Hey guys! So in honor of Halloween, I've decided to write a semi-scary chapter with Lydia and Erebor's fall. Oh, btw, after much thought and many, many long hours of deep contemplation, I have decided, that in this story, Bofur will also be female. (good thing our beloved miner and toymaker didn't make an appearance before this or this note here would have thrown several of you through a loop.) Enjoy!

Rated-T

Warnings

Abuse/torture

Some OOC-ness maybe

I might not get all of their talking entirely accurate so please bear with me

Things you need to know

Lydia speaking in Khuzdul

Disclaimer-I don't own the Hobbit or How To Train Your Dragon.

Here We Stand United

Chapter 5

It was warm, opressingly hot. She coughed as she blearily opened her eyes, dragged forcefully from her dreams of her Mam's home. A wave of heat simmered in her room, distorting the images around her like some fake image. For an instant, she was afraid she was trapped in a nightmare, because all of her toys, beautifully carved by her 'Adad's friends, looked as though they were melting, and the grins on her friendly dolls suddenly looked evil. Then, she realized she was very much awake because she could hear screaming and...roaring...in the distance.

Gasping, choking for air, she scrambled out of her big, fluffy bed, stumbling towards the door even though she knew she wasn't supposed to be up and about. She was very scared, but also curious about what was going on, and it was that curiosity that prompted the sickly five-year old to rise from her bed and out the door. The halls were abandoned, and this confused her young mind. Servants were always near if she or her brother would need anything. Wait. Frodo!

She stumbled down the hidden short-cut to her brother's room and threw open the ornate door, crying in distress when she saw that her brother was gone, and the noises were growing louder. Greatly distressed now, she started to run, heading for her 'adad's office in search of him, because she needed her 'adad right now! 'Adad was safe and she most definitely didn't feel safe now.

However, she over-estimated the maze-like quality of her home because she quickly became lost, heading somehow deeper into her mountain than she'd ever been before, and people were starting to appear, running around frantically, taking no notice of her as she cried out for attention. No luck or attention came, and she was knocked off her feet, her small knees scraping along the rock ground. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she began to cry, snot running from her nose as she hiccupped and wailed and coughed.

Suddenly she was scooped off her feet and cradled close to someone's chest. She buried her face in said chest and listened to the steady heartbeat, slowly calming down with the constant, unhurried rhythm, all the running and screaming fading away before she finally looked up, expecting to see her Mam. Instead, she saw a young, dark-haired woman who looked like maybe she was a little younger than Mister Dwalin. She had a gentle smile on her face, despite the fact that she was covered in grime, and a funny hat perched atop her dark locks. She was instantly fascinated by that hat, and the woman's braids. They swooped up! That wasn't supposed to happen...

"Where's your 'Amad little one?" the elder female cooed, bouncing the five-year-old on her hip like she might for a small babe, and tears gathered in her eyes once again.

"Don't know! Can't find Mam or 'Adad or Frodo or Fili or Kili or Aunt Dis or Uncle Frerin or Mister Dwalin!" she screamed loudly, startling the woman holding her. The girl was very loud and had a nice set of lungs on her despite her small stature and sickly state. Then she stiffened. Those were names associated with the royals. That meant she was holding the Princess of Erebor in her arms... was this really the little girl she'd been ordered to make so many toys for?

"Well. Let's go find them, little one. Tell me your name," the woman said as she walked, holding the little one closely as she slowly calmed herself. She tried not to rush the princess, or let on that there was anything going on around them. She only hoped they could make it to the exit without too much trouble.

"Lydia, daughter of Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son or Thror of the line of Durin, Princess Under the Mountain, at your service," the little girl said proudly. It had taken her forever to get it right after Balin had taught it to her, and her Mam had insisted that the "at your service" line be added in, not that Lydia minded. She liked helping people, and service meant help, right?

"Bofur, at yours," the woman replied, smiling calmly at the polite girl as she hurried to her own home, thankfully near the exit. It had been the only place they could afford after their cousin Bifur had taken that axe to the head in a training accident with the guards. She could only hope her brother and Bifur were both alive and well, and had managed to escape with at least minimal harm to their persons.

