Author's Note: Okay, I owe everyone a huge apology, I am so so so sorry I couldn't reply to hardly any reviews last week! I have never done that before and I plan to NEVER do it again! I was just so busy last week I literally had no time to breathe and barely got round to writing this chapter. I plan to reply to every review that I can this time.

And another big thing for me to be sorry about: Next Tuesday's chapter may be late, as I have assessments all this weekend and next Tuesday. I'm hoping to still be able to update, but this is just a warning now. So, with that in mind, on with Chapter 5!

For the song I use in this chapter, if you look up on youtube: Miery Celtic Ballad Riversong. It's really lovely! :)

Chapter 5 – Public Performance

"I desired dragons with a profound desire." – C.S Lewis

Gandalf sat uncomfortably as he was pressed against the bars of the cage, deep clouds thundering above the ruins of Dol Goldur where he was imprisoned, and the wizard felt… old… as he was left there to rot. The Orcs had long since departed, to where, Gandalf had his suspicions but had no proof. The dark mist of the Necromancer that had revealed itself to be Sauron – the realisation still sent a shiver of dread and fear through Gandalf's body – had left him alone, finally bored with taunting and torturing the wizard in any way it could. And without his staff, Gandalf was unable to break himself free, his spirit almost broken as he sat cramped and uncomfortable in the confines of the cage.

"Psst… Psst!" came a sudden whisper, so unexpected that Gandalf simply assumed it to be a figment of his imagination, until he heard the noise again and quickly looked up, ancient grey eyes searching the area around his cage for the source of the noise.

And there, standing right in the middle of the courtyard from which Gandalf hung out of reach, stood a man with matted brown hair and beard, a brown cloak and gnarled wooden staff, a toothy smile breaking his grubby features.

"Radagast?" Gandalf breathed, eyes widening in shock as he beheld his dear friend. "What are you doing here?!" he hissed, snapping out of his happiness as he remembered exactly where they were. "You gave me your word that you wouldn't come after me!"

"I didn't come in here for you!" Radagast smiled, a mischievous twinkle entering his bright eyes.

"He came in here for me," came a beautiful and melodic voice.

Gandalf turned around sharply, as much as he was able, to see the Lady Galadriel standing there in all her glory. White robe and cloak falling around her and pooling at her ankles, her angelic blonde hair framing her perfect elven features; she smiled at Gandalf, and he would have lied if he had said that he didn't feel a rush of warmth inside of his old bones at seeing her beautiful face once again. And then he noticed the others behind her… Elrond dressed in his regal armour and armed to the teeth, he was looking fixedly out at the ruins around him; and Saruman dressed in robes of white also, his white staff held in one hand as he looked at Gandalf.

Without a word, Galadriel pointed one hand at the bars of the cage, and Gandalf felt the rush of magical power in the air. And then, a mighty "BANG" sounded as the door to the cage burst open with a shower of sparks and smoke, the wards on the lock breaking as well as the seal. Stiffly, the Grey Wizard climbed out of the cage, Saruman nodded to him, before producing from thin air a staff that was exactly like Gandalf's old one; the grey wizard beamed, feeling the warmth spread through his fingers as he touched the ancient wood fondly, his magic coming to him once again.

"We must move, quickly," Galadriel said, stepping around the group as she headed deeper into the ruins. "This Necromancer has already sent his forces towards Erebor."

"He would attack the Mountain with the Dragon still inside?" Gandalf asked, bewildered at what the Enemy would have to gain by this, for surely Smaug would not take kindly to an entire army of Orcs encroaching upon his very doorstep.

"Then you do not know?" Radagast asked, wide eyed as he stopped to turn and look at Gandalf.

"Know what?"

"Gandalf… The Dragon is dead," Saruman said sternly, as if he were impatient to be going.

"What?!"

"He was slain by Bard the Bowman not a few weeks ago," Galadriel told him in an almost melancholy voice. "He was shot down by a Black Arrow when he was attacking the people of Laketown,"

"But, if he is slain then that means…" Gandalf trailed off, before whirling around to face Elrond… who had not spoken once during the entire time, nor had he met Gandalf's eyes.

