I awoke to a noise reverberating throughout the mountain depths.
It took me a long time to even register the source of the sound. It wasn't until Bofur hurried to get up and the mattress shifted below me - waking me further - that I realized I was hearing a horn blowing, its sharp note receding down the outer corridor as the dwarves were called to duty.
"Stay here, love." Bofur ordered softly, turning to look at me as I roughly shoved the blankets aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.
He saw the objection forming on my lips and bent down, placing a lasting kiss on them before I could articulate my complaints.
"Stay here. Lock your door." he repeated quietly after he pulled away, his face still close to mine, his hand squeezing my shoulder.
"Let me come with you. Surely you don't truly believe Bard or Thranduil would harm any of us..." I reasoned, trailing my fingers down the side of his face.
He chuckled and reached up to grab my hand. "You're near as stubborn as a dwarf, you know." he teased, placing a quick kiss on my palm. "No, love, please, I need you to stay. And the lads would have my neck if I brought you out there."
I scowled but he simply pressed another kiss to my forehead, then quickly adjusted his hauberk and headed towards the door.
"Bofur," I called him to a stop.
I wished to tell him of Bilbo and the Arkenstone. I wished to reassure him that there would not be a battle... That the hobbit would have found a way to negotiate peace, and so he had no need to worry. I could see it behind his eyes; the fear. He tried to mask it... but I knew his eyes too well. I opened my mouth to tell him all of this, hoping it would be enough to allow me leave to join him on the ramparts.
Bofur looked back at me questioningly, but I hesitated. I had vowed to keep Bilbo's ploy a secret and, though I knew Bofur cared for the hobbit, I wasn't sure if that friendship would overpower the sworn loyalty Bofur had for Thorin.
He raised his eyebrows when I continued to stall. I let out a small breath and smiled slightly.
"I love you." I said after another moment's delay. Bilbo's secret would remain secret for now - there were more than enough broken promises lately without me adding to them.
"I love you more." he replied, smiling almost sadly before he hefted up his battle hammer. "But remember. Stay here."
I sighed audibly and dramatically flopped back on the bed, barely catching his grin as he turned and exited the room. When I heard him close the exterior door, his footsteps disappearing, I squeezed my eyes shut and felt each second begin to drag by.
I quickly found I could not lie still so I got up and busied myself by tidying my rooms, lighting a fire, washing up, eating some leftovers, contemplating life as I knew it... and after all that, I had barely filled an hour.
Then I was just sitting, wringing my hands together, waiting... waiting... waiting for what?
I sprung to my feet in sudden frustration. I knew I would surely go mad if I was forced to spend the day in this suspense.
Bofur should have locked me in.
I saw the dwarves lined up at the top of the ramparts when I crept into the entrance hall, and when I neared the stone wall I heard Thorin begin to shout. I could not make out his words, however, so I hastened forward and began ascending the steps constructed at the back of the barricade.
Another voice rang out in anger when I was nearing the top.
"Thieves!" Kili shouted. "How came you by the heirloom of our house? That stone belongs to the king!"
So Bilbo had given away the Arkenstone after all. The dwarves did not sound pleased, nor did they seem to hear me as I lightly stepped up onto the platform and sidled off to one side to join a rather fidgety looking hobbit that shifted from foot to foot while the scene played out before us. He cast me a sidelong glance, drawing a quiet, nervous breath in through his teeth.
I stifled a gasp when I finally looked forward and saw the entire valley before Erebor amassed with rows upon rows of elvish warriors in perfect formation, standing at the ready.
The dwarves were all leaning over the wall, fixated below as Bard and Thranduil tried to offer negotiations.
Thorin's next words were beyond my hearing, barely above a whisper. My breath caught in my chest as I leaned forward to catch what he was saying: "This is a ruse. A filthy lie... " He glared about the company, though no one offered any contradiction. The company remained as silent as I did.
"THE ARKENSTONE IS IN THIS MOUNTAIN! IT IS A TRICK!"
