Smaug is dead.
The news, brought by a raven, sends the Company into elation.
Bilbo finds himself grinning and being hugged by everyone, but an uncomfortable feeling is growing inside of him. If the dragon was killed, it has probably done some damage first.
His fear is justified by the raven's next words: Smaug has destroyed much of Lake-town, and its inhabitants blame the Company and want to be recompensed. A host of elves is also on its way to claim some of the treasure.
However, it is evident from Thorin's words that he will not part with a single coin, and Bilbo's premonition grows.
Back in the mountain, they set about fortifying the front gate, and after about a week the first camp appears outside the walls.
A few more days and Bard comes to speak with Thorin. It does not go well. Later another messenger comes, and departs with an arrow stuck in his shield.
So it comes that the dwarves are besieged inside their regained kingdom. Day after day they linger among the towering piles of treasure. Each day Bard and the Thranduil come forth and try to bargain with them, and each day Thorin refuses them even the slightest share of the treasure. Most of the dwarves agree with him, except perhaps Kíli, Fíli and Bombur. The two brothers exchange worried glances each time such an clash occurs but do not dare oppose Thorin. Bilbo has no such restraint, and Thorin's meetings with Bard are often followed by heated arguments between him and the hobbit.
Lys takes another approach.
"Thorin," she says, striding over to where he is angrily facing Bard and his men, "Could I have my share of the treasure after all?"
He looks at her, confused. "I suppose so…"
"Good." She turns to Bard. "Is one fifteenth enough for you?"
"No!" interrupts Thorin. "You will not give your share to them!"
"Well, it's mine," counters Lys. "Can't I do what I want with it?"
"It's not yours yet," Thorin reminds her angrily. "I can decide to not give you anything."
"It was in the contract," she reminds him.
"Which you couldn't read," he retorts.
She narrows her eyes. "Is that important? Anyways, if I were you I would show a little more gratitude to the person who killed the dragon!"
But Thorin is not to be reasoned with.
As the days go on it becomes evident that action will soon be taken against the dwarves.
"Do you want to start a war?" demands Bilbo in a sudden burst of frustration. "You of all people should know how horrible war is."
"No, I do not want war," replies Thorin. "I simply refuse to part with what is rightfully mine."
"Well, that's not going to work," says Bilbo.
The Arkenstone weighs heavily on Thorin's mind, and he and the others spend their days looking for it. It turns up in an entirely unexpected way - in Bard's hands.
When Bilbo confesses to having given the Arkenstone to Bard, Thorin flies into a rage and rushes towards the hobbit.
"It was my idea," says Lys quickly. "I put him up to it."
Thorin turns on her.
"That's not true!" squeaks Bilbo. "She had nothing to do with it!"
Thorin turns back to Bilbo. "At least you do not allow her to lie for you."
Balin looks on with sorrow and regret as Thorin drives Bilbo out in fury, shouting curses and insults and calling him a traitor. So the Arkenstone has already begun to corrupt Thorin's mind, placing itself higher in value than the hobbit who has grown so close to all of their hearts during the journey.
When both Bilbo and Bard are gone, Thorin faces Lys.
"Why did you try to protect… the hobbit?"
"Because what he did was right," she replies evenly.
Thorin stares at her.
"It was for your own good," she continues. "Yours and everyone else's. We can't start a war just because of some gold. Do you want another Azanulbizar? More deaths because of your own stubbor-"
Thorin flies at her, hands outstretched - and ends up on the floor with her knee on his chest and his arms pinned to the ground.
But dwarvish strength is not to be underestimated. Thorin rises swiftly and now Lys finds herself pinned to the stone wall behind her. As Thorin holds her there, she feels her right sleeve slowly slip down. There is a sharp intake of breath from Thorin, and now everyone sees what he sees.
