Night fell with a clear, black sky. No moon shone to provide light, leaving all blind and lost, unless they knew the area. Thorin and Dwalin were anything but lost.
"They're already celebrating," Dwalin muttered darkly. "What do they know that we don't?"
"Nothing good," a heavy weight had been pressing on Thorin all through the afternoon and evening. Something had happened to Danica, of that he was certain. "We can rest assured that if they'd found a way to take the mountain, they'd be marching,"
"Perhaps, in arrogance, they're allowing themselves rest,"
Thorin frowned. "To their peril,"
Arrogance truly was their downfall. Even the sentries were drinking. Thorin and Dwalin crept close enough to ensure accuracy, and took the guards out with cross bows. Separating, they edged the perimeter, looking for the General's tent.
The battalion was small, likely having lost a good number in the fight with the eagles. With fewer tents, it was easy to spot the largest in the middle of the rest. Staying low, Thorin crept through the shadows. On the other side, the thought he caught a glimpse of Dwalin.
Almost there. Once Danica had an opening to run, they would torch as many tents as possible. Their chances of making out alive were slim, but it would be worth it.
Men close to the General's tent were either shaking their heads or chuckling crudely. Though they spoke in their native tongue, some things didn't need translating. Thorin's blood boiled as bile rose in his throat. Never had he used more restraint that he did in that moment to keep himself from slitting their throats.
A sound floated distantly from the tent. One that chased all thought from his mind and left his ears ringing. He knew that sound. No matter how choked it was, he knew. Rage clouded his vision and senses. There was no walking away now. Hands steady, he walked into the open, grabbed a torch, and threw it on a nearby tent.
The flames caught quickly, sending soldiers into a frenzy. Most ignored him, but those who didn't met a swift death. In a few steps, he was in front of the General's tent. Cold resolve filled him as he lifted a hand to enter. Before he could, a figure burst out, barreling straight into him. Both went flying back. He would have left them on the ground had he not noticed the naked skin and golden hair. She was up and running in an instant, eyes wild and unseeing.
"Danica!" he called, sprinting after her.
In all the chaos, she didn't hear him. Like a rabbit bolting from a fox, she ran desperately toward the mountain. He called to her again, raising his voice as loudly as he could to reach her.
It worked. She stopped and whirled around. When she saw him, her face crumpled. In devastation or relief, he didn't know.
"Find her!" a voice roared. The General.
Thorin gripped his sword, turning back. The bastard needed to die. Now.
"We need to go," Danica urged, suddenly beside him. "Please,"
It was her gasp that made him pause. Spinning back, he saw Dwalin blocking a punch she sent his way.
"Easy, Lass. It's just me,"
Emitting a strangled whimper, she allowed him to wrap his cloak around her. Limbs shaking, she began moving again.
"We have to go. I took his ring, but while I'm holding it and the one he forced on me, I can't return to my body,"
Thorin and Dwalin fought off any men who came their way while simultaneously knocking over all torches they passed. Despite their efforts, the entire camp was soon on the chase.
"We can lose them in the woods," Dwalin called.
"Once we do, I'll need you to cover me," Danica replied.
Reaching her side, Thorin matched her pace. "What are you going to do?"
"Use the ring he gave me to end this,"
Cold resolve filled her voice, barely concealing the hate. Only once had he sensed such things from her, and it had preceded the death of Fetir. By the time she was done here, her hands would be stained with more blood than she could wash off.
When they found a defensible crevice, Danica shoved the General's ring – Thrain's ring – onto her finger. Magic, powerful and dark filled the air, pricking at Thorin's skin. The hairs on his neck and arms stood straight, his senses screaming.
"I can feel them," the voice that echoed from Danica's lips was hollow, shimmering with power. "All of their minds in the palms of my hands,"
Dwalin sent Thorin a panicked look, but Thorin couldn't take his eyes off his wife. She lifted a hand and the night around them erupted in screams. Horrible, agonized cries Thorin had only heard in torture or from grievous wounds inflicted in the worst ways possible.
