After that nasty ending to the last chapter I better not let you guys wait too long, do I? Seems like I've hit some nerves and I'm entirely pleased with that because that's just what I wanted to do. And I'm grinning like a child in a candy store right now.
So time to get the dragon into the story, right?
Thanks a lot for all the emotional reviews, it's that sort of feedback that makes me enjoy writing even more. Truly thank you guys! And enjoy the next chapter!
The sun slowly crept across the sky but no warmth came from it anymore, for winter had officially begun and a prickling chill hung in the air. Ori pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, but he was unsure whether the cold came from the wind or from the gloom that had befallen the dwarves. Though the company was disbanded, they still travelled together in silence. Ori walked with his brothers alongside Bofur, Bifur and Bombur for those six had bonded the most, considering that they were merchants and miners and none of them belonged to a royal line. Glóin and Óin travelled with Balin and Dwalin for they were cousins and nobility and Thorin walked a few feet ahead on his own, the King with no crown and no other sign to show his heritage. At the back, Fíli and Kíli walked together.
Neither of them dared to speak with Thorin, nor with anybody else, for all of this was their fault and their failure and they could not look anybody in the eye anymore. They knew that they would return to the Blue Mountains in shame and neither of them was worthy of being a member of Durin's line any longer. Kíli's sobbing had ceased and he had fallen into deep silence, worrying his brother.
They travelled like this through the night and by morning the next day, they had reached the large silvery lake before the Gates of Erebor again. The mountain lay quiet, the sun reflected by the numerous balconies and the shining carvings and whilst Thorin deliberately avoided the sight, Fíli and Kíli looked at their home once more and though they had never seen it, they missed it terribly. So terribly that it tore their young hearts into pieces.
"Kíli?" Fíli suddenly broke the silence, his eyes still fixed on the mountain. "Is there anything we have to lose?"
"No. Nothing's left anymore", the younger sighed, close to tears once again but when he looked at his brother, he stopped in his tracks. Fíli's face was stern and determined and Kíli's heart began to race in his chest.
"You don't mean to-"
"This cannot be borne", Fíli muttered, not knowing that those words had been said before. 151 years ago by his grandfather Thráin, when all hope for the Dwarves of Erebor seemed lost as well and it had been those words that had caused the greatest slaughter and victory in the history of Durin's line.
When Thorin heard the words of his nephew, he stopped abruptly and stared at him bewildered and so did Dwalin and Balin, who remembered the words and still heard them ringing in their heads, clear as bells.
"Fíli-", Kíli quietly began but his brother simply dropped his belongings and kept nothing but his massive battle hammer and his swords.
"Are you with me?" he asked, looking at Kíli and slowly hope began to grow in the youngster's heart once again. The spirit of Durin returned and filled him once more and for the first time since they had left the bay and the secret door behind, he felt like he was able to breathe again.
"I'll wait here and prepare everything", Kíli replied and nodded, dropping his bags and pouches as well, keeping nothing but his bow and arrows and his sword. When he looked around, he saw wonder and amazement in the dwarves' faces.
To everyone's surprise, it was Dwalin who dropped his belongings next, picking up his own battle hammer and axes. Ori followed close after and so did Bofur, Bifur and Glóin. Thorin watched petrified but he did not interfere, nor did he encourage them. His gaze was fixed on Fíli and he seemed unsure whether to support him or to beat him into a pulp.
"What are you doing?" he whispered.
"You are my King", Fíli replied. "And I've gone with you on this quest to help you to reclaim what is rightfully yours, so that you can lead us into glory once more. I believe in Erebor. I believe in you. And everyone else does too."
Before Thorin could say another word, Fíli had shouldered his battle hammer and signalled that there would be no reasoning with him. Not anymore.
"Dwalin, Bofur, Nori. Care to join me?" he looked at his friends.
"Well", Dwalin scratched his neck and cracked his knuckles. "Since our King's decided to sulk in the corner, I guess we might as well follow you little shit until his Majesty's done with his royal drama." His large hand firmly clutched Thorin's shoulder and he smiled underneath his thick beard and while Bofur nodded, Nori smirked and grabbed his mace.
As the four of them set off and quickly made their way to the large Gate, all hell broke lose amongst the remaining members of the company. Kíli and Glóin discarded the company of any unnecessary luggage and Balin pressed Orcrist's hilt into Thorin's hands.
"This is our kingdom. Our home. The only dream you and I ever had in our lives. This is not about success or failure, this is about our pride as dwarves and I am mighty proud. Proud to be your friend, your comrade, your soldier. I'm old now, Thorin, and I would rather die on the battlefield than in the halls of the Blue Mountains. And I know you would too. We're with you, if you're with us."