Scars mar her pale arm, faded, different shades of red testifying to the blood that once flowed from them, down her palms and through her fingers. Red that stands out against the pale blue of her veins, roughly perpendicular to the uneven lines of blood vessels and tendons, like the clustered tally marks of a mind long gone bad, counting down the days of eternity with cruel slashes, over and over, cut on top of cut, until the blood brought solace.
"Lys," says Thorin quietly, "Who did that to you?"
Blood pounds in her ears, deafening.
"Who was it?" he repeats, letting go of her and stepping back. She sinks to the floor, her legs unable to hold her.
"Was it the elves?" There is anger in his voice.
She feels herself shaking her head.
And then she feels her lips move, hears the words, quiet and cracked: "It was me."
Thorin is looking at her with a mixture of concern and horror. "You did that to yourself?"
Kíli steps closer. "Lys, I don't understand."
She looks at him with a pained expression.
"What else have you been hiding from us?" asks Dwalin.
"You do not have to tell us if you don't want to," says Balin kindly after a few moments' silence.
"You deserve to know," Lys whispers hoarsely. She looks again towards Fíli and Kíli. "The eagle - it didn't just pluck me off the street. I…" She breaks off, her breathing becoming more laborious.
"Start from the beginning," says Thorin gently.
She looks at him, takes a deep breath and plunges into her account.
"I grew up with my mother. I don't think she ever noticed me, all she ever cared about was her drugs. Every day I'd come home from school and she would be at the kitchen table sticking a needle in her arm. I don't remember her ever talking to me, let alone touching me. I promised myself that I would never be like her, never become so dependent on something that it becomes your life, becomes who you are. I dropped out of secondary school to get a job and an apartment, and with extra money I paid for as many martial arts classes as I could, after noticing a sign in a window one day. I realized that I enjoyed the pain of getting hit; it took away some of the… other pain. As I got better, I didn't get hit so much, so I decided to replicate it. I bought razor blades and…" She takes a shaky breath. "Well, you know. It became a habit, until one day I realized that I had broken my promise. I had become as bad as my mother, spending all day in anticipation of the pain, desperately feeding my… addiction. I tried to stop. I threw my razor blades out my tenth-story window. I lasted about a day before I cut myself with a kitchen knife." Her finger absently traces a jagged scar. "So I threw those out the window too. But I couldn't live without cutting. So I didn't. The next thing I threw out the window was myself. And that's when the eagle caught me."
Silence reigns for a few moments.
"Oh, Lys," breathes Balin.
She slowly climbs to her feet and sways there unsteadily, trembling violently.
" I haven't cut since I came here," she adds in almost a whisper.
Thorin steps forward and clasps her in his arms. She leans heavily on him, her thin arms wrapped around his wide shoulders.
"You belong here now, not in that cruel other world," says Thorin.
"This world was cruel to you too," Lys responds.
Thorin holds her at arm's length. "The evil in this world is not inherent."
The days pass in a monotonous blur. Soon Daín's army arrives, and the dwarves prepare for battle.
It is Fíli's first battle, and he has to admit to himself that he is afraid - not so much for himself as for Kíli. He doesn't know what he would do if he lost his brother, and finds himself thinking often of Lys and her story.
He has lent her two knives which she has bound to the ends of a long stick. She gives it a few experimental twirls and jabs, then rests it in her hands, pensive.
Fíli observes as her grip on the makeshift weapon tightens until her knuckles are white.
"Lys, are you all right?" he asks, coming closer. She looks up at him, startled.
Dwalin, noticing the exchange, approaches.
"A lass who took her own life should not be afraid of battle."
"I am not afraid for myself," Lys says quietly.
For some reason the hall has grown silent and now all heads are turned towards Lys. She looks around, hesitant, then decides to speak.
"You know what it feels like to lose everything. I never had anything or anyone to lose - until now. And now I don't want to lose you."
The battle is about to begin when the crows come. Orcs are on their way, and now the two opposing armies must join forces against them. So begins the terrible Battle of the Five Armies.