Author's Note: I would love to hear what you all think of this chapter. I struggled a bit with Smaug as I started out worrying that I had written him as a bit of a drama queen and then I rewatched DOS and realized that's exactly what he is. And I'd like to hear what you all think of Laura's handling of the entire situation, I tried to write it as realistically as possible with her reactions and to kind of highlight how different she and Bilbo handle the same situation, but I'm still a little anxious.

Smaug finding Bilbo: finally, some entertainment

Smaug finding Laura: you little shit

I would also like to thank you all for the favorites, follows, and reviews. You're all just so awesome.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Laura.

It was worse the second time, going back into Erebor.

After breathing the fresh air, the stench of the dragon hit even harder. It hit me before I was even down the first staircase and it felt heavier this time, cloying, and settled deep into my lungs. And it grew even more suffocating as I followed the walls back down to the treasury.

It was hard to focus on anything else. But, I suppose, that didn't matter much. I didn't exactly have a complex plan. Get in, get the Arkenstone, get out. I couldn't wrap my head around the very real possibility that Smaug had followed me back into the treasury. That it was waiting there.

I didn't feel any relief, walking out onto the walkway and finding no sign of Smaug. If anything, it was terror. Terror, knowing Smaug could be hiding, that it could be waiting. That it didn't mind waiting for me to make a wrong move.

Perhaps luck really was with me, because once I reached the middle of the walkway, Smaug had yet to appear. And below, with its strange cool light, was the Arkenstone, exactly where I'd last seen it. I surveyed the gold, concluding I'd really only need to climb halfway up one gold mound to reach it, provided I didn't cause another avalanche.

It took me several minutes to work up the courage to descend the stairs, though. And when I did, my legs felt like jelly. I scaled the gold awkwardly and cursed internally. It felt even more difficult than the first time, and I knew it was just as much nerves as it was the unstable gold beneath my feet. By the time I'd actually reached the Arkenstone and settled carefully next to it, I could barely breathe. I dug my fingers through the treasure carefully, curling them to scoop up the Arkenstone, wincing at every soft clink that followed as the gold shifted. But then, it was out, easy as anything.

I stared into the soft glow. It was beautiful. The prismatic light that shifted inside was mesmerizing, a rainbow of colors weaving together like ribbons. Some colors would fade while others came closer to the surface. The jewel itself seemed to hum. This was magic, in the palm of my hand. I understood now what Balin had meant when he'd said it was the heart of the mountain.

The hum was getting louder now, even as it dropped in pitch. I frowned. A wave of heat washed over me, sudden and intense, like sticking your face too close to the oven when you opened it.

The Arkenstone wasn't humming at all.

"Oh, please," a low thrumming voice echoed around me, "Do help yourself."

I choked, glancing wildly around. It took me far longer than I'd liked to spot Smaug, curled around one of the larger pillars halfway across the treasury. It occurred to me, as I took in its huge scaly body, its horned face, its glowing orange eyes, that it was letting me live. Smaug could've killed me the moment I stepped out onto the walkway and I would've only known once it was too late.

Smaug pushed off from the pillar, wings unfurling as it glided almost silently over the gold in my direction. When it landed it was only two mounds away, the impact caused the treasure to wave again. All I could do as the force of it hit my hill was pull the Arkenstone close and curl in on myself.

The tumble down the treasure was more painful than I expected. With how fluid the treasure seemed to move, l didn't expect it to give much resistance. But, like sand, there was very little give, even as treasure cascaded around me. I hit the slope shoulder first and then my whole body did a somersault right after it. The treasure and I moved together, knocking into one another until we settled into a new mound of gold.

I was near the top of this new mound, which was a blessing. I could've easily been buried completely, could've easily suffocated beneath the weight of the treasure. I was buried enough as it was, halfway under almost a foot of gold. With a burst of adrenaline – or whatever hobbits had – I pulled myself free, and without a second thought, tucked the Arkenstone away in my coat pocket. I couldn't resist the urge to brush my fingers against my ring before pulling my hand back out. That was the only indulgence I would take. I couldn't use the ring again.

