," Elsa said, "and trust me."

Reluctantly, Tauriel handed her the paste. "Rub it directly onto the wound," she instructed her. Telling the dwarves to hold their agonized brother down, she exposed the wound on Kili's knee; the flesh around the injury had become blackened, while the wound itself leaked blood and some sort of ooze. Following Tauriel's instructions, Elsa applied the paste generously, massaging it directly into the flesh. Kili shouted out in pain at the cold; it was almost enough to make her recoil backwards. The two girls joined the dwarves in holding Kili down.

"Don't stop," Tauriel commanded, moving behind her. "Now, repeat after me." The elf then chanted words in her mother tongue; Elsa did her best to follow along, stumbling across some of the words, but after several repetitions, she soon got the handle of it. She shut her eyes, and focused on the rhythm of the words, translating it into the motion of her hands upon Kili's leg. She felt hypnotized by the motion of the foreign words upon her tongue, and she felt a power flowing from within her; not a power as she was used to, but a different, noble kind that grew stronger with each repetition. She hardly noticed that Tauriel had ceased to speak the words into her ear; she was lost in the chant, lost in the magic of the moment…

…She felt herself being pulled away, her senses returning to her. She looked around, and saw that everyone had gone silent; even Kili had calmed down significantly, now lying somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. The color had begun to return to his face.

Tauriel gazed at him, and then looked at Elsa gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered, "Thank you."

Elsa backed away, allowing Tauriel to wrap bandages around Kili's leg, while Oin looked on admirably. She moved to another part of the house, taking in deep breaths and urging herself to relax. She sat there in her silence for a long time, thinking over all that had happened; it was almost too much for her.

"Scuse me," a voice said quietly. Elsa looked down to see the younger of the two sisters looking up at her again. "Are you a princess?" the little girl asked.

"I was once…" Elsa smiled, "But that was a long time ago." She then looked over at Tauriel watching over Kili, and was shocked, and somewhat touched, to see their hands touching gently; last time she checked, dwarves and elves didn't mix.

A soft fwoomph sound caused the air to shudder.

Alerted to the sound, Elsa looked out the window. In the dark of the night sky, she saw a winged shape in the air; a bird of some sort? No, birds didn't fly on such huge, bat-like wings…

Her heart suddenly began to pound faster, and frost began to spread on the windowpane where her hand was. No…it couldn't be.

A voice roared into the night and shook the air; a harsh, guttural voice somewhere between man and beast, that seethed with rage and the desire for vengeance, saying,

"Citizens of Lake Town, you have been found guilty of treason, and conspiring with thieves and assassins. Your punishment: death, by FIRE!"

And then the next couple of houses burst into flame.

Author's Note: I know that in the book they meant kings in the line of Numenor, Arnor, and Gondor; I have taken the liberty of generalizing it so that any one with pure royal blood could enhance the effectiveness of kingsfoil.