Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns everything save for the characters on in his works.

Chapter Forty-Nine

She woke on the cool hard stone of the hall that they had camped in. There were empty blankets surrounding her and the fire had burnt down to the embers, the pot of soup hanging over it barely steaming. How long she had slept, she did not know. But she was alone in the hall and suddenly aware of a sick, gut wrenching feeling.

Getting to her feet, Nuil approached the pot of soup, stomach grumbling hungrily as she ladled the cool soup into one of the bowls left out. At least Bombur had not forgotten her. Sitting back down she ate silently and pondered. Sleep had not come easy after Smaug's furious departure. Part of her was afraid that the dragon would come back, victoriously declaring his destruction of Laketown and eagerness to finish them off.

Nuil had not been the only one. Bilbo had sat up in his bedding for several hours, and when no one was looking, silently crying. She knew that he had more ties to the people of Laketown. Bard and his children had like Bilbo, despite his companions. Nuil had too, but she knew them little and had not the same ties that Bilbo had made. Still the deaths that would be their fault were hard to bear, and when the others had drifted into the land of dreams, she too had wept for the people of the lake.

Then there was Thorin.

He had a new sense of purpose, it seemed. An eagerness to build up the mountain, even with the threat of Smaug's return. When she had finally laid down to sleep, he had still not returned from his wanderings. She had little doubt in her mind that Thorin had gone to the gold. Before he had left, his goodnight had been empty, his lips pressed to her brow, cold.

He was falling. The gold called to him, as it did to her. But she was not a dwarf, and held little love for gold, unlike Thorin. Nuil put her half eaten bowl of soup down, not hungry anymore as her thoughts turned to her dwarf. What could she do? Deny him the right to his gold? No. That was not her place. And yet, something had to be done before it was too late. Before it took her over as well.

Rising she went to the door of the hall and followed the line of torches lining the walls. She wandered, lost in thought, and dreading that she was headed towards the treasury. Her brief sight of it before Smaug had chased them had been overwhelming. She had no doubt that the second would be the same.

Thorin would be searching his gold as well. For the Arkenstone. Mahal. It would be days before the stone would be found, if that. There was so much gold that she doubted they would find it until the gold was sorted, counted and stored. And that was if Smaug didn't not return. Looking up, she stiffened, the doorway of the treasury looming before her. Nuil could hear the dwarves within, speaking to one another, exclaiming over the riches they uncovered, and the jingle of coins that were moved as they searched.

Slowly she approached, clenching her fists, before stepping through.

The dwarves had lit torches, even great sconces that sat on raised pillars, the fires burning brightly and reflecting off of the massive hills of gold. Nearest to her sat Bilbo, looking at the dwarves while swinging his legs from the ledge he sat upon. She wanted to reach out and scoop up a handful of gold, rub the coins through her fingers and stuff them in her pockets. Her hand reached out, trembling, towards the nearest pile, but she stopped, fighting the urge and turning towards Bilbo.

"Might I join you?" she asked shakily. Bilbo offered her a kind smile and patted the spot beside him. Nuil sank down beside him, her hands fisted into her lap. She wanted to touch the gold so badly that she nearly jumped back up to run into the maze of gold.

"Did you sleep well?" Bilbo asked. Nuil forced herself to look at him, having a hard time thinking about his question and how to respond. Blinking rapidly, trying to clear her head she nodded slowly.

"You all let me sleep in," she murmured, keeping her gaze on Bilbo's new blue coat, the edges lined with old grey fur. "I woke and found myself alone."

"I am sorry for that, Nuil," Bilbo said earnestly. "But the dwarves wanted to go to the treasury, and Thorin had not come back from last night." Just as she thought. "How are you, after well, yesterday?" He searched her face worriedly. Nuil struggled to comprehend his words with the gold lying before her, but her memory returned briefly, with the image of her mother.

Tears stung her eyes, and she looked down.

