Author's Note: I am very sorry to have left you all with that huge cliffhanger for so long! I seriously didn't mean to! But unfortunately, uni, illness, trips, social life and other stories have gotten in my way. But I actually managed to sit down and write out this chapter :P

I have a small announcement: due to my dissertation paper being such a big part of my final grade this year, I must concentrate on that :( However, seeing as this story is nearing now almost at the climax and the end, I will be focusing more on this story in order to finish it :) I hope everyone understands, and a big thank you to everyone for all your support!

Please forgive any and all mistakes as it is late here in the UK and I will sort out any mistakes later. And don't forget to review!

Chapter 19 - Betrayal

"Not all men were meant to dance with dragons." ― George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons

Gandalf, Elrond and their escort of elves had finally arrived at the City of Vathvael, looking up at its great walls that surrounded it as they slowly approached, still another three miles off. They all rode their steeds in companionable silence, all their thoughts now wandering to the story of the dragon attack, and each wondered what answers they would find once inside. Gandalf was most troubled by the news that Kathryn and Smaug could be alive; they had found no bodies at the ruins of Lake Town, but everyone had assumed them to either be burned by the fires of the town, or drowned at the bottom of the Lake. Gandalf wasn't entirely sure there would be any trace of them left in the city, he was most concerned for the people of Vathvael as well as those of Dale and Erebor, for if this was Smaug returned from the grave, then he knew that the dragon's wrath would soon be turned upon the North once again. This time, the beast would not leave any survivors.

It was most puzzling to the old wizard as to how the dragon had survived. When searching through the debris of the floating Lake, fisherman had cast their nets into the waters to see if they could drag up any salvageable items from the lake. Near the shore, their nets had caught on something, and Gandalf and Bard had watched as they had dragged up the remains of the Black Arrow. The metal, once thought to be the strongest and hardest of all, lay deformed upon the ground, from the tip to half way up the shaft, the metal was melted and corroded into a disfigured mess, the metal was bent and chipped at the end. It looked as if the weapon had been cast into the hottest volcano and then beaten against the stones of Erebor's base. Gandalf knew that Black Arrows were the only weapons that were capable of killing dragons, the star metal they originated from the only thing that was sharp enough (when crafted correctly) to pierce the dragon's hide, and it was the only thing strong enough to stand against the fire inside a dragon's body… though not for any long length of time it seemed. This arrow couldn't have been inside of Smaug's chest for more than a few minutes, and yet it looked utterly destroyed. Bard had inquired to the dwarves if the arrow could be melted down and reused to make a new one, but even their greatest smiths had looked over the wreck and sadly stated that the very essence of the metal's properties had been burned away, now as useless as brittle tin, it was unrecoverable.

With the news that the arrow could not be remade also came the knowledge that now there was no more star-ore in the Lonely Mountain, at least in any of the known tunnels. Which meant that the possibility of killing this dragon – whether it be Smaug or not – was very small. But, Gandalf was not one who only had one trick up his sleeve. Which was why he had sought out and brought something that had not been used in hundreds of years: the chain. Celebrimbor, one of the greatest smiths to have ever lived, the forger of the Rings of Power, had once worked with the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm; as all dwarves sought gold and treasure from the world below, they always attracted the attention of dragons. The dwarf kingdom was once under siege by a particularly ferocious dragon, and Celebrimbor had been tasked with the seemingly impossible: to construct something that could contain a dragon. From the War of Wrath, when the armies of elves, men and the Valinor had been under the threat of the Dragon armies, plans had been made in order to create chains that would be strong enough to hold one. However, the chains had never been created, the war ending before all of the resources had been gathered in order to undertake such a feat. So Celebrimbor had found the plans, and decided to create a chain. It had taken him many moons and sleepless nights, and by the time one chain was completed, the elf was almost spent. The chains were gigantic in size and strength, but only one was completed when the dwarves unleashed it upon the unlucky dragon who had attacked them. The dragon had been surprised by the weight of the thing, and had struggled against it as the chain was wound around its neck, but the more it struggled, the tighter the chain became. It is said that dragons represented the freedom of the very land itself; Morgoth had harnessed that into a weapon, but it was always the birthright of dragons. When that freedom is taken away, they will do anything to be free; the chained dragon had panicked and strangled itself to death in the process. Celebrimbor, unsettled by such a violent self-inflicted death, had not dared to make another chain. It had been taken to the Iron Hills where they were closer to dragon threats, though the chain had not been used again, sealed away in the vaults of the mines. Gandalf had recovered it, and now he and Elrond were carting it to Vathvael.

