I am well aware that this is another late update, and I have the same reason, which is a hectic schedule. I've been so caught up with school and training that updating this story just slipped my mind. And for that, I am sorry. I am being pushed to my limits lately; fatigue from the game yesterday remains, and I feel sick. Literally. I feel a fever coming on. xD
But there's the final game of the championships tomorrow, which we NEED to win, because if we don't, we lose the gold. God, I want to win so bad.
Aaanyway, enough of my drama. How has your life been? Make sure to leave a review, I'd love to hear everything you have to say. ;)
All rights go to JRR Tolkien and Peter Jackson; however, Fheon and other OC's in this story are mine.
A low growl emanated from the dragon's throat as he regarded the three of them angrily. Fheon took a step back, pulling Bilbo with her. She saw Thorin still gaping at Smaug and, impatiently, dragged him back as well. Cries of war echoed down the corridor to their right and the dwarves ran into the chamber. Their boldness dissipated as soon as each of them, one by one, faced the dragon. The swords in their hands started to tremble.
Bellowing monstrously, Smaug leapt from his place a hundred yards away and closed the distance quickly. He moved like a lizard, but with much heavier steps, therefore slower movements. Fiery cracks appeared on his stomach, like embers peeking out of ashes. He bared his teeth—and they were, indeed, as large and sharp as swords—and roared: "YOU WILL BURN!" Then he opened his maw, and Fheon saw the light of a fire reflecting off the back of his throat.
Yells of alarm echoed from the dwarves. Even without coherent words, Fheon understood their point. She grabbed Bilbo and pulled him along with her to the downward staircase behind them. She expected to land heavily on stone steps, but mounds of gold broke their fall and they easily slid down to the archway below, where Thorin and the others were running. She and Bilbo ran after them, completely aware of the intense heat that followed them inside. But then the dragon roared again, and Fheon felt an uncomfortable pricking sensation at the back of her neck.
The crackling sound that reached her ears was indication enough. Her panicked fingers fumbled with the clasp on her neck before she was able to unfasten it. The red cloak fell from her back and to the ground, its tail end blazing with fire. The dwarves smothered the flames quickly with their boots.
"Come on," Thorin ordered, running for the opening across the room.
Fheon shook her head, trying to clear the image of fire from her mind, as well as the feeling of utter dread, and then chased after the dwarves. She made sure that she was at the very back of the Company now, instead of Bilbo.
The halls they rushed through were all but unfamiliar to her, though not so for the dwarves. They did not question Thorin's lead, but Fheon was still wary that he would lead them back to the treasure room so he could get his precious Arkenstone. She continued quickly but attentively, alert for any sign of his betrayal that could appear at a moment's notice. Because of her thick under-clothes, her chainmail armor did not make much noise. With her sword at hand, only then did she notice that she had left her bow and quiver behind, before she had entered the mountain after Bilbo.
Their path continued through an archway and into a long chamber. Its height looked similar to the treasure room's, from where they stood. Thorin halted by the archway and took a second to shush the Company, before proceeding to peek into the chamber with slow, cautious movements.
No sign of danger revealed itself, and Dori lightly squeezed Thorin's arm. He whispered, "We've given him the slip."
"No," Dwalin murmured. "He's too cunning for that." They continued to speak in hushed voices.
"Where to now?" said Bilbo.
"The western guardroom," said Thorin. "There may be a way out."
Balin shook his head and argued softly, "It's too high. There's no chance that way."
"It's our only chance. We have to try."
Without another word, Thorin turned and once more peeked into the chamber before them. He held out a finger and looked at them pointedly, as if saying, "Move quietly if you don't want to die." Then they continued down the path, their walking as light as could be. Fheon remained at the back of the group, but she soon grew uncertain as to whether it was a good or bad idea. Before she could ponder on it for longer, something shiny fell into view.
Her breath hitched in her throat. The coin landed on the stone in front of Bilbo. A metallic noise rang out as soon as it touched the floor. In the silence, it was deafening. The Company froze on their places. They turned to Bilbo, who was grappling at his pockets for any coin that could have fallen out of it. It was possible a coin had stuck to him during his previous encounter with Smaug. But then a faint sound of wind reached their ears, like free air inside something hollow. A second coin fell to the ground; then another; and none of them were coming from Bilbo. They were coming from something higher above them.
Fheon held her breath and looked up to find Smaug's stomach hovering several yards over their heads, littered with coins, some of which continued falling. He crawled among the stone pillars, silent but deadly, searching for the intruders who quivered just beneath him. Why couldn't he smell them out? As the Company forged onward, even quieter than before, Fheon knew that the dragon's current lapse in smell was a good thing. Without stopping, they reached the other side of the chamber and were quick to return to the corridors, where the dragon would not see them easily. As soon as they reached this, they resumed running.