"I do not know," Nuil admitted, forcing herself not to sob. "There is little I can do. I doubt that Thorin would be willing to part from his gold to find a tomb for her, at least before Smaug returns. But if it comes to the end, I will go be with her in my last hours."

"And Thorin?"

Only then did she allow herself to look back at the gold, her eyes searching for the dwarf-king. She found him, on the furthest hill that had dwarves searching, digging through the gold. It shined around him, and even though he was searching through it, it still made him look regal. Kingly.

"There is a madness in him, and within myself," she admitted. "The gold has hold of his mind, and it is working upon mine. I do not believe that in the end, should Smaug return, he would think much of me. Perhaps before the end meets us, he will wish that we were together, but not until then." Dragging her gaze from Thorin and the gold she looked at Bilbo.

"I must apologize in advance, my friend. I do not know if I have the strength to withstand. My father fell to the gold early on, though he was not privy to access the treasury at his pleasure, it still called to him and he hoarded what he earned. I am his daughter."

"But you do not like gold!" Bilbo exclaimed taking her hand. "Surely it cannot take hold of you if you loath it so much!"

Nuil gazed sadly at him. "I fear it, yes. But it is within me, the desire to possess it, as it is in Thorin. Perhaps that is a curse that my family has, for our longevity. The price of our lives." She shook her head. "I am fighting it, Bilbo, but I will fall one way or another."

Bilbo took a deep breath, searching her face, while his eyes looked fawaway in memory. "I remember when you told me stories of the Lonely Mountain when I was but a fauntling, and how I desired to see it for myself. I did not understand then, the sadness nor the reverence in which you spoke. Now I see what perhaps you yourself have not realized."

"What is that?" she asked.

"You never did want to return to Erebor. You feared what it had become, what it did to your father, and I am guessing your brothers." Nuil flinched at his words, but did not fight them, finding that she had not the heart to. "You have only come now to protect me and Thorin, Fili and Kili. The others as well."

"Loyalty, honor, a willing heart," she murmured from memory of Thorin's words at Bag End. So long ago were those days.

Bilbo nodded. But he had not heard those words then, but he understood them now anyways. "I will forgive you, for whatever happens, Nuil." He looked scared but determined, face pale and sad. "I will remember the good and not dwell on the bad."

Tears stung her eyes, slipping past and running down her cheeks. Using her sleeve she whipped them away. Bilbo should not be here, she thought bitterly, he should be in the Shire. He should not have to deal with gold hungry dwarves and a mad woman. But he was, and he would.

"I-" he began uncertainly. "I do not know, or if you will tell the others, but I found something important. You are the only one, who I hope will not speak of it."

She heard the worry in his voice, the fear and looked at him. He knew something, something important, and he worried that she would rat him out. He knew she was loyal to the dwarves, and Thorin's intended. But he had been her friend, she had been his playmate when the other fauntlings had spurned him for being wild. She would not repay his trust with betrayal.

"My lips will be sealed, no matter what you have to say," she told him firmly. "Or I shall fall upon my sword."

"Do not swear to that!" Bilbo exclaimed in surprise. He had learned that dwarves kept their word, and Nuil took after them in that respect. He leaned closer to her though and spoke in a hushed whisper. "I found what Thorin is looking for. The Arkenstone."

Nuil drew in a sharp breath, her eyes seeking Thorin as Bilbo looked worriedly at her. She looked back at Bilbo, brows furrowed.

"Why have you not given it to Thorin?" she asked.

"Have you seen him? He is mad with lust for gold. He is not himself. He has done nothing but search through the gold and tell the others to do so. I've only just been able to escape his notice and not joined them," said Bilbo.

"You think that he will become even more mad with goldlust once he has the stone," she said. "You are afraid that he will get worse."

"Will you tell him?" Bilbo asked anxiously.

Nuil frowned, looking at her fingers. She was loyal to Thorin, she would not betray him. But was Bilbo right. There was no knowing what Thorin would do once he had the stone, or how it would affect him. Now that she thought on his words, she too could see what he saw. And it frightened her. She too was scared now that she thought of it. Who knew how it would affect him once he had it.

