Chapter 65: The Madness of Preparation

"Mind ya stay clear lass," called Dwalin. Sara backed out of the way as Dwalin took hold of the rope that led from the large boulder and wrapped it around his chest.

"Mind you don't use that hand of yours," called Oin as he and the others took up the remaining leads.

Dwalin grumbled something incoherent but adjusted his hold and held his bandaged hand visibly to the side. Oin had given Dwalin a strict edict not to use his injured hand, but this had far from prohibited Dwalin from contributing his considerable strength to every task possible. In fact, Oin had found it difficult to browbeat any of the injured into complete recovery before they had returned to normal activity. His only marginal success had been with Thorin who was still relatively tender. With Oin and Sara's urging he had resigned himself to tasks that didn't require brute strength.

The past few days had blurred by, what with the company constantly occupied with one task or another. They had successfully found the old library where Thorin had been satisfied to find maps and blueprints detailing the construction of Erebor. Given this guidance, it had not been too difficult to track what had once been the source of clean water backward until they found what had caused the blockage. But finding the problem and fixing it were two separate matters. Unfortunately, the channel that had carried the water collapsed in several key places. It had taken them three days to repair the system well enough to bring water back to this point. But if they were right this was the last blockage between the water and the residential district. This final boulder was all that was left, or so they hoped. Sara was excited at the possibility of a bath tonight, even if it was not hot. It was better than the simple cloth wipes she was becoming so accustomed to. She might be able to begin cleaning in earnest. Perhaps tomorrow she would even be able to sleep in a clean bed and wash her clothes.

"Ready?" called Dwalin as the others braced themselves. "Heave!"

The ropes went taught for a moment as the dwarves granted with effort until at last there was a moan and a crack as the large boulder was dislodged and tumbled forward. The group dropped the ropes and stepped forward to inspect their handy work. Sara held her breath, praying that at last, they were through the block. She crept forward trying to see over Bofur's shoulder.

"Did it work?" she asked, biting her lip. She jerked back as something cool and wet hit her face, making her sputter.

"Aye lass, I reckon it did. Though we still have to remove the small debris to completely clear the waterway." He moved aside allowing her a clear view of the small cascade of water seeping from the cracks between the rocks.

"It doesn't seem fit to drink," she said, eyeing the discolored water. She dipped her hand in the cold water, the fine grit catching between her fingers and rubbing like sandpaper.

"Once the water has run without obstructions for a day or so the impurities will be washed away," said Dori, dipping a finger and tasting. "It's not fouled, just dirty. Don't mind it."

"Meanwhile, make yerselves useful," grumped Dwalinn as he began to throw stones to the side with his good hand. "Once this is done there is still plenty to do."

"Surely we have time for a bit of idle chatter," sighed Bofur. "Or a bite to eat."

"Up with you," called Nori, taking Bofur's hand and dragging him to his feet. "There will be time to rest when you're dead. Which may be sooner rather than later if we cannot make the mountain livable and defensible."

"Killjoy," muttered Bofur.

"After this, we still have to bring oil for the braziers in the town and light the way for the townspeople," said Balin, carrying a sizable rock to the side.

"We still need to put another railing on the other side of the bridge," added Sara, bending to help.

"Why should we have to do that," grumbled Gloin. "We've always gotten along fine without them."

"How often have you had human children inside the mountain," said Sara, trying not to sound defensive. In truth she had been the one to point out the lack of railing to Thorin and without argument he had agreed to rail both sides of the bridge and along the edge of drops. She suspected he wished not only to assure the children's safety but also sought a way to assuage her own budding fear of heights.

"Still they'll only be staying here till spring, summer at the latest," argued Gloin. "There's no sense changing everything just for them. This is a dwarf kingdom, not an inn."

A particularly large stone landed about a foot from where Gloin stood. He jumped back as the force of the impact shattered the stone and sent debris spraying over him.

"By Durin's beard! Dwalin, watch yer aim!" shouted Gloin, brushing debris from his clothes.

"I would think that ya would be more inclined to Sara's point of view seeing as yer the one with a youngster of yer own," said Dwalin, bending to grip another fist-sized stone. "It's a long way down and Dwarves don't fly nor bounce."

"I've never fallen from a bridge and neither shall Gimli."

A second stone exploded just a few inches from Gloin's foot.

"That one was deliberate," accused Gloin, dodging.

"Never said the first one wasn't," replied Dwalin, bending for yet another.

"Dwalin," shot Balin, getting between them. Dwalin ignored him and continued to work. "It doesn't matter what we think," said Balin, looking to Gloin. "Thorin ordered it be done and so it'll be done. Understood?" Gloin looked unhappy but nodded.

They all returned to the task at hand and slowly the gap between rocks grew wider allowing a larger flow of water through. Sara glanced up, feeling someone's eyes on her only to find Dwalin watching her. Given the exchange moments before Sara could not help but harbor the sneaking suspicion that Dwalin had been told of her ordeal on the dark bridge with Smaug. Thorin must have said something to him. It would explain his new and slightly overprotective though not unwelcome care for her around great heights.

"What is it?" she asked. He pointed off across the chasm to where Bilbo was clambering over rubble and making his way toward them, his little elven light bobbing in the dark.

"Suppose he's got a message from Thorin."

The past few days Bilbo had been the go-between for Thorin and the rest of the company as it was still difficult and painful for Thorin to walk great distances. At first, Sara had volunteered to be the messenger but Thorin had quickly vetoed that, reminding Sara that she was prone to losing her way. Reluctantly she agreed and opted to remain with the company and do what work she could.

Sara bent to place the rock she had been moving but momentarily pinched her middle finger between the stones. Freeing it she examined the blood forming on the slight abrasion before popping it into her mouth.

"Ya alright?" asked Dwalin, eyeing her as they both turned to go meet Bilbo. She shrugged and rolled her eyes.

"I'm fine," she said around the digit. Dwalin glanced back at Oin and then at her. "I'm fine!" she insisted, irritably pulling the bruised finger from her mouth and showing him. "No big deal so don't bother calling Oin. Nothing he could do about it."

Dwalin smirked but continued. "I reckon he could find something."

"You mean other than twit me for injuring myself again?"

"Perhaps not," agreed Dwalin in an amused tone. They were drawing near the bridge that spanned the chasm between them and Bilbo.

"Sara! Dwalin!" called Bilbo, waving from the other side of the bridge.

"Stay there master hobbit and we will cross over," called Dwalin.

Grimacing internally, she took firm hold of the crudely erected railing along the left side of the bridge. On her other side, Dwalin wordlessly offered his bandaged hand. Feeling a bit guilty she non the less took his hand gratefully. She knew that she would have to overcome her fear of heights if she were to be in Erebor but every time she stood near a drop she could not help but remember the terror of the vast and dizzying dark that Smaug had submitted her to.

The bridge was perhaps eight feet wide and was originally built of heavy stone like most things in Erebor. About 12 feet in the center of the bridge had collapsed and the company had patched the gap with several tall wooden doors they gathered. While the doors had been secured in place and she had no doubt they could hold many times her weight she could not help the animalistic fear that thrilled through her as she stepped onto them. Trying to ignore the creaking of the wood beneath her she kept her eyes on Bilbo and focused on Dwalin's hand holding hers.