Thorin watched him for a while, watched the familiar features of the dwarf he had grown up with and when his gaze fell upon Erebor, the old determination of the House of Durin gleamed in his eyes once again.
"Everyone, sharpen your weapons and gather stones and rock and pile them up as high as you can, for we will need cover against dragon fire soon!" he bellowed. "I will forge myself a nice armour from the scales of that beast tonight!" And a wave of relief crashed over the company for their King was with them again.
The small company of four meanwhile rushed across the soft grass and over the wide bridge towards the Gates of Erebor. Fíli led them on and neither of them said a word for they knew what they had to do. As soon as they stood before the large, wooden gate, Fíli looked at each of them and at once, they raised their hammers and maces and thundered the heavy weapons against the gate with all their might.
The clangour was deafening and echoed far across the land, causing the ground below their feet to shake and dust and rocks to fall from the bridge into the lake. They raised their weapons once more and once more brought them down onto the gate with such force, that the wood splintered and cracked and the silver hinges were soon dented and cracked. When the sweat began to pour down their faces and their breath only came in fits and starts, they paused and looked up at the gate.
The silence that followed was frightening and for a moment they believed their attempt to be in vain once more, when the ground suddenly began to shake again and a sudden blast of hot, choking air swayed through the cracks in the gate.
"Run", Fíli whispered, his terrified gaze fixed on the gate as he only now realised what they had done. "RUN!"
They turned on their heels and rushed across the bridge once more and not a minute too late, for the Gates of Erebor sprang open and a hot wind dashed across the grassland, singing the green blades of grass. They felt the heat in their backs, slowly eating at their hair and clothes and soon the stench of burned fabric filled the air around them but none of them cared. They ran as if flaming whips were behind them, as fast as their short dwarven legs could carry them.
Blind for his surroundings, Fíli dashed forward, the slowly healing wound on his side aching again but he had no time to think about it. When his gaze fell to his left, he gasped and tried his best to suppress a loud scream. A large shadow covered the ground, growing in size with every step the dwarves made and when he looked back over his shoulder, he nearly stumbled and fell.
By the bridge stood Smaug. High as the gate and wide as the bridge itself, his body was covered over and over in gold coins, only revealing occasional gaps, where his blood red scales shone in the sunlight. He gleamed and shimmered and thus beheld a mesmerizing beauty that Fíli could not deny, though terrifying it was. His large, black claws dug deep into the stony ground and at the end of his long neck were a slim head with a long snout and his eyes gleamed orange, looking down at the four dwarves that ran across the grassland. He let out a screech that made Fíli's ears click and hurt badly and he pressed his hands on his ears while he ran on but none of them dared to stop or slow down for even a second.
He heard as Smaug spread his large wings, wider than the entire lake before the mountain. When he pushed off the ground, the massive wings caused a true hurricane, blowing the dwarves off their feet and they stumbled and fell to the ground, yet none of them lay for long, for the wind pushed them on and they slid and tumbled across the grassland. Some tried to claw at rocks and boulders to hold on to but to no avail. The powerful wind blew them here and there, separated them from one another and while Bofur and Nori were blown into the arms of the waiting company, Dwalin was dragged to the East, Fíli to the West and soon they were out of sight.
The dragon rose higher and higher, the large wings flapping lazily but powerful. He roared again when he noticed the remaining company. His amber eyes roamed over the dwarves and when he spotted Thorin, a dark, grim sneer spread across his gold covered face.
"You!" Smaug thundered and the dwarves stood in wonder, for none of them had known that the dragon could talk. "I know your face, Dwarf of Durin!"
Memories flashed across the dragon's mind. Memories of the day that he had been greeted with swords and spears at the Gate of Erebor and he had burned everything down and killed every single dwarf that had dared to step into his way. He remembered the screams and the agony and the reek of burning flesh that had hung in the air and he remembered the young prince standing at the entrance of the lower halls, his sword drawn.
"NOT ONE STEP FURTHER YOU DESPICABLE WORM OR I WILL SLICE YOUR HEAD OFF!"
And Smaug had snickered at him that day, crushing the pillars with his long tail, blinding the shining tiles and the polished stone and he had stepped on the prince, his large claws pressing him into the marble floor, before he had disappeared between the glorious treasure, that the Dwarves of Erebor had horded for him, believing the prince to be dead, just like the rest of his kin.
"I crushed you that day!" the dragon bellowed and the dwarves stared at Thorin, for nobody knew that he had come that close to Smaug in the past.