"Yes Gandalf," Elrond muttered stiffly and with no emotion in his voice whatsoever as he stared blankly ahead of them, not meeting the Wizard's eyes. "She died with him. I felt her pass over… her body was not recovered."

And then, the elf's eyes met Gandalf's, and in that one look was conveyed all the hurt and guilt and blame Elrond was holding in. When Kathryn had been separated from Smaug and his mountain, she had come to Elrond, and he had taken her in. During her stay in Rivendell, Elrond had grown close to the young Seer, seeing to her and caring for her like a father would a daughter. And now, she was gone, when Gandalf had sworn to his elven friend that he would not allow any harm to befall her. The grey wizard felt his heart sink in despair, for he had grown fond of the young woman also as she had told him her tale, and what's more, he had made a promise to her… a promise that he was unable to keep…

Before Gandalf could say all the woes of his heavy heart and plead for Elrond's forgiveness, the elven Lord walked past him, and once again they all went deeper into the heart of the ruin. Gandalf knew to let it lie – for now. Elrond was hurting, and they had more important issues to attend to right now.

They didn't get far, when all of a sudden the rocks began to tremble around them, the very structure of the ruin seeming to hum with power. The group stopped, looking about them, as suddenly, tentacles of black smoke rose around them, seemingly to leak from the cracks in between the brickwork and from the shadows themselves, surrounding them with a cloud of menace and hate.

"There is none… that can stand before the darkness…" A voice suddenly whispered all around them, a rasping wheeze but that held the growling command that only something ancient could muster. Gandalf had heard such a voice before, and prepared himself, both mentally and physically for battle."You cannot fight against the oncoming night…"

"But neither can the dark stop the dawn!" Gandalf cried before shooting a blast of his magic towards the nearest trail of black mist and it vaporised against his magic. Radagast and Elrond soon joined him, the brown wizard using his own wind magic to try and disperse the cloud, and Elrond produced an enchanted sword that glowed against the darkness, swinging the mighty blade and cutting at the darkness around him. But for every piece of the dark that they destroyed, two more took its place, surrounding them like a pack of snarling dogs, lunging closer and feinting away.

Then, Galadriel and Saruman both took a stand, the great lady lifting one delicate hand, though her eyes were like steel as she glared at the mass of black that was forming before them, creating the heart of the darkness. Saruman pointed his staff at it, a firm grip in both hands, and the pair shot out huge white lights that almost cleaved the darkness in two.

The voice of the Necromancer screamed around them, more in outrage then in pain. In retaliation, tongues of fire shot through the air, dancing around the group as if it were vipers trying to strike. With but a wave of her hand, Galadriel brushed the flames aside, fixing her glare upon the darkness before her, shooting her hands out, and watching her magic push at the Necromancer. It moved only an inch before the tentacles of smoke was brought in like claws before pushing back at the elven lady, their magic meeting squarely in the middle of the space that separated them. Even with the main force focused on Galadriel, tendrils of darkness tried to creep around the ground, which were met by Gandalf, Elrond, Radagast and Saruman who fended them off with both magic and might.

As the struggle continued between the great Galadriel and the Necromancer, the physical environment around them began to suffer: the energy created between them was so powerful that it made the already weak structure of the ruin begin to crumble. But still, neither side relented nor seemed to be tiring, both on equal footing for Galadriel was one of the most powerful of her kind, whilst the Necromancer – which Gandalf knew to be Sauron – was weak without a physical form in the real world and at only half his strength. As if the force of evil realised this also, it sent out a huge shockwave through the earth which was powerful enough that the five standing upon the ruin lost their footing and were sent falling to the ground as the earth shook beneath them.