The gold shifted again as I tried to scramble for purchase, to keep myself from tumbling down again. When I turned, my heart stopped. Smaug was towering over me at the crest of the closest treasure hill, close enough that if it wanted it could stretch out its neck to reach me. It seemed impossible huge up close, almost incomprehensible. There was nothing I could compare it to back home, not in size, not in danger.

"Well?" Smaug said, its head coming closer and a gust of hot air rushing past me, causing some of the smaller pieces of treasure to fly away. "Can you not speak, little thief?"

Speak. It could speak. Dragons could speak.

"Yes," I gasped out. Nothing else followed.

"Yes," Smaug echoed me, almost certainly mocking. "That is all? Where is your bravery? Your boldness? You had well enough of it to trapse through my kingdom. To take what is mine."

Bravery wasn't the word I would choose. Not by a longshot.

"I'm sorry," I said on instinct, trying to placate. "I didn't," I couldn't get anything else out.

"You didn't," Smaug repeated, and yeah, it was definitely mocking me. Its head was fully above me now, orange eye glowing. Its eye alone was wider than I was tall.

Oh, I was going to die here, wasn't I?

"I'm sorry," I said again, and I found I meant it. Fear was apparently just as motivating as regret.

Maybe it was because Smaug spoke so calmly, so unbothered. Maybe it was because I knew that this was the end of the line for me. But what came out next was, "You're very terrifying."

Smaug's head retreated, so suddenly that I felt the drag of air rush around me. When I chanced a glance up, Smaug was still watching me. It looked different now, though I couldn't pinpoint how. I still felt very much like I was under a predator's gaze, but there was something else there. No, it couldn't possibly be-

"Terrifying?" Smaug purred out. And oh my God, it sounded flattered.

"Yes," I confirmed before I could think better of it and, while it was hard to tell given Smaug's face was more teeth than anything, it seemed to look even more pleased.

I guess I could work with that.

"I've been traveling," I told Smaug, and well, that wasn't a lie, "For many months now, and I've seen all sorts. Trolls, wolves, goblins, bear-men. But you," Smaug purred approvingly. "They say you are the most dangerous of all," What was the word Thorin had used? "A calamity."

"Do they?" Smaug said thoughtfully. I did my best to keep eye contact. That was what you were supposed to do with predators, right? "And who is they? Dwarves?"

Oh my God.

Before I could truly process how badly I had messed up, one of Smaug's great wings, tipped in claws, unfurled and was crashed into the gold next to me. The treasure scattered around me on impact and my feet started to sink into the gold as it shifted.

"You have sweet words," I heard Smaug above me as the gold and I began to fall again, "But you insult me, little thief. As if I could not decipher your true purpose. As if I could not smell those wretched dwarves on my doorstep."

I was able to shake myself out of my daze when the treasure and I slowed to a stop, beneath one of the large pillars that served both as a staircase and support. The treasure was still clinking around me, when the impact came. It was loud, like the thunder battle had been loud, and echoing. It was too hot, and I could see the scaled body of Smaug, its huge feet, from my vantage underneath the pillar.

I had to move, I knew, it was more instinctual than anything else. I had to get back into one of the hallways, where Smaug couldn't reach.

I looked around desperately, clocking where the closest staircase was. There were two more, one on each side of the treasury, at the next walkway. It was downhill, comparatively, and I could use that to my advantage: use momentum to slide down the gold and then the pillar to stop me. I only needed the opening.

I could see part of Smaug's belly, even as it shifted, glowing like a furnace. The heat was almost unbearable. I tried very hard not to think about the very real possibility that I'd meet the source of that heat soon enough.

Smaug spoke, low and dangerous, "They must think themselves terribly clever, sending in a creature like you. I may not have smelled your kind before but you reek of them. Those dwarves and those men of the lake."