"Stay close," said Thorin, turning a corner and leading them into a musky-smelling room.
Two torches were propped on either side of the room, covered in cobwebs and dust. The age of the room was evident, as it was in other parts of the castle. But for some reason, the walls were lined with cracks, giving the area a grimmer atmosphere. Fheon saw why when she strolled through the doorway. She had prepared herself for an exit, albeit how irrational the possibility was. She had also prepared herself for a dead-end, or a trap. But she had not prepared herself for the sea of bodies waiting at the end of the room.
They were far too desiccated for Fheon to be able to make out their faces, but by their wide bodies and short statures, they were undoubtedly dwarves. Some were dressed in armor, others in simple rags; men, women… children. Rubble of stone surrounded them, further clarifying the fact that they had been here ever since Smaug took the mountain.
"That's it, then," said Dwalin, who remained by the archway. "There's no way out." His eyes were on the doorway across the room, where stone and wooden debris piled up on top of each other, blocking them from the corridor of escape on the other side.
"The last of our kin," Balin stated. "They must have come here, hoping beyond hope." Fheon caught sight of a small bundle cradled in a woman's arms, and looked away immediately. Balin continued in a crestfallen voice, "We could try to reach the mines. We might last a few days."
Fheon refused to share in their hopelessness. It would have been hypocritical for her to do so, for she remembered what she had told Thorin when he had given up on the keyhole. So she repeated the words to herself, out loud, in hopes that the Company's spirits would be lifted: "You cannot lose hope, for when you have lost hope, you have lost yourself." She inhaled shakily. "And when things are dire… and bleak…"
"There is always hope."
She met Thorin's eyes; he had been the one to finish her statement for her. He acknowledged her with a nod, and she did the same. "We will not die like this—cowering, clawing for breath." he said, speaking to the dwarves now. "We make for the forges."
"He'll see us," said Dwalin, "Sure as death."
"Not if we split up."
Then Balin stepped forward and said in a choked murmur, "Thorin, we'll never make it."
"Some of us might. Lead him to the forges. We kill the dragon," said the King. A very determined look crept into his eyes. "If this is to end in fire, then we will all burn together!"
His words emboldened the Company to extraordinary lengths. They did not dare to cheer and raise their swords, but only nodded their approval. The fires in their eyes were rekindled. "Bilbo, Balin, you're with me," said Thorin. "Bombur, Ori, Dori—go together from the south hall. Gloin, Fheon, Bifur—take the west. Dwalin, Nori, you go from the east. Remember: to the forges."
Fheon and Dwalin dutifully stepped aside to let Thorin back out of the guardroom. The Dwarf King's eyes met the Ranger's before they were running again.
Gloin ran ahead of Fheon and Bifur, and Fheon let him, for she did not know which turns would take them to the west hall. Mere seconds after the Company had broken rank, the voice of Smaug filled the chamber once more: "Flee. Flee! Run for your lives. There is nowhere to hide."
"Behind you!" Dori shouted at the dragon. "Come on!"
The ground shook with tremors as Smaug gave chase to Dori's group. But then another dwarf's voice echoed down the chamber.
"Hey, you!" Dwalin bellowed. "HERE!"
The dragon turned to him and Nori just as Fheon's group reached an archway. Without stopping, Gloin ran down the open corridor. Fheon thundered after him, facing sideways slightly as she swung her sword over her head.
"Here, you ugly lizard!" she yelled.
As expected, Smaug turned to them and bared his teeth. The corridor continued beneath a wide expanse of rock. They had to keep moving. Gloin crouched forward, as did Bifur. The ground quaked once more beneath Fheon's feet, nearly making her fall off the corridor. The air around her seemed to become thicker and she felt a heavy tugging sensation, as if something was pulling her in. She quickened her pace. Her spine scraped against the rough rock above her several times, making the chainmail screech. She and Bifur and Gloin turned a corner just as sudden light erupted from behind them.
The heat from Smaug's fire followed them, seeming to seep into their feet. Alarmed, Fheon glanced down and found the stone they were running on had fiery cracks running through it. The dwarves ahead of her started hopping to keep from burning their boots. "Keep running!" she shouted.
Heat seared the bare skin on her face and hands. Nevertheless, she jumped off the edge of the overhang, as Gloin and Bifur had done. It was a miracle she landed on one of the iron chutes at all. She managed to stay on her right shoulder as she slid down the shaft, and then she caught sight of the mining cart waiting below. Thinking quickly, she steeled her knees and managed to fall on her feet. Bifur and Gloin had landed on their backs, but it would have been worse for Fheon because of her injury. She inched deeper into the cart, careful not to bend her left shoulder, and warily anticipated the dragon's next move.
Nothing happened.
