Heart of Embers (Thorin Oakenshield Love Story)

Chapter 42

It had taken all of five minutes to rally the King's Guard.

But it was five minutes they did not have.

Thorin put both hands on the hilt of his sword as he jogged to the gates. The gates now shut fast against the approach of the dragon. Smaug, he'd heard people whisper as he passed. Last of the great dragons, and some said the deadliest.

He knew there was not much he could do against it, but he had to try. For Arien, he had to try. He'd lost track of Balin as he rushed to find the woman who was... his –– there was no other way to describe it. And now Thorin could not find his friend.

He forced those thoughts out of his head as he saw the gate buckle under the strength of the dragon, flame dancing in the gaps. If the dragon could do that...

Thorin skidded to a stop, fear lancing through him like a whip. More flame flared. Thorin lifted his sword to shoulder height. It was useless, he thought as that dread lashed at him. This stand –– it was useless.

The gates buckled again, the hall flooding with golden light.

They would hold. Nothing had ever gotten past those gates before. They had to hold.

Flame blazed. The dragon roared. The gates buckled.

The King's Guard held fast behind him.

He could almost hear the screaming from Dale nearby.

Armour clinked. Fire burned.

And the gates of Erebor shattered into wood and dust.

The dwarves behind him recoiled as planks of wood rained down upon them. The cold light of daylight flooded the hall. Thorin raised his sword.

"Thérka! ('Steady')!" he roared, just as...

Just as a clawed wing almost as big as the gate itself reached in and crushed the stone around it into nothing.

Golden light flared.

And the King's Guard of Erebor began to run, shields over their heads, spears pointed at the gate as a plume of smoke obscured the entrance.

And then flame and huge blocks of marble crashed down upon them as the gates of Erebor –– Thorin's home –– shattered, and the dragon burst through.

It wasn't possible.

No one, no one, got through those gates if the dwarves didn't want them to.

And yet...

The black smoke and rubble cleared to reveal...

Reveal...

"No," Thorin choked out.

Soldiers were burning as they fled, as they fell to their knees and screamed. Thorin's home, his people, were burning. He had gone numb.

With shock and horror and...

The dragon –– Smaug –– strode in, throwing Thorin's warriors into the walls as if they were no more than flies. When they fell to the floor they did not get up. Dead –– they were dead. And it was his fault. He had led them to their death. Thorin himself was on the floor, having been thrown there when the dragon burst in. A great foot slammed down upon him.

It was all Thorin's numb body could do to roll out of the way, and he did not even think or have the strength to use his blade.

The dragon's tail swept inside Erebor as Thorin lay amongst the rubble and broken bodies of his kin.

And Thorin knew that there was no going back. Not for him.

Erebor was lost.

***

Thorin had not moved. Could not move. He just lay there in the rubble.

Erebor was lost. And his people...

He could hear their screams echoing through the mountain. And there was nothing he could do.

Arien... If Arien had not got out, she was dead.

Dead.

No. No.

Thorin moved, springing to his feet, leaping over the bodies of his dead warriors, to find Arien, Arien. If she was already dead...

His heart was thundering-thundering-thundering in his chest as he reached people trying to flee. Smaug had left them alive. Why?

Because he was done feasting. He wanted the gold.

Thorin reached a group of people.

"Where is Arien?" he panted. At their blank faces, he added "Young looking elf-like girl, red hair, green eyes, slender, beautiful..."

"I saw her leave through the gates," said one.

Thorin could have fallen to his knees in relief. She was safe. His queen... she was safe.

"No one's seen the King, though," added another. "They're saying he's dead."

Thorin's head snapped to the dwarf. His grandfather, his king, dead. Despite all he'd done, Thror was still family. Was still his king. And Thorin did not give up on family. He could not be dead.

And then Thorin realised what he would have done. He would have tried to save the Arkenstone. And the gold. The gold –– where Smaug was headed.

He could not let his grandfather die.

And so Prince Thorin turned away from his chance of freedom and plunged deeper into his burning kingdom to save his grandfather.