The king's sudden cry erupted with such fury that I flinched back into the shadows at its severity. Bilbo, however, stepped forward.
"It-It's no trick. The stone is real. I gave it to them." Bilbo explained, pressing his way through the dwarves to Thorin.
"You…" Thorin uttered accusingly.
"I took it as my fourteenth share." Bilbo admitted nonchalantly, and I admired his courage then.
"You would steal from me?" He asked in anguished disbelief.
"Steal from you?" Bilbo repeated incredulously. "No, no, I may be a burglar, but I'd like to think I'm an honest one." he said lightly, but the seething atmosphere could not be broken by light banter. "I'm willing to let it stand against my claim."
"Against your claim." Thorin grinned feverishly, then began to fume, his eyes glowering. "Your claim." he stated, his voice lowering dangerously. "You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!"
He abruptly threw down his bow and took a few threatening paces towards the hobbit, who stood his ground to my surprise. Against my better judgement, I drew out of the shadows a few paces, coming up to stand behind Dwalin and Gloin, though I knew not what I could do to help.
"I was going to give it to you. Many times I wanted to. But-" Bilbo tried desperately to explain himself, but to no avail.
"But what, thief?" Thorin growled.
"You are changed, Thorin." Bilbo asserted firmly. "The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word - Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!"
Thorin's voice came out in a strained whisper as he took another few steps closer to Bilbo, his eyes glassing over with emotion. "Do not speak to me of loyalty." He came to a stop and drew a ragged breath.
"THROW HIM FROM THE RAMPART!" he shouted suddenly and I felt my chest tighten in fear.
The company, however, stayed rooted to their spots, which unfortunately seemed to only infuriate Thorin further. He made a wild grab for Fili before spinning back around and advancing on the hobbit himself.
"Stop! Why are you doing this?" I shrieked, suddenly rushing forward, dodging the grasping hands of the others as I ran up and positioned myself between Thorin and Bilbo. Thorin halted in his tracks and eyed me, his gaze feral and angry from beneath his dark brows.
"Sue for peace!" I pleaded and I briefly saw, behind Thorin's shoulder, Bofur ushering Bilbo to an opening in the ramparts. At least my foolishness would ensure the hobbit's safety.
"You only say that for the greed in your heart." Thorin mumbled and my eyes snapped back to his. "Humans are ripe with it." he sneered. "You would see me hand out my riches - my divine birthright! - to a group of festering dogs that have done nothing to deserve it."
I clenched my jaw. "You would know about greed, wouldn't you, Thorin?" I spat.
I heard Bofur shout out before I even felt it; as in one extremely swift motion Thorin had drawn his sword and had pressed its sharp steel edge to the bare skin of my neck.
The others yelled incoherently as well, pressing towards us, but Thorin jerked up a hand in warning and shot them such a heated look that they all froze in place.
He then slowly trailed his eyes back to mine and I stared back defiantly.
The silence was heavy around us.
"Do it!" I snarled suddenly, shattering the tense quiet.
He did not move.
"Do it. And show everyone just what kind of King you are." I uttered, tilting my head up just so, almost invitingly.
His lips turned in a snarl, his eyes blazing with madness.
I did not flinch as he applied a small pressure and drew his blade down with expert control, precisely opening a shallow tear in my skin. I felt a warm trickle of blood slide down my neck. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement as someone stepped forward.
"Lower your sword, Uncle." Kili said as he pressed the edge of his own blade against Thorin's neck. I stood perfectly still, but suddenly felt the burn of pain from my damaged skin. My hand clenched slightly but I dared not step away.
"Lower your sword." Kili repeated, his voice thick with emotion.
In a stand-off against each other, neither moved an inch, until Thorin finally turned his head to glare at his nephew. Kili stared back at him determinately, yet still Thorin did not seem swayed.
I nearly jumped (but thankfully I did not) when a loud voice suddenly rang out from the battlefield, magically amplified so that we could hear it plain as day.
"You're not making a very splendid figure as King Under the Mountain, are you... Thorin son of Thrain?" Gandalf berated from the ground below.
