A/N - So, did anyone else cry during the movie? It didn't matter that I knew very well what was coming, I boo-hoo'ed like a baby all the same. I even tried to talk myself out of it, didn't work. Guess I'm just a softie, but I know I'm not the only one.
Happy holidays to all! A slightly early gift to my readers.
Disclaimer: I, in no way whatsoever, own any of the canon characters, places, or things found in this story. All belong to Tolkien, and I make no profit.
She had destroyed him. It had not been obvious to her at first; initially she had kept vigil solely for the sake of curiosity, to discover just what would be the powerful Smaug's undoing and to watch her beautiful dwarf fulfill his legacy. In hindsight, that had been a selfish desire, but she couldn't refuse herself the opportunity to observe. Knowledge...she always had a thirst for it, and the longing was both a gift and a curse. The burden that it carried was tiring, but she would continue to do so, if only for a little longer. However, even she was not omnipotent, and she had not known what choice Thorin would make when faced with her demand.
Only now, she recognized the harsh consequences of his decision, and it pained her to see him so broken, alone, wholly consumed by his lust for gold. He was no longer the dwarf who had found her in her lair in Evendim, or who had made love to her on the shore of the Long Lake. It was a torment to watch him, his incessant searching amongst the piles of coin, the hoard of treasure reflecting light upon him, the only brilliance left. He was so far gone, lost to the greed, to the obsession of the wealth, that she had even witnessed his friends try to save him. Dragon-sickness had its claws deep within him, a foe that none could see and all had failed against, even Bilbo. The loss of their King had crushed the company, the weight of despair almost too much to bear.
With each passing day, she realized that Thorin was slowly slipping away, worn away by a need for treasure that threatened to consume the dwarf that she had come to care for. But she knew, once again, her horrible fate, that she could do nothing to stop it. This was her charge, to witness and catalog his downfall, desperate to affect the outcome but powerless to do so. It was a duty she would fulfill, no matter the toll it took upon her. After all, she had started this, and failed to finish it.
The dwarf she watched pacing the vaults of Erebor was no more Thorin to her than a passing stranger. He garbed himself in fur-covered remnants and golden armor, a king in form but not in function. Called Oakenshield for his courage and resourcefulness in battle, she had thought to rename him Oathbreaker for his recent callous behavior: the first, a broken gold-oath to her, and the second, a shattered promise to the humans of the lake. She knew, beyond certainty, there would be a third and a fourth and so on until he had no one left but his precious treasure.
One thing, alone, still eluded Thorin, and little did he know how close it truly was. The Arkenstone, his birthright and the jewel that would acknowledge his right as king, still remained out of his reach. It both sickened and amused her to watch Thorin order his friends around like common slaves, relentless and unyielding in their search, when she knew exactly where the gem could be found—a burglar, indeed—it had been taken right from under Thorin's royal nose. She did not even bother to question that hobbit's motives; she could see his reasons plainly in all of Thorin's gold-addled actions. But Bilbo's noble attempt to stave off his friend's obsession would be for naught if the dwarves lost Erebor again so soon after its return, and with battle looming on the morrow, she had another obligation to fulfill.
Of course, she found him amongst the jewels and gold, muttering something about protecting his people's wealth. It was a small pleasure to know that she would interrupt this particular spell of madness, "Thorin…"
He turned, his eyes finding her perched upon one of the many piles near his path, "King Thorin to you, mage."
His voice, once full of so much unrelenting promise, was devoid of any of it; there was no anger, no happiness. She treaded carefully, "I wish not to offend. Should I kneel before the mighty King under the Mountain?"
A laugh, dark and troubled, like him. "Since when have you cared about offense? Bending the knee would be the custom."
She lept from the pile, walking slowly before him, and she knelt at a reverent but safe distance, bowing her head. She wondered if her docile, atypical behavior would trigger any response from him, but he simply asked, "What are you doing here?"
She wasn't even sure that he noticed her blatant submissiveness, and with their shared history, his jaw should be stuck firmly in the ground. Her Thorin was lost; the thought broke her spirit, and she stood, disheartened, "Can I not visit with an old friend?"
"Every moment of the climb, every second until I stepped through the stone door, I wished for that...but no longer. A friend, if that is what you really were, would have been there, with the company, with me."
"Am I foe then? I guess that all my aid before Laketown is to be forgotten and ignored."
"I do not know what you are to me any longer, but do not try my patience with more lies. Never before have you appeared without a purpose, so I know you have some reason for being here, and it's not a social call. I do not have time to waste with nonsense."
"I am sure that a king who is rebuilding his kingdom finds himself very busy. But, I thought that I would remind him just how he came to reclaim his throne while he still has it."
"I need no reminders."