But he had to have it to get Dain to acknowledge his right to the throne.

Yet what would it do to Thorin?

"I- I will not tell Thorin," she finally said.

"Thank you," Bilbo breathed, looking more at ease.

"But should he find it with you, his wrath with be . . ."

Bilbo shuddered. "I know."

"Nuilweyil!"

Nuil turned to the sound of her voice being called, watching Thorin approach her and Bilbo. He held something in his hands and he offered her a smile. Nuil found it odd, since he had barely acknowledged her in such a warm manner. It was worrying. She returned his smile, but did not really feel it in her heart.

"Thorin," she greeted, "are you well this morning?"

"Aye," he beamed finally reaching her. He looked at Bilbo briefly. "Might I have a word with her in private?"

Bilbo glanced at her, before getting to his feet. He nodded and turned to the gold in the treasury. Nuil watched him leave before turning to Thorin again. Thorin took Bilbo's vacated spot and turned to her.

"I have found something that I wish to give to you," he murmured taking her hand in his one free hand. He opened his other hand, revealing a breathtaking emerald necklace. The chain, a shining gold held the gems, and they glittered in the firelight. It was just a single chain of emeralds, elegant and simple. Nuil reached out her hand to touch it, her fingers gliding along the emeralds reverently. Her talk with Bilbo now seemed ages ago.

"You do not like the gaudy and extravagant jewelry that we dwarves do," Thorin said, "but I think this will look fetching around your neck, if you will wear it." Nuil looked at him, a smile growing on her lips as she turned, drawing her loose hair over her shoulder as an invitation. She did not have to wait long before the emeralds crossed in front of her, settling against her collarbone. Once it was clasped it settled heavily against her skin. Touching the emeralds once more, she turned to Thorin with a smile.

"They are beautiful, âzyungâl," she murmured, feeling happier than she had in days. She would be pleased if he showered his riches upon her. Thorin leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, drawing her into the fold of his arms tightly. Nuil hummed approvingly before pulling away. "Have you slept?"

"No, but I do not feel the need for it," Thorin replied, casting his gaze at the gold once more. "I feel more awake than I ever have. But come, help me sort through this gold."

She stood with him, willingly. "What do you search for?"

"The stone of Kings, the Arkenstone, you remember from your childhood?"

"Aye." There was a whisper in her thoughts. That she did not need to look, for it had already been found, and she should tell Thorin where it was. Why should she though? When there was gold before her, mountains of it that she would be able to walk through and touch. Wear the finery. Thorin need not know that their burglar had it, at least not now, when they were so fresh on the hunt.

Thorin held out his hand to her and she took it, walking side by side with him into the hoard of gold and offering a smile to the companions they passed. They looked happy, pleased with the gold rings on their fingers or the shining blades now tied to their belts. Nori looked their most pleased, his pockets bulging with jewels and gold.

Nuil beamed at Bilbo when he looked up as they passed. He stared, his lips weakly lifting and his eyes shadowed with doubt and sadness. What was he so sad about, she wondered as they continued further from their companions. The gold whispered to her, singing in her ears.

Bilbo did not understand.

Bilbo did not know the vastness of the wealth before him.

Nuil did. Thorin did. As did the others. But Bilbo would see. As she settled beside Thorin on a hill of gold, and began sifting through the gold all rational thought seemed to slip from her mind and Bilbo stared at her from afar. A frown tugging the corners of his lips.

Bard stared at the steaming surface of the lake, the charred remains of Laketown the result of Smaug's attack on the town. The dragon lay in the lake, his red hide rising from the water like the sun breaking the horizon in the east. There were still boats on the water. Small and filled with crying people. Bard himself was still wet from dragging himself from the water.

He clutched his bow tightly in his hand, the memory still fresh of taking his black arrow and letting it loose at Smaug. His arm still ached from the strain of the draw of such a heavy arrow and he thought it pure luck that he had aimed for Smaug's chest where a scale had come loose.

