The gold and jewels shifted under Bilbo's feet as he walked over the glistening golden sea of treasure. There was so much of it! More coins and gemstones than he could count, more than he had imagined. The company had told him of the vast horde of riches hidden within the mountain, but never had he expected an ocean of the stuff. It glowed, making the walls of Erebor themselves shimmer, like sunlight reflecting off rippling water. Apart from the clinking of coin again coin and gem against gem, the cavernous hall was silent as he explored. And there was no dragon to be seen. Bilbo had not seen a dragon in real life, only ever in books, but he was sure that if there was one in this great stone chamber, he'd recognize it. But even so, he stepped as lightly as the treasure would allow. The Arkensone, the King's Jewel. That was why he was there, that was what he was there to find. But there were so many jewels and gems, of all colors and shapes. You'll know it when you see it, that's what he had been told.
He bent over and began to rummage though the glistening hoard. He picked up a large gem and studied it, rolling it in his hands and feeling its weight. He hummed and tossed it aside, sure it was not the King's Jewel. He carried on towards a great stone pillar, and rummaged again. He scooped up a golden chalice. He could imagine drinking wine from it. It glowed like the sun, everything in that cavernous hall seemed to glow. But then the hoard began to move, slipping like a land slide encircling the pillar like a crescent moon. The disturbance revealed a shape which was not of any treasure or fallen rock. It curved around like a huge serpent. Bilbo took some careful steps, but not careful enough as more coins slipped away, he crouched. Bilbo swallowed and turned his head. As the coins and gems and trinkets flowed away, they revealed the closed eye of a sleeping dragon. Red scales dull compared to the treasure around them. The hobbit, slowly rose to his feet and stepped backwards as quietly as the hoard would allow, keeping his eyes pinned on the dragon's. But the eye opened, a golden-orange, like fire. Bilbo dove down behind a mound of coins and held his breath. He reached inside his coat for his own piece of treasure, he regarded it before slipping it onto his finger and watched at the dragon rose to its feet.
Fili sat with his back pressed against the cliff, one leg drawn up. The dwarves around him were quiet, anxious. Balin and Thorin lingered in the entranceway, the latter pacing impatiently. He wondered how much time had passed since Bilbo vanished into the mountain. The moon was high now, an owl hooted in the distance. From this height he could see the Long Lake, glistening silver in the moon light, even from the cliffside he could see soft ripples on the water's surface, distorting the moon's reflection. At the centre of the lake, he could just about make out the distant lights of Laketown, little wooden homes aglow with candlelight. He was sure it was warmer down there. A cold wind seemed to circle the mountain, brushing past the company as they waited, sending chills over their bodies. Fili dragged in a deep breath, and tilted his head back against the rock. He closed his eyes lightly. It wasn't until then that he felt the weariness in his bones, the aching in his feet, in his legs, in his back. It had been a long trek from the water's edge to where they were now. The elder dwarves must have felt the weariness and ache much stronger. He heard someone sit themselves down beside him, he opened his eyes and turned his head to see Bofur.
"I bet the view is even better in the daylight," he said, looking out across the lake, "didn't get much chance to see it before the sun set." Fili hummed a response. "How are you, lad?" Bofur asked, without averting his eyes from the shimmering water.
"I'm alright," Fili answered, certain the hatted dwarf could see through his lie. But Bofur didn't challenge him.
"We're so close," he said gesturing to the stone door. Fili turned his head, Thorin and Balin still lingering in the entranceway, Dwalin leaning back against the rock with his arms crossed over his chest. Fili nodded and hummed another response. Bofur figured the prince didn't wish to talk about Erebor. He couldn't blame him, really. With a sigh, Bofur wrapped a hand around Fili's elbow and gave it a squeeze, offering a smile. Fili looked at his hand and then at him, and smiled back.
Then the entire mountain seemed to shake. It reminded Fili of the Thunder Battle in the Misty Mountains, the way the earth seemed to have their own pulse. Dust and rocks fell from the cliffs above. Ori glanced inside the stone doorway to see the halls flickering with orange firelight.
"What about Bilbo?" He asked, nervously.
"Give him more time." Thorin said. He had moved away from the entrance and stood near the cliff's edge.
"More time to do what?" Balin challenged, "to be killed?" Thorin turned and studied him.
"You're afraid." It was a accusation more than an observation or a question.