"Ya grip any tighter and I might lose the other fingers," said Dwalin, glancing over at her.

"Sorry," she said, trying to unclench her fingers even as her nerves remained as taught as a bow string.

"It's alright," he said calmly. "Don't fret so. I won't let ya fall."

"Thorin told you about Smaug didn't he?"

"Perhaps," he said as they stepped off the bridge. The moment her feet touched solid stone again her body relaxed. "What be the news, Mr. Baggins?"

"I'm here for Sara," panted Bilbo, jogging to meet them, his dirty and disheveled hair sticking to his sunken red cheeks.

"Is something wrong?" asked Sara. "Is Thorin okay? "

Bilbo opened his mouth, hesitated, and then shook his head. "Thorin is the same, but he wants you at the front gate."

"The front gate?"

"It's the third day. Is your father not expected to return this afternoon?" asked Dwalin.

"Precisely," said Bilbo with a nod. "Thorin spotted his approach from the ramparts and sent me to fetch you."

"Why was he at the ramparts," asked Sara. "He's supposed to be taking it easy."

"That is taking it easy," said Dwalin. Sara frowned.

"He insisted," said Bilbo, with a helpless shrug. "What was I to do? I do believe he is on the mend, and he managed it quite well."

She sighed. "How close was my father?"

"We have to move quickly if we are to meet them in time," said Bilbo.

"Very well, let's go."

Waving goodbye they left, heading to the front gate. She walked quickly beside Bilbo, trying to keep her eyes forward and not let them stray to the occasional or not-so-occasional skeletal remains in her periphery. Many of the rooms and corridors had high ceilings, some so high that their elvish lights could not cast their light on their vaulted heights. Despite the grime of neglect and the remains of the mountain's previous inhabitants Sara could not help but be moved by the beauty and majesty of the construction of Erebor. It was much larger than either Elrond's home in Rivendell or King Thranduel's palace under the woods. Just the sheer size of the place was staggering and she was suddenly very grateful to have Bilbo with her.

Bilbo came to a stop at the end of the hallway, a frown on his face as he looked first one way and then the other.

"We're not lost," she asked nervously.

Bilbo shook his head, still frowning. "No, I'm just trying to decide which way would be faster." She waited, watching him debate before Bilbo beckoned her forward, turning right."This way."

"I'm glad you know where you are," she said sheepishly. "I'm completely lost. How do you do it? You navigate these halls as though you'd grown up here in the mountain."

"I can hardly claim that," countered Bilbo. "But I do admit I am rather fond of and good with maps. I have been pouring over all the maps in the library for the past several days."

They began to ascend a winding stairway. "Why?"

"Well, dwarves don't exactly put up road maps or signs. Thorin was worried about people becoming lost and asked me to think of places to erect temporary signposts for the people of Lake Town. The last thing we want to be doing is sending the few of us who do know our way around out in search of lost persons. So short of copying out maps for everyone we agreed that signpost would be best."

"You must be very familiar with the maps if Thorin trusts you to decide where they should go."

"Well I won't be turning up lost anytime soon," admitted Bilbo. "But I am hardly as proficient as Thorin, but I suppose that's to be expected as he spent the first 24 years of his life here. It would be difficult to forget such a place, even changed as it is."

"How is Thorin," she asked. She hadn't seen too much of him the past few days as busy as they had all been. He'd been in the library pouring over maps and records with Bilbo trying to discern the best places to search for supplies of every kind. She had been so tired by the time they retired at night and she had been sleeping more or less soundly with the aid of Sigrid's seeds.

In front of her, Bilbo slowed and then came to a stop. She almost walked into him.

"He's…he's recovering well enough." But there was something off in the hobbit's answer, something in his tone and hesitancy.

"What is it, Bilbo? What's wrong?"

He turned to look at her, his forehead lined with worry. "I'm not certain," he admitted, fidgeting with something in his breast pocket. "I don't know that anything is wrong…yet."

"Yet? What do you mean? What's wrong with Thorin?" But even as she asked she had a sinking feeling. Had she missed something about Thorin? Was he getting sick? Or weaker? "Bilbo, what about Thorin?"

"I can't say for certain," admitted Bilbo. "But there are moments when he does not seem entirely himself."

"In what way?"

"Well, he's been broodier lately. I would have expected him to be more pleased with current events. After all, we have taken the mountain and Smaug is no more."

She mulled that over. "I do know he is dealing with a lot of old memories," she said, thinking back to their first night after Snaug's death. "It's a lot to process. And it can't be easy being in charge of all the decisions. That and dealing with his limited mobility as he heals."

"I suppose so," said Bilbo, not sounding particularly convinced. "But still something is not quite the same."

"Well, you have been spending the most time with him the past few days."

"Perhaps broody is the wrong word," he said, rubbing one foot over the other. "And you may be right. I'm probably just overthinking it."

"But you don't believe that, do you?" she pressed.

"No, I don't," he said after a moment of silence.

"Well, I will pay more attention to him," she said, determined to examine Thorin more closely. They let the subject drop and lapped in silence as they continued.

She wrinkled her nose. They must be getting close to the front gates. She didn't need a map to tell her that much. With every step they advanced the smell grew more horribly pungent. It was almost an unbearable flavor on the tongue. She had to fight not to gag as they entered the hallway she now recognized as the one that led to the front gate. By the time they entered the room where the rotting mound of flesh that had been Smug was, Sara had yanked her shirt over her nose and even held her arm over her face, breathing into the crook of her arm. But the smell of Thorin's coat mixed with the stench was almost worse. Bilbo for his part was noticeably green as he groaned and hurried his step, fairly flying past the rotting corpse and out into the open air outside.

She blinked back the stinging in her eyes as they stepped into the light. She burrowed further into Thorin's coat, her breath ghosting out in white plumes before her face as the goosebumps erupted over her exposed skin and down the back of her neck. After a few moments, her eyes adjusted and she squinted, searching for the familiar figure, which she found standing on an outcropping of rock close by. Thorin had not yet noticed them and didn't seem aware of their presence even as they approached him. The light caught in the silver streaks of his hair as he stood surveying the valley below. His fingers aimlessly fidgeted before him. Joining him, she followed his gaze to where three figures approached from the direction of Dale. Though they stood on either side of him, Thorin still did not acknowledge them. His brows were drawn down in a slight scowl and his lips were thin and tight. His eyes never wavered from the valley.

"Thorin?" she asked hesitantly. His head twitched to the side a fraction of an inch but his focus did not break. She glanced past him to Bilbo who just shook his head and shrugged.

"Thorin?" No response.

She laid a hand on his forearm. His fingers stopped their fidgeting and he clenched something in his right fist. "Thorin are you alright?"

"Sara?" He turned to look at her in confusion.

"You did send Bilbo for me didn't you?"

He came to himself and his face relaxed. "Of course," he said, slipping his hand into his pocket momentarily. "Forgive me. My mind was…elsewhere."