Instantly, the darkness prepared to smash them and crush them into the stone with the full force of its power, but was halted when Galadriel struck a hand out into the air and a huge sphere of light surrounded her and her companions, shielding them from the mists of darkness. She raised herself onto her knees, her other hand joining the first as she held against the onslaught of power battling against her defences. Gandalf weakly stood beside her, adding his own magic with hers in an effort to aid her. Then, suddenly, they saw a white shape shoot past them, escaping the protective sphere and into the vulnerable position in front of them, left bear to the darkness.

"Saruman!" Galadriel called out to him.

The white wizard stood alone before the darkness, and as if sensing him, a tentacle of the black mist shot towards him, forming into the shape of a spear or lance as it came for him, ready to rip the wizard into pieces. But before it could reach him, Saruman slammed his staff into the stone, and an explosion of white light engulfed the ruin, blinding all those within. A terrible scream could be heard, but Gandalf saw nothing, all he could make out was this suddenly white world that left him with no bearings as he struggled to reclaim his vision.

And then, the white light faded as quickly as it had appeared… and the darkness was gone, the Necromancer had vanished, and Saruman stood alone before them.

"Is it over?" Radagast squeaked as he stiffly propped himself up on his elbows.

"It is over…" Saruman murmured with a faint smile.

"Thank Eru!" Elrond sighed, his body seeming to sag from exhaustion.

But Gandalf couldn't fully agree with the leader of the wizards. He had no doubt in Saruman's power, nor did he doubt his word, but something about this… felt wrong… it felt too easy. But distracting his thoughts, Gandalf was resigned to the fact that such fears would have to be put on hold for another time, as he quickly picked himself up and with staff in hand turned from his comrades and began to walk away.

"Gandalf!" Radagast called out to him. "Where are you going?"

"To Erebor."

Smaug strode down the hall, Andraya at his side trotting in order to keep up with his long legs that ate up the length of the hallway as he marched towards the throne room. Smaug tried to ignore her, the way he would ignore an insect. She was here at his command, and so he had to put up with her presence, no matter how much he fantasised about killing he in every possible way he could with a single blunt instrument…

It had been three days since Smaug had found Kathryn and "healed" her. And during those three days he had spent in frustrated, impatient agony over the fact that he couldn't simply take her now. But Smaug prided himself on his quick and cunning mind, and he knew that now was not the time, he had to bide his time and wait, no matter how much it angered him. But he had been keeping a close eye on his precious seer, using the new bond between them in order to check upon her well-being every now and again. He noticed that Kathryn seemed unaware of the link, and he was not in a rush to point it out to her just yet, this also meant that she did not notice him when he entered her mind when he fell asleep, watching over her during her dreams encase her madness should try to creep up on her again. But what Smaug seemed to notice was Kathryn's irrational fear that would surge along the chain that linked them at very irregular intervals… particularly at night. It was like an iron spike that rose out of the ground to pierce him before quickly retreating out of sight, and the unexplained strikes only grew on Smaug's already short stretch of patience.

But all would be revealed in time. That was all he could say to keep himself in check: in time… with time and patience come all things…

They reached the throne room, a guard giving Andraya one look before allowing them to slip inside. Andraya nodded her thanks, Smaug choosing to ignore how easy it was for them to encroach upon the nobility gathered within the throne room. Andraya had told him that she had connections within the city, old contacts and a few who owed her favours, and Smaug wondered just how much sway these little "friends" could give her. But he put the thought to one side as he entered the throne room: a tall chamber with vaulted ceilings and two rows of three mighty columns to hold it up. At one end of the room, a huge raised dais stood, with a canopy of velvet hanging high above two exquisitely carved thrones upon which sat – who Smaug supposed was – the King and Queen. The King was a man perhaps late into his fourth decade, with greying brown hair and grey eyes, his moustache and bored expression upon his wrinkling face made him look both like a wise old man and a spoiled child at the same time. He wore robes of green with the insignia of Dorwinion upon his cape, the vine wrapped around the sword. Beside him sat a woman that any mortal may have considered beautiful, but not in a young and vibrant kind of way. She was in her third decade, her face showing her age but held such wisdom and maturity that her beauty was almost undeniable in that sense. Smaug was interested in her appearance, for her hair was most unusual, in the fact that it was such a light yellow that it looked like fine spun gold and silver thread, folded behind her head into a braid that was pulled up and pinned to her head with a beautiful sapphire pin. She had the exact same grey eyes as her husband, and although she was of an attractively slim body – as far as Smaug's judgement of human taste was concerned – but he also noticed the slight swell of her belly. The Queen wore a gown of exquisite light blue in order to match the sapphire pin in her hair. Behind her stood four women each in matching yellow dresses, Freyja was among them, which could only mean that they were the Queen's ladies in waiting. The King and Queen gazed out at the crowd of people that were their court, lords and ladies buzzing like a hive of bees, talking amongst themselves or one or two coming before the thrones in order to proclaim something to the monarchs. Each human was dressed in fine materials, all different colours of the rainbow and with different styles in order to accentuate their wealth and status like strutting peacocks. Smaug and Andraya retreated to a corner of the room, where they remained unnoticed by any and all. The dragon-in-human-skin looked at each of the nobles, memorising their faces and scents as his senses were assaulted and he tried to categorise each and everything he took in.