Thorin slowly turned his head and looked over the side, seeming to lose his nerve for a brief moment as he stared down at the wizard, then back up to me. I felt the shake of his sword-tip, his inner conflict playing out across the vulnerable skin of my throat.
Kili drew in a breath through clenched teeth. "Uncle. Don't." he begged.
Finally Thorin jerked his weapon aside with a growl.
I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding, closing my eyes for a brief moment. Then a set of hands grabbed me and tugged me aside.
"You have to go." Bofur said breathlessly into my ear as he quickly pushed me along the narrow pathway past the others, not allowing me to stop until we reached the ledge where Bilbo had recently climbed down. "Follow Bilbo; find a safe place in Dale."
I swung around and looked at Bofur in shock. "What? No. I'm not leaving." I rebuked.
Thorin's shout from nearby behind us caused us both to jump. "NEVER AGAIN WILL I HAVE DEALINGS WITH WIZARDS, SHIRE-RATS, AND HUMAN WHORES!" he yelled viciously, loud enough for those even below to clearly hear him.
"Please, please, listen to me." Bofur urged, his face contorted with worry as he shoved the rope into my hands. "You must leave. I can't protect you here."
I studied him for a moment, staring into his sad brown eyes.
"Come with me." I begged, taking his hand, but he didn't respond. "Amrâlimê." I whispered pleadingly.
His expression became even bleaker as he shook his head and I realized with sudden clarity that he was shaking.
"I can't. I'm under contract, sworn to Thorin's service." he said quietly with a grimace. "Please. Do this. For me."
I finally nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat as I began to carefully lower myself over the edge of the rock wall. I stopped when I had found a foothold and looked back up to Bofur, who kneeled down and placed a trembling hand on my cheek.
"I will find you again. When it's all over. I promise." he said. I hoisted myself up a step and leaned in to kiss him, a fast, distracted kiss but one that made me nearly break down nonetheless. I couldn't look at him as I continued my descent.
I managed to lower myself rather steadily, though my arms were shaky and sore when I finally made contact with the ground. I lifted my chin and walked as confidently as I could towards the first line of the elven ranks, towards Bard, Gandalf, Bilbo and Thranduil, the only familiar faces among the hundreds before me.
Bard dismounted and stepped forward to greet me when I approached. He pulled out a handkerchief and gently pressed it to my neck.
"Thorin has some nerve." he muttered angrily.
I assured him I was fine and thanked him as I took hold of the cloth myself. Gandalf and Bilbo approached and Bard moved aside so that I might speak to them as well.
"Ah, my dear girl, glad to see you're still in one piece." Gandalf exclaimed with perhaps a little too much cheer as he stepped up to me and briefly clasped my arm. "You have a touch of fate about you after all."
Bard stepped forward and addressed Thorin once more. "Are we resolved? The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised?" He shouted up at the company.
Thorin, however did not respond and I glanced up to see he had begun pacing, glancing listlessly towards the eastern hillsides.
"Why should I buy back what is rightfully mine?" he shouted, and I was saddened to hear the sheer desperation now lacing his voice.
I looked at Bilbo who was standing very rigidly still and frowning at the ground.
"Keep the stone. Sell it." Thranduil commented to Bard but loud enough so that his voice would carry up to the dwarves. "Ecthelion of Gondor will give you a good price for it."
"I will kill you!" Thorin threatened wildly. Still nervously pacing like a dangerous, cornered animal. "By my Oath! I will kill you all!"
I watched Thranduil turn back to his army for a moment and gasped when his front line of archers suddenly came to life and took aim upon the mountain. I suddenly realized that I had been naive. The dwarves were in very real danger of coming to harm due to the insanity of their king and the sheer stubbornness of all three races involved.
"Thorin. Lay down your arms! Open these doors! This treasure will be your death." Gandalf yelled, stepping forward and looking imploringly up at the ramparts.