Smaug was shifting again, I could feel the air move from it. This was my chance. I took two giant steps at a half-run, and then began the slide. Behind me I could hear Smaug moving, sounding almost clumsy, claws scraping into the pillar, gold flying. I'd surprised it, I thought, but I didn't look back to check.

Using the pillar to stop hadn't occurred to me until I slid into it, grunting against the stone. It was warm too. My chin clipped it painfully, before the right side of my face followed. My hands were scrambling to leverage myself up from the pillar and regain my balance. Smaug landed, almost in a stumble, beside me, gold coming up in a wave around my legs. I desperately pulled my feet free, thinking almost hysterically of quicksand, as I followed around the base of the pillar to the first uncovered steps.

I was half-crawling up the stairs when Smaug's clawed-wing came down on me again, shattering the stone steps I'd just cleared.

"This treasure is mine," Smaug snarled out, deep voice echoing, as I cleared the first half of the staircase, "And no others! Drawn like flies to dead flesh, I have foreseen this day. None shall take it, not a single coin, thief!"

Smaug was at its full height now, a second clawed wing curling around the walkway just as I reached the last stair. The force of the impact made me stumble and for a terrible moment I came so close to losing my balance and falling back down into the gold. When I'd regained my footing a moment later, I realized I was on the wrong side of the treasury. Smaug was blocking my path back to the hidden door.

I couldn't breathe, terror had sunk its claws in my lungs, Smaug's terrible heat made the air heavy and thick and difficult to draw in. Smaug's head was at level with me now, parallel to the walkway. Its teeth were like swords and when its mouth parted slightly, more of that terrible heat escaped.

The shadows of the doorway enveloped me just as I heard Smaug inhale deeply. I'd only made it around the first corner when the hallway lit up behind me. I could hear a roar, from Smaug or the flames or both I had no idea. The heat didn't even feel like heat at all, just pain. The stone around me was beginning to glow, the bottom of my feet searing.

I couldn't stop running. It felt like walking on hot asphalt, almost, but so painful it vanished after a moment. If that was how it felt on my hobbit feet, which had always barely registered whatever terrain I was walking in, I knew it would've crippled me in my own body even with shoes.

Bilbo, I thought. I'm sorry.

Just as quickly as it came the roaring stopped. But I didn't, not until I reached the next corner. When I cleared it, I shucked off my coat and stumbled to a stop, chest heaving. The pain in my feet that had disappeared briefly was roaring back, and I knew I was crying, the tears were cold against my flushed face.

It was difficult to tell without the light, but I could smell the smoke. I hovered my hands over where my coat had crumpled on the floor and could feel the residual heat, like when you pulled clothes fresh from the dryer. When I touched it, it was warm, too, but not painfully so. I pulled it back into my arms, running my fingers along it, trying to determine if there had been any holes burned through, but I couldn't find any.

I hated the smell, acrid and sharp, but I wasn't willing to discard it. I had no other way of keeping my ring and the Arkenstone on me. And I knew I'd regret it later, if I could make my way back out of the mountain.

Once I had slipped it back on, I raised an arm to wipe away my tears and began to walk again. Well, hobble. I was moving the slowest I'd ever been, but I was moving. I could handle the pain, my glacier pace, if it meant I could escape.

It wasn't the same set of corridors and staircases I'd followed the first time into the mountain but they seemed to follow a similar pattern. After what felt like an eternity, I managed to find myself overlooking a familiar canyon-hall, though this time I was a level higher. It was almost comforting, the cool blue light a sharp and welcome contrast to the red-gold glow of the treasure and Smaug.

There were only two options, this time: either the walkway before me or the dark corridor behind. Smaug would be close behind, I knew that for certain. My last venture into the mountain was example enough and that was before I managed to piss it off.

Maybe I could go the route least expected? Last time I had turned around immediately, retracing my steps down the same corridors. Smaug had maybe guessed that. Instead, I could try crossing the canyon-hall and circle around to another route, another walkway, back toward the treasury.