She took his hand squeezing it and they returned their attention to the valley. The three figures were not far off now and it was clear who they were. The elf Airidan, her father Bard, and the captain of the guard Talson. She, Bilbo, and Thorin descended toward them, meeting them halfway.

"Hail to the King Under The Mountain," called Talson, touching his injured shoulder with his good hand and bowing. Thorin gave a nod of his head.

"Sara," called Bard, with a smile. She broke from Thorin's hand and to her surprise stepped forward to embrace her father. He hesitated only a moment before returning it.

"How is everyone?" asked Sara, letting go. "Tilda, Sigrid, and Bain?"

"They are well enough," said her father. "Tilda misses you fiercely along with Mr. Baggins and that hatted dwarf she took a liking to."

"It is difficult not to take a liking to Bofur," said Bilbo with a smile. "I do hope she is comfortable. We are working hard to make this mountain habitable."

"How are preparations proceeding," asked Airidan.

"We are not proceeding as quickly or as smoothly as we would have hoped," said Thorin, frowning and folding his arms.

"What progress have you been able to make?"

"There was extensive damage done to our water system, particularly the lines that supply the residential district where we are planning to house you. But we believe we have found all the breaks."

"Actually," said Sara, "We found and cleared the last blockage today. It should be clear and suitable for drinking in about a day."

"Oh, that's good news," chimed Bilbo. But the three in front of them didn't seem as pleased with the news.

"What remains to be done?" asked Bard, rubbing a hand over his stubbled chin, worry creasing his eyes.

"We need to move oil to the braziers for light, make sure the sewage system is working, and make sure to place railings along the edges of any drop-offs," said Sara.

"Were railings not already a part of the mountain?" asked Talson, confused.

"You'll find that dwarvish architecture rarely if ever includes railings of any kind," said Airidan.

"Your people are not as resistant to cold as we dwarves are," said Thorin gesturing to Sara. "Which is why Sara sports my coat. We must also start the furnace for warmth, but before we do that we must open the exhaust vents."

"We must also place signs so you don't get lost and wander into dangerous areas," said Bilbo. "Much of the mountain is damaged from Smaug and may be unsafe."

"And how much longer can we expect these projects to take?" asked Talson. "It grows colder by the day and the tunnels under Dale are not ideal for housing the young, old, or sick of which we have many."

"Perhaps three more days," said Bilbo with a shrug. "If all goes well we…"

"Longer," interrupted Thorin. "There is at least one more thing that should be done before you arrive." Sara glanced at him confused. She thought they had covered everything.

"What else?" asked Bard, sounding impatient.

"Indeed," added Talson. "I am anxious to see my wife and unborn child safely in the mountain before snow flies."

"I understand your concern but this last task is rather important for both the comfort of your people and the dignity of mine."

"What precisely is this task?" asked Bard. Sara and Bilbo turned to him, unsure what he would answer.

"We must remove the remains of my people from the areas and homes you will temporarily inhabit."

"Is that really necessary?" asked Talson.

"It is," said Thorin with finality. "I won't have you here until my people have been given at least that respect. That is unless you feel your wife would be comfortable bringing a new life into the world in the presence of another's remains."

They were quiet for several long moments, physically feeling the tension of the impasse.

"I can understand your feelings on the matter," said Bard carefully. "But can you also not see the plight we are in? Day by day we grow weaker. I see the immediate necessity for all the other requests, but can this not wait until we arrive? Could we not assist in this task?"

"No. We must see to our people's last rights ourselves. It is our custom."

"But how long will it take for you to give them a proper burial?" asked Airidan.

"I won't be able to give them that, not yet at least. I understand that we are short on time and we need to usher you in quickly but allow me at least to move their remains to an isolated location. How can you expect your children to sleep in the same house as my people's remains? How can you expect me to allow that."

"You're only moving their remains?" asked Bard.

"Once the battle is over I will turn my attention to giving my people their true and proper rights."

"Can we not help in any of the other tasks?" asked Talson.

"That is not advisable," said Airidan.

"Why not?" asked Talson, turning to the elf in frustration.

"It is inadvisable to weaken your people with so many of our enemies so close at hand. We still don't know what became of the orcs that escaped the battle at Lake Town, but I am sure their numbers are only increasing. Those who would be most suited to help in this work would also be those most needed if there were to be an attack. You would not want to risk that vulnerability."

"You make a good point," said Bard. "Still there must be a way."

"What if…" started Biblo, but then he stopped.

"What is it Master Baggins," said Thorin, looking to the hobbit.

"I just had a thought."

"Speak it. I value your input for it has proved itself in the past."

"Well… what if we were to finish all the other tasks and then move only some of the remains before letting in some of the townspeople."

"What good would that do," asked Talson. "Airdan just said it would not be advisable to divide our forces."

"But you suggested bringing the able-bodied men to the mountain. I propose we take those most in need."

"Like triage?" asked Sara.

"Precisely," said Bilbo. "Say you bring the third of your people who are in most need or most vulnerable." They were all quiet for a moment thinking. Sara glanced at Thorin hoping he would agree.

"It seems the path that would suit both parties best," said Airdan.

Thorin sighed. "You are right, and although it is not my preference… I will allow it. It won't save you much time but when time is so short it is better than not."

"How will we know when you are ready?" asked Bard.

"I take it you can see the front gates from the high point and Dale?" asked Thorin.

"We can."

"Very well. As soon as all reasonable and expedient measures have been taken we shall light two braziers on the ramparts. One shall remain lit so that you know we are well. Once two are lit, send your one-third."

"We shall do the same now there is no dragon to hide from," said Bard. "One lit brazier will mean we are well and two will signal our distress."

"Very well," agreed Thorin.

"We are at your mercy," said Talson, resignedly.

"We will work as fast as possible," assured Sara, trying to push aside her guilt. She was safe and warm inside the mountain while so many of the others struggled.

The wind picked up and at that moment, carrying the stench of death with it. Sara gasped and held her nose.

"What is that ungodly smell," asked Talson, his nose wrinkling as looked toward the mountain.

"That would be the pungent scent of putrefaction," hissed Airdan, holding his slender hand to his face.

"I take it you still have no idea how to handle the dragon's corpse," said Bard.

"We are open to suggestions," said Bilbo gloomily. "The Valar know we would love to breathe easy once again."

"Surely you can't just let it sit there and rot?" asked Talson.

"No we can't," agreed Sara. "The decay could breed diseases and the last thing we need is a plague. But what exactly are we to do with such an immense body."

"You could burn it," suggested Talson.

"It would require much coal to burn Samug away and as you point out we are pressed for time."

"Perhaps that should be your combined focus once the lake people are relocated," suggested Airdan.

"That may be the case," agreed Thorin, grimacing. "For it can't be put off much longer."

They fell quiet.

"Still," said Bilbo at last. "It seems a bit of an injustice that Smaug should be dealt with properly before his victims."

"That is Mr. Baggins," said Airidan. "Unfortunately that is the cruel reality."

"Is there anything you need?" she asked her father, tugging on her braid and twisting Fili's bead. "Blankets? Food?"