I craned my neck up to lock my eyes on Bofur, willing him to leave his people, to join me in safety, to surrender. He very slightly shook his head before averting his gaze, and my heart plummeted. I then looked to Thorin who seemed to be struggling to reach a decision.
"Give us your answer!" Bard demanded. "Will you have peace?... Or war?"
Thorin appeared near to defeat; his shoulders stooped as he cast his gaze down and bowed his head in helplessness. I felt hopeful that he was finally losing his conviction and would see reason. A large raven soared in from above, letting out a rattling caw as it touched down on Erebor's battlements. Thorin looked up once more, this time hopeful as he turned his eyes to the East.
"I will have war."
Our eyes followed his as our blood ran cold, and along the crest of the foothills the sound of marching thundered out. An armed host, hundreds strong, and led by half a dozen ram-drawn chariots, rumbled over the crest of the eastern ridge and began the descent towards the valley.
"Are those...dwarves?" I voiced in disbelief.
"Ironfoot." Gandalf stated, with perhaps a hint of distaste in his voice. The dwarves came to a halt, to the cheers of Thorin and his company.
Thranduil suddenly swung his elk away from Erebor, shouting in Elvish as he galloped through his ranks that had began moving to face their new foe.
To avoid being trampled by the host, the Laketowners bustled along with them. I moved best I could amidst the humans, who, unlike the elves, were unused to marching in rank and file and each seemed to walk with a different pace and gait, forcing us to stumble along like children. Bard wove his mount through the throng to draw up alongside me, shouting down as he rode.
"Take my horse and ride to Dale. You will be safe there!"
I shook my head, reluctant to leave the mountain despite my promise to Bofur. Besides, by this point there was no going back, and the only path would be the collision point between the two opposing armies. I looked desperately up to the mountain towards the cheering dwarves, where I caught a glimpse of Bofur - the only one not cheering on his dwarven brethren. He was looking directly at us. I was jostled from behind as I looked up, but Gandalf caught my shoulder and steadied me.
"Who is that?" I heard Bilbo ask the wizard as we continued on and tried to keep pace. "He doesn't look very happy."
I glanced forward to see the commanding dwarf sauntering ahead of his army atop a massive sow.
"It is Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills. Thorin's cousin." Gandalf explained grimly. "I've always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two." he added after Bilbo questioned him.
I suddenly felt a hand grab my arm and was jerked around to see Bard, now dismounted. He shoved the reins into my hand.
"Go." he ordered simply as the elves unexpectedly came to a synchronized halt around us.
"I'm not the only woman here, Bard." I hissed, quickly looking towards the other townsfolk and seeing a few armed ladies amidst the men. Dain began to speak and I tried to listen, but Bard shook my arm slightly, bringing my attention back towards him.
"You're unarmed. You cannot fight." Bard insisted.
"Then arm me and take back your horse. You'll need it." I insisted right back, trying to push the reins back into his hands.
We were suddenly both distracted as the humans skirted back nervously at the dwarf lord's shouts. Bard steadied his horse and then shouted to the people. "Stand fast!"
"Come now, Lord Dain." Gandalf then stated loudly, stepping out of the ranks.
"Gandalf the Grey." Dain said admonishingly. "Tell this rabble to leave. Or I'll water the ground with their blood!"
"There is no need for war between Dwarves, Men and Elves. A legion of orcs march on the Mountain. Stand your army down!" Gandalf yelled.
Dain began to rebuke, his accent thick and his words once again lost on me as I contemplated what I had heard Gandalf just say. A legion of orcs? I looked around but could not detect any signs of an approaching threat.
"...If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I'll split his pretty head open! See if he's still smirking then." Dain finished, brandishing his weapon towards Thranduil. He then turned his unusual mount and began riding back towards his ranks.
"Dain! Wait!" Gandalf tried to command, but his shouts were not heeded.
"Let them advance! See how far they get!" Thranduil challenged, his confidence as flourishing as ever.
Despite still charging back up the hillside, Dain found the need to yell over his shoulder. "You think I give a dead dog for your threats, you pointy-eared princess?"