I wasn't optimistic about my chances, honestly, more resigned. But I was still able to walk – hobble – and I was still alive. And the dwarves were waiting. I had to get them out of here. To get us out of here and find Gandalf or at least let Thorin do his thing and rally the other dwarven kingdoms.

A little more determined now- though my heart hadn't slowed from its racing pace that had kicked off in the treasury- I began the slow journey across the walkway, pain shooting through my feet. Dwarves, apparently, weren't big into railings anywhere and the walkway's sides were open into the darkness below. At least it was wide, almost like a road, and I wasn't in danger of a wrong step.

I had just passed the halfway point when I heard it again. The rumble.

It was deeper than last time, less like a purr and more like a growl. I stopped, head swiveling. There was nothing in either direction, not at first.

Then came the telling glow.

Panic, which had at least given me a reprieve in the dark, had returned full force. My hobble became more of a skip, and even with my desperation and what last of hobbit-adrenaline I had, I wasn't fast enough. I was still at least two dozen steps away from the waiting doorway when Smaug rounded the corner.

On instinct, I froze. To my shock, Smaug did too. The rumbling stopped.

Smaug was stretched between two walkways on a level below mine, a clawed wing hooked over the next walkway, one of its feet outstretched behind it to follow. Smaug's eyes were glowing it the dark, its belly closer to a yellow-orange than the red-orange I had seen before and I knew that wasn't good.

I was moving again before I could even register it, feet stumbling and the searing pain building. It was a price I would pay. I had to get to safety. My urgent need leveled up to blind desperation as I heard the unfortunately familiar sound of Smaug inhaling, and I'd only made it a few steps into the doorway when a wave of heat rushed over me, brilliant orange lighting up behind me once more.

I thought of Bilbo again, even as I was stumbling, falling. I brought my arms up instantly to protect my face from it. Peering through the sliver between my arms, the flames were near-blinding. But they didn't stream into the corridor, like they had the first time. They were rushing past, like a river of fire.

Then, suddenly, they were gone again, leaving behind cool blue light and black spots in my vision. Just as suddenly, came the roar. It was tremendous, shattering, and made the rumbling Smaug had done previously seem as quiet as a kitten's purr in comparison. My ears hurt, even after I slapped my hands over them. It was so loud the very mountain shook from it.

I didn't remember getting to my feet but the next thing I knew, I was running again. My fingers were trailing along the wall in the near-dark as I continued to follow the corridor, then down another, then another. I was losing track of where I was but I couldn't bring myself to stop. I had to get away.

There was a light again, the same cool blue as the canyon-hall, and I didn't bother to consider whether it was a good idea or not, not until I was several steps into it. I stumbled to a stop, clutching at my side over the stitch that had come back sometime in the dark corridors, that I hadn't noticed until then.

It was another hall, huge and open, the ceiling so tall you could easily fit several floors. There were no pillars only enormous dwarven soldiers carved into the stone, flanking different archways that must lead to other parts of the mountain. Most were closed off, huge pieces of rubble blocking them. There were banners, too, old and worn and frayed, above each archway. The cool light made them near-black and if they had any patterns or embroidery I couldn't tell. To my right was a grand staircase, as wide as the hall itself, that led down.

I eyed the staircase, then the three open archways I could see. I wouldn't be able to make down the staircase. I'd either collapse on the steps or tumble straight down. Two of the archways were on the far side, which was the opposite direction of where I needed to go and the third-

Exploded.

The sound of it followed after, loud like thunder, the stone of the mountain exploding out into the hall, a cloud of debris following after. The walls were shaking and then I was in darkness again, suffocating.

It took me a few moments to realize what happened, to register the heavy weight above me. A second later an almighty clanging rang out in the hall, then the quieting sound of the stone settling. I pushed a hand up and was met with cloth. Cloth. One of the banners had fallen over me.

