Author's Note: I'm back! I swear I didn't die or go into a coma all summer, lol. Life happened, other writing projects took over, and my fanfiction muse took a break. Well, I'm here now, and I have seven chapters under my belt, and maybe more when I get to the end of those, but no guarantees.

Chapter 33-Echoes of the Past

Had it not been for the piles of gold, the room would have been empty. It had been days now—or more. Days of sorting, searching, piling, record-keeping. The dwarves were kept so busy they barely saw each other—Karra only caught snatches of conversation with Fili now. She sighed and leaned back against the wall, watching the others. The room was so full now they couldn't even fit the whole company within its walls.

It was about time they found another room.

Not that she would say that.

Not in front of Thorin.

She picked up a great purple jewel and turned it over in her fingers. She tossed it in the air, and, failing to catch it, watched it clatter to the floor and roll away, out of her reach. A dwarf picked it up, sending a scowl her direction, and filed it away in a pile of similar jewels, scribbling something in his notebook.

Karra sighed again. What good was she here? She stood, and with a last look at the piles of treasure, turned, and left the room.

Where was Fili? Or Bilbo? Or anyone she could talk to, or have some fun with? She had explored the heck out of these halls, as far as she dared, without fear or getting lost. She had a mental map of the whole place in her head—to the west were the great rooms of treasure, then a bit past those were the sorting rooms. Down that hallway and to the left, she would pass the old apothecary, and make a right turn into the old library—the old library! There was one place, at least, that she hadn't explored in detail. Within moments, she turned the corner, and found herself standing in a small room, lined with shelves carved from stone, covered in old, dusty books. With a small smile, she lifted a leather-bound volume from the nearest shelf, and opened the cover.

The pages were covered with neat lines of small letters—dwarf runes, she supposed. She closed it, and set it back on the shelf. Picking up the next book, she found that it, too, was written in runes.

Her footsteps echoed around the small chamber as she scanned the shelves, opening book after dusty book, record after ancient record. Why hadn't she asked someone to teach her dwarf runes?

She should do that, the next opportunity she got.

She stopped next to a small corner shelf. Near the floor, hidden in the shadows, sat a small, simple book, bound in leather and tied with a cord. She lifted it from the stone shelf, and blew the dust from its surface, watching as the particles gleamed in the light from the hallway. The pages were covered with the same unknown letters, but she felt strangely attracted to the old book.

She sat at the small, stone-carved table, turning the pages one by one. She guessed it was a journal or personal record of some sort, for the writing was uneven and at times sloppy. The unfamiliar runes blurred together and she couldn't pick out a single word, but she sat there, flipping the pages, enjoying the silence and smell of the old library.

A small noise echoed through the chamber and she jumped to her feet, still holding the journal.

"I'm sorry, lass. Did I startle you?" Balin stepped forward, and his eyes rested on the journal. "What's that?"

"It's a…a journal, or something. I don't know, really. I can't read it."

Balin sat beside her. "Let me see," he said. Karra hesitated, then handed it to him, reluctant to take her hands off it.

Balin flipped through the pages, muttering some words to himself. As if he had forgotten she was there, he began to read the entries out loud, and Karra sat, leaning forward, enraptured by the personal account it gave of life here, in Erebor.

Balin stopped, and Karra jumped at the sudden silence. "Don't stop!" she cried. "This is awesome!"

The old dwarf didn't seem to hear; he sat staring at the page, a look of something like awe on his face. "Ragnar," he said softly. "His name was Ragnar." He looked up, and his eyes met Karra's. For a moment she just sat there. "Do you not know the name, lassie?"

Karra caught her breath. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I do." She took a deep breath and stared at the journal in his hands. "It was my dad's name."

Balin set the journal in her hands. She hugged it as tight as she dared to her chest, and her mind whirled with giddy excitement, unable to process what she was hearing. "Do you really think…" she finally managed. "Is it really…"

"I think it is," Balin said, and a slow smile spread over his face. "It was your father's, lass. Keep it."

Karra began to laugh. "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!" She jumped to her feet and twirled around, still hugging the journal to her chest. "I can't believe it! This is actually happening!" Her voice came dangerously close to a scream. "It's my dad's!"

"Calm yourself, lassie." Laughing, Balin put a hand on her shoulder. She sat down, a huge grin still plastered on her face.

"Tell me about him!" she cried, unable to set the journal down. "You knew him, didn't you? Tell me about him!"

"I knew him only a little." Balin laughed. "He was yet young when the dragon attacked. Young, reckless, and never should have been trusted with one of the keys." He ran his finger gently along the key that still hung around Karra's neck. "I should have known he would use it, escape to another world, marry the first pretty lass that caught his eye. But then…" His eyes twinkled. "But then you would never have been born." Karra laughed, and leaned forward, her chin resting in her hands.