"Tell me who they are." He murmured so low that only the witch could hear him. He did not have to specify who he meant, Andraya had spent the last three days bringing in as much information from her contacts as she could and had reported the information back to Smaug. But today he was committing everything to memory through practicality – the best way he remembered anything. If he could see it physically, scent it, see how it moved and watch how it worked, he would remember every single detail without fail. That was his mission today, to scout out his enemies without them even realising he was in their midst.

"Well, as I'm sure you've guessed, the two sitting on the thrones are the King and Queen." Andraya muttered back at him, and Smaug did his best to ignore her tone. The Witch gestured to the female upon the throne. "Queen Lalemwen is the rightful ruler, her father being King before her and her bloodline being monarchs of Dorwinion for the past three hundred years. She came to the throne at sixteen, and due to her inexperience she was married to her distant cousin, Wilhelm. He now rules in her stead. Despite her late age of over thirty years, the pair have now only just conceived a child, the pregnancy is still young."

"Why doesn't it surprise me that you feel the need to point that last fact out?" Smaug muttered dryly.

"That is General Victis," Andraya ignored him and gestured to a man standing below the thrones but standing stiff and straight and on alert, dressed completely in armour and armed to the teeth with several assorted weapons, even though he seemed rather old with completely grey hair and rough and wrinkled features. "An honoured general known for his cold blooded but level headed strategic mind-set, he served under Lalemwen's father, King Yenric. Lalemwen and Wilhelm have tasked him with keeping the peace and protecting Dorwinion from all threats. Victis has a ruthless calculus when it comes to battles, it is said that he disregards honour and chivalry in return for winning the battle. He has control over all military might in the city."

Smaug watched the old general, noting to himself that he would need to kill this man first in order to put the city defence in disarray. He filed that thought away for later though, focusing on Andraya's words as she pointed out the next power of the court.

"And there, is Lord Gregorse, the administrator," Smaug saw the man, a little weakling with no muscle nor any look of a fighter to him, with black wiry hair and a perfectly trimmed beard; his sharp eyes looking at all around him as he gave a wolfish grin. "Overseer of all the wealth and agricultural side of running the country, he is known for having a hand in each pocket of gold."

And then, Smaug saw a man enter from a side door into the throne room. He looked to be in his fifth or possibly sixth decade, with cleanly shaven cheeks but white hair on his head, his hooked nose and bright eyes giving him a hawkish look. He wore elegant, expensive but also very firm robes that spoke of his wealth but also of his might as it seemed to be partly formal attire and part armour. Andraya noticed the newcomer as well, and spoke up.

"That is Lord Beronor of House Evrine – the head of the most powerful noble house in Dorwinion. From what I've heard, Beronor wishes to create a dynasty, so that his house can last forever, and will do everything in his power in order to achieve that goal. But despite this, he is a strutting peacock: he is very much concerned with the opinions of others. He is also the Lord who has Kathryn in his custody,"

The Lord Beronor walked proudly through the crowd, the people parting for him as he made his way to the centre of the room, and bowed deeply to the King and Queen. The Monarchs nodded to him in acknowledgement and a slight hush came over the crowd as they stopped to watch the interaction.