It was heavy, resisting my attempt to tent it up and away from me. Unable to come up with a better plan, I began to army-crawl my way in the direction of the archway I had come out of, praying that I would find the edge of it quickly. And while I did, when I managed to pull myself awkwardly out from under the musty banner, I suddenly wished I hadn't.

Smaug was looming over me, belly glowing brightly, eyes fixed on me. Around it was huge stones, though they varied in size, and one I could see was the head of one of the dwarven statues. It made the hall feel so small, so crowded, now.

It had broken through the wall. Smaug had broken through the damn wall.

"An admirable attempt," Smaug said, and though the words were flattering, its voice held nothing but venom, "but this is my mountain. I know it better than any, having burrowed myself deep even in slumber. There is nowhere to run, to hide, not without my leave."

I struggled to push myself upright, my knees aching from the stone but at least my poor feet were given a reprieve. I resisted the urge to hide beneath the great banner that had caught me, like hiding underneath the blankets from a monster. Smaug was very close now, head low and at an angle so that its eye was just above me. If I had been in my actual body I could have reached up and touched it.

"So many choices," Smaug hissed, and my stomach dropped sickeningly. "What to do, little thief? I am so tempted to let you take it. It is his greatest desire, you know. It will consume him, it's already begun. And it will be your fault. You, who pushes him into madness. What do you think of that bargain?"

I didn't have to wonder who 'he' was. Thorin. But it didn't line up, what Smaug was saying. Thorin was determined, yes, to reclaim the Erebor, enough to shed the secrecy in the quest in Lake-town, enough to put the fate of it in my clumsy hands. Even at the darkest moments in the dungeons, with melancholy heavy and choking, Thorin had endured. He had been the one to lift up my spirits, to believe in me once I managed to escape my cell even when I couldn't.

Madness was at the bottom of the list.

Something must've shown on my face. My doubt, maybe, or confusion, because Smaug said, laughter in its voice now. "Ah, how sweet. You do make it most appealing. But I have a better idea."

I shivered even as Smaug continued, clearly relishing in his decision, "First I will pay those sniveling Lake-men a visit, I believe it is long overdue." No. No, no, no. "Then I will return for your dwarves. And I will ensure they die screaming."

"No," I whispered out, horror strangling me.

Smaug wasn't listening. Or if it was, it didn't care. It was moving now, already passing me, in just a few easy strides it was at the top of the staircase. Then, it stopped and looked back at me. "When I've finished, I will come for you, thief. Perhaps then you will decide if the price was fair."

Smaug's wings unfurled, casting a great dark shadow over me, obscuring the light. With one push that cracked the stone stairs beneath, Smaug had taken flight. There was another loud blast, I could hear rocks falling again. The hall was suddenly filled with silvery moonlight.

It was quiet now. All I could hear was my own heartbeat, roaring in my ears. It was cold again. So cold, I couldn't feel a thing.

What had I done?

Shock, I remember thinking, I was in shock. I felt cold, so cold, horror enveloping me. My heart couldn't seem to maintain a regular rhythm and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't control my breathing.

I had doomed them. The very worst possibility had occurred, the one I'd promised Bard I would do anything to avoid. Lake-town was going to pay for my mistakes. The people who had believed in us, in the dwarves, who cheered us on as we left them behind two mornings ago. Had it really been only two days?

Bard. Sigrid. Tilda. Bain. The dragon was coming for them. It would destroy their home. It would kill them. I had failed.

God, what had I done?

I didn't notice that I'd started walking, not until I reached the rubble of what I realized was the main gate of Erebor. Great chunks of stone were strewn about on what looked like an old road, unused for probably centuries. Numb, I began to climb. I was slow moving. My limbs were shaking from exhaustion and my feet still throbbed in pain but I had to get there, I had to get to Lake-town. I had to help. I had to do something. Anything. The clawing guilt, the overwhelming feeling of failure, made it impossible to think of anything else.

I'd just scrambled over the last bit of rubble when I heard it. My name. Bilbo's name. Someone was calling for me. I frowned, tearing my eyes away from where I was certain Lake-town was hidden behind the hills.