"Danica…" he cleared his throat against the horror that choked him. "Danica, let them go,"
Her hair fluttered on a phantom breeze. "It's so easy. They're all so fragile. Except him," her head tilted curiously, but her eyes narrowed. "He's fighting me. Whatever power he'd shown with the ring must have already existed, like mine,"
"You don't have to do this, Dani," Thorin took a step closer, unsure just how close she'd allow him to get. "Just persuade them all to go back where they came from. You don't want their deaths on your hands,"
"They did nothing," she spat. Cold, biting winds sliced around them. "No matter what he did, none of them gave even a glimmer of mercy. They laughed and watched,"
Rage, hers and his, joined, crackling through the wind like the moments before lightning struck. For a moment, he wanted her to unleash herself upon them. Decimate the remaining men until all that was left was silence. But when the rage ceased, what would be left?
"This isn't you," he moved closer, stopping only when he stood right in front of her. Eyes that normally shown grey were nearly black. They shifted and shimmered as if made of smoke. Grief sank into him as he lifted a hand to her face. It stung, but that didn't stop him. "Let go, love. Come back to me. Come back home to me and our son,"
First, tears misted her eyes. The smoke dimmed, devastation breaking through. Thorin stroked her cheek with his thumb but she shook her head and pulled away. He and Dwalin looked on helplessly as she stepped back and leaned against a boulder. Magic still poured off her, eagerly seeking relief. Falling to her knees, she screamed.
Her voice was a storm that split the sky. Gales of black wind howled through the valley and around the mountain. Thorin and Dwalin quickly hit the dirt, covering their ears against the piercing spear that was her pain. All she felt was forced on every dark soul within miles, rending most incapacitated, and many dead. These images spread, unbidden, from Danica's mind to those not protected by Radagast's power.
Time, frozen by her scream, restarted when she fell into sobs, magic fading into the night. No sound but her soft cries could be heard. Death reigned victorious, leaving any survivors silent in their fear. Metal clanged on the rocky ground, drawing Thorin's gaze to the rings Danica had thrown from her hands.
"Destroy them," she whimpered. "They'll be useless soon anyway, but they are an abomination,"
"What do you mean by 'useless?'" Thorin asked, but she'd already disappeared.
In her absence, the faint sounds of shocked rage grew. However, uncertainty lessened anger's bite.
"We need to get inside the mountain," Thorin grabbed the rings, briefly wincing at the sharp shock of their magic, and led the way up the steps.
"Do ye think she returned to her body?" Dwalin asked concernedly.
The sky grew lighter through the clouds, blue rising from the east to chase away the black. Relief should have been Thorin's reaction to the dawn, not the heightening anxiety.
"I do. But our concern needs to be focused on the consequences that await us. Fili and the other leaders will not be pleased at our insubordination,"
Dwalin huffed. "Why should they be when we bring with us two of the great dwarven rings, succeeded in rescuing yer wife – who was possibly our greatest threat – and there are now far fewer foes to worry about,"
"None of that will matter in light of how we defied the word of the king in a time of war,"
"You were king before him," Dwalin stated firmly.
"But no longer," a truth that still ached like a stubborn old wound.
Dwalin harrumphed, but made no further comment. They climbed in silence for a while, until they reached the first dead sentry.
"Did the Easterlings manage to make it this far?" Dwalin looked around, searching for enemies Thorin knew wouldn't be there.
"No," he responded. Heaviness threatened to bring him to his knees. "Let's go. We need to get these rings out of the open,"
Each moment they spent in the approaching dawn felt like tempting fate. The back of Thorin's neck tingled, waiting for an enemy to strike. By the time they reached the hidden door, Tala and Kayli were waiting. They all embraced, grateful to see each other alive.
"Radagast told us that Danica had returned and you were on your way," Kayli said, leading them into the mountain. "The king was furious when we returned. But…now…"
They hurried through the halls toward the treasury and above. Erebor felt still. Haunted. Death clung to its walls, halting Thorin's breath.
"How bad?" he asked.
"Dale is lost," Tala replied. "All those left alive have retreated here. We are under siege. Although...thanks to whatever magic Danica used, our chances suddenly look a lot more hopeful,"
Thorin paused to close his eyes. "And Fili?"
"In council with Dain, King Brand, the generals, and their advisors. None are pleased,"
"Their attitudes may chance when they see what we have acquired,"
"No," Thorin gave Dwalin a warning glance. "The last thing desperate warriors need is such dark, unreliable temptation. Besides, Danica said they'd soon be useless,"
Tala and Kayli shared a confused glance. When Kayli raised her brows at Thorin, he shook his head.
"This can all be explained later, but right now, I need to see my wife,"