The chain was in a cart, protected and being pulled along by four of the strongest horses from Esgaroth's farms. But it was in this cart, that Gandalf heard a strange noise on that morning, three miles from Vathvael. As the cart went over a bump in the road, the chains rattled slightly, a slight yelp came from the cart. Gandalf stopped his horse, looking over curiously at the cart, before slowly leading his horse towards the back of the cart. He waited just a few moments, listening carefully… and then he swore he could hear the heavy breathing of a little creature. With one fast movement, Gandalf gripped the canvas that covered the chains, and threw it aside to reveal none other than the little figure of Bilbo Baggins.

"Bilbo!" Gandalf exclaimed in both shock and outrage.

"Oh…" was all Bilbo could say as he stared up at the wizard with wide eyes.

"What on earth are you doing here?!" Gandalf demanded, his eyes furious as they bore into the little hobbit.

"W-well, I was just… I was just…" Bilbo mumbled, trying to string together a comprehendible sentence, before quickly clearing his throat nervously. He looked up the grey wizard, a sigh escaping him with a defeated slump of his shoulders. "Gandalf… I can be of help."

"Bilbo, you are only just recovering from your own wounds," Gandalf chastised him, and at his words, the hobbit unconsciously reached for the side of his waist, where the dragon's teeth had almost torn him in half.

"Goodness knows that I don't want to face that creature again," Bilbo said truthfully. "But… if there is something I can do to help these people… I didn't help the people of Lake Town Gandalf. It's my fault they suffered, and I need to stop that mistake from happening again." His words sounded so truthful, so honest with real pain in his voice. Gandalf knew that the poor hobbit blamed himself for what happened, even though he couldn't possibly have prevented it. Yet in the face of such honesty and guilt, Gandalf felt the anger drain out of him.

"What's going on Gandalf?" Came Lord Elrond's voice as he turned his own horse around in order to approach Gandalf at the cart.

"It appears that we have a stowaway…" Gandalf murmured as he looked from Elrond to Bilbo as the elf lord moved his horse to beside Gandalf and looked into the Cart to see the hobbit sitting there beside the great chains.

"Mr Baggins?" Elrond seemed mildly surprised, though his brows only twitched a little to show it. Elrond looked at Bilbo for only a moment, before turning to Gandalf with an almost exasperated look. "What do you wish to do with him Gandalf?"

"That is the question, isn't it…" Gandalf mumbled to himself as he looked pointedly at Bilbo, who sat there fidgeting uncomfortably.

The scream that was ripped from Kathryn's throat was unending and for a moment, she wasn't even aware that it was her that was making the dreadful noise, not until she felt the pain in her throat and the burn in her lungs for air. She couldn't take her eyes off of that spot on the floor, where that poor little body was ripped and shredded to pieces, blood pooling on the floor. Kathryn could only vaguely remember exiting her library in order to wait in the entrance hall for Smaug's return and make sure that Freyja got away safely, it was only when she'd heard the scream that she had sprinted down the stairs… and saw the horror laid out before her…

Smaug's jaws dripping with blood, a crazed look in his eye…

A little body torn and mauled to beyond recognition…

Blood sprayed over the walls and floors, a pool still coming from the body…

A small strand of blonde hair identifying the poor soul…

In just one moment, Kathryn was wiped clean in a blank slate. The shock that coursed through her body was enough to wipe away all feeling for a fraction of a second and leave her numb. She couldn't look away, she was unable to move, unable to do anything but repeat the noise she barely registered to be uttering. She probably couldn't even remember her own name or where she was. And then, as if time had slowed to a crawl and then suddenly hurtled to normal speed again, everything came crashing into her. The force of it all was enough to almost bring her to her knees.