Somewhere his children were waiting for him, he had yet to find them. Turning away from the lake he limped towards the treeline. The cold bite of the wind did not abate even if Smaug was dead and the town destroyed. Had it not been on winters eve, Bard would not have felt so much anger towards the dwarves of Erebor. Had it been warm, there would be no troubles as to whether or not they would freeze to death or starve.

Ahead he could see the townspeople coming to shore, gathering together and finding loved ones. When they noticed him, they fell silent, even the ones crying. They had seen him upon the roof tops, and if they had not their neighbors had told them. They knew how Smaug came to rest in the lake.

"The Dragon slayer!" a voice rose up.

"Hero of Laketown!"

Bard eyed them uncertainly, not loving the praises that left their lips. But he did not correct them, intent on finding his children.

"Da!" cried a small voice. Bard turned to catch Tilda as she leaped into his arms. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and spoke into his shoulder. "We were so worried Da! And the house is gone and Bain is burned!" She sniffed and soon Bard felt the warm tears of his daughter through his thin coat.

"Tilda, my love," he murmured soothingly, though he did not feel calm, "where is Sigrid and Bain. Tell me where they are."

"I am here, father," said Sigrid approaching him. The crowd split to allow her to pass. Her dress was dirty, the hem ripped and burned, there was soot on her cheeks and her eyes were tired. Bard reached out a hand, pulling his eldest daughter into a one armed embrace.

"And Bain?" he asked, fearful of the news. Tilda had said he was burned. Sigrid pulled her head back to look up at him, her brown eyes glittering with tears.

"It is his leg and chest, Da," Sigrid said. "The dragon fire got him as he shoved us into the lake."

"Where is he?"

"They have set up a space for the wounded, it is this way," Sigrid told him, wiping her eyes. Bard followed, ignoring the looks that the people gave him, towards the far end of the clearing where several makeshift tents and beds had been set up from whatever debris scavenged from the lake. The one tent that stood, large enough for a man to crouch inside was where Sigrid took him.

"They think you the Master now, Da," Sigrid said stopping outside the tent flap. Bard did not say anything, clenching his jaw as he set Tilda down. "We will stay outside, I have done all that I can think of."

"Thank you, Sigrid," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her brow and entering into the tent. Allowing his eyes to adjust he saw his son Bain, lying on the ground in a bed of blankets. Some were wet while others were damp. It was all they had. And perhaps with the burns it was better, to have cold blankets. Bard approached, kneeling beside his son, grief filling his face at the sight of the red stained cloth upon Bain's chest. The skin would be scarred forever.

Lifting the blanket he looked at the damage to Bain's legs. Dropping the blanket quickly he looked away, gritting his teeth. Bain would have a limp. He might lose the leg, should the skin become infected. What had they done to deserve this? His own son? Curse Thorin Oakenshield and his mountain of gold.

"Da?" came Sigrid's voice from outside a few moments later. She sounded uncertain and scared. Instantly Bard was on his feet, opening the flap and looking out.

"What is it?"

Sigrid turned and looked at a three cloaked figures. Bard frowned and stepped out of the tent, placing himself in front of his daughters and son. They were not tall, at least not greatly. The tallest maybe was about the height of a man, but the other two were slightly shorter. Their stance was too thin to be that of a dwarf.

"Are you the leader of the people of the lake?" asked the tallest. Bard hesitated. He did not want to assume what was no his. He did not want to be the Master. And yet, the Master was not here.

"I will answer, until the Master of Laketown is found," he said finally. "What do you want?"

"We seek our kin," said the first.

"A sister," said another, earning a sharp turn of the head from the first. Bard could only guess that he was glaring at him.

"She would be traveling in the company of dwarves," said the third.

"Nuil?" Bard said, remembering the strange woman. "Thorin Oakenshield's woman?"