Bard shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "No my Sara, anything we might need, we need in mass. I suspect there's not enough food in your pack to feed a village. Even if there were, we can't carry it all back. We shall simply have to endure until we are welcome in the mountain. We won't starve for the next week."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"We are however running low on supplies," added Talson.

"Bilbo and I are working to locate some of the old storehouses," said Thorin. "Smaug may not have been able to get into all of them, and though much of the stores will have aged, some will still be of use."

"Then I wish you luck," said Talson.

"We should return before nightfall," said Airidan.

"Agreed," said Bard, glancing towards Dale. "I don't fancy being ambushed or lost in the dark."

"Be careful," said Sara, stepping forward to embrace him. "And tell the others hello for me."

Brad squeezed her before pulling back and smiling sadly. "Be safe until we meet again." He let her go and she turned to Talson.

"We really will work as fast as possible. I know you're anxious to get your wife here."

"Then that shall have to be sufficient," he said.

With a few final words of parting, the six became three and three once more, one group turning towards the ruins of Dale and the other towards the mountain.

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Thorin listened to Balin as he reported on the accomplishments and whereabouts of the company. His fingers drummed incessantly on the blade of Ocrist which was across his lap, the silver shimmer from the blade at contrast with the band of gold on his finger. Sara had expressed her displeasure with him leaving bed yesterday. So here he sat propped in his parent's bed, doing nothing as she bid him. The bed was too big without Sara here to share it. To his side were stacks of records and maps that he and Bilbo had been pouring over. But the hobbit was off with Nori to see if yet another storehouse had been pilfered by the dragon.

"The water is now flowing to all parts of the mountain and is clear and drinkable," said Balin, stroking his normally white beard with a dirty hand. The old dwarf looked tired and worn.

Thorin simply nodded, urging him to continue the report. It was about time they had clear water again. They had been running dangerously low.

"What of the furnace?" he asked. Thorin had noticed both Sara and Bilbo add extra layers of clothing in the past few days. If they were cold the inhabitants of Dale would be as well.

"We hope to relight them soon. We found the remnants of the pulley system that operates the venting system. We're not sure if it was our people who closed it to keep Smaug out or Smaug who closed it to seal the mountain. In either event, Gloin says he and Oin should have it fixed tomorrow."

"Very well," he said, leaning sideways, pulling experimentally at the muscles over his ribs. There was still a great deal of discomfort but seeing as the injury was only five days old it was a good sign that the stabbing pain had given way to a dull if not persistent ake. Nevertheless, it was still incredibly irksome to be limited in his mobility. He itched to be doing something useful but Oin had strictly forbade him from doing anything that might detract from his mending ribs. He couldn't help but recall with jealousy how quickly Bofur and Sara had recovered from their injuries in Rivendell. If they had a more skillful healer in their company he may already be well.

"Shall I get Oin," asked Balin, noting his discomfort.

"No. He can do nothing for me that hasn't already been done. Where is Sara?"

"She's in the courtyard washing some things."

"Would that I could help her even with that much," he grumbled. Irritably, he sighed and reached for Orcrist's sheath before sliding the blade home with a click.

"Soon," assured Balin.

"Not soon enough," he growled, grimacing as he shifted his legs off the bed. Balin extended a hand to him as he pushed himself to a stand. He ignored the hand and walked stiffly from the room and down the hallway, noting the lack of dust under his feet. He crossed the living room and made his way to the front door which stood ajar. Some distance across the courtyard near the fountain, Sara was beating the dust from a blanket. Other bedding lay draped over a makeshift line to dry. She had already cleaned his old room, his parent's room, and had moved on to the others. Balin appeared at his side and they watched in silence for several moments.

"What other news have you for me?"

"Bofur and Bifur have finished the signs for Bilbo and are ready to help him place them at his convenience. Bombur, Dori, and Ori have begun to bring oil to fill the braziers."

"And Dwalin?"

"He and I have been repairing bridges and erecting guide rails."

"Has there been any word from Mirkwood, Dale, or Dain?"

"None. Dale still has one brazier lit, we have seen several ravens around the front gate but they don't seem to speak or carry messages, and we have seen none of Thranduil's birds either."

A flash of hot anger shot through Thorin at the thought of the elf king. He had imprisoned them and had thought to hand Sara over to the wizard. He was an oathbreaker, a snake. Why had he ever thought Sara could be right about the elves…

"Thorin?" Balin's hand was on his shoulder. "Are you in pain?" Balin was watching him with concern. "Is everything all right?"

What had he just been thinking? Thranduil? Their hopeful ally? He let out a breath, his hands dropping to his side. He still held no fond affection for the elf, particularly in light of their last encounter, but also had to remember the circumstances they had parted in. Why had he been so incensed at the mere mention of the elf's name? Save for Saruman's influence they would have been reluctant allies only weeks before. He tucked the ring back in his pocket. Perhaps it was just a remnant of his old way of thinking, decades of habit and thoughts that had yet to erode. Balin was still watching him.

"I'm well enough."

"Very well then, if you are satisfied I will return to help Dwalin."

He was far from satisfied but there was little else Balin could do.

"It is well enough."

Balin bade him farewell and departed across the courtyard stopping to give a brief exchange with Sara. Thorin watched the doorway, a tendril of possessive jealousy twining around his heart at Sara's easy smile for the old diplomat. He thrust his hand in his pocket drawing relief from the small circlet of gold. He wanted to drag her back to the bed where she would be his alone. He had felt a twinge of guilt the first few nights they had shared a bed alone, his agreement with Fili nagging him, but he'd managed to banish it. Fili need never know and Sara was not compromised. Though if he gave into his building desire she would be. He wanted her soft supple body in his arms. He wanted her to turn to him with desire. But her attention to him the past few days had been marred by her exhaustion and worry. She was having trouble sleeping but was frustrated with talk as she tried to wind down, so he simply listened to her toss and turn for hours before she finally fell asleep. He didn't look forward to Fili's return for it meant that Sara would move to a different room to sleep. Dissatisfied, he turned and disappeared back into the dark rooms.

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The sky before the gates of Erebor was a wheeling churning mass of black feathers as the carrion birds circled overhead like a black shroud over the mountain. If the news of Smaug had not already spread far and wide the black mass was more than enough of a tell for any to see.

"What are those two birds?" asked Sara, leaning over the edge of the parapet and pointing to a pair of black birds larger than the rest. They were perched resolutely on a stony outcropping. Bilbo squinted into the setting sun over the dirty handkerchief held to his nose in an ineffectual effort to ward off the stomach-turning smell wafting up from the front gates below.

"Ravens," he gasped, looking peaky and green.

"And the rest of them are crows?" she asked, waving a hand at the tornado of black before them. Bilbo nodded.

"Most of them. Though I do believe I spotted a few vultures in the mix. Quite a horrible mob."

"A murder," said Sara absently, her eyes drifting to the shattered gates. Bilbo hummed a weak response through his handkerchief.