Thranduil's smirk disappeared, his patience seeming to run low.
"Hear that lads? We're on!" Dain continued as he reached the front lines. "Let's give these bastards a good hammering!"
The battle was suddenly becoming all too real yet no one appeared quite panicked so I forced myself to stay calm.
Thranduil cantered along the front lines and addressed Bard as his warriors began marching forward.
"Stand your men down. I'll deal with Ironfoot and his rabble."
Bard obliged and held up an arm to keep the humans in place behind Thranduil's advancing forces.
One of Dain's dwarves then shouted a command in their own tongue, to which the dwarven lines suddenly parted to let through a large cavalry force.
Fortunately it took little time for the entire elvish host to pass us by so that we were well behind a many ranks of well-trained warriors, and yet there was still only the span of the valley between us and almost certain death. Bard struggled to maintain the courage of his volunteer militia, assuring us all of the skill of the elves. A part of me wished I could believe him - I had seen Legolas and Tauriel in action, seen what they could do against unsuspecting orcs. I had also seen the devastation the orcs had wrought upon the elves at the river gateway, and I had a suspicion that at this point Dain would be as unmerciful as Bolg if things took a turn for the worse. In short, most of me was struggling to contain the logical part of my brain, which was screaming at me to scramble right back up the rope I had come down earlier.
The elven archers once again moved in perfect synchrony and took aim, this time towards the oncoming parade of war rams that were thundering down the hillside.
"Thranduil! This is madness!" Gandalf boomed.
Thranduil ordered the arrows to be let loose despite the wizard's plea and I watched the few hundred projectiles soar through the air, my heart pounding hard. The dwarves made no move to protect themselves or evade, but I should have known it would not be over so easily; as Thorin had said, never underestimate dwarves. Before the arrows could start their descent, the dwarves unleashed a secret weapon: from unseen vantage points over the hillside massive contraptions were hurled. Once aloft, their momentum whirled them about, scythe like blades opening to pulverize all arrows before them into splinters.
Not one single arrow reached its mark.
That in itself was troubling, causing gasps from my human companions. What happened next, however, was enough to force even a horrified moan from my lips. Whether by wicked design, or by deadly coincidence, these weapons of war then preceded to land amidst the front lines of the elven army to devastating effect. Bard's command over the humans was slipping, undermined by sheer terror, and it was all he could do to keep them from fleeing outright.
Thranduil's forces recovered swiftly, though their commander was silent. He stared about in absolute horror and dismay at the unexpected and sudden death of so many of his people, unphased by Dain's taunting remarks. To see the king, so smug and sure in all that he did, bereft even for a single moment, caused me a more acute sadness, one which all the survivors of Laketown must surely have related to.
The elves, reformed and without immediate orders, fired a second volley at the dwarven cavalry, which was now worryingly close. Again, the 'twirly-whirlies' were used to terrible effect. At this point, with the rams bearing down on us, I was wishing for a weapon, a shield, anything to defend myself. To my frantic dismay, however, much of Dale's surviving arms and armament had been left in the city, with Bard's honour guard only carrying what they considered traditional weapons of Laketown.
Thranduil's new orders carried over the din of panicking humans, and elves tending their wounded. The front line of elves pulled back behind their defensive line, archers positioning themselves behind shield bearers, whose shield wall went up just before the dwarves collided with them. From my position, I was shocked to see the mounted cavalry riding right up and over the shield wall, and I worriedly looked to Bard. On horseback as he was, his vantage was better than mine, but he did not seem as worried as I.
"Hold fast!" He shouted as he glanced about at his host. "The elves will not break so easily. Hold fast!"
His words held true. We never saw a single mounted ram. The elven battle lines flexed and bowed, channelling their foes into killing trenches that none but the luckiest dwarf survived, and so it was that the elves took vengeance for their fallen comrades. The front lines were tested by Dain's infantry charge, but Thranduil's rear forces closed ranks, and the battle was joined in earnest.