"Your Majesties," Beronor said respectfully, his voice deep and rich.

"Lord Beronor, please rise!" The King said with a hearty smile upon his face, as the lord did as he was bid. "You have been the talk of the town as of late, I hear you have a rather lovely maiden in your possession,"

Smaug felt his eye twitch as the fires of his temper threatened to rise dangerously.

"That is correct, Your Grace." The Lord said humbly, his deep voice simple in tone, though his slight smirk of triumph betrayed him.

"We had heard that she was afflicted with a most unusual ailment," the King continued.

"That she was, Your Grace," Beronor nodded. "The woman was besieged by terrible nightmares, a madness of the mind the physicians tell me, that was slowly weakening her body. Given time, it could have likely killed her. But no physician, both within my employment or the state's, could cure her. I had even sent out a call to all doctors, both of magical and more traditional means to come to Vathvael in order to see if they could heal her."

"You are never one to back down from a challenge," King Wilhelm chuckled.

"And how does she fare?" The Queen spoke up, her voice gentle but also small.

"Remarkably, around three days ago, the young lady awoke,"

"How fortunate," the administrator said with a smile that held no mirth nor did his words hold any sincerity. Smaug was sure that if he had been in his dragon-form, his chest would have been glowing as bright as the sun from his anger as he eyed the weakling of a man suspiciously.

"The physicians cannot explain it," Beronor went on. "One moment she was almost on death's doorstep, the next, she was awake and almost completely healthy once more. I've heard that my staff have had a hard time keeping her in her bed for rest."

"When might we meet this puzzle of a woman?" Wilhelm asked with a slight smile and a raised brow.

"She is ready for you now," Beronor smirked.

Smaug's eyes snapped back to the Lord, completely focused on the human.

"Excellent!" the King boomed, practically bouncing in his seat. "Bring her in,"

Lord Beronor turned to the door that he had just come through, and motioned with his hand. All eyes turned to the door, holding their breath to catch a glimpse of the new face about to enter the room. The click of her shoes against the stone floor practically echoed around the room, and Smaug felt his breath still in his lungs as he beheld Kathryn. She was now how he remembered her, her body now more filled out from eating, her skin was clean and her eyes had returned to being that gorgeous purple; though she was not as rosy, her skin still slightly pale, and slight bags under her eyes betrayed the fact that she must have been sleeping poorly. She wore a blue dress, simple in design, but that still accentuated her figure, with gold at the line of the neck, sleeves and bottom, the colours specifically chosen in order to make her fiery red hair stand out in contrast, which was braided so that it hung down her back. Smaug instantly took a dislike to it, much preferring it to be wild and free to flow in the breeze of his hot breath, each strand weaving her scent into the air as it moved. At the Lord's gestures, she came to stand beside him before the King and Queen, and Smaug could hear her heart beating frantically inside her chest as she stood uncomfortably with so many eyes focused on her. Kathryn then curtsied low, her braid falling over one shoulder as she did so.

"Your Majesties," she murmured respectfully, though Smaug still felt a shiver run down his spine at the thrill of hearing her voice once again.

"Arise good lady," Wilhelm murmured, his eyes travelling over Kathryn, from her skirts to her hair, his eyes took in every detail of her. "Tell us, what is your name?"

"Kathryn… Kathryn of Threndryn, Your Grace," she hesitated only slightly when giving her false name.

"I have never heard of a place called 'Threndryn'," the General Victis spoke up as he eyed the woman with equal parts curiosity and suspicion.

"It is a place far to the north, within the Grey Mountains," Kathryn said, the lies coming quicker and easier to her as she went along. "It's a small settlement, secluded and quiet. I am not surprised that you do not know of it."