It had been eight days since Smaug's demise and the stench had only grown worse day by day. The smell permeated deeper and deeper into the mountain, overtaking chamber after chamber like a fungus feeding on dark and decay. It was now almost impossible to pass by his corpse and out the front gates as the air was thick with his latent putrefaction. It was as if the smell left no room for oxygen in the room. The mass of birds had no doubt been drawn by the smell but had been kept from their grizzly feast by the simple virtue of the dragon's scales. But though the birds had not had their fill, the scales had not stopped the flies in their work at any available opening of the body. The drone of the insects in the entry hall was loud enough to drown out even the sound of the birds outside.

The corpse was transforming in other more disconcerting ways. Smaug had died and fallen with his back to the front gates but now his neck had been pulled back sharply behind till it rested near his back. It reminded Sara of the pictures of fossilized dinosaurs she had seen as a child. The body had swollen to unnatural proportions, his chest and belly ballooning out as though ready to pop. At least the body had yet to attract any larger carrion eaters.

She was not sure which was worse, the state of smog's body or the cheerless and exhausting task of the past two days. As per Thorin's instructions, the company had spent the past day from waking to sleeping moving the remains of the previous dwarven inhabitants.

"Do you suppose the others are done yet?" asked Bilbo, glancing at her. She shrugged

"They were getting close. If not tonight then certainly by midday tomorrow we should have enough room for one-third of Lake Town."

"Do you suppose your father and your siblings will be among that third?"

"I hope so, but I can't say for sure." There was an awkward pause

"I'm sorry to have taken you away from the others," he said. "I wish I had a stronger constitution." Bilbo had finally had enough death for his tender hobbit heart and had to step away from the dreary task. When Balin suggested he go to the rampart to check conditions she had volunteered to go with him. Thorin had not been particularly pleased but had let her go.

"Don't be sorry," she said. "It's enough to get to anyone over time. I needed to get away too."

"I thought you were handling it rather stoically."

"I was until today."

"Why today?"

"Because today Thorin insisted on being there to help."

"I see," said Bilbo. "What happened?"

"I just never knew he could be so… unfeeling."

"What exactly happened?"

"He just stood there admiring jewels while they were there in the room watching us."

"They?"

Sara sighed, wincing at the memory. "A mother and her three children," she said quietly. "We were working in the same house and we ran across the remains of a mother who died embracing her children."

"That is tragic," said Bilbo glumly. She nodded.

"It's hard enough to find a skeleton. Not to disrespect the dead but it's easier to deal with the remains when it's just a heap of jumbled bones. They are nameless, without identity or story. It's different when you find them more or less intact, as they were in death. But that mother seemed to cry to me as she held her children. But Throrin… he was… all he was interested in was the quality of the stones in the mother's necklace. He took them right off her. He kept saying how much he could get for them. And it was not just the mother he did that with. He kept picking over the remains looking for jewelry. I mean, I know dwarves like their treasure but…"

"It was hardly the time," finished Bilbo with a frown. "And quite out of character for him."

"I mean not even Nori was sneaking things in his pocket," she said. "Not that Thorin kept anything, at least I didn't see him take anything. But still."

"That is rather disconcerting," agreed Bilbo.

"I'm worried about him. Yet I can't help but feel he was right to insist that the bones be moved. Just imagining Tilda's reaction to it all…" She shuddered.

"Quite," said Bilbo with a nod.

"I'm just ready to be done," she said, slumping over the parapet. "I want my family here already. I want this all to be over and done. I don't like all this waiting. Not that I want to go to battle either."

"I share your worry," he said. "Still those in Dale must be holding up well enough."

She peered through the cloud of birds, squinting until she could see the single fire burning dully at the top of the ruins of Dale. The signal fire beside them on the rampart was burning in an enormous brazier, and one stood a few feet further, still to be set ablaze. The trees of Mirkwood crouched in the distance. What enemy could it conceal? Spiders? Orcs? Or some other apparition? Her family could not arrive soon enough.

The breeze picked up wafting a fresh wave of decay up to their faces and Bilbo groaned, holding the handkerchief tight to his mouth and nose.

"Let's go find the others," she suggested. "Do you think you can handle it?"

"I believe anything would be preferable to standing here," he choked out, already trudging back down the stairs into the mountain.

She turned to follow him but then paused. Her eyes were drawn to the unlit brazier. They were nearly done, ready to have the lake people come. At least according to what Balin had said earlier. What could it hurt to light it now? It's not like they would show up immediately. They would take the night and morning to prepare and then arrive sometime late tomorrow. It would save time this way. After a moment of deliberation, she seized the unlit torch from the wall and lit it. With a twinge of guilt, she touched the second brazier lighting it. Dowsing the torch she turned to follow Bilbo, the twin lights blazing behind her.

The next morning the company was gathered in the courtyard in front of Thorin's house. They sat quietly munching the bland porage that Bombur had cooked. Bilbo and Nori had, at last, succeeded in finding a storeroom that they felt confident Smaug could not possibly have raided due to the size of the small passage leading to it; the only problem was that that same passage collapsed. They had not yet had the time to begin excavation but Ori had had some luck elsewhere. While cleaning out one of the houses yesterday he had come across a sealed crock of grain. It was a simple bland breakfast, but at least it was hot. Sara stirred the lumpy mush in her bowl, her thoughts still slow with sleep.

Despite the use of Sigrid's seeds, she was still having trouble sleeping. With the use of the seeds she was hardly, if ever, plagued with nightmares, but the issue was falling to sleep. Her body remained exhausted but she simply could not shut her mind down and rest. She got lost in thoughts about the company, her family, and the upcoming battle. She worried about Fili, Kili, Gandalf, and even Glorfindel. Had Fili and Kili patched things up with the elves? Where was Saruman? Would the message on her phone convince Dain and the dwarves to come? No matter how she tried to silence her thoughts it was often well into the morning hours before Sara found restful sleep. Luckily the bed she was still sharing with Thorin was big enough her tossing and turning didn't seem to bother him.

Last night had not been an exception to this pattern and now she sat groggily beside Thorin. The others chatted quietly, some of them slipping unconsciously into dwarvish at times.

Beside her Thorin's bowl sat untouched. Instead, his fingers were engaged to their new favorite pastime, twirling his grandfather's large gold ring around his middle finger. It was a pretty piece of jewelry. Even her untrained eye could appreciate that, but there was still something Sara found disquieting about the gold band.

Perhaps it was just Gandalf's leeriness of the ring that had passed to her. Just knowing that it was a thing created by Sauron was enough to put her on edge. She disliked how much both Bilbo and Thorin seemed to handle their rings. At least, Bilbo was discreet about it. At first, Thorin had simply carried the ring in his pocket, but then he'd taken it out to fiddle with, and in the past several days he'd taken to wearing it outright. She was nervous about him openly wearing it and reminded him of Gandalf's misgivings, but he'd become defensive and moody whenever she brought it up. He'd argue that no matter its origins it was a symbol of his people and that it was his birthright. Reluctantly she had dropped the subject. After all, while Gandalf had advised against wearing the ring, he had also admitted the seven rings had little to no effect on the dwarves that carried them. She was worrying too much.

