Bilbo frees Balin first. He will never forget the look of utmost surprise and gratitude on the old dwarf's face as he opened the door. They tiptoe through the dungeons, freeing the Company one by one and carefully locking the doors again. The dwarves make far too much noise for Bilbo's liking, but they are undisturbed as they wind their way deeper into the dungeons. Soon they are thirteen, only missing Thorin and Lys.
Bilbo unlocks and slowly pushes open the door of the next cell.
At first it seems empty. Then a figure is discernible in the gloom. Lys is huddled in the corner, head on her knees. At the sound of the door opening, she raises her head and her pale green eyes glint in the darkness, reflecting the light of the torches in the passageway. Dank locks fall over her forehead.
"Bilbo," she rasps, barely audible, struggling to her feet and staggering towards him. "Bilbo."
She stumbles out into the hallway and draws a shuddering breath. The dwarves observe her with concern. None of them look any less than awful after starvation, spider venom and imprisonment, but Lys looks like a wraith. Dark circles under her eyes stand out against the deathly pallor of her face, her cheeks are hollow, her now frail form is hunched over and trembling. Bilbo notices that she has strips of cloth bound around her knuckles. He wonders what has happened.
"We need to keep moving," he says. "Thorin is further down."
Lys nods, and points towards the floor, swaying on her feet. "Below me," she croaks.
They follow Bilbo down the dark stone hallways, dimly lit by flickering torches, to where Thorin is imprisoned.
He is little better than Lys. At least he looks like he may have slept a little, but his eyes share the same haunted look. He fixes Bilbo with them and says quietly, "Thank you, burglar. Your courage will not be forgotten."
"Yes, well," says Bilbo, somewhat abashed, "We've still got to get out of here. I've got a plan, though. Follow me."
To their surprise, he leads them not up, but further down, until they reach the cellars. He leads them to where a dozen or so barrels are waiting to be filled.
When they hear his plan, everyone begins to grumble about being smashed and drowned. But Bilbo soon puts an end to that by saying, "Very well, you can all go back to your cells if you like!"
So, with more grumbling, they all climb into the barrels and Bilbo firmly puts the lids on them. Lys is the last. She looks at Bilbo before taking a deep breath and plunging in. He hears her inhale sharply as he puts on the lid and darkness envelops her.
As soon as the Company is all packed in, Bilbo hears approaching voices. He slips on the ring, moves to the side and watches as the barrels are rolled to a trapdoor and pushed into the river. He only hopes that he has sealed the lids tight enough.
It is only after all the barrels have been rolled in that he realizes that is not in one. With a desperate leap, he plunges into the water just before the trapdoor is slammed shut.
Bilbo comes up sputtering. The water is much colder than he expected. He gropes around, finds a barrel and after some struggle manages to get himself on top of it. He clings to it, wet and shivering, as it makes its way down the river to Laketown.
When they arrive, Bilbo hastily begins unpacking the dwarves. To his immense relief, Lys is the first one. She crawls out with a gasp of air, now a bedraggled wraith, and collapses onto the ground, trembling and breathing heavily.
"Sorry," offers Bilbo. "No more confinement. Promise."
She manages a smile, and struggles to her feet to help him unpack the others.
Bilbo escapes the celebrations early on. He is coming down with a cold thanks to his lovely swim, and besides, he doesn't quite see the point in celebrating something that hasn't actually been accomplished yet.
He slips into his room in the house that has been provided for the Company, only to find it cold and cheerless - there is a tinderbox on the mantlepiece, but no firewood or blankets. So he slips back out again and heads towards the lake, not knowing quite why.
When he arrives, he sees a small heap of elvish-looking clothing lying on a rock. Turning his gaze towards the water, he notices a long trail of bubbles along the surface, going out towards the middle of the lake. After a few seconds, a dark head breaks the surface, quite a ways out.
Lys turns around, and he waves. Her thin arm rises out of the water and waves back, then she begins to swim towards the shore.