"Tell me more. I want to know him like you did."

"Ah, lassie. How can I tell you everything? He was a young dwarf, and, well, I wonder not that your mother fell for with him. You do resemble him, when you smile. He had a streak of mischief in him…"

They sat together in the library for what must have been hours. Balin wove stories with his words, stories of Erebor when a young dwarf wandered its halls, stories of a kingdom that was once great, stories of a dwarf he had known in those years, a dwarf who had—disappeared, found missing soon after the dragon had attacked. Karra giggled, her eyes twinkling. And then he met my mom.

The hours passed like minutes under the spell of the old tales. Karra forgot the troubles and worries of the last few days and sat, listening to stories of when times were good and gold was plenty—and treasure had no hold yet on the minds of dwarves.

She could stay here forever.

Footsteps were heard echoing down the hallway, and they both looked up, jerked from the spell that the hours had laid upon them. Ori skidded to a stop in the doorway, breathless and panting.

"People, Mr. Balin!" he gasped. "The survivors of Laketown! They've arrived in Dale!"

"I see." Balin stood, his face a grim mask. "I see." Karra followed him from the room, picking up the journal and hugging it close. Any troubles that Ori's news foreboded seemed far away compared to the fact that she held her father's journal in her hands.

The gate was to be fortified by sunup.

So Thorin had ordered, and so it was done. Blocks upon blocks of stone were hauled, all through the afternoon and well into the night. Karra felt she was working harder than she ever had—trying not to think of the journal that sat in her room, trying to resist the burning urge to find Fili and tell him everything that had happened that afternoon, trying not to think of her throbbing arm. The blocks she hauled were so small—she saw the others lift blocks larger than themselves.

"Not to worry, lass. Every bit counts," Gloin had said.

She still felt like a wimp.

Slowly, the wall began to grow—though what they thought the wounded, tired, bedraggled survivors of Laketown could do against them, she didn't know.

The work dragged on, and on, and on. Stone after stone, block after block, Thorin shouting orders, work faster! More stone! The shoes Karra had found in the dwarven hoard had been nice when she found them, but now she sorely missed her old, big, comfortable dwarven boots. She didn't dare leave; what would Thorin do to her?

She leaned down and looped her arms around another pitifully small piece of stone. She felt an unmistakable presence beside her, and looked up to see Fili, several large blocks stacked in his arms. "Fili!" she said. "You'll never guess what I found!"

Fili grinned in greeting. "What did you find?"

"I found—" Her voice broke off as the stone she was carrying fell to the ground with a crash. Stumbling forward, she tried to grab at the smashed pieces, only to fall to her knees. Her arm throbbed and she felt like she was floating. She felt an arm around her shoulders, and heard Fili's voice in her ear.

"Are you alright? Karra?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled. "Just help me pick this thing up again. I can't stop. Thorin said—"

"I know, but you look pale, Karra. You need to rest, you've been up all night."

"So have you."

He picked up her piece of stone and piled it on top of his. "That's no matter. Go, get some rest. I'll cover for you."

"But Thorin…"

"I said, I'll cover for you." He gave her a light nudge with his elbow. "Go on. You can't work like this all night, and your arm's injured."

Karra just stood there for a minute, looking at him. "You really mean it?" At his nod, she smiled, and hugged him around his growing pile of blocks.

He grinned, and peeled her arms from around his neck with a free arm. "I wouldn't make a scene if I were you," he said, laughing and steadying his pile of stones. "Now go." She gave him a last smile, and turned, willing herself to walk steadily.

It was just minutes later when she threw herself into bed, it seemed. Her arm throbbed, her head throbbed, and her feet hurt, but she lay there with her eyes open, staring at the shadows flickering on the ceiling. Her day had dropped from best day of her life to when will this day ever end in just minutes. She had held her dad's journal in her hands, and she had worked nearly all night to satisfy the whims of a king who was no longer in his right mind. She watched as a corner flickered in and out of shadow.

It must have been morning when she woke; she heard voices ringing off the walls outside her room. Running her fingers through her hair and yawning, she rolled over, slipped on her old dwarf boots, and stepped out the door, nearly bumping into Dori.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "What's going on?"

"Elves!" he cried. "There's elves here, and with an army no less!"

Karra stopped, and tried to force her half-awake mind to process the news. "Elves? Did they come for Tauriel?"

Dori raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Karra shook her head, and yawned. "Nothing," she mumbled. "Did you finish the gate?"

"Ah yes, finished it soon after you went to bed," he replied. Karra opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. So she hadn't snuck out as effectively as she would have liked to have thought.

"Soo…what happens now?" she said after an awkward pause.