They did not like that. Growing stiff and silent until the first cleared his throat and nodded. "You do not seem to hold any ill will towards her, might I ask your name, Lord of the Lake?"

"I am no Lord, although perhaps my grandsire was before the ruin of Dale. I am Bard."

The first lowered his hood then, his dark hair hanging down around his shoulders, eyes stern and careful. He was strong, with fierce features. "I am her eldest brother, Noledhe."

The second lowered his hood. "I am Nedoheen."

Then the third lowered his hood. "I am Nogoth."

They looked alike, and yet Nedoheen had the stance of an archer. His shoulders were broad, but not as broad as Noledhe's. Nogoth was more muscled, less so than a dwarf. They eyes ranged from brown to grey. They did not look old, but Bard sensed something in them that spoke of age. These were not normal men. Neither had their sister been.

"We saw the dragon, in the night, burning the city. We were afar and could not offer our aid," Noledhe went on. "Is," he hesitated before asking, "Nuil here?"

Bard shook his head. "She and the company of dwarves left three days before Smaug descended on our town. They have reached the mountain and if Smaug did not kill them before he came to us, they would be there."

Nedoheen looked distressed, and Nogoth turned pale. They looked to their elder brother. "That is ill news. We can only hope that the Valar have watched over our sister, and that she lives. Though I do not wish to enter the mountain, should I awaken my fathers curse within my blood."

"Curse?" Bard murmured.

Noledhe looked solemn. "Indeed. For our longevity we were given a curse to counter our long lives. What is precious will ensnare us to our deaths. Gold is precious. As are gems, but also love." He sighed. "Nuil has awoken two, gold and love. Should she fight the gold lust, she will age and die with the dwarf she has given her heart to. Our curse has sundered our family before Smaug even took the Lonely Mountain."

"I see," Bard said intrigued.

"One of us will go to the mountain to see if they live, but not to enter it," Noledhe went on. "But we will stay and help your people however we can until Nuil is returned to us."

"I do not believe that she would leave Thorin," Bard told them. "Not willingly."

"Then she has two choices," Noledhe said. "For Niena visited my dreams. Should she stay with the dwarves she will lose everything, or come with her kin and live."

"Strange omens," Bard murmured. Then he nodded, though he did not do it lightly. "You may do as you have said. We are shelterless and without supplies. Perhaps one of you will go and seek out the elvenking and ask for his aid?"

"I will go," Nedoheen said. "Nogoth will go to the mountain."

Nogoth nodded while Noledhe looked to him. "I will remain and help as much as I am able. I have some skill in healing wounds," he said with a slight smile. "Possible from my many brothers and sister getting in over their heads with mischief."

Bard did not think that this was mischief, but accepted Noledhe's words gratefully nonetheless. The brothers separated after saying their farewells privately and Bard was left with Noledhe in their makeshift camp. Now all they had to do was wait.

I know I promised to post sooner. For that I am sorry, I got slammed with homework and going to work. Sigh. But I've been writing, so all is not lost! :)

I didn't want to post this until after BOTFA came out, but I'm feeling generous . . . that am I may have started another Hobbit fanfic that I'll be posting today too . . .

Anyways, I hope this makes you want to cry and happy at the same time. Things are getting even more complicated, if you can believe it. I also wanted to add some Bard time, because I really like how he came off in the movie, and he does after all kill Smaug. I didn't want his role to be the 'random dude who took them in/killed the dragon, why is he important?' kind of role. And her brothers.

I have not forgotten about her brothers. As you can see, they will play a significant role here in this last part. I know I'm deviating from just telling Thorin and Nuil's story, by doing the other characters perspectives, but I couldn't get around it without confusing everyone. And the gold sickness . . . I am reminded of Boromir for some reason when it write about it. How he fell to the ring at Amon Hen, like the gold, it seduced him. Okay, I won't go off on a tangent about that, this is already a long author's note. ;)

Thank you to my reviewers! You have been VERY patient with me, and I really appreciate it. R&R!

~filimeala