However, the smooth sailing they'd had for a good ten minutes was quickly lost to them, as the ground began to rumble again, like giant footsteps coming towards them. It confused and scared Lydia, causing her to cry out, but Bofur quickly hushed her as they ducked down into a small, side passage. Bofur clutched the child close to her as the steps passed by, the tunnels becoming hotter as the beast breathed its fire upon any unfortunate guards. The footsteps came to a halt suddenly, and Bofur chanced looking up, freezing as she stared into a large amber eye. The beast stared at her for a moment, and smoke curled from its nostrils, before it moved on. Bofur breathed a sigh of relief and waited until she was sure the dragon was gone before she ran back the way it had come from, still cradling Lydia close, even as the child sniffled and sneezed.

Lydia just hoped she didn't give nice Miss Bofur her cold.

Finally, her curiosity once again won over her instincts, and Lydia glanced up from Miss Bofur's shoulder, peering around, but didn't see much except black walls and smell this funny icky scent and people lying on the ground sleeping. Then, she started to make connections. The black stuff on the walls was hot marks, and the people on the ground...weren't sleeping. They had red life on them, the red life that came from her cuts whenever she fell, except they weren't getting patched up.

Then she screamed, because Mahal please no, that was... "Uncle Frerin!"

"NO!" Lydia screamed as she jolted upright, her eyes still seeing her uncle's scorched and blackened skeleton. Frerin had been so much fun, and her favorite to be around. He would always play with her, give her toys or make up new games, but the best was always the wooden swords and the lessons that came with them. He was slight, like her, due to being so sickly as a child, but he'd proved time and again that you didn't need to be a muscular warrior like her 'adad or Dwalin. It was her Uncle Frerin who'd first shown her what it meant to be a Durin. The right to be a warrior, if she so chose. Unlike most other females of Erebor, she could choose. It was soon after that her Mam had somehow managed to get that particular tradition overturned, and then her freedom to choose wasn't so special because all other females could now choose, but it was the thought that counted.

She was brought out of her depressing musings as the Scauldron's neck curled around her, prodding at her with his snout, and she forced a week smile to her face. "I'm fine. Come on...you know, you need a name, don't you? How about..." she paused, thinking, and then genuinely smiled, "Frerin. Yes, you're Frerin. Come on, we've still got some Vikings to save and then Ereborians to find!"

*THIS IS A PAGE BREAK*

All she'd seen was red fire, just like when Erebor fell, and it brought back bad memories. She screamed, jerking away from where the flames had come from, and discovered she'd moved too far as she tipped off Frerin and fell towards the water below. Ah, and she was not a strong swimmer, either.

Claws sank into her back and she hissed at the burning pain, and then she was jolted from her speedy fall to a gentle descent. However, she was not reassured, and she shrieked for her dragon, "Frerin!" The Scauldron snarled and flew over, growling at the dragon with its claws sunk into her back. She was dropped to the ground of an island, and Frerin landed nearby, still snarling. A voice boomed in Norse,

"Call off your dragon!"

With a snarl of rage, Lydia snapped, "Stop!" and Frerin settled slightly, but did not subside all the way. He was still aggressive towards the red-headed, red-bearded Viking that landed, on the back of a Thunderdrum.

"Who are you, and where did you learn to ride a dragon?" the intimidating man demanded, and if she was any other girl, she would have shrunk in on herself, but she lived with Dwalin, her 'adad, and Bombur.It couldn't get any tougher or more intimidating than that. So she straightened to look the man in the eye, but something there...it was the same spark in Hiccup's eyes, so this must be Stoic the Vast.

She gave a swift bow and replied in short, choppy Norse, "Lydia, daughter of Thorin, the Son of Thrain, who was the Son of Thror, of the line Durin, Princess Under the Mountain, at your service. I hail from Erebor, in Middle Earth, before it fell to the Red Fire Drake Smaug. You are Stoic the Vast, yes? I met your son, Hiccup, when I was imprisoned by a group who called themselves the Outcasts. Your son sent me to tell you what I knew, and I wish to offer my skills as a warrior to help you fight the madman Alvin the Treacherous."

*whew* that was some great plot progression. There is also BACKGROUND for this version of the characters! Yes, since this is AU, that is MY theory on how Bifur got that axe imbedded in his forehead.

I hope you liked my creepy-ish chapter! Happy Halloween everybody!

Oh, and leave a review!