"No you didn't", Thorin growled, pointing his sword at the flying monster. "AND YOU BETTER REMEMBER THIS FACE WELL FOR IT WILL BE THE LAST THING YOU SEE BEFORE YOU DIE!"
Roaring laughter echoed across the grassland and smoke rose from Smaug's nostrils, as he eyed the dwarf carefully.
"I doubt that", he hissed, a lizard-like tongue darting out between long, pointy fangs.
"Thorin", Dori's quiet voice sounded from behind the King. "How are we supposed to fight that beast if he's up there and we're down here? As if we weren't small enough already."
"None of us is small!" Thorin snarled and Dori flinched a little. "You hear me? None of you is ever to say that he's small again! The pride that dwells within you, that is in your blood, is bigger and mightier than anything else in this world! And that beast will learn it soon enough!"
A new born courage gripped them tight, reaching their hearts and souls for their King had returned to them and soon their kingdom would be theirs again, mighty and splendid and unmatched by anything. They roared and cheered and thrust their weapons into the air. All except for one. Kíli had begun to rummage in Óin's satchels, too focused on finding what he was looking for, to even listen to Thorin's speech.
"What on earth are ye doin' laddie?!" Óin complained for he did not like it when others searched through his belongings, but Kíli still did not listen. He merely muttered a content "Aha!" when he found what he had been looking for and grabbed a black glass bottle from the satchel. He quickly unscrewed it and began to dip the tips of his arrows in.
"What's that?" Ori asked, watching mesmerized.
"Aconite", Óin replied, staring at the youngster in wonder.
"Smart boy", Balin smirked. "Bring him down."
The dwarves glanced up at the dragon floating above them and it was then that they noticed the fault in their thinking. For Smaug's belly was covered in gold coins, layer above layer and the gold formed an impenetrable armour.
"No use", Glóin muttered. "The arrow will bounce right off."
"No it won't", Kíli mumbled for his young, sharp eyes had found a patch on the dragon's chest that lay bare, the soft, light skin handed to him on a silver platter.
He lifted his bow and took a good aim, careful not to prick himself with his own arrows for that would have been the end of him. The flapping of Smaug's large wings caused his body to rock up and down and every now and then the bare spot was covered by the thick, leathery wings and soon sweat ran down Kíli's temples. He only had one shot and he knew it. Failure would mean the death of them all.
"WHAT'S WRONG BEAST?" Thorin thundered up to the dragon, trying to lure him lower to the ground. "TOO AFRAID TO FACE US DOWN HERE?!"
"Afraid? Of a midget like you?" Smaug roared and once again his abhorrent laughter echoed across the valley. "What are you compared to my glory and my size?!"
When Smaug spread his wings to demonstrate his sheer greatness, Kíli saw his chance. The slender, dark arrow cut through the air, spinning at an unbelievable pace and the roar ended abruptly when the dragon felt a jabbing pain shooting through his chest.
"Ridiculous!" he hollered down at the dwarves. "Do you really believe that a tiny splint like this will bring me down?!"
"Just you wait", Kíli hissed. He quickly grew very pale however, when he noticed Smaug's chest rising as the dragon sucked in a large gulp of air. They heard a deep simmering sound, as if a large kettle had come to boil and the air suddenly grew so humid that their hair and clothes clung to their bodies like a second skin. Thorin's eyes grew wide.
"HIDE! EVERYONE! HIDE RIGHT NOW!"
They made it behind the makeshift barrier of stone and boulders just in time. A massive flame, hotter than the core of the earth and brighter than sunlight crashed down upon the grassland, burning everything in sight. The flames were licking at the stone, painting it black and a horrible stench hung in the air, for the fire had burned their provisions and luggage and black smoke began to rise from their ambush. They had nothing left but their weapons now.
"It didn't work!" Glóin yelled. "He's still up there!"
Kíli gritted his teeth in frustration, certain now that the arrow had been too short to drill far enough through Smaug's thick skin. All he had done in the end was to make the beast even more furious.
"Look!" Ori suddenly shouted and he pointed up at the sky.
The dragon was staggering in mid air, flapping his large wings uncontrollably. His big head swung from left to right as an unknown dizziness befell him, his head spinning violently. Smaug felt sick. Very sick. A poisonous sickness, caused by the arrow, drenched in toxic aconite. He roared frustrated and then suddenly dropped to the ground from great height, crashing down so forcibly that he left a massive crate at the bottom of the valley. The whole ground was shaking, stones toppling from the barrier and nearly burying the dwarves underneath but they quickly dodged the falling rocks and when they glanced across the valley, they saw the great dragon laying on the ground unmoving.
"Is- is he dead?" Bofur asked after the dust had settled.