She was just scraping the last of the paste from her bowl when Nori, Dwalin, and Balin approached Thorin. He looked up at them but did not speak, simply continuing to fidget with the ring. When he still did not address them Sara cleared her throat.

"Did you three have something to say?" she asked, glancing at Thorin who dropped his gaze back to the ring.

"Aye we did," said Dwalin, shooting her a questioning look. She shrugged helplessly.

"Then speak," grumbled Thorin in a monotone.

"We came to report our progress," said Balin. "We believe we have done all that is needed to receive Lake Town."

Behind the three of them, the others were watching the exchange.

"We have restored running water, provided light, and yesterday we removed enough of the remains to accommodate one-third of Lake Town?" said Nori. Thorin didn't respond

"Did we finish the balustrades and handrails on the bridges and cliffs?" asked Sara.

"Aye," assured Dwalin. "Don't know as it would keep a truly determined youngster from falling, but for any with common sense we have made it safe."

"I suppose that's fair," she said, biting her lip.

"We also finished placing the last of the directional signs," said Nori.

"We also managed to open the vents and relight the furnaces," added Balin.

Thorin still seemed uninterested in the conversation. Hoping to draw him out of himself, Sara reached for his hand. He resisted for a moment as if he feared she would take something from him, but then he relaxed.

"How goes the work in unblocking the larder?" he asked.

"It's slow going."

"Why is it taking so long," growled Thorin, picking up his bowl. "This is hardly fit food for a king." He dropped it, the food spilling into the dust.

Sara watched the confusion and concern wash over Balin, Dwalin, and Nori's faces. She too was concerned. His speech was becoming less and less like himself. His patients were short and he was liable to snap at those around him. So far Sara had managed to not be on the receiving end.

"We have been busy with many other things in the past several days," said Nori tentatively.

"That's no excuse," growled Thorin.

"Thorin," said Sara, squeezing his hand. He blew out a breath but seemed to calm somewhat.

"Perhaps the work would progress faster with the aid of the people of Lake Town," suggested Balin. "We are ready to receive them."

"I will go light the second brazier," said Dwalin.

"Actually," said Sara. "We don't need to. I lit it last night when Bilbo and I were up there."

"That was smart of ya lass," said Dwalin. "It'll save time, what with…"

Beside her, Thorin stiffened and jerked his hand from hers.

"You did what?" he spat, his eyebrows drawn close over his eyes. His face which had been so pale the past few days was gaining color at an alarming rate.

"I… I lit the brazier last night just before sunset," she said, unconsciously drawing away from him.

"What right had you to do that?"

"I'm sorry," she started, an iron fist clamping around her heart at the expression on his face. "I just thought it would save some time. I knew we didn't have anything else to finish. I just thought…"

"No you didn't," he shot. "You didn't think. I am the leader and…"

"Aye, Thorin," protested Dwalin, stepping forward. "That's a bit harsh. She's just trying to help."

Tears rose unbidden to her eyes but did not quite spill over.

"I am King here," shouted Thorin, shooting to his feet. "Me! I will decide when to invite others into my mountain… if ever."

They all stared at him, his last two words echoing through the cavernous room.

"What do you mean if ever?" asked Balin. "You agreed to harbor the people of Lake Town. We agreed. Are you saying now that they have left everything behind you would turn them away?"

"I didn't say that," said Thorin, turning away from them, once again twirling his ring.

"But ya considered it?" pressed Dwalin, shrewdly.

"And so what if I had," snapped Thorin. "It's my right to deny them entry."

"For what possible reason," persisted Nori. "We need them in the upcoming battle. They need shelter. Why would you keep them out?"

Thorin turned to him with an alarming earnestness. "Have you any idea how much treasure lies in this mountain? Let them in and they will take it for themselves."

Sara opened her mouth to argue, stung, but Balin beat her to it.

"I think they will be too concerned about food, Smaug's body, and the war to desire gold."

"Not to mention they will never be anywhere near the treasure hall," argued Nori. "It lies on the other side of the mountain."

"Not only that treasure. The homes they would inhabit are filled with our people's heirlooms," shot Thorin. His face darkened, his brows drawn together in resentment. "We can not trust them. Have you forgotten the greed of the Master of the Lake?"

"No I haven't," said Nori with a long-suffering sigh. "But he was only one of many. You forget his people suffered greatly for his greed."

"You are too young to remember the ill-treatment we received at human hands in days of old," continued Thorin, ignoring Nori's protests. "We were wandering and starving, but I am a vagabond no more. I will never be treated like that again. I will protect the wealth of my people from the humans. It's in their nature to take what is not theirs."

All eyes in the room fell on Sara; all save Thorin who was once again twisting his ring and muttering under his breath. It was like the air had been robbed from her lung and she dared not draw in breath for fear she would sob. Her gaze was blurry. Did he really see her that way? Did he see her family that way?

The room was silent and still. Bilbo rose and walked silently to Thorin and stood before him, his little shoulders square.

"What do you want, halfling?" snapped Thorin, yanking the ring off his finger and jamming it back into his pocket.

The slap rang out in the hush like the crack of a whip. Thorin stood in shock, his hand to his cheek as he stared down at the hobbit.

"Shame on you Thorin Oakensheild," hissed Bilbo.

Thorin didn't speak, but his eyes seemed to clear of his anger somewhat.

"How dare you say such things. Have you forgotten that Sara is human?"

"What?" asked Thorin, dazed, his voice quavering slightly as he looked around the room as though he were confused.

"I asked if you'd forgotten that Sara is in fact human," repeated Bilbo flatly. "Or for that matter if you failed to remember that the humans you are contemplating turning away are her kin."

"I… I had not forgotten."

"Then I fail to see how you could have said such terrible things."

Thorin was quiet for a long moment. The tension left his body and he slumped to sit on a chunk of rock. "I did not forget that she is human," he said quietly, his face in his hands.

"Then you must have forgotten yourself completely," said Bilbo.

"Yes," said Thorin. "I am not myself today."

"You haven't been yourself for several days," said the hobbit. But he softened slightly. "You have not been the Thorin I have come to know. I am concerned for you."

Thorin was quiet for a long time and the room was silent and still. At last, Thorin spoke though he did not raise his head.

"All of you leave us. I would speak to Sara alone. The rest of you… the rest of you make ready to receive Lake Town."

Wordlessly the company rose and shuffled off. Sara stood rooted to the spot, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes. Bilbo and Dwalin both paused in front of her, watching her with concern.

"Ya alright lass?" asked Dwalin. She nodded, trying to hold back her ragged breath. "If ya need me, call." She nodded again and he moved off. Bilbo gave her a sad little smile, patting her hand before nodding and moving on. The space was empty save for the two of them now. Despite the void, it felt as though there was an entire mountain between them.

"Will you not speak," he said at last. She swallowed the lump in her throat but didn't reply. "I fear I have said enough… Far too much. And the one thing I wish to ask, I dare not. I do not deserve it."

"I don't know what you want me to say," she whispered.

"I have wounded you," he said.

"Do you really think of humans… of me that way?"

"No," he said, raising his head to look at her. "I admit that in moments of anger in my distant past, I had allowed myself to think that way about others, but I have never seen you like that."