Above the general racket of the battle, however, I became aware of another strange noise. A crumbling, grinding sound of rock and earth. Both armies quieted, the fighting ceased, as dwarves, elves and humans alike all looked about in confusion and fear as a slight trembling shook the very ground below us.
With a tremulous explosion the rocky slopes of the adjacent foothills burst forth as immense, monstrous creatures shattered through the mountain walls. I watched in frozen terror, yet felt a slight relief when the beasts did not continue onto the field but rather retreated back down the massive chasms they had created. However, a booming horn then rent the air and out of the holes sprung the legions Gandalf had warned about.
"The hordes of hell are upon us! Fight to the death!" Dain cried, as the entire force Iron Hill dwarves began sprinting fearlessly towards the oncoming wave of enemies while the elves began reforming their ranks.
I cast my gaze back up towards Erebor, but it did not appear as if Thorin and his company were moving to join the battle, to which I felt some relief. They would be safe there - for now.
I, however, was not.
Thranduil's force remained still as statues while my fellow humans shifted restlessly in fear, watching the oncoming mass of orcs quickly growing nearer as countless more streamed out of the hillsides. The charging dwarves began to form a shield wall, yet against such a numerous foe it seemed that, though formidable, they would not be able to withstand the onslaught for long.
Gandalf, now desperate, called out to the elven king with one last plea.
"Thranduil! The Dwarves are not your enemy! Your people knew this once! They fought, and died, against the very foe that now bears down upon us. Will you do nothing to honour their memory?"
Thranduil said nothing, but finally, with a quick gesture from their king, a contingent of elves began to move, running swiftly with fluid grace towards the new threat. They leapt over the defensive line of dwarves a mere moment before the orcs were to collide, and in the orcs' confusion at this sudden attack they broke the charge's momentum. The dwarves were then able to push forward with their long spears and slow the orcs' momentum further.
The remaining elves were soon forced into motion to join the battle. With the dwarves' shield wall scattered in their eagerness to keep up with the elves' initial onslaught, orcs were now flanking them and moving forward to attack the main force. Bard kept the townsfolk together, not eager to send them to their deaths in a battle they were far out-classed in. Gandalf and Bilbo hung back as well, and I with them, nervously watching as the battle lines became more confused and confrontation drew inevitably closer.
Two more horn blasts rent the air.
"Azog..." Gandalf muttered, and I looked about in fear only to realize the wizard was gazing far off into the distance. "He's trying to cut us off."
From his vantage point Bard must also have seen something I could not, because he was suddenly shouting above the din to get his people moving. "All of you! Fall back to Dale! Now!"
Gandalf urged Bilbo and I forward along with the townsfolk as they began to surge ahead and sure enough, as we neared, I could see a second battalion of orcs, joined by a small company of troll mounted siege-weapons, already marching on the nearly unprotected city.
Bard cantered his horse back towards us then yelled at me to give him my arm.
"Go with him, girl! Get to the city!" Gandalf ordered gruffly, looking over his shoulder at us as he ran.
I obliged then lifted my hand and allowed Bard to pull me up behind him. Without another word he urged his mount to a gallop and we hastened towards the nearest causeway.
I gripped Bard tightly and turned my head to see, in horrified wonder, a number of giant stones hurdling through the air. They shattered the ancient outer walls of Dale and I severely doubted a group of misplaced, vulnerable humans could stand against such a formidable enemy.
When we crossed into the city it was already pandemonium, people screaming and jostling through the narrow alleys, easily being slain as they tried to run from the orcs now streaming in and mazing through the streets. The few men and hardy women left in the city had taken up what arms they could quickly grab, some wielding no more than a rusted shovel.
Bard rode down a few of the creatures and then dismounted when no more were in immediate sight.
"Ride to the great hall, tell any women and children to follow you there, then start barricading the doors." he commanded quickly as I scooted up onto the saddle and nodded my understanding. He drew his sword and rushed forward a few paces against the oncoming crowd.