They waited there for what felt like an hour, but it would not have taken that long for the others to reach the forges. Panting heavily, Fheon hissed, "What now?"
"We must wait for them to activate the machines," said Gloin.
"And exactly how long will that take?"
As if on cue, the roar of the dragon echoed throughout the chamber. It was distant. Resonances of the voices of yelling dwarves reached their ears, but they were too far away for their words to be understandable. The heat was still intense as ever. Orange light reflected off the smooth stone of a gap about a hundred yards away. Fheon guessed that the carts were meant to go there, to the forges. She wiped the sweat that had accumulated on her face just as a scraping noise reverberated down the canyon, accompanied by Smaug's snarls and roaring.
There came a gruff bellow from the direction of the forges; it was not the dragon. Anxious, Fheon cursed under her breath and stood, keeping her knees bent so that she would not fall off the cart. Then there was the familiar, but misplaced, sound of rushing water. Smaug's roars were deafening, even from so far. An odd creaking began from overhead.
"They've done it," Bifur muttered.
Fheon nearly fell over as the mining cart abruptly started moving towards the direction of the forges. She settled back down to the bottom of the cart, gripping the sides as it rocked back and forth from the force of the pull. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, but it was barely noticeable because of the adrenaline rushing through her veins.
The cart mechanism moved faster than she had expected. Soon, they were looking down at the forgery, where fire seemed to be billowing from every corner of the chamber in large, enforced containers. Fheon glanced down and found that it was not fire within the containers, but seas of gold. Melted gold. It shimmered and glistened with every little wave. But it was hot enough for Fheon to pull her head back so that her mining cart caught most of the heat. She caught sight of the moving figure of Smaug from the corner of her eye. They were high enough to be deemed taller than him, if he was standing on his four feet. The look on his face was deadly.
Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass echoed throughout the chamber. A large bright light exploded at the side of the dragon's head, and then another. It did not seem to hurt him, only irritate him more. Fheon noticed the small mass of dwarves standing in front and at the left side of Smaug. They threw what seemed to be jars at the dragon, and these jars broke to burst into blue light. A snarl ripped through Smaug's throat.
It came to Fheon's attention that the dragon was now directly beneath them. But more mining carts were also beneath them, filled with green stones. They were sure to be heavy. Instinctively, she came to stand once more and leaned over the edge of her mining cart. She unsheathed her sword and cut the ropes beneath them quickly, before retracting so as to not fall over. A satisfying crumbling sound echoed from below, followed by a screech from Smaug. She glanced sideways and found an approving grin on Bifur's face. It surprised her enough to make her blink.
But then something appeared in front of Fheon's mining cart: the snout of the dragon.
Smaug twisted his neck once and broke the cables that were keeping the carts aloft. Fheon wrapped her fingers around the edge of her cart. She forced her throat to close and bit back the scream that threatened to emerge. The direction of their fall was altered when they hit the blunt spikes on Smaug's back. So they resumed to fall sideways. It was hard for Fheon to think past the tugging sensation in her stomach. She glanced down to see which side of her cart was facing the ground, and then twisted in midair. A loud clang reached her ears as their fall came to a halt, and she landed on her right shoulder. Their velocity had not been enough to give them any broken bones. The tumble from the dragon's spine assured that.
She immediately regained her footing and then helped Bifur and Gloin onto their feet. To their right, Smaug continued thrashing about, trying to free himself from the hold of the cable-wires. Fheon jumped across the narrow river of molten gold, and then heard Thorin yell, "Lead him to the Gallery of the Kings!"
"Am I supposed to know where the bloody hell that is?" she growled as debris continued falling because of Smaug's bedlam.
Out of nowhere, Thorin came running into view, pushing a wheelbarrow in front of him as he loosed a cry of defiance. He ran straight for Smaug, dodging the beast's claws. Fheon stared after him in exasperation, and then Gloin was pulling her towards a descending staircase which she only assumed led to the Gallery of the Kings. Smaug's terrible cries of anger followed them down the steps.
Once again, she let the dwarves lead her down unfamiliar corridors and twisting tunnels; until finally, they reached a massive hallway. The walls were lined with tapestries as tall as the towers from Lake-town. Fheon ignored them and followed the dwarves to the end of the hall, where she noticed Thorin standing atop a towering stone statue that emitted heat. "To the back," he ordered. "Take the chains!"
Fheon was pushed up the ladders and told by Dwalin to stay with Bombur. The round, orange-haired dwarf led her up two more ladders before they took their places by a large black chain. Fheon reached forward to grab it and traced it to a large shackle, which encircled the stone statue Thorin was on.
"We tug on this?" she asked, to which Bombur nodded vigorously. She let him stand in front of her and take the part of the chain that was closer to the shackles, and she standing behind him to add whatever more power he needed. Glancing around, she saw the dwarves paired with each other—some with two, some with three—but all about to do the same thing. A scowl of determination crossed her face, and she tightened her grip on the chain.