She felt so many things at once: fear, despair, desperation, anger, rage, disbelief, sorrow… and hate. Kathryn suddenly stopped her screaming, taking in a huge breath as if she were drowning, tears streaming down her face as she felt her heart tear apart into tiny pieces inside of her chest with a painful wrenching feeling. She was suddenly aware that the other two souls in the room were staring at her, their entire attention focused on her, holding their breath to see what she would do.

Kathryn fixed her gaze onto the great dragon who studied her with burning unrelenting eyes, ones that held no remorse for what he had done, only caution and suspicion as he watched her carefully. Like a leak that turned into a trickle that turned into an uncontrollable tide, Kathryn was suddenly filled with hate as she looked upon her once beloved. She loved him more than anything, loyal to him until the end, but he had… he had…

The rage that filled her was like containing a lighting storm within herself, she felt the energy begin to rise so quickly that it went past all her mental barriers and began to reach critical levels until she was actually shaking. The air felt as if it were crackling around her with lightning, a charge around her that made the very air seem too heavy to breathe. Sensing what was happening to her, Smaug seemed to completely forget about the elf, and quickly made to move towards the human.

"Kathryn…" he growled out in warning as he reached for her carefully –

"No – don't touch me!" Kathryn screamed suddenly, flinching back, and the dragon hesitated at the motion, his eyes clouding with confusion. Kathryn met his stare, letting him see all the hate and fury that she brought to the fore, letting more energy pour into her very soul until she could feel her skin burning from the strength of containing such a force. "Monster," she whispered, standing to look at the dragon with dark eyes. "Snake! Traitor! BASTARD! MURDERER!" With each word her voice became higher in pitch and volume until she was screaming at the top of her lungs in the loudest voice she could.

Suddenly, Kathryn unleashed all of the energy inside of her, screaming in pain as the force of the magical blast was ripped from her very being, as if someone had skinned a part of her limb. It was perhaps one of the most powerful blasts she had ever unleashed, and she saw that it struck at the dragon and threatened to throw him aside. But Smaug held fast, bracing against the impact and snarling as he used his superior strength in order to keep his footing. Despite locking his talons, he still slid back from the blast, until he hit the corner behind him, his weight and force of momentum causing the wall to shake, a large crack appearing in the side that looked perilously fragile. But Smaug appeared no worse for wear, as he fixed blazing furious eyes on Kathryn, baring his teeth in animalistic rage as a roar tore from his lips.

Kathryn only felt momentarily woozy, the incomprehensible rage and unmatchable hate enough to fuel her again to fill her to those same critical levels. She was beyond all reason as she stared at the murderer before her, who was looming above her and fixing her with his own glare as his chest glowed brightly in warning. It was only because of this mind-numbing hate that she abandoned all sense and embraced the raw power.

She mentally reached out to the power that lay between her and Smaug, and at the same time called upon the dragon scale necklace that hung against her breast. She felt the scale burn against her skin as its own power was suddenly awakened, and Kathryn felt such power as beyond her comprehension fill her until she burst from it. She was only momentarily aware of the pain that coursed throughout her body, hearing a crack as all her bones broke and re-fixed themselves in a split second, her skin tearing and growing anew, her body lengthening and twisting, her mind warping and shifting, pulling the very fabric of her being in such a painful way that she thought she would be driven mad. And suddenly, she was no longer human, she was a dragon with golden scales and glowing purple orbs for eyes. In the surge of motion of her body quickly sprouting into a new form, she leapt at Smaug, smashing into him with her new weight and height. She pushed her talons into his chest and neck, her claws finding the crevices between his scales to try and tear at the flesh beneath. She smacked her head into his, ignoring the ringing in her skull. She pushed and smashed her body weight into Smaug's slamming him over and over into the wall behind him. His temporary shock was the only thing that gave her the advantage. She used it, the rage that filled her, so much more then what she had felt as a human being, made her act before her brain could catch up with her actions.