I turned just in time to see many- thirteen I had no doubt if I bothered to count- figures emerge in the great gaping hole that was once Erebor's gate.

I watched numbly as they all came closer, moving over the rubble with a swiftness that at any other time I would envy. I couldn't see which ones were which until they were very close, recognizing Fili and Kili at the front of the group with Dwalin and Nori close behind.

They came to a stop in front of me, as if they hit a wall. We stared at each other for a long moment and I wondered, vaguely, what on earth I must look like, what my expression must have been, to make them stop so suddenly. Finally, it was Fili who took the first step towards me, one arm extended.

"Bilbo," Fili finally said, eyes very wide. I could see behind him that Kili was wearing a mirrored expression. "Bilbo, are you alright?"

And it was like a dam had broken. I took a shuddering gasp and before I even realized what was happening, tears began to roll down my cheeks, hot and wet.

"I," I started to say, unable to get any words out. "I."

Fili's face went very soft but the worry in his eyes seemed to grow. He took another step forward, ready to grab my shoulder but I took a hasty step back in a desperate attempt to stay out of reach. Fili dropped his hand but his expression didn't change. "We felt it, Smaug shaking the mountain. And then we saw him, flying west. We thought you were dead, Bilbo."

Dead? I'd thought so too. It'd seemed so close, every move feeling like my last. But Smaug was clever, more cruel than I thought possible.

The others were talking, but I couldn't hear them. My heart was beating too loudly, my breathing so shallow and sharp that I was getting light-headed.

My mind turned to Lake-town again. What was coming for them, what they would suffer. The river of flames from the mountain was on a loop in my mind, Smaug's roar was ringing in my ears.

What had I done?

There was a hand on my shoulder, suddenly, heavy and tight. I looked up to find Thorin before me, eyes wide and tinged with urgency. Fili was just over his shoulder, his eyes not on me, but on Thorin.

"Master Baggins," Thorin said quickly, "did you find it?"

"Find it?" I repeated slowly, woodenly, trying not to let my voice shake. "Find what?"

"The Arkenstone," Thorin bit out, impatient in a way he hadn't been with me for months, "Did you find the Arkenstone?"

I stared, my mind turning over his words, but they sounded so outlandish. The Arkenstone? Thorin was worried about the Arkenstone? Now?

His greatest desire, Smaug had said. It will consume him. It's already begun.

My tears halted, clearing my vision. Thorin's face was pale and there were lines carved into his features that I didn't remember seeing. It was his eyes, though, that really gave me pause. Thorin's eyes were dark, like they had been when he went against Bard. There was something cold in there, too, that I couldn't pinpoint but seemed familiar.

A spark of fear caught in my chest, though it felt irrational still. But I couldn't push away Smaug's words. It will be your fault.

I didn't want to believe it. Not of Thorin. But I also knew that my ring had hooked itself deep into me. Had changed me, in ways I found hard to resist. The Arkenstone was magic. Did that mean it could do the same?

"Master Baggins," Thorin said again, hand tightening.

I stared, unnerved by Thorin's intensity as another piece slotted into place. Thorin was always intense but this was a whole new level, even for him.

"I'm sorry," I finally got out, and I found I meant it, "I couldn't find it again."

I nudged my shoulder, hoping to prompt Thorin to let go but he did the opposite. His grip turned just shy of painful. I winced, just a little, and if Thorin noticed he didn't show it. His eyes were hard, searching my face closely.

"Thorin," Balin called out, stepping forward almost cautiously.

Whatever trance Thorin was in seemed to snap and his hand fell away instantly. I was certain I didn't imagine it when a flash of pain crossed over his face. My stomach turned uneasily even as I glanced away.

All eyes had been on us, I realized belatedly, even as many started to turn away. Everyone was frowning. Some with blatant disproval like Balin and Dori, and others with disbelief like Fili, Kili, Bofur, and Ori, while Nori and Dwalin and Gloin all stared with shuttered uncertainty.