"Then why say such horrible things?" she asked, avoiding his eyes.

"I…I don't know," he said, hesitantly. "I was not… not myself."

It was quiet again for several long moments.

"What's wrong with you lately?" she asked. "Bilbo and I have both noticed that you are… off."

He stood, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I wish I knew. I find myself sinking into darkness far too often. I am angry over little things, impatient with myself and others, and I find myself slipping into old habits of thought." He let his hands drop. "I'm afraid."

"Of what?" she asked, watching him.

"Do you still have the sealed letter I gave you in Lake Town?"

She touched her chest, where she could feel the paper against her skin. Not wanting to lose it she had resorted to tucking it into her bra. "I… I still have it. Are you afraid that… that…"

"I hope not," he said, cutting her off as if he did not want her to say it.

"But you haven't been anywhere near the gold or the Arkenstone." But in the back of her mind, she was reminded of his behavior the day before.

"I know. It troubles me greatly," he said. "I am not certain but I want you to keep it with you at all times. Just in case."

"I will," she said.

He turned to her, his face earnest but stricken.

"Sara," he said, stepping toward her, hands outstretched. "Sara, forgive me. I misspoke horribly. I know I wounded you deeply."

She hesitated still in shock from the whiplash of his mood swings. He'd always been moody but this was excessive wasn't it? Even now there was still something slightly off in the expression of his eyes, like he was trying to swim up through murky water. Was there really something wrong with him? Was it the beginning of madness? Or had it simply been her actions that had set him off? He was under a lot of stress and he was still recovering. Pain made people lash out at times. She had to admit she had been in the wrong and she had known it all long. She should have consulted the others about lighting the brazier.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't expect that lighting the signal would have set you so much. But it was still wrong of me to do it without asking the rest of you."

He closed the distance between them in an instant. "No," he insisted, taking her hands. She looked into his eyes and could almost believe it was Thorin. "It is truly I who requires forgiveness. You only sought to save time and you were right to do so. Forgive me for all my words. I did not mean them. I am sorry I hurt you."

She nodded, not sure what to say or trusting her voice. Tentatively, he drew her close to his chest, his arms hesitantly encircling her. After several long heartbeats, she returned his embrace, burying her face into him.

"I'm sorry Sara," he whispered, kissing her hair. She just held him tighter as though he would slip from her grasp. Between them, the paper scratched against her skin.

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So many. Too many. Mostly women and children, but there were a fair number of men as well. He supposed that was to be expected. How were the old and infirm to be expected to make the trip without help? Still, he worried. This had to be more than a third. At least the people had the sense to leave the few animals they had until the next group arrived. He only hoped they had cleared enough space for them all. What was he supposed to do with all these humans? They had yet to find any food. What would they eat?

Thorin stood next to Sara just outside the front gates watching the never-ending stream of people entering the mountain. The coming throng had scared off a majority of the black crows that have been swarming the front gate for days. Too bad it didn't affect the smell as well.

Eric, the grumpy friend of Bard, had been the one in the lead, though he had said nothing as he passed by them leading a group inside. Beside him, Sara stood anxiously, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet. No doubt she was waiting for her kin. All at once she grew excited.

"There," she said, pointing into the crowd. But then her brows drew together in confusion. There was no sign of Bard, just his three youngsters. They were dirty and bedraggled. Scrawny. Probably hungry as well.

Hopefully, Fili had thought to include food and supplies in his bargaining with the elves. They would not last long without the aid of the elves. It was not a thought he relished, but it was reality. So many of the people who passed him had little else save the pack on their back, and by now the bags were more empty than full. He straightened, scanning the crowd but still could not find a sign of Bard. The three children caught sight of Sara waving and they drifted her way.

"Where is your father," he asked, directing the question to the boy, Bain, as they climbed the steps. But it was the older girl, Sigrid, who answered.

"He stayed behind."

"But why?" pressed Sara. "I thought he would at least see you to the front gates."

"He meant to," said Bain. "But he was waylayed."

"It's that tall blond guard that was with you in the Master's house," said Tilda.

"Talson?"

"Yes," said Sigrid, nodding. "His wife has been having pains in her belly since yesterday. They feared for her and the baby. Talson refused to move her or leave her side. Bianca needed an herb but didn't know where to find it. Father said he remembered seeing it years ago when he was here so they went in search of it. The elves stayed behind. They have been keeping a patrol around Dale."

"Two new elves arrived yesterday," said Bain. He dug momentarily in his pack and produced a roll of parchment. "They asked us to pass this along for them."

Sara reached for it but he took it first and upon opening it, began to scan the thin writing inside.

"Any news of Fili and Kili?" asked Sara anxiously. He raised a hand to quiet her as he read.

"Yes," he said, still scanning. "They seem to have successfully renewed our tenuous alliance with the elves." She waited impatiently. He lowered the parchment and handed it to her. "They are gathering supplies and means to transport them here. It's a rather large endeavor."

"That's good," she said, opening the note.

"However," he said, glancing at Bard's children. "The elves warn of increased Orc activity near Lake Town and several more aggressive spider attacks inside the forest. It may prove difficult to reach the mountain. It also increases the risk to those still in Dale."

"Will Da be alright?" asked Tilda. Sara looked to him before she turned to Tilda.

"I'm sure he will be here before the battle," assured Sara, not seeming so sure herself as she looked worriedly toward Dale.

"I hope so," he muttered.

He didn't like the idea of dealing with the lake man Eric. A group of townspeople approached the front gate and flinched as the foul stench of Smaug hit them. Recovering and looking rather ill they ventured forward their steps quickening until they disappeared from the entry hall and into the mountain. The last group of people approached the front steps. Four guards accompanied them, bringing up the end of the stream of people. The townspeople hurried on through but guards remained. Rather than turning around as the guards before them had, these four entered the hall and stood looking at the bloated corpse of the dragon. He stuffed his hand in his pocket, watching them warily. Why linger near something so offensive to the senses?

"I'm going to take them inside," said Sara.

He watched the guards walk around the corpse, unsure why he felt uneasy with them being there.

"Are you okay?" asked Sara, placing a hand on his arm. He glanced over at her. Her brows were creased with worry. He placed his free hand over hers.

"I'm fine," he assured. "Merely distracted."

"Are you alright if they stay with us until my father comes?"

He glanced at the three dirty children. He didn't much look forward to the intrusion but he nodded nonetheless. Sara squeezed his hand.

"Thank you," she said. "I'll tell Dwalin that's the last of them for today." Sara disappeared with her siblings and Thorin followed her just inside the front door where he still caught the occasional gust of mostly fresh air. The rest of the company had been stationed along the route to the residential quarter to be doubly sure none of the townsfolk lost their way. Lost their way or wandered where they were not wanted. His attention was once again drawn to the four guards who were prodding the dragon's distended leg. When would those guards leave? What did they want? He looked back out to the valley below where the other men and guards were making their way back to Dale. They would need to work quickly to get the rest of the town inside the mountain. His mountain. His finger stroked the ring in his pocket.