Spinning on her back legs, she smashed her powerful tail into Smaug's chest, not flinching when she knew that it would at least bruise him as it knocked him to the floor with a snarl. She then grabbed his head in her front paws, her talons digging into his face until she felt spots of boiling blood bubble to the surface. She then repeatedly smashed his head into the stone floor, over and over and over in quick repeated succession, she wanted to hear something break, she wanted him to feel the pain that he'd made her feel when he'd betrayed her. The only thing that stopped her tirade was a soft groaning, as she quickly looked to see the crack on the wall begin to grow and fracture the wall. Knowing what was about to happen, Kathryn acted on instinct as she turned, grabbed the elf in one clawed hand, and leapt out of the fortress through the hole in the wall. Unused to her new body, she clumsily knocked the building with her tail as she exited, causing it more damage as it already began to splinter apart. She leapt into the air, lurching in flight ungracefully, running purely on instinct as her more animalistic thoughts dominated her mind where her human thoughts were more recessed. She looked back only once to see the fortress completely collapse, burying the dazed Smaug within it. If she had stunned him and almost rendered him unconscious with her relentless assault, then that would surely put him under for a good while, not to mention that he would need to dig himself out.

With the adrenaline beginning to fade and with it the energy that was sustaining her, Kathryn quickly turned around in the air, and with Faervel carefully clutched in her hands, she beat her wings and set off heading east as fast as the winds would carry her. An instinct in her body telling her that she had to leave this place and find safety somewhere else, and fast, for as soon as the magic drained from her, the sooner she would be mortal once again.

And then the hunt would begin.

Faervel didn't know how long they spent in the air, the golden dragoness seemed determined to go as fast as even the winds themselves. They flew at such speeds that the land was a blur below them, the winds at their backs to help push them even further along their path. Faervel didn't know where that path led, he only hoped that it led to safety and explanations.

His mind was still struggling to process exactly what had happened, and for some reason he felt as if his mind couldn't settle on certain details of the last day or so, for it caused too much pain… that poor girl… he wanted to weep for her, and felt shame and utter guilt for having abandoned her in that decrepit place. Her body would never have a true grave, her bones forever crushed beneath the rubble of the now destroyed fortress. He still could not believe it… Freyja, a sweet and innocent little human… to die such a horrible death…

The beast had almost set upon him, would have claimed him as its next victim, had Kathryn not been there and stopped it. Faervel was still mystified at what exactly had happened: he had felt the air come alive with the presence of magic, and he then Kathryn changed. She was suddenly a dragon herself, and Faervel found himself in too much shock to move as he watched the titans fight, and now the dragoness had him in her clutches. For some reason he was not afraid, and for that he questioned his sanity. But the dragon-that-had-been-Kathryn seemed to hold no evil intentions as she silently flew them onwards.

But then, Faervel looked up as he saw that the dragoness was panting and shaking, he muscles trembling as every limb seemed to be too heavy. Her head was drooping, long tongue peeking out between her serrated teeth as she panted and gasped for air. Her purple orbs for eyes were dim and the light inside them fading; Faervel also noticed how one particular scale on her breast was glowing dimly. Somewhere inside of him, Faervel seemed to instinctively know that something was about to happen, and he braced himself, holding onto one of the long talons that held him with tight arms.

The dragoness suddenly lurched in the air, her wings straining to catch the wind and keep her airborne, her long neck drooped lower, and she seemed to be struggling to breathe as Faervel saw with fear in his heart that deep crimson blood was leaking from one of her large nostrils. She gave a pained cry, the sound mournful and agonising and filled with panic, yet also sounding so exhausted at the same time. And then, something inside of her seemed to break, and she went limp.

Faervel was not ashamed to admit that he cried out as they suddenly plummeted from the sky, they had not been flying too high, but still those few seconds of falling, of feeling weightless and utterly helpless made his very heart squeeze inside his chest. The body of the dragoness seemed to turn in the air, her weight bringing her downwards towards the hard earth, until they were switched so that her back was facing the approaching ground, and Faervel towards the sky, protected against her as she still held him in her claws, though loosely in her unconsciousness.

They hit the ground with an earth shattering crash. Faervel was jerked around and eventually flung away as the body of the dragon slid and rolled and crashed, leaving a deep trench of destruction in her wake. Faervel cried out as he was released from her by the impact, flying through the air, he tried to prepare himself for the hit as best he could, but still cried out in pain as he hit the ground, rolling and tumbling as the world spun around him, until eventually he came to a stop.

