A/N: This is a very wild re-imagining of the end of DOS and beginning of BotFA. If you feel so inclined, please let me know what you think. ^_^ Thanks for reading and all the commentary thus far.

T.A. 2941

The stirrings of the Mountain and trembling earth forewarn the Elvenking. The prince disregards the king's orders to stay put and leaves to track the Orcs, unable to forget neither the words of the one they held captive nor his father's reaction to them.

Do you understand now, elfling? Death is upon you. The flames of war are upon you!

All the while Legolas Greenleaf follows the riverside path by which the Dwarves fled Mirkwood, he thinks of Tauriel. He thinks of how his father said one thing and meant another. The prince, however, is not fooled.

Days pass and blend together. He arrives at the eastern mouth of the Forest River where the open sky stretches out over the settlement he knows as Lake-town. Legolas remembers what his father said: the Dwarves will court the dragon's wrath and ruin if they have their way.

Legolas makes quick work of carving out a fallen sapling. He fashions a small boat for himself to complete the journey. The dwarves would need weapons and supplies 'ere they attempt to reclaim their kingdom. Lake-town is where he will find them and stop them if Tauriel has not already done so.

He can see her clearly in his mind. The prospect of the hunt changed her. It blazed through her air of quiet reservation and set her eyes alight. Legolas knows of his father's pilgrimages to the western sea; he asked once and was met with silence. Tauriel is the answer to hundreds of years of Legolas's unvoiced questions. Even when he first saw her trembling with fatigue upon the river bank in his kingdom Legolas knew she was an element all her own. She is not one of his race but a creation of forces unseen. He is no longer surprised his father could be so drawn to her.

Legolas arrives by nightfall. He finds the town under siege by the very same pale Orcs of the north, the loathsome warriors of Gundabad. He kills as many as he can as he follows them to the house where the Dwarves took refuge. Upon finding that Thorin Oakenshield and those among them who are warriors had already set off for the Lonely Mountain, Legolas departs the house with haste.

He chases the Orc that leads the pack toward the northern bridge, engaging it in close combat but to no avail. Brushing his hand beneath his nose, he realizes he has not been knocked flat or bled from a blow since he was a youth in the training yard. Anger rushes through his veins as he watches Bolg, son of Azog, mount his warg to flee.

The Dwarves he questions are more honest than he expects perhaps because his disdain for them no longer colors his speech. The young, black-haired archer comes forward to tell him that Tauriel was among the group that went ahead.

"My uncle keeps her with him," The one named Kíli says gravely, "to ensure that your father will not move against us once we reclaim Erebor."

"How was she forced into this?" Legolas growls. What civility he displayed begins to vanish. His heart pounds and his expression is stern. The human children behold him with awe. The dwarves eye him warily. What madness do these dwarves believe his father capable of? The king will not move against them because there is a dragon 'neath the mountain, not because Thorin Oakenshield holds a sea-nymph hostage.

"Tauriel was not forced. She has power over these waters and was about to drag us back to Mirkwood before we reached the Long Lake." The other dwarf by the name of Fíli added. The resemblance between the brothers is apparent to Legolas as they stand side by side.

"I…I shot an arrow and struck her fin. She might have drowned us. Thus we brought Tauriel here and healed her wound." Kíli's face is gentle as he speaks her name. Legolas knows his father is not the only one taken with her. "She agreed to help us of her own free will though she made clear her intention to save your forests from the threat of dragon-fire. Above and before all else."

Legolas considers what the dwarves have said. Tauriel goes willingly, if for different motivations, with the Dwarven company to slay the dragon. She acts with Thranduil's interests in mind by doing so at great risk to herself. If she has survived this far on her own power and ability, she will need no rescue. Legolas cannot waste time—there are other sinister plans afoot and he must discover the Orcs' intent. He departs from Lake-town with the northern winds spurring his horse onward.

Thranduil's loathing of the sons of Durin is rekindled when they disturb and wake the dragon.

Indeed, for a second time Thranduil watches the lands beyond his forest burn. It is a bitter and fortunate thing that the dragon avoids Mirkwood. Smaug the Golden remembers the fierce warriors of the woodland. He dares not attack the Elves nor do they have wealth compared to the Dwarves.

What Thranduil does not see is the Man who stands alone to confront Smaug with naught but a single black arrow. It is shot from a makeshift wind-lance, the man's son props the arrow on his shoulder as his father nocks it and pulls back with all his might. His aim does not falter even as his town blazes all around in an all-encompassing inferno.

The arrow flies. The dragon shrieks as it hits its mark in the hollow of a missing scale. Still, Smaug does not fall. He crashes and blunders into the burning remains of houses, crushing people underfoot.

The flames that rise from the lake do not hinder Smaug's progress from the town into the water as he stumbles. His great cry rises into the night and he breathes his wrath into the air. The lake seems to glow then but not because of the fire.

Opaque black clouds congregate overhead, blown in by a wild wind from the remote west. If one listens closely the sea-song roars above the wind—the song wraps itself around the dragon to lure it into the depths. The monstrous serpent clambers farther and farther in as if entranced by the song and his own pain from the wound in his chest. Those who can, watch the beast in its confusion in horrified fascination.

A mighty storm is unleashed. The lake convulses and great waves rise as if it were the tempestuous ocean itself. Lake-town's folk take what shelter they can as the downpour extinguishes the dragon-fire and floods the wreckage. It is the most stunning and terrifying thing the people have ever seen. When once they feared the fire, the fishermen and merchants now fear the very water from which they made their living.

As massive as Smaug is, he has not the strength to fight the watery chains that rise from the lake to drag him under. Lightning flashes, the thunders growls its answer and the rain falls ever harder. Amid this glorious chaos, the folk of Laketown see a maiden that rides the crest of a single enormous wave. It rolls and gathers strength, mercifully avoiding the remnants of Lake-town. At last it fells the dragon, swallowing its lifeless body into the unfathomable deep.

Bard and his ancestor may have weakened the dragon's hide, but it is the daughter of the western seas whose wrath puts an end to Smaug the Golden.