Just as she did, the pattering sound of footsteps reached her ears. She and Bombur were at one side of the statue, and so they were able to see the tiny figure that was Bilbo running into the hall. His breathing was louder than his feet. Suddenly, the wall behind him crumbled to pieces. The stone separated to reveal Smaug, eyes blazing and teeth bared. Fheon kept her eyes on Bilbo and watched as a tapestry fell gently onto him, cloaking him from view of the dragon. She just hoped he would not be stepped on.
"You think you can deceive me, barrel-rider?" Smaug demanded. "You have come from Lake-town. This is some sordid scheme hatched between these filthy dwarves and those miserable tub-trading Lakemen. Those sniveling cowards, with their long bows and Black Arrows! Perhaps it is time I paid them a visit."
Fheon's heart dropped in dismay. "No…"
The dragon turned and starting making for the main entrance, which was just another corridor away. Bilbo pulled out from beneath the tapestry and said, "This isn't their fault… WAIT! You cannot go to Lake-town!"
Smaug stopped at this, and when he next spoke, he seemed to be purring. "You care about them, do you?" he said. "Good. Then you can watch them die."
A fiery sort of fortitude flared up from Fheon's chest. She would not let the men of the lake, or her brother, die a death of fire.
"OI!" she bellowed, practically scraping her throat. Unconsciously, she bared her teeth and ground out as loud as she could, "Here, you witless worm!"
Some sense of satisfaction flowed through her as the dragon stopped in his tracks. He turned, slowly, and narrowed his eyes at her. She returned his glare with her own. And then he turned his attention to the figure standing on the statue in front of him, and his eyes narrowed into orange slits. "You," he growled.
"I am taking back what you stole," boldly said Thorin.
Smaug advanced at him with slow, daring steps—"You will take nothing from me, dwarf. I laid low your warriors of old. I instilled terror in the hearts of Men!" And then he was close enough that Fheon could see the detailed texture of his stomach. Fire made his belly ripple with cracks of orange. He said, "I am King Under the Mountain."
"This is not your kingdom," Thorin retorted. "These are dwarf-lands. This is dwarf-gold. And we will have our revenge." Fheon noticed Bombur's hands tighten around the chain as Thorin bellowed something in Khuzdul. The first shackle at the top of the stone statue broke apart, followed by the one below it as Dwalin and Nori tugged. The time came for the third one and Fheon heaved at the chain with all her might. A grunt of exertion escaped her lips. Bombur was quiet. And then their shackle broke apart, quickly shadowed by the rest.
The stone statue crumbled. Fheon caught sight of Thorin swinging from a chain, away from danger. The stone walls and iron shackles fell away, revealing a golden statue of a dwarf standing before the dragon. It shone like the sun, yet it might have been because of Fheon's close proximity. Her pupils dilated and she looked away. Confusion settled over her like the heat arising from the molten-gold statue: searing her skin and her raw throat. The gold had not yet settled, for sure, but Smaug did not seem to know, or he simply did not mind.
Hums of approval resonated in his throat, and then a sigh of awe. His eyes grew wide as he stared at the statue. He did not even have lips, but Fheon was positive that he was smiling.
For several seconds, all was still. The dragon remained where he was, enraptured. Thorin and the dwarves seemed to be holding their breaths, while Fheon slowly descended into dread when she realized just exactly what Thorin had been planning all along.
Before she could say a word, streams of gold started spurting from multiple places on the statue. Slowly, the gold reverted back to its liquid state. Smaug's expression was one of terror as the shimmering rivers pooled at his feet. He started backing away. The molten gold sizzled as they touched his cool claws, but no screams of pain came from the dragon. Only a cry of surprise as he fell and the sea of gold overcame him.
The glittering ocean was still for a few moments, save for a few ripples here and there. A soft sigh escaped Bombur, perhaps of relief. But Fheon knew what was going to happen.
In a splash of gold, Smaug reappeared from beneath the molten gold. The liquids clung to him as he thrashed about. Fheon had to bring her armored arms up to keep from having her face melted off. Slowly but surely, Smaug made his way to the front entrance of the mountain. "Revenge? REVENGE?" he bellowed. "I WILL SHOW YOU REVENGE!"
Then he took a running start, and in seconds, had broken through the front walls of Erebor; on his way to Esgaroth, where the buildings would turn to ash and sink beneath the burning lake.
Esgaroth, where Kili, Fili, Oin, Sigrid, Tilda, Bain, and Bard were.
Esgaroth, where Elijah was.
Ehehehehe...
P.S. who's watched Crimson Peak? NO SPOILERS PLEASE FOR GOD'S SAKE