He laid there for who knew how long, consciousness coming in and out to him as the pain that stretched along his shoulder and up to the back of his head burned in him like a fire. Eventually, he seemed to find the strength to open his eyes, vaguely remembering that there was something important beyond the world of sleep that wanted to claim him. He grunted in pain as he tried to push himself up, managing to get to his hands and knees, though even that was a struggle. He looked around him with a blurry vision, and saw the trail of destruction in the middle of what appeared to be a farmer's field, for he could see the house not far off. Memories filtered back into his numb mind, and he staggered to his feet as he came along the trail of destruction to the source. He was surprised to see that the dragoness was gone, and in its place lay Kathryn. She was completely naked, her skin pale and unhealthy looking, her hair a mess and damp and matted with sweat, she was unconscious, though Faervel was very distressed to see that lines of blood were trickling from her ears, nose and mouth. He quickly took off his coat and laid it over her freezing body, quickly checking her pulse and sighing in relief when he felt a very faint heartbeat. She was alive, though barely.

With her covered, he hoped that it would keep her warm, and quickly gathered her into his arms, carrying her as if she were a small and frail child, he quickly marched towards the farm house, ignoring the pain that shot through his body with every step. As he approached, he called out for someone to help him, and an elderly farmer came out of the modest house, appearing quite surprised and frightened to see an elf holding an unconscious and clearly hurt woman in his arms. Faervel hoped that the man could offer them assistance, but a quick look into the house over the farmer's shoulder told him that that wasn't possible. The elderly human lived in a very small house with seemingly just the bare necessities at his disposal.

"Please sir!" Faervel said desperately, his eyes imploring with the startled and guarded human. "How far is the nearest city or town? My companion is in need of urgent help!"

He hoped that his words would move the human enough to help him, and hoped even more that there was accommodating help nearby. Surprisingly, both his prayers were answered.

"The city of Vathvael is only twenty miles north," the old man gruffly stated, eyes switching from Faervel to the unconscious Kathryn, suspicion in his eyes, but also a growing sense of pity. "Take the old mare in the stable, she'll see you there in good time,"

"Thank you my friend," Faervel said quickly. "I shall send payment to you once I reach the city!" he called over his shoulder as he quickly approached the barn. Setting Kathryn by the door, he quickly saddled the horse and had it ready as he gathered Kathryn into his arms again and awkwardly climbed onto the horse's back. He held Kathryn tightly against him, hoping that his body heat would keep her warm enough, as his coat was only good enough to hide her modesty.

He rode out to the north, driving the old horse as fast as it could go hoping that the pounding in his head would clear and give him an unclouded mind, and praying that Kathryn could hold on until they reached the city.

A few hours later, they were on the outskirts when a squadron of guards found them, quickly realising their plight, they set them up with a new horse and accompanied them as they raced into the heart of the city. When it was confirmed as to who they were, word was quickly sent to the castle and the queen as Faervel was escorted with Kathryn still in his arms to the castle. He took her straight to the healer, bursting into his office and calling for anyone to come and help him.

A woman came from an adjoining room, tall and slightly muscles with dark curly hair and dark tanned skin. She said her name was Quithyra, the healer's assistant. Faervel quickly set Kathryn down onto a bed set for patients, and allowed the healer to do her work. Quithyra seemed to know what she was doing as she checked Kathryn's pulse and looked over her head, neck and spine for any bone injuries that could be paralysing or life threatening. She said that the woman had a slight fever, and Faeverl went to get a bowl of cold water and towel whilst Quithyra went to get blankets to help cover the naked woman, as well as a nightgown for her modesty. Faervel kept himself away as Quithyra seemed to handle the situation herself as she dressed Kathryn in a plain white nightgown before covering her. The foreigner was capable and determined, Faervel observed, and thanked her for her assistance. The tall woman then said that she would get the healer to see if there was anything she missed, and left the room as Faervel came with the bowl of water and a rag as he dabbed at Kathryn's now cleaned face, hoping to keep her cool from her fever.

