12 | ...AND TO THOSE WITH HEARTS OF STONE

A dragon swoops down from the sky, blasting a fire oath straight through the wooden buildings, as people scream, and run. I quickly rush up the stairs of the building to find Bard, trying to open the bars. "Help me!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" I ask, as I examine the lock. Reaching to find the hairpin I kept, I take it out, and my hair falls loose around my shoulders.

"This isn't the time for hairdressing," Bard snaps. "Find the keys!"

I roll my eyes, frustrated. "The guards took it! Just shut up!" And I straighten the hairpin out, inserting it carefully into the lock. I move it around delicately, until I hear a click, and then I hear another click, before the lock springs open. The bars to the cell swing open, and Bard is free.

"Thank you," he says, nodding gratefully. He then grabs a bow and quiver, swinging it around his chest. "Let's go."

"Wait, wait, wait, what?" I panic, shocked. "We need to run."

He looks around, then looks me dead in the eye, and says with complete seriousness. "I'm going to kill the dragon."

I snort, before realising he's serious. "You have to be joking." He's clearly not. "Nothing can stop it now."

"I have to do something," he says. "I won't die a coward, if I am to die tonight."

I nod, because he isn't unreasonable. I hope Legolas is fine, though he surely is. He's Legolas. I don't think he even knows how to bleed. "Okay, then. How can I help?"

He looks surprised. "Oh, I thought you were running?"

I shrug. "Where can I go?" It's rhetorical, and he doesn't answer as he looks around, formulating a plan.

"I want you to take my children somewhere safe," he says. "Protect them." And then he jumps into the roof, sprinting agilely towards the dragon.

I gape, in shock. "There's nowhere safe to go!"

I climb the roof again, deciding that the highest point will be the best place to work out a plan, as I hide behind a chimney as inconspicuously as I can. The dragon soars above us, a massive beast, his scales gold and wings as wide as the sky. He truly looks like an embodiment of what darkness is, a monster from the depths of hell, or the truest heights of heaven. It's petrifying, as I freeze in terror.

A stupid mistake, as the dragon flies dangerous close, setting the roof on fire. I snap into action, panicking as the fire spreads, the wood building more a curse now than ever as I try to outrun the flames. I jump onto the next roof as I slide down ungracefully, the tiles scraping my arms and legs and tearing the skin, leaving bloody holes and flesh. It stings but I ignore it as I grab onto the roof with all my might, clinging on and praying that the dragon doesn't notice me.

I don't think it does, but it still swoops dangerously close, torching the houses next to me. It turns, and I exhale, thankful that it has missed me, when its tail snakes around, cleaving through the walls of the house I was hiding on. The house splits apart, as the walls fall in, and the roof with it, as I plummet down, screaming.

The way down is too war and too fast for me to stop, so I close my eyes, and wait for the inevitable crash with the ground.

It never comes. I open my eyes, shocked to see I am lying on the ground, amid pile and piles of wreckage around me. I am completely surrounded. However somehow the wreckage has completely missed me, a perfect circle of pure wood around me, as if nothing has happened.

Surely I should have broken bones, at least, but my body is fine. I barely even felt the impact. What is going on? How have I come out unharmed from am attack which would have killed millions? Even the highest elves aren't immune to dragonfire, and I'm barely an elf.

The wreckage around me is high, but surrounds me like shield. Howeverz the dragon has ceased it's flying, and the screams seem to become quieter every second. Has Bard done it, then? Killed the beast?

By morning, I have climbed out from the wreckage and swum to the shore, my legs aching and my arms bleeding like hell, stinging from the dirty water. I truly hope I can avoid any infections. I climb onto the shore, as I notice an old man, struggling. Hurrying over, I pull him out with the strength I have left, as I see a gaping wound in his leg.

I tear a piece of my tunic, and wrap it around as best I can to stop the blood flow. "The wound needs to be cleaned," I tell him earnestly, as he smiles gratefully at me. "But not here, it will just get infected."

A woman hurries by, passing me a blanket as I shiver, getting to my feet. "Thank you," I say to her, thankful.

Wondering around, I can see that the Laketown has been completely eradicated. There is no way the town will be fit for Life ever again, not least of all now, with the first days of winter. These people will surely freeze to death before they can get to Mirkwood, where they might find temporary shelter, or before they can rebuild their homes.