I let out a sigh of relief which was followed quickly by Fili and Kili pressing in close, one on each side. They were both stiff and very still for a long minute before Kili carefully wrapped a hand around my elbow just as Fili laid a gentle hand over where Thorin had grabbed me. And then I heard it, like the ringing of an alarm clock breaking through a dream: the tolling of a bell.

There was only one place that it could be coming from. Lake-town. I could feel the tears coming back full force and I didn't bother to brush them away.

"Come on, Bilbo," Kili muttered quietly, though it did nothing to hide the distress in his voice. "We're going to the watchtower. We'll be safe there."

Safe, I thought. Was there anywhere truly safe now?

Fili and Kili didn't leave my side as the Company hugged the slope of the mountain, moving away from the front gate. They matched their pace to mine and occasionally, I'd feel the brush of one of their hands against my back, as if they were trying to steady me. The others were getting farther and farther ahead but Fili and Kili made no mention of it. Nor of my tears.

We had just reached an almost indistinguishable staircase when I finally broke down.

"Go ahead," I urged them, easing myself to rest against the nearest cliff-edge of the mountain as the others began to climb the steep steps. I was desperate enough to take my weight off my feet that I was totally okay with being left behind. It was a small consolation that my tears had finally stopped.

"But you're hurt, Bilbo," Kili replied swiftly, frowning.

"I'm fine," I told them, my grief and guilt giving way to the- frankly irrational- urge to protect my pride as Fili joined his brother in frowning at me. "Really! I'm just a bit slow."

"Come now, Mister Bilbo." Dori said, joining us and making me jump.

I sighed shakily, turning to Dori, who huffed at me. "Anyone can see you're in no state, such as you are. It's no good trying to pretend otherwise. Let me carry you."

Fili and Kili were already pulling me to my feet. Something defensive was beginning to form in my chest and I was finding it hard to tap it down, "I'm fine."

All three shot me identical unimpressed looks. Irritation now joined in, bolstering my defensiveness. I couldn't stop myself from scowling at them even though I knew they meant well.

"It is freely offered and with friendship," Dori said, sounding a little more impatient now. But there was kindness in his words, too. Buried deep, maybe, but there all the same.

In my peripheral I could see Kili nodding encouragingly. Fili's hand still cupped my elbow.

"You've been through more than enough tonight, I think." Dori pressed on. "Don't you?" He then ruined it by adding, "At the rate you're moving, you likely won't reach the top until next Durin's Day."

The defensiveness, which had been ebbing away at Dori's words, was back. I was able to stop my scowl this time, though only by turning to eye the staircase the others were climbing. It was steep, like the one that led down from the hidden door. And much longer.

Dread washed away any idea of refusing. Though I was still annoyed that Dori was right. Next Durin's Day, indeed.

"Alright," I agreed, unable to stop my exhaustion from leaking into my voice. Kili patted my back gently, as if approving, and I tried not to be annoyed by it.

I had just clambered into position on Dori's back, with quite a bit of help from Fili and Kili, when the bell went silent. The silence last for only a few scant seconds when a thunderous roar rang out, earth-shaking and angry. I recognized, the terror shooting through me reinforcing it well.

Smaug.

Everyone froze, even those who were already climbing the staircase. Then, there was a flurry of movement and we were all scrambling up the steps, desperate to reach the top, to see what had become of Lake-town.

It took very little time at all, now that I was no longer limping behind. Dori was gracious enough to settle me back on my feet almost immediately, as the dwarves began to move towards what looked an overlook. I followed behind Fili and Kili to find a full view of the ruins of Dale. And beyond that I could see the lake behind and below, huge and black in the night.

Lake-town was burning. A smoldering orange glow against the inky blackness of the night. From our position we could see the town clearly and I was sure it wasn't my imagination that we could hear the screams of the people of Lake-town from even where we were.

I knew it was my fault. I could feel it settle into my very bones. My tears were back in full force, blurring the sight of Lake-town into a bright swath of orange and yellow.