Bilbo looks away as she walks out of the water and pulls on her clothes. They stick to her wet, emaciated body, which Mirkwood has stripped of all muscle.
"Still celebrating?" she asks quietly, and Bilbo nods.
"I'm not quite sure what they're celebrating, but they are."
They begin to walk back towards the town. On the way, Bilbo gathers some sticks, and Lys silently takes some of them.
As Bilbo is making the fire, he takes a long stick and is about to break it in half when Lys says, "Wait." She takes it from him. "This is perfect." He frowns at her, puzzled. "I've learned how to fight with a stick," she explains. "It's called a bo. This is about the right size. Now I have a weapon."
"How do you fight with it?" asks Bilbo, still confused.
Lys steps back and grasps the stick around the middle with both hands, and then suddenly it is spinning through the air, twirling and slashing and jabbing.
"Wow," utters Bilbo, then adds, "You could sharpen the ends."
"Good idea," says Lys.
A fire is soon crackling in the fireplace of Bilbo's room, and the two of them sit down in front of it, warming their hands.
"That was a brilliant plan, with the barrels," says Lys after a few moments in her quiet voice. "And the spiders too. You've been getting us out of a hell of a lot of scrapes."
Bilbo blushes, not quite sure what to say.
"Well, my real job hasn't started yet," he replies finally. "And to be honest, I'm terrified."
"Of the dragon?" asks Lys. "That seems like a healthy fear. But it might not be there anymore."
"I hope so," sighs Bilbo. "I don't know what I'll do if it is."
"You don't have to continue, you know," says Lys. "There's no shame in… giving up."
"Yes, there is. I can't give up now. I already tried to leave once, before we were captured by the goblins." He pauses. "I heard you fought one of them. Killed him."
Lys nods.
There is a knock on the door and it opens to reveal Kíli, grinning broadly and carrying two large mugs.
"You're missing out on all the fun!"
He hands a mug to each of them. "At least have some ale."
Bilbo accepts, but Lys shakes her head. "I don't drink."
Kíli shrugs and takes a sip himself. "Your loss. May I ask why not?"
"Addictive," murmurs Lys, seeming to close up.
"Well, come and join us if you like," says Kíli. "They want to see you two."
After he leaves, Bilbo and Lys look at each other and reach a silent agreement to stay in the room.
Within a fortnight, the Company is ready to depart. They pack everything into three large boats and set out across the lake. At the other side, they meet the ponies that have been sent for them and begin the journey through the Desolation of Smaug.
When they reach the skirt of the mountain, they send a party to scout out the Front Gate, consisting of Balin, Fíli, Kíli, Bilbo and Lys.
Crows, croaking hoarsely, wing their flight through the cloudy sky as the five solitary figures follow the river to a small cliff overlooking the valley.
"There lies all that is left of Dale," says Balin, voice heavy, as they gaze down at the ruins of houses, towers, streets. Two walls stand close together, reminding Lys of the London alleyways in which she would loiter on nights when her apartment became too small, leaning against the cold stone and staring up at the stars.
They turn to the South to go investigate the Gate. Here murky water flows sluggishly out of the mountainside, along with steam and dark smoke.
"The dragon is still there," says Bilbo in a hushed voice.
"Probably," agrees Balin, then shudders as a crow croaks loudly overhead. "These birds are ill omens. Let us turn back."
Lys looks dubiously up at the sky, but says nothing.
In silence they make their way back to the camp.
For days, they search for the path up the mountain to the secret doorway until finally, Bilbo finds it.
The Company make their way up the mountain and across a narrow ledge to a small grassy bay in the rock, open to the sky and ending in a flat wall that contains, undoubtedly, the door.
They hoist their supplies up by ropes and prepare to camp on this 'doorstep' until they open the door.
All attempts fail. Pushing brings nothing. Axes splinter. Words fall into empty silence. Blows, administered in utter frustration, draw blood.