"You have given my court much to talk about, Miss Kathryn," Wilhelm spoke, drawing Kathryn's attention back to him. "What with your recent ailment, of course,"

"I was lucky that the Merchant found me and brought me here; the Valar themselves must have shown me mercy for such a miraculous recovery. And Lord Beronor has been especially kind in offering me shelter," Smaug noted how mechanically Kathryn seemed to say the words, and felt his suspicion rise as he studied the Lord a little more closely.

"Well, you are now well, so that is one more thing we must be thankful for," Wilhelm smiled though his eyes were becoming dull as if from boredom. "So tell us about yourself, Kathryn of Threndryn,"

"There is not much to tell," she stated quickly.

"Oh come now," Wilhelm pressed. "What of your village, Threndryn?"

"I have not been there since I was much younger, your Majesty,"

"Then what talents do you have? Dancing?"

"No, Your Grace. I have been told I have two left feet when it comes to dancing,"

"Do you play?"

"Not well enough,"

"What of poetry?"

"I'm afraid it would not please you, My Lord,"

"Singing then, surely!" Wilhelm snapped in exasperation.

"Well, I – uh, I…" Kathryn stumbled over her words, clearly distressed at the questions as well as the King's growing frustration, and now the fact that she had paused made coming up with a suitable lie all the harder. But everyone else saw her slip-up, and Wilhelm instantly jumped upon the opportunity.

"Marvellous! Sing a song for us then!" he cheered.

"My Lord! Please! I –"

"Oh come now, dear woman, a King has requested that you sing for him," Wilhelm told her, a stern edge entering his voice that made Smaug grind his teeth in rage. "You have no idea how dull this court can be, you will provide a little entertainment from such boredom,"

Smaug wanted to claw Wilhelm's eyes out, to rip out his throat and feed him his own innards, his rage almost consumed him to the point where he was surprised that his human clothes didn't catch fire from the heat. Kathryn's voice was a treasure that only he was allowed to indulge in, it was his alone, something special from her to him, and he wouldn't share it with anyone! Not to mention that this King's treatment of one of Smaug's greatest treasures was nothing short of unspeakable! The only thing that stopped Smaug from acting upon his furious wishes, was that he knew he would have to take on the entire guard from here to the gates, something that he was willing to try, but was sure Kathryn wouldn't survive.

So he held himself in place. Barely.

Everyone cleared a space in the centre of the room as Kathryn went to take up a position, wetting her lips nervously, hands actually shaking as her eyes darted from face to face like they were rabid dogs snarling and yanking upon their chains to try and have at her. Smaug thought for a moment that she might spot him, but alas, her gaze never met his as she turned to face the King and Queen. Taking in a deep breath in order to try and calm her nerves, she closed her eyes, waiting for a moment as her body stilled.

There was but a simple moment of silence, as if the room, the city, the world itself waited on bated breath for her do something. And then she opened her mouth, and heaven's music poured forth.

"Far above into the sky,
The Gods' tears fall from their eyes.
The Angels fall. Demons crawl.

For in the night we fight for you
And in our hearts we follow the truth
And as the battle rages on and on
Our war-cries echo far and strong

The old war calls a sombre song,
With shield and sword you must go on.
Ravens soar. Dragons roar.

For in the night we fight for you
And in our hearts we follow the truth
And as the battle rages on and on
Our war cries echo far and strong

A song is enough
To change the world
And make it alright in the end
I'll sing it for you
To mend your lost soul
And make it alright in the end..."

As she sang, Smaug felt something in him become entranced by her voice, it was as if no one else in the world existed but her and him. The voice that she commanded was enough to bring the beast inside of him to its knees as it stopped to listen with bated breath. Her song was like a drug to him, constantly dulling all of his other senses so that all he could think of was of that voice; at the same time it lifted him into a state of euphoria unlike anything he had ever encountered before. And the end of even each note left him begging for more, as if he were starving. He was only faintly aware that the humans around him seemed to be in a daze along with him, completely in awe and gob-smacked at Kathryn's voice. He felt a lick of pride as he grinned at Kathryn's back: Mine, he thought wickedly.