There are as few survivors as expected, and the majority are wounded or children, as families have always tried to save the children first. Most of the elderly are dead, or presumed to be so.

Bard is soon chosen as the leader inevitably, as the townspeople follow his orders and try to salvage what they can. I continue my search, for Legolas, or even Tauriel.

Legolas reaches me first, a hint of worry in his eyes as he examines me from head to toe. "Are you alright? Are you wounded?"

"I'm fine," I mutter, embarrassed that he thinks me so fragile, compared to an elf. Then again, I am useless in fights. "Are you?"

He looks shocked that I would even ask, as we head over to where Tauriel waits. "Of course I am fine."

"Of course." He barely checks Tauriel, and I am embarrassed, as neither of them bears even a scratch, whereas I am covered in blood, dirt, and soaking wet.

Tauriel checks me. "Are you alright?" She sounds like she asks more out of courtesy, than out of care.

"Yes." I answer shortly, blushing.

Legolas turns to me, speaking to me not as an interior, but as an equal. I suppose it is an improvement. Perhaps we are friends now, after what we have seen together, or perhaps we are not. I don't know, he is hard to read. "We ride North," he says - an invitation. "To Gundabad."

I frown, confused. "Where's that?"

He looks at me seriously. "It used to be the stronghold of the kingdom of Angmar, when the orcs ruled these lands. Now, it should be abandoned, but those orcs, they wore it's mark."

I've never even heard of Angmar, but it must be serious. Still, I don't think Tauriel wants me to come, and honestly, I would only slow them down. "I'm going to help Laketown rebuild," I tell him, smiling a little. "They will not last the winter without aid."

Bard walks forward, perhaps overhearing our conversation. "I'm glad to hear you'll be joining us," he says, nodding. "But you are right- we will not last long."

"Where will you go?" Asks Legolas, as Tauriel looks increasingly impatient.

Bard sighs, heavily. "There is only one place."

"The mountain! You are a genius, sire. We can take refuge inside the mountain. It might smell a bit of dragon - The women can clean up. It will be safe and warm and dry, and full of stores, bedding, clothing...the odd bit of gold." The master's little servant joins us, sucking up to Bard fakely. Bard doesn't look the least bit inclined to pay him any attention.

"What gold is in that mountain is cursed. We will take only what was promised to us - only what we need to rebuild our lives."

I gasp, worrying for the safety of the dwarves. "Cursed?"

"News of the death of Smaug will have spread through the lands. Other will now look to the mountain - for its wealth, or its position."

"What is it that you know?"

"Nothing for certain. It's what I fear may come."

Legolas turned, clasping my hands gently. "Farewell, then, Raelyn. May we meet again, someday."

I laugh a little, amused at his strange elvish formalities. "May it be under better circumstances, my lord." With that, Legolas mounts his horse, riding away without so much as a glance back. Bard give me an amused smile, which I ignore, as I pick up as many supplies as I can.

As we walk towards the mountain, I fall into step besides Bard. "What did you mean by 'cursed'?"

He glances at me, a little pitying. "Dragonsickness. Thorin's grandfather had it. The dragon had it. Thorin was developing it."

I defend him instantly, loyal to him. "No, he wasn't."

Bard only sighs, before turning away, changing the subject. "Thank you, for everything you did, for everything you're doing. For helping us."

I smile, grateful for the change in topic to distract me from my aching arms, as I carry a large pile of sticks. "You are welcome."

"Why?" He asks, curious. "Why do you help?"

I sigh, downcast. "I grew up in a human village." I say. "Everyone was poor, and starving, and merely surviving, much like here. Only difference was, sometimes richer travellers passed through and helped us, to survive, to leave town."

"That's how you got out," he nods, in understanding.

"The master of the town, and the guards were all corrupt. One day an elf envoy from Rivendell came to see them, and happened upon my mother." Bard nods, knowing all too well the feeling. "He couldn't save her," I say, sadly. "He left money and food and everything we needed to rebuild our lives." I don't mention how the master of our village tore the coin from our hands and claimed it as his own.

Bard sneaks a glance at me, surprised. "Was he your father?'

I shake my head. "My mother would have told me, should it have been so," I remind him. "Just a kind elf. My father never cared for my mother and I."

Bard casts another glance at me, surveying me from head to toe. "You don't look like a half-elf," he says, contemplatively. "You look more elf that human to me."