I reined in Bard's horse as more people ran past, unsure where I even needed to go. I watched Bard for a moment as he shouted for his children. At that moment the small battalion of townsfolk from the field had finally caught up to him, announcing the causeway was becoming overrun. Bard quickly ordered the archers to the eastern parapet then turned back to me, pointing up an empty street and urging me to go before he ordered his remaining men to follow him to the market.
Turning the horse, I headed in the direction he had indicated at a quick trot, shouting for the women and children to fall back to the great hall, blatantly ignoring the few bodies my horse had to sidestep. I stopped briefly to pick up a small crying boy who had refused to move despite my shouts, and had to steady my resolve when he pointed a small finger towards a bloodied woman lying face-down nearby. I wordlessly hoisted him up in front of the saddle, quickly stooping down to pick up a discarded spear lying nearby as well, before I jumped up behind him and carried on towards the heart of the city.
Despite careful avoidance of the loud infested areas, there were orcs everywhere, and while nearing the city centre an orc burst out of the shell of a burned out building and into my path. Urging my horse to a canter, I gripped the child with one hand, and drove the spear into the surprised creature with the other, quickly letting go of the lodged weapon so it would not unseat me.
Keeping my momentum quick, I sped through another winding street and into a courtyard where before me lay a large impressive building that was once surely the mighty great hall of Dale. The elderly and the injured were being carefully led inside while woman dashed past with children in their arms. I dismounted and pulled down the child, who was still hiccupping sobs, then carried him inside, leading the horse behind me as well.
The hall was bustling with activity and already nearly full of people. A lady ran up to me and gratefully pulled the child out of my arms, embracing him heartedly and telling me she was his aunt.
"His mother?" she asked me quietly as she patted and rubbed the boy's back.
I frowned and stiffly shook my head, solemnly watching as the woman's eyes filled with tears. She nodded once and hugged the boy closer before thanking me for keeping him safe and disappearing into the crowd.
I looked around at the vulnerable citizens of Laketown, most of them busy holding their loved ones, comforting each other, and I felt rather alone. No one was running up to me in relief for my safe arrival.
I pulled Bard's horse towards the wall and tethered it to an old torch sconce, then sat down on a nearby, partially rotted bench, ignoring the layer of dust that coated it. I watched more people filing in through the large main doors, idly looking around for what would be best to use as a barricade.
Finally through the entrance came someone I did recognize. I got up and sprinted towards Bard's children, pointedly ignoring Alfrid who had pushed his way through in front of them.
"Sigrid!" I shouted, pulling her into a quick hug then appraising the three of them for any signs of injury. "Did you see your father?" I asked quickly when I saw they were unharmed.
"We were just with him, he sent us back." Bain explained. "It's getting worse out there."
I bit my lip and nodded, leading the girls back to my empty bench while Bain helped begin construction of a barricade to block the door.
"That's a funny dress." Tilda said with a shy smile as she sat down next to her sister.
"Don't be rude." Sigrid scolded lightly with a slight nudge, but then she looked at me and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Though... that is interesting." she added somewhat apologetically.
I smiled and looked down at my dark leggings and brown leather boots clearly visible since the hem of the dark blue dress I was wearing only floated around my knees. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and sat down as well.
"I know it looks odd, but Erebor's wardrobe was somewhat limited." I said with a grin and Sigrid nodded in understanding.
"It doesn't look so bad really, I'm sure it was nice to change into something clean at any rate. We haven't been able to find much here, most of us only have what we left in." she said with a small frown.
"Hmm," I pondered, "well, I can likely snag you a few of these lovely outfits. Maybe we can start a new fashion trend together."
She smiled, but suddenly we heard our names being called and looked to see Bain beckoning us over to help move a large upended table. Every last capable person on their feet pitched in fortifying the great hall. In short order the barricades were complete, and an ominous silence fell on the hall as everyone settled down - not to rest or relax, but to wait in anxious but quiet fear as the sounds of battle drew closer.
For a second time, the Laketowners were at the mercy of an unstoppable foe while a city burned around them.