Ten minutes later, Quithyra returned, with the healer in tow. Faervel had never met the man before, only knew that he was very recent to the castle staff, he'd been her for an even shorter time then Kathryn, coming a few days after she had been brought in apparently at the request of Lord Beronor when he had summoned every available healer in the land when Kathryn had been stewing in her own madness. But as Faervel looked upon the man now, he couldn't help but fill a small sense of unease in his stomach. He was tall and rather skinny, almost as if he were malnourished, little more than skin stretched over bones. His hands were gloved, though his fingers were long and thin like an insect's legs, they twitched and tapped as if with impatience or as if he had a slight defect. The man walked forward, a slight limp in his step as he came closer to Faervel and Kathryn, bright eyes never leaving the woman's face, seeming to gleam with a form of intelligence that seemed to go beyond what the rest of him suggested. As the physician came closer, Faervel caught a whiff of an odd scent that clung to the man: a scent of dust and ash, but something else… a sweetness like perfume, but so sickly and strong that it burned his nostrils slightly with each breath.

The physician knelt before Kathryn, forcing Faervel to move aside with his intrusive presence. The man's long spider-like fingers darted over the woman's face, touching her with a light tap of his fingers. A look entered the man's eyes as he looked over her one that made Faervel slightly uncomfortable.

"I checked for signs of internal bleeding and bone breaks," Quithyra said, her voice twinging with a very slight accent. "Nothing; just the fever and unconsciousness."

"That will be all," the physician told her in a clipped tone, the man's voice almost unnaturally high for a human male, and not very strong in force. But his words alone were scolding enough, the sting of them making Quinthyra purse her lips as she scowled before quietly storming out of the room. "You may leave as well," the physician told Faervel, the same formal clipped tone in his words.

"I would like to stay with her," Faervel said, trying to make his resolve known, that he would broker no argument, though he tried to not let how unsettled this man made him become apparent.

"I will see to her," the physician said dismissively. Either he forgot Faervel was there, or assumed that he had left, or perhaps he didn't care as he reached into his robes and pulled something out. Faervel watched with suspicion as he saw the man take a vial of clear liquid and pour just a single drop into Kathryn's slightly open mouth. His hand once again began touching her face with patting motions, seeming to dart over key points on her face in a feather light touch. Kathryn groaned pathetically in her sleep, moving her head slightly as if she were afraid or in pain. Faervel was reluctant to leave her side, but that little move was more then she had done in the past few hours. He begrudgingly left, knowing that he needed to speak with the queen of what had transpired, and also see if he could find Freyja's mother, he remembered Freyja telling him that she was somewhere in Vathvael. His heart twisted with guilt and sorrow for the poor girl, but he needed to let her only family know of her fate, hoping that that would be some form of appeasement for her weary soul.

But as he left, he heard the physician mutter something under his breath, something that made him pause slightly as his elven hearing only managed to pick up a word or two. It was not in the common tongue, nor was it in elvish or dwarvish. Being a historian, Faervel knew at least a little of all languages… but the words the physician used, were unknown to him.

Kathryn didn't know how long she spent in the darkness, it seemed like forever, and she felt her heart twist inside her chest when she felt the heat of the fire began to creep towards her. Utter fear and panic gripped her, and she tried to thrash and make her escape, but every movement felt sluggish and lethargic. She tried to think her way out like Smaug had taught her to escape her visions, but it was getting hard to concentrate, hard to think. There was a pounding in her skull, and she could feel the sting of manacles and chains that lingered like phantom pains along her wrists and ankles. The heat was getting closer, she wanted to scream – she couldn't be going through this again! No! I don't want to burn again! Not the madness! She screamed inside her own mind.

But then, suddenly, the inky blackness around her began to lift, it was starting to fade as consciousness came trickling back to her ever so slowly. She moaned, her lips felt dry and her throat parched, her limbs felt so heavy… memories began to filter back to her in an unrecognisable blur… Freyja's body… her anger… the magic… after she transformed, her memories were hazy, she only recalled a few images and sensations, nothing to tell her what had happened. She blinked her eyes open, willing her vision to become focused so that she could make sense of where she was.