"Come, Bilbo," Bofur was ushering me away, eyes very sad and hands gentle on my shoulders. I, perhaps selfishly, let him turn me away.

Behind us I heard Balin murmur, "Those poor souls."

I stifled a gasping sob as my heart lurched painfully. Bofur was moving us quicker now, towards Bombur and Bifur who were standing at the entrance to the tower. Bombur was already digging through his pack and by the time we joined him, he had produced a piece of hardtack and a waterskin.

Bombur pressed them into my hands and said gently, "Here you are."

My tears came back, hot and stinging, but at least they didn't fall. I didn't know how to tell them that I wasn't hungry. I wasn't thirsty. That I'd be sick if I tried.

"Good lads," Oin said from behind us, startling my tears away. "Master Baggins should begin regaining his strength at once."

I turned and found Oin already pulling me away from Bofur's hands and steering me towards what looked like a stone bench, carved into the very mountainside.

"Don't bother," Oin said as I opened my mouth. I shut it with a click of my teeth. "You can't fool me with this one, lad. I've seen you walk."

I knew it was a battle already lost. And, frankly, I was too tired and in pain to argue. So instead, I sat, watching unfocused as the others began to move to make camp, talking in low voices. Oin gingerly took hold of my ankles, one at a time, to lift one of my feet and examine them to his satisfaction.

"You certainly did a number on yourself," was Oin's final assessment, already digging through his pack and pulling out several jars and a roll of linen. I suspected Oin was probably quite pleased, and maybe even impressed, that Lake-town had thought to restock his supplies. I knew I was suddenly very grateful.

"I'm just glad I'm not dead," I admitted, exhaustion pulling honesty out of me.

Oin snorted, opening one of the jars and releasing a foul smell, "We all are, lad."

Oin, for all his outward roughness, was once again an excellent medic. He was careful to clean my feet, following with a meticulous application of a nasty-smelling ointment. Any complaint I had immediately evaporated. The ointment, probably alongside actual healing properties, numbed my pain within seconds and I was unable to stop a rushing relieved sigh from escaping. Oin looked almost amused at that, but remained silent as wrapped my feet with linen.

Once Oin had tied the last knot to keep them in place, he finally spoke, voice stern, "Keep off them as best you can. They will heal soon enough but you must give them the chance."

I nodded, more than thankful already for the dulling of the pain. "Thank you."

"You will see me twice a day, morning and night, so that I might apply the ointment and replace the wrappings," Oin continued as if I hadn't spoken; his attention on repacking his supplies. It was incredibly possible that he simply didn't hear me. "Do not forget or I'll hunt you down myself."

"Absolutely," I agreed immediately.

This, Oin acknowledged with a grunt and even looked satisfied. "Get some sleep now. Dawn will soon be here."

I nodded again and Oin moved away, disappearing into the watchtower. I took a deep breath and carefully set aside the waterskin and hardtack, only feeling a slight ping of guilt for it. As I pushed to my feet, a figure emerged from the darkness in the direction of the staircase.

I squinted and to my surprise saw Dwalin. He didn't stop, nor did he even spare me a glance, his expression strangely flat. My alarm bells were immediately raised. Dwalin's default expression was a frown. What had caused this?

Bolstered by the ointment's numbing, I moved slowly towards the stair's landing before stopping at the short staircase that connected the staircase's landing to the main level of the guard tower. Below was a single figure staring out at the gate of Erebor.

It was Thorin, still as a statue. Had he been staring at it the entire time? I couldn't remember seeing him with the rest of us when we witnessed what happened to Lake-town.

The fear was back, this time with worry. I'd thought Smaug had been trying to scare me, to manipulate me, when it had predicted what would happen. But now I realized that it was right. There was something about the Arkenstone, about the treasure, that was calling to Thorin the same way my ring called to me.

Gandalf was going to have a lot of work to do when he finally showed up. I only hoped he wouldn't be too late.

For both of us.