"Yes, I'm afraid." Balin took a step forward, his eyes hard and his face stern. He pointed a finger at the would-be-king. "I fear for you. A sickness lies upon that treasure horde, a sickness that drove your grandfather mad."
"I am not my grandfather."
"You are not yourself. The Thorin I know would not hesitate to go in there and …"
"I will not risk this quest for the life of one … burglar."
"The quest." Came a disgruntled voice. The dwarves turned, Fili had risen from where he had been sat, his blue eyes shining. "The only thing of any importance. Nobody's life can compare. Not friends or kin." The company stared at him as he pushed through them and walked towards his uncle. "You're waiting, Thorin." He squared up to his uncle, glaring into his eyes. "Do you remember what happened the last time you waited?" He spat venomously. "Because I do."
"Fili, don't start." Thorin said warningly.
"Oh yes, I forgot. I'm the only nephew you've ever had, aren't I?" Fili's eyes were burning now.
"Fili."
"I lost my brother because of you." He growled. "Bilbo is my friend, and I will not see him killed for gold. You value your treasure over life." Fili took a step back. "Balin is right. You are not yourself, you haven't been yourself for a long time. I'm going in after Bilbo, you can stay out here if you wish, but I will not." He turned away and marched into the entrance. The Company glanced at one another, at Thorin and then at Fili, before following the golden haired prince into the mountain.
A bitter wind enveloped Gadalf as he sat in the suspended cage. It swayed slightly. At first the continuous rocking had made him feel rather nauseous, but now he hardly felt it. His stomach had got used to the movement. His eyes were closed but he was not asleep, despite how weary he had grown. His mind felt blank, he could hold no clear thoughts. Except one; he should not have come to this damned place. They were counting on you, you know, to be on that overlook to set poor little Kili free. You were their last hope. He pressed his forehead against the cold iron bars. He had abandoned the Company, his friends, and so much had gone wrong. Would he even had been able to help, he wondered. He sighed, he could not dwell on what could not be changed, even if it did sting his heart. There came a sound which dragged him from his thoughts and opened his eyes.
He gripped the cage bars and pulled himself up so he was sitting straighter. He glanced down to see the golden glow of torchlight, illuminating the usually dark fortress hallways. The lights were accompanied by the harsh sound of Black Speech as the Orc army began their march. The beasts were restless and eager, shouting and growling and flashing their weapons, their roughly made swords and axes and scimitars and war hammers all catching the light and glinting dangerously. Gandalf shifted as he watched them, looking down at the orcs and their wargs, at the banners they held proudly aloft. There were more than he could count. He felt his stomach tighten as he watched them.
"Impressed?" Came a double layered voice. The Wizard turned his head to see the Necromancer stood before him, dressed also in orcish armor, a spiked helmet held under his arm. Gandalf's heart constricted, seeing Kili's body dressed this way. With his eyes as black as ink and his face almost grey-skinned, he did not look like the young dwarf that Gandalf remembered. Even with a sword or a bow in hand, Kili never looked particularly dangerous but now, stood before him, he looked threatening, like he truly could turn the world to ash. The wizard said nothing to him. The Necromancer smiled a crocked smile and chuckled callously. "It's not much. Yet. But it will grow." He began to pace, black eyes looking out over the dead landscape. "Oakenshield can try to defend his mountain, but ..."
"I know who you are." Gandalf cut in. The Necromancer's head snapped sideways, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards.
"Oh, do you?" He stood still and turned to face the wizard, leaning forward and regarding him with amused eyes. Something glinted in the blackness.
"You call yourself a Necromancer, but I know your real name." He tilted his head to the side, somewhat resembling a bird of prey. A great armored hawk.
"Then tell me, old man." Gandalf gripped the bars and pulled himself close.
"Sauron." He said slowly. Kili's body straightened up, and for a moment his face was unreadable. No emotion flashed across his features or shone in his empty black eyes. He simply stared at the captive wizard.
"Very clever," he said flatly, a dry smile passing over his lips, "but you're useless in there. You've no magic to stop me in there, wizard." He stared silently at Gandalf for many moments before placing the helmet on his head, cloaking his face in shadow, his dark eyes seeming to grow darker. He glanced down at the marching army below. "Yes, Sauron is my name." He said pensively. "I have a body. I have an army. And I make my return to this world, and I will take it for my own."