"You're awake…" came a soft voice.

It took a second before Kathryn realised that she recognised that voice! Her eyes darted to her bedside to see an old man in grey robes sat beside her, his soft grey eyes filled with warmth and concern, a relieved smile on his lips behind his scraggily beard. His staff and hat were set against his chair beside him.

"G-Gandalf?" Kathryn choked out, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. Disbelief flooded her: was this a dream? How could Gandalf be here? She wanted to lunge for him, embrace him as relief flooded her in such a tide that tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn't seem to have the energy. So she settled for latching her hand onto his arm with a tight hold as if she were afraid he would disappear. "You're here!" she murmured hoarsely.

"Yes my dear," he told her with a very soft chuckle, his eyes were beaming with happiness as he looked over every inch of her face.

"And he is not alone," came a new voice. Kathryn realised that she recognised that voice as well, and turned her head slightly to see the Lord Elf standing not far off.

"Elrond…" Kathryn whispered in shock and awe. Elrond stepped forward, a sad smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

"Hello Kathryn," he murmured softly.

"What are you both doing here?" she asked, looking between the pair of them with wide eyes.

"We heard of your survival," Elrond said. "We came to find you,"

"Me?" she squeaked.

"Kathryn," Gandalf murmured, a sad tone entering his voice. "We heard that you had died… I cannot tell you how sorry I am for everything that has befallen you… if I could have…"

"Gandalf," Kathryn silenced him with a soft reassuring squeeze of his hand. "There was nothing you could have done. There was nothing either of us could have done." She mumbled mournfully.

"What happened to you?" Gandalf asked, his eyes searching her face.

"I…" she paused, shifting uncomfortably in the bed as she swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I was a fool. A fool to believe that stupid childish dreams could ever be real; a fool to believe in him." she closed her eyes, unable to stop the tears that fell from her face as her heart seemed to wail inside of her.

"What happened after I left you?" Gandalf quietly prompted, trying to be conscious of her very apparent grief. "How did you end up in Lake-Town?"

"I tried to get to Smaug before you and the dwarves," she explained with a tired sigh. "I tried to see if I could convince of the threat that was coming, and I had hoped that he would leave with me. I was delayed however," she murmured with a hint of bitterness as she remembered her captivity at the hands of the dwarves. "I didn't get there in time, not until Lake-Town was already burning. When Smaug was injured I… I tried to save him… I-I loved him," she said pleadingly, trying to escape the damnation she was sure would come with the knowledge of her attempting to save the dragon-dread, Valar knew that she now damned herself. "I poured everything I had into him, we were dying together, and I though it better to die thinking that I had saved someone I loved…"

"You died…" Elrond's tone was sympathetic as well as disbelieving.

"I don't know how I survived. All I can remember is a nothingness… and then a madness suddenly set upon my mind… I-I remember being ripped from death, but I couldn't find my way back… and there was only darkness. Darkness and fire, torture repeating over and over…" she shuddered, fear twisting her stomach at the mere memory. "Smaug suspected that I was resurrected, the same as him,"

"What became of him?" Gandalf asked.

"I don't know. All I know is that he was resurrected and trapped in human form. Though that didn't last for long..."

"Tell us all that happened, as you know it," Elrond told her softly, encouragingly.

And so she did. She told them everything she knew right from the beginning: how Smaug journeyed to Vathvael to find her, her madness and how Smaug saved her, how she became the bard of the court, her rise in uncontrollable magic, Smaug's own magic pushing through him and eventually turning him back into his true form. She even told them of the development of Smaug having the ability to switch between forms if he had the amount of energy able to do so. She then continued to tell them how Smaug escaped Vathvael with her, their hide out at the fortress… she then was forced to recount Smaug's betrayal and how he had killed Freyja. She finished her tale with how she had escaped with Faervel, leaving Smaug temporarily unconscious in the ruins of the fort. As she recounted it all, she could not stop the tears that silently flowed from her eyes. It hurt to realise just how much she still loved him. Her anger from before had dissipated, and in its wake were memories and a painful emptiness inside of her as she realised all he had done for her, and that she loved him so dearly, but the hurt refused to let her forgive. Elrond and Gandalf were silent for a while once they had heard everything, looking to each other uncertainly.