When she finished, there was but a moment of stunned silence, before the room erupted with thunderous applause, everyone clapping and cheering and some even stamping their feet. Even the stoic faces of the elite guard seemed completely moved beyond words by what they had just heard.

"Brilliant! Absolutely wonderful! Lord Beronor, I think we've made quite a discovery!" Wilhelm boomed as he grinned.

"You are too kind, Your Grace," Lord Beronor bowed low though he himself couldn't stop his small smile.

"Yes! This one shall become the new bard for the court! A voice such as this should be held in only the finest court!" the King boomed. "Young Kathryn, I bid that you will have your own quarters, though I entrust you to still be under the supervision of Lord Beronor; see to it that our new songbird is well cared for!"

Smaug felt all positive emotions he had been feeling at hearing Kathryn's voice with his own ears again; all of it vanished at the King's words. Particularly at the use of the term "songbird". He had once called Kathryn that, and the use of it was enough to make his blood boil.

"Husband," the Queen spoke softly as she placed a hand upon Wilhelm's elbow. That was all she needed to say for the King to look at his wife before turning back to the court, raising a hand in order to bring quiet to the room.

"The Queen and I shall now retire for the evening, this court is now dismissed." He said simply, before taking Queen Lalemwen's hand and the pair walking out of the room.

Kathryn seemed to physically sag with relief, as if she were a puppet held up on a string, and now the string had finally been cut, allowing her to relax. As the room became alight with activity as people began to file out, she simply stood there as if collecting herself, and Smaug could feel the turmoil of emotions within her, building with volcanic pressure. All the fear, the sadness, the ache in her soul, he felt it all across the bond between them.

Smaug was only aware that Andraya had left his side when he noticed her half way across the room going towards her daughter. Mother and daughter spoke quietly together, keeping to themselves, until Smaug noticed Kathryn looking at them, eyes wide as she beheld them, and then almost rushing towards them. Andraya and Freyja noticed her approach and turned to face her. Freyja smiled whole heartedly, real joy upon her features as the women embraced each other, before Kathryn turned to Andraya with a warm smile and a familiar look in her eyes.

Did Kathryn know them? Andraya had hinted to at least knowing of Kathryn, but she did not explain knowing her personally. But no matter, he would get the truth out of the old witch later.

For now, he watched as the three females talked amongst themselves, Kathryn's smile reaching her glistening eyes, as if she were so relieved to see any familiar face. As they talked, Smaug couldn't help himself as he was drawn closer and closer, his feet were silent upon the floor, he passed between the witless humans like a ghost, none noticing him as he stalked closer like a natural predator creeping closer through the long-grass towards his prey.

A maid appeared beside Kathryn, placing a light touch upon her elbow as she whispered something within her ear. Instantly, Kathryn's whole persona changed: she became beaten, downtrodden and guarded, regaining a stiff posture as she said something to the maid. Smaug picked up the pace, still unnoticed by anyone as he came closer. Kathryn gave one last look at the other two women, shaking Andraya's hand formerly, and clasping Freyja's hand tightly and saying a few words of farewell.

Then she turned and followed the maid towards the exit.

As she walked, Kathryn heard a voice right beside her ear, almost as if it were inside her own mind, echoing in a deep baritone, like silk over a growl that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"The fire shall make thee shriek… and Eru receive thy soul…"

Kathryn flinched, feeling a heavy breath against her neck and she whirled around –

She felt something tug on her hair, and she yelped in fright and grabbed at her braid, which had been set free, the hair instantly unravelling, and the now loose curls falling about her face. Kathryn looked about with wide and slightly frightened eyes, her heart fluttering. She could still hear the echoes of the voice inside her head, and felt the warm breath against her neck, almost scorching hot upon her cold flesh.

But she was alone.

A/N: Okay then! Please review! Tell me what you think of: My version of what will happen to Gandalf? The White Council? Saruman's very convenient dispatch of the Necromancer? The Court of Dorwinion? Kathryn's first public performance and her nerves? Smaug stalking Kathryn? Would love to hear what you think!