Dori gestured for her to follow him. "Come with me."

The walk to the front gate was longer than she thought it was, still waking from sleep, her hair and dress unkempt, and her mind running over and over the new developments. Others joined them, speaking little, an air of nervous anticipation hanging over the company.

When they finally reached the front gate, Karra hardly recognized it. In the place of the broken, smashed blocks of the day before, she saw a great wall of stone, the workmanship so perfect that she could hardly believe the dwarves had built it in one night, or that she had a part in it. Steps, embedded in the side of the wall, ran up to a platform that looked out over Dale. If thirteen dwarves could build this in one night, it was no wonder that Erebor was so huge!

Realizing that the others had gone on without her, she ran to catch up, only to skid to a stop in front of the wall. Thorin stood at the top, wearing a crown and kingly robes, and looking more haughty and royal than ever. She felt fear settle in the pit of her stomach like the rocks she had carried endlessly the night before.

But as the others moved forward, her fear of being singled out overcame her fear of their leader, and she took a deep breath, and planted her foot on the first step.

Perhaps the days of wandering Erebor and staring down endless hallways over great heights had done something for her; perhaps the platform of stone was sturdier than she had expected; whatever the reason, she found herself looking over the city of Dale without the queasiness she was used to feeling when her feet weren't planted firmly on the ground. She blinked, and looked again.

The armor of hundreds of elves glinted and shone in the sun, lining the walls of Dale. Karra shaded her eyes.

A lone figure on a white horse approached the gate far below them. For the first time, Karra felt a small wave of dizziness. She stepped back from the wall, closed her eyes, steadied herself, and looked back down again. The figure had come to a stop and was looking up at them.

Wait.

Was that who she thought it was?

"Greetings, Thorin, son of Thrain." Bard's voice echoed up off the wall. "We rejoice to find you alive beyond hope!"

Karra felt a presence at her side and looked over to see Fili. "Thank you," she whispered. "For last night."

Fili smiled, and gave a light shrug. "You looked ready to collapse. I couldn't let you just work yourself to death, Thorin's orders or no."

Karra smiled and turned away, a light flush rising in her cheeks. Turning her attention back to Bard's voice, she heard the end of his speech. "Will you not speak to me?" he said, and looked up at the balcony, awaiting an answer.

Thorin, his crowned head held high, gave a nod, a haughty nod, a nod that said I'm only speaking to you because I want to. He turned, and swept past the company, and down the steps.

They followed at a respectful distance behind their leader, watching in silence as he approached the wall, his face just at the level of a small hole, pride radiating from his very being. Why did he deign to speak to Bard, Karra wondered, if he clearly planned to refuse whatever was asked of him?

Bard's face appeared through the small square hole in the stone, and Karra bounced on her feet nervously as he spoke. It was gold he wanted—a share of the treasure, promised to them just days before. Karra didn't remember any such promise. But then, she seemed to miss a lot anyway. Thorin refused—of course he refused, and with most prideful manner possible. While the army of elves stood at their gate, he would never give in—though Karra couldn't help thinking it was only an excuse; if the elves weren't there, he would refuse all the same. Bard turned, and leaving the threat of war hanging over them, left.

They stood behind Thorin without speaking, just looking at him. So it had come to this, then? He refused to give only a little—a tiny fraction of his huge hoard—for what? For greed, gold lust, gold sickness?

Karra never quite knew what got into her; why she dared speak in the presence of Thorin; and she never knew whether she regretted it or not.

"In all fairness," the words came out before she could stop them, "he did kill the dragon. Don't you think that counts for something?"

Karra was unprepared for the sudden outpouring of wrath directed at her. "And so you think we should pay the men of Laketown for defeating our enemy for us?" He stepped closer, and she shrank back. "You think we should grovel at their feet and sacrifice what is ours—our pride, our treasure—simply to thank them for killing Smaug? You know nothing of war, girl." His eyes darkened, and a sneer twisted his face. "So a naïve girl, a woman who does not even know how to wield a sword, a half dwarf," he spit out the word as if it tasted bitter, "a half dwarf woman would try to council me on matters that are mine and mine alone?" He swept past her, his robes flowing behind him. "We have reclaimed Erebor, and now—we defend it." And then he was gone.

Fili was at her side in an instant, his arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry about my uncle. He wouldn't treat you like that if he…if he were in his right mind, you know that, don't you?"

"I know." She looked away. "Don't be sorry." She closed her eyes and wormed out of Fili's embrace. "Please. Just leave me alone." Now Thorin hated her and they were going to war over a measly little amount of gold.

Nothing was fine now.

I'm super exited to post the next chapter. Super super exited. And a little nervous. Hehe, got you wondering now, don't I?