In the end, they resort to waiting on the doorstep and thinking. Fíli, Kíli and Lys further explore the mountainside, while Thorin paces up and down in front of the door, aggravating Bilbo, who is dejectedly watching snails crawl on the rock in front of him and thinking wistfully of home.
One evening, a thrush flies into the bay and, as Bilbo watches, begins to smash one of the snails against the rock.
Knock-knock-knock.
Something stirs in Bilbo's mind.
"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun will shine upon the keyhole."
He leaps to his feet.
Soon all the Company is gathered, and Thorin brings out the key.
A ray of the setting sun falls upon the rock face, and suddenly a small chip of rock falls out.
Thorin steps forward, fits the key into the hole and turns it.
Now everyone rushes forward to push the door, which slowly gives way and opens up into a yawning black space.
Balin accompanies Bilbo part of the way down the tunnel, then turns back, as his footsteps cannot match the stealth of the hobbit's.
"May Mahal protect our burglar," he murmurs as he climbs back up. He worries for Bilbo; he worries for Lys, whose face showed traces of panic at the sight of the tunnel; he worries for Thorin because of the mountains of gold that lie below them.
When Bilbo returns later bearing a golden cup, he is hailed as a hero by most of the Company. Thorin smiles, but says quietly to Dwalin, Balin and Lys, who are also hanging back, "A cup is not a kingdom." Balin nods.
The high spirits fall when a deep rumbling is heard from inside the mountain. As it grows louder, Thorin shouts, "Everyone into the tunnel! Quick!"
They spill in and close the door just in time. The rumbling turns into a roar that shakes the whole mountain, and flames lick through the crack in the door.
All night the dragon ravages the mountainside. In between his passing fury, there is deadly silence except for the sound of breathing in the stuffy tunnel. Lys sits with her forehead on her knees, trying to block out the smallness of the tunnel, her breaths rapid and shallow. Thorin sits down next to her and quietly places a hand on her shoulder.
Balin studies them thoughtfully. He thinks back to a conversation in Beorn's house, when Thorin asked Lys where she learned to fight. She replied that she had taken… oh, all different sorts of… what was it called… martial arts classes. Well, whatever they were, they had definitely worked, judging by the way she had fought that goblin. What a remarkable young woman. But with a strange weakness.
When morning comes, quiet has settled once more. They venture out into the open again, and Bilbo decides to make another expedition at noon, when he suspects the dragon will be sleeping.
He is gone longer this time, and Balin's worry grows. The invisibility ring won't do him much good against a dragon's keen sense of smell or against its fire.
But he returns, rather scorched and very shaken, with news of a bare spot in Smaug's armour of jewels. They talk of dragon-slaying then, until Bilbo, overcome with premonition, urges them to re-enter the tunnel and close the door completely this time. With a snap it shuts tightly, not to be opened again. A small sound escapes Lys.
A little while later Smaug renews his attack. Crashing echoes from outside, and the Company flees further down the tunnel as pieces of stone rain from the ceiling.
After an eternity of Smaug's rage, quiet settles again. They wait in silence for a while, then decide to try the door.
The tunnel is blocked by rubble.
The dwarves groan and talk despairingly, and Lys begins to hyperventilate. They look at her with concern.
"Lys," says Thorin, firmly placing his hands on her shoulders, "We are going to get out of here." She stares at him wide-eyed, unable to speak.
After a few minutes, Bilbo suggests they go down instead of up, as the dragon might not be there.
He is right. They venture in, torches aloft, their light flickering against the vast realm of gold, gazing wide-eyed at its splendour.
The dwarves are soon in a merry mood. Fíli and Kíli strike up a melody on harps they have found, while others arm themselves with mail and weapons.
After a while they decide that they must try the front gate. With new confidence they follow Thorin through the great halls, of which he tells them in a low voice as they pass through each one. Lys, Bilbo and the two younger dwarves cannot help craning their necks this way and that and staring at the ancient glory of Erebor, now in ruins but still stunning.
After many stairs and halls and passageways they exit the mountain through the front gate, and after a long hike find a safe place to rest.