"I get that a lot," I reply, as we finally reach the city of Dale. It is in ruins, full of charred bodies and half burnt buildings.

"Come on, keep moving." Bard says.

"Sire, sire, come here!" Alfrid cries, calling Bard, whom he insists on addressing as 'sire'.

Bard rushes up to meet Alfrid, as they examine the mountain, and Bard gives me a subtle nod. So they survived, thank goodness. I am grateful.

"Make camp here tonight. Find what shelter you can. Get some fires going. Alfrid, you take the night watch." Bard commands, climbing down to help people gently.

I obey, setting down my supplies thankfully, my arms aching. However, there's still much to do, as I tend to the wounded's wounds until late into the night, before I can finally settle down to sleep.

The morning comes quickly, and thankfully. The sun is still bright relatively early, and with any luck it will be a gentle winter.

Supplies are running low, so I only eat a piece of bread, giving the food to the children and the wounded first. A few men try to give me more, as Bard ordered for the women to come first too, but I refuse. I'm a woman, but I'm used to surviving on less food, so I don't need it. Plus, I'm part elf. I'm not likely to die if starvation anytime soon.

"We need more water," a woman says to me gently, almost begging.

I smile, a little pitying. "There's no more, I'm afraid."

I then follow Bard, meaning to talk to him. "Will you speak with Thorin?"

He gives me a sharp glance. "Do you wish to come?"

I shake my head, embarrassed for being a coward, but I am afraid to face Thorin again. "No, you should go alone."

He nods, gently. "What happened between you?"

I'm saved from answering his questions as Alfrid joins is, looking groggy, but remarkable well rested for someone who had the night watch. "Morning, Alfrid. What news from the night watch?"

"All quiet sire, I must report. Nothing gets last me."

Bard and I nod, unsurprised. Nobody is likely to come up here, in the winter. It's too harsh, and too hard to survive.

However, as we follow Bard through the archways, and beautiful charred architecture, he stops short. There before us is an army of elves, standing bright in all their shining gold glory.

"Except an army of elves, it would seem." Bard says, sighing.

I have to admit, I'm embarrassed for Alfrid.

Bard approaches, and the elves move, synchronised, in perfectly formed lines so that he may walk through. I follow him, feeling unnerved as they stare blankly ahead. They are so disciplined, so ancient. An elven army is truly a terrifying thing.

"My lord Thranduil, I did not look to see you here." Bard says, in awe, but still polite. It would not do well to offend Thranduil now.

"I heard you needed aid," Says Thranduil, imperiously seated in his significant stag. His form is perfect, and I'm once again stunned by the strange and utter perfection of the elves.

The wagons he gestures to are loaded with supplies- food, water, medicine. I'm surprised, that Thranduil would do anything to help these people who are not his kin. Why go to all this trouble? It is unexpected.

"You have saved us! I do not know how to thank you." Says Bard, amazed.

"Your gratitude is misplaced. I did not come in your behalf. I came to reclaim something of mine." Ah, so there it is. The gems he wanted, that's why he's here. Surely the must be some gems, if he should go to war over it. Though maybe he doesn't intend to go to war, only to intimidate Thorin into handing them over. Well, it will never work. Thorin would rather die than aid Thranduil.

As I think this, Thranduil's troops begin to move again, only have paused to help the people. They march toward the mountain in perfect form, a deadly army about to lay waste to my friends. How can I forsake them like this? I am so torn, between doing what I believe is right, and doing what is the most true to myself. 

Thranduil perhaps sees the turmoil behind my eyes, as he gives me an imperceptible nod, as he turns to watch his troops.

Bard, at least, seems just as horrified as I am, at the thought of this army facing Thorin. "Wait! Please, wait! You would go to war over a handful of gems?"

"The heirlooms of my people are not likely forsaken." Thranduil says. Are they the heirlooms of his people, or his heirlooms, I wonder? It seems likely.

We are allies in this. My people also have a claim upon the riches in that mountain! Let me speak with Thorin!" I cast Bard a grateful glance, thankful that he will at least attempt to reason with Thorin. After that, I can make my decision. If Thorin is himself again, he will give Bard what he needs, and I will return to the company, and doe with them, if needs be. If Thorin has been overcome by madness, he won't give Bard what he need. Then I shall knows that Thorin Oakenshield is truly dead.