"He will surely come here first to find you," Elrond murmured, his tone very grave and serious. "It is not safe here. We must help the city repair, and then you must leave," he said to Kathryn.

"Leave?" she asked weakly, her headache returning painfully.

"You will return with me to Rivendale. The beast will not think to look for you there, and you will be safe," he explained.

"Kathryn…" Gandalf murmured, his eyes distant and thoughtful before he fixed their bright gaze on her. "You said that you were having continuous visions… that has never happened before?"

"It's not always the same, though what I see after is, yes." She agreed. "And no, that never happens… apart from when…" she stopped as her head continued to pound.

"When what?" the wizard prompted.

"When I kept seeing symbolic visions of Smaug's death," she whispered. "I didn't know what they meant at the time, but now…" she shuddered as it occurred to her what she had truly seen all those times, when she had brushed it away as meaningless. Oh, how wrong she'd been. "Now I keep seeing things related to the war of wrath… and a figure…"

"A figure? Who?"

"I don't know… but he… he speaks to me," she murmured, her eyes becoming distant.

"What does he say?" Elrond asked, both he and Gandalf feeling a sense of alarm wash through them, though they could not explain why.

"He keeps telling me to find something. It's always the same: I fall through a doorway, and I find myself… the only way I can describe it is hell. He's chained up, and he sees me and he demands that I find something. One time I saw him when I had a vision of the war of wrath, he'd commanded Ancaligon and he then told me again to find it… I don't know what it means."

She looked up, but Gandalf was frozen in his seat, eyes wide and staring out into space, panic seeming to race across his features. Kathryn felt a coldness settle over her spine, for in that one look, she knew that the pieces had already fallen into place for Gandalf, even if she herself did not know what picture those pieces made.

There was no light that night, the moon hidden behind the clouds, darkness descending over all. Smaug liked it that way, it meant that his prey would not know of his coming until it was too late. He looked down upon the city below him with a dancing maniacal light in his eyes, high in the air so that the beat of his wings would not be heard nor the wind beneath them reach the city below to alert anyone to his presence. The element of surprise was with him, and he planned to use it well.

His Kathryn was in there somewhere, he could feel her weakness and exhaustion through the bond they shared. He sneered in disappointment, all that power she had shown, the strength, he had been amazed at first before he had realised what was happening, and then couldn't find purchase in order to regain his senses to fight back, and then she had been driving him to unconsciousness, the collapsing fortress enough to do the rest of the job. He would have been proud of her achievement, if she hadn't wasted such power on a useless temper tantrum.

But then, she had betrayed him: she'd turned on him like a crazed animal, and she'd left with that elf. Even when he had been unconscious, Smaug's fury had persisted in his heart, his anger and hurt had raged through out his mind, driving him almost over the ledge of insanity. Or maybe it had, for in the darkness, he remembered something answering to his mental screams of anguish and rage. A darkness had infected him, an unnatural inky blackness like a memory of a shadow he could barely recall. It spoke out to him, the voice thick, rough, yet resonating, speaking in black-speech and dripping with menace. The presence was not as strong as Smaug remembered, as if it were injured or weak. It had promised him power beyond all else, offered him its assistance in getting back his Kathryn and his mountain if he would swear allegiance to it.

In his blind rage, Smaug had agreed.

Even as he hovered above the city now, he felt no regret, as a sign of his fealty, the shadow had infected the dark scar on Smaug's chest, turning it a pulsing, oozing black that infected his soul and twisted the chains around his black heart, his eyes bright with a fever of the mind as he bared his teeth in animalistic fury at the human city below.

Kathryn was his for the taking now. He was now going to show her that there was no escape, that there was now nothing but him, he would show her the true power of the dragons! She would come to him, and she would have no choice in the matter. Her betrayal will be punished, he reasoned, but ultimately she would be his. He even contemplated a harness and leash for her to attach to him, so that she wouldn't think of wandering off again. She had given herself to him, and he would never release her from that. He vowed to himself that he would have her and the lonely mountain back in his possession, even if he had to burn the world to the ground.