Bilbo glanced behind him as he dashed though a stone archway and into a vast, empty chamber. But he'd barely passed through the entry before Smaug crashed through the wall with a roar, sending shards of rock and faded, dusty banners falling. The world seemed to grow dark as the banners fell, billowing as they tumbled down above him. Bilbo looked up and forced his aching legs to carry him faster, trying to outrun them. But they hit the ground with a deep, resonating clang as the golden metal pole hit the stone floor. The fabric encased him and pulled him down.
"You think you can deceive me, Barrel Rider?" Bilbo peeked out from beneath the fallen banner to find the dragon's orange eyes focused angrily upon him. Bilbo had tried to amuse and satisfy him with flattering words and titles. But had failed and only succeeded to madden him. A growl rattled in Smaug's chest. "You have come from Laketown. Is some sordid scheme hatched between these filthy dwarves and those miserable lakemen?" His voice had grown bitter. "Those sniveling cowards with their longbows and black arrows." He growled again and turned. "Perhaps it is time I payed them a visit!"
"No," Bilbo whispered to himself from beneath the banner as Smaug moved towards the moonlight. He threw the fabric from on top of him and jumped to his feet. "This isn't their fault!" He yelled, "wait! You cannot go to Laketown!" Smaug stopped and turned his head to look at the hobbit. His huge teeth flashed in a sneer.
"You care about them." He said. Bilbo paused. He supposed he did, in a way. He thought of Bard and his children who had welcomed them into their small home, and of the crowd that waved them off that morning. The people of Laketown were good and innocent -with the exception of the greedy master and his greasy sidekick, he supposed - and Smaug would burn them and their homes into the water. "You could watch them die." Smaug hissed turning away with his eyes burning as hot as his flame.
"Here!" Called a voice. Smaug stopped. "You witless worm!" Thorin's voice echoed off the stone walls and was met by a deep, resonating growl from the dragon's stomach. Bilbo glanced up to see Thorin stood high above, upon what seemed to be the shoulder of a great stone dwarf whose construction had never been completed, one hand wrapped around a heavy metal chain.
"You." Smaug snarled, baring his teeth.
"I am taking back what you stole."
"You will take nothing from me, dwarf." The dragon said, crossing the length of the chamber. "I layed low your warriors of old, I instilled terror in the hearts of men." He began to climb upwards to that his face was level with Thorin, who still stood unphased. "I am King Under the Mountain."
"This is not your kingdom." Behind the stone figure the rest of the company waited, silent, unseen by the dragon, more heavy chains in their hands. "These are dwarf lands, this is dwarf gold" Thorin raised his empty hand and wrapped it around a rope, "and we will have out revenge." He yelled in Khuzdul and yanked the rope downwards and, at his order, the dwarves pulled back on the chains with grunts and the rock began to crumble and colapse. As they fell away they revealed the gold beneath. Smaug rose up, his eyes widening in awe as he looked upon the shining sculpture. His hunger for the precious metal clear. But what first appeared to be a solid form began to bubble and spurt like boiling water, until it began to shift and melt, flowing towards the ground like a golden landslide. Smaug stepped back, but not quick enough to avoid the glowing liqui which soon sent him to the ground and flowed over him. Soon he was lost beneath the golden lake which filled the chamber like a pool. From upon a swinging chain, Thorin smiled triumphantly. But his triumph was short lived as the dragon burst from the liquid gold.
"It burns!" He bellowed, "it burns!" He ran through the chamber, gold splashing to the stone floor. Smaug growled. "I will show you revenge!"
Smaug burst through the mountain, the gold clinging to his scales glinting in the moonlight. With a snarl he took flight, his huge wings carrying up towards the sky. The gold letting go and dropping like falling stars. He soared over the ruins of Dale and towards the quiet town that sat upon the Long Lake.
"I am fire," he growled. "I am ... death."
Bilbo watched from the rocks, his stomach twisting and his heart constricted.
"What have we done?"
-AN-
Howdily doodily readerinos? (Imma use that from now on :L) I have returned at last with another chapter.
I sort of sped through and cut out most of Smaug's parts, which I apologize for. But a. It would have taken sooooo long to write it all and b. I hate writing scenes directly from the film, I don't know why but I really struggle with them and they're never my best. But this simply means we're now onto the third film and rectifying all that has gone wrong for the Durins. - Speaking of which, a bit more angry Fili, which is one of my favorite types of Fili XD
I would LOVE to see Kili in Orc armor! I bet he looks fierce af.
As usual, faves, follows and (especially) reviews are appreciated! *virtual high five*