"Really? The very humans residing in Dale are the same that gave you supplies and shelter...and you deny them. Dawn will come bringing bloodshed, and you are about to commit a grave error. The war you are about to fight is one you cannot win. There is an army of Elves outside your gate, and they look more than capable of taking your mountain. Are you so willing to lose your newly restored kingdom over something so easily settled? Will you not reconsider the counsel given to you by your own friends?"
"The Elves want their gems and the humans want gold, and neither will have any that rests in this mountain. We dwarves do not cower when faced with an enemy; we will crush them and send them running back to their precious homes. Do not waste your breath to tell me about the mistake that I am supposedly making. I am King and I will not have my decisions questioned...by anyone."
"An infinitesimal fraction of the wealth stored within Erebor is what your supposed 'enemies' deserve. But, I have not questioned your decisions, King Thorin. There is no question that you are making a horrible mistake."
"Why does it matter to you? What selfish motive could you possibly have in this?"
"None. Other than that it irritates me to watch you destroy all that you, your friends, and I have worked so very hard for since the day you stumbled into my home and called me a man."
He chuckled at her admission, "Then why not do something more useful than braying bad omens. Join us in the oncoming battle."
"I am no fighter."
"Good thing, as I do not want a sword. What I need is an advantage, and your magic can provide that."
She bit her tongue, literally, trying to keep from openly scoffing. She managed, "My magic? Last we met, you told me I use it as a crutch. Now you wish me to use it for you?"
A flicker of recognition, and for a moment, she thought she might catch a glimpse of the dwarf she used to know. But, it was quickly squashed, "Your powers would help, as opposed to hinder."
More proof that Thorin was changed. The Thorin who had followed her out the window of the Lake Master's house would have only resorted to magic if…
It hit her hard, like a backhanded slap across her cheek, and she almost flinched even though there was no corporeal hand. "You are desperate," she spoke low, almost fearful. "You know you will lose...there is no other reason for you to turn to magic so willingly."
"Wrong, mage. I can win this without you, but there is no shame in having a contingency plan."
She didn't buy that, but it hardly mattered. There was no way that she was going to insert herself into his mess. "Well, it is good that you believe so, because I cannot become involved."
"Cannot or will not?"
"Both. This is not my war, King Thorin. Nor your choice to wage it mine."
His eyes narrowed, voice taking a dark edge, "You began this with me."
"I swore to help a lost dwarf find his way, and I chose to help him win back his home. I fulfilled my obligation, but I did not agree to help him throw it away over trinkets."
A snarl, "Trinkets? The wealth the humans and elves covet was earned by my ancestors, not theirs! They shall not have a single coin while I breathe!"
"I believe they intend to remedy that."
"You will help, mage. There is no neutrality here. You are either with Erebor, or against it."
"If you force me, against it will be."
"Then, begone."
The hair on her neck stood on end, "It is a fool who never learns his lesson...I will not be dismissed at command. But, I should not be surprised. Fools fall in love on the shores of a lake."
A howl let loose—she knew it would be enough to provoke him, and he ran toward her, sword drawn and raised. She stood unmoving, like the stone of Erebor itself, rooted into the very rock around her. He closed, silver shining as he lifted the weapon above his shoulders, ready to bring it against her, and she found his gaze. Everything she saw in the crystal blue was nothing she knew.
She crushed the gold coin in her balled fist, and instantly, the dwarf screamed, collapsing to his knees upon the ground. The blade fell worthless from his hand, the metal clanging loudly against the pile of gold it landed amongst.
She loosened her grip slightly, alleviating most of the pressure. She wanted him to be cognizant enough to understand, to comprehend the lesson she was about to teach him. Looming, she grabbed his chin, tilting his obstinate face to meet hers, "You cannot harm that what you have become."
"What…" his stare was defiant but the confusion was clear on his features, "What do you mean? Speak clear."
"You are mine, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King under the Mountain. I own you, mind, body, and soul. You gave yourself to me when you failed in your oath. You have made yourself my minion, and set about doing my work without even an order."
"I will do nothing for you, witch."
There was no fear in his voice, and that would not do. A slip, she let her disguise down for just a moment, and for the first time in eons, a creature of Middle-earth saw her true form and lived. Eyes ablaze, her chilled fingers brushed his cheek as she spoke, "We shall see. Soon, all you will rule is a mountain full of bones. Your hubris and gluttony will be your undoing."
The king scurried from her, and in his haste, she moved on him as he crawled backwards on his hands and feet, like some strange mix of dwarf and crab. Terror, the smell permeated the air, and she smiled, drinking it in. Finally, something she had done reached him beyond the Dragon-sickness.
"Mahal protect me…" a whispered benediction, but it was worthless now.
"Yes, pray, foolish King. But, it will do you no good. You have courted death, Thorin. In more ways than one."