The guards had disappeared from sight. Where had they gone? The far end of the room had gone dark. He left his position to relight the torch. Halfway across the room, he paused, his eyes fixing on the empty slot where the torch was meant to be. Who could have? It was there moments before. Sara had her light, that stone that elf Airidan had given her. Where were the guards? He paced around the edge of the room, trying to stay as far away as possible from the dragon's stench as he made his way toward the far door. Had they slipped into the mountain? Dwellen was stationed not far down the hallway and would have seen them pass by. Just as he reached the doorway he heard the low muttering of the four guards.

They were near Smaug's swollen belly, one of them holding the missing torch. Their attention was fixated on the bare patch of breast where the black arrow had buried itself. He winced in disgust as one of the men inexplicably dug his hand into the festering wound. The man's sense of smell was as dull as his wits. What morbid curiosity was this? What drove this man to such extremes? Thorin was no stranger to the sights and smells that accompanied a rotting corpse, but Smaug's bloated body surpassed them all, cramped as he was in the entry hall as his body decomposed. He felt a twinge in his stomach as the man pushed his arm in up to his elbow, maggots and visceral fluids spilling onto the floor. Fighting back his rising bile he approached the four men, staying in the shadows. His finger caressed the gold ring in his pocket as he listened.

"Give it up Roth," said the guard holding the torch. "It's too far inside."

"No it isn't," said the man elbow deep in dragon gore. "I'm just not quite there yet."

"I still don't understand why you want it," said one of the men standing to the side.

"That's because you have no imagination," said Roth, grunting as he pushed his arm in to the bicep. "This is Smaug the terrible. He was killed by a black arrow. If the death of Smaug is going to go down in history along with the killer don't you think the weapon will as well."

"So," pressed the man with the torch.

"So," continued Roth, drawing his hand out of the wound. A cascade of maggots spilled out on the floor as he shook the gore from his arm before thrusting his hand in again. "Just think how much the weapon used to kill a dragon would be worth to certain persons. How much do you suppose someone would pay to possess it? All we have to do is retrieve it. Now get over here and push on my other shoulder. I don't quite have the leverage."

Reluctantly the two empty-handed men approached their companion and pushed. Slowly, oh so slowly, Roth's arm disappeared into the dragon.

Thorin stood in the shadows of an enormous pillar, the man's words seeping into his mind. They were here for money. Of course, it was about money. The force that led so many to commit unspeakable and unimaginable acts to possess it. And here it was again. Despite all these humans had been through, their true nature had won out in the end. It was just as he had said that morning. Rage boiled inside his chest, spilling over into white-hot fury. These humans had been inside his kingdom no more than a few minutes and yet here they were plotting to rob him of what would no doubt become a heirloom of his people. He slipped the ring on his finger and clenched his fist round the hilt of Orcrist. If they wanted it they would have to cut it from him… if he didn't cut them down first. What other heirlooms might they covet? The Arkenstone? Nothing was safe with their kind around. Even now what treasure might the other humans be pilfering? What valuables might weigh their pockets? He watched, murder in his heart.

"I think I can feel the tip," said Roth, straining forward, his cheek pressed to the dragon's side. "If we're lucky no one will even think about the shaft until after the battle. No one ever needs to know we have it until we are well away from this country. There! I believe I have the end now. Pull!"

He held his free arm out to the others who took it and pulled.

So they had managed to find the black arrow that had killed the worm had they? Odious thieves that they were. He drew Orcrist and crept closer, pressing himself against the pillar, waiting for the moment to strike. If they would rob him of even this, then nothing was safe. Perhaps even Sara was at risk.

The three men grunted as Roth pulled with all his might, his compatriots at his side. The rotting flesh squelched and popped as they struggled with it. Just as Thorin was ready to leap out upon them, distracted as they were, there was a dull pop from inside Smaug's body. The three men fell back on their rumps, but the shaft was protruding from the wound. The opening was hissing and spewing the ooze of decay as vapors escaped the rotting corpse.

"It's loose," cried Roth in triumph. He bounded to his feet and gripping the glory iron yanked it free. There was an audible hissing now. "Bring that torch nearer," he instructed, holding the shaft up for the others to see.

The last thing Thorin remembered before the blinding wave of heat engulfed him was the man with the torch stepping closer to the others. A searing heat and then dark.

Pain.

"Thorin!"

He was swimming in a sea of black haze. Pain everywhere. In his ribs. In his head. Everywhere.

"Thorin! Wake up! Please wake up!"

"Let me at him, lass."

"Is he breathing?"

"Aye, he's breathing. I think he's coming round."

Smoke and the horrid smell of roasting and rotting flesh washed over him as he sucked in a deep breath and then collapsed into a fit of coughs.

"Ori," barked the gruff and commanding voice of Dwalin. "Go on fetch Oin. Bofur see if you can find a way over or around this mess. We must get to the front gate. Nori, go to the ramparts and see what the damage is from the outside. The rest of you spread out and see if there are any more survivors.

"What happened Dwalin?" asked Sara's voice.

"I don't know lass."

His chest aked anew as his fit came to an end. Had he rebroken them? Sara's face was the first he saw as he opened his eyes. Firelight bounced off her face as she peered down at him, worry wrinkling her brow. There were tears in her eyes again. He'd made her cry twice today.

"Sara?" he whispered, his voice rough.

"Thorin! Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were gone." Her small hands were on his face, cradling it, as she held his head in her lap.

"What happened?" he asked.

"That's what we meant to ask ya," said Dwalin. There was blood running down his face and his arms were smudged and smeared with gore and soot.

"We heard a boom and by the time we got to you the entire room had collapsed," said Sara.

Confused, he struggled to sit up, pushing through the pain as he took in their surroundings. It was several long moments before he recognized what was left in the entrance hall. The space was a jumble of rocks and stone. The light in the room was generated from massive chunks of flesh that burned and smoldered, giving off an acrid smell of char.

"There was an explosion," he muttered, remembering the scorching flash of light just moments after the guard had brought the torch close to Smaug's body.

"We figured that," said Dwalin. "But what exploded? There are bits of dragon everywhere."

"It was Smaug that exploded," he said with a groan as he collapsed back into Sara's lap. "There was gas hissing and then…"

"Don't strain yerself," warned Dwalin. "Oin will be here soon. Just lie still."

"Have I any obvious wounds?"

"Yer limbs are still intact if that's what ya mean," said Dwalin ruefully.

"Your head is bleeding," said Sara, touching the back of his head gingerly with her fingertips. "But it doesn't seem too bad."

"Ya were lucky. We found ya tucked in the crevice between two boulders but nothing was pinned."

"Thorin was there anyone else here when it happened?" asked Sara.

But at that moment Bofur reappeared at their side wiping sweat and grime from his face.

"It's no use," he said, pulling his hat from his head. "I can't get through."

"Then put the fires out," insisted Dwalin. "We've gotta get to the front gate."

"Yer not listening," said Bofur irritably. "I can't get there. It's not the fires. There is no way through. The front gate is completely buried.

"We can't get out?" asked Sara, panicked.

"Aye, lass. There's no way through. We're trapped."

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