Seren heard the arguing long before she made her way along the narrow, rocky path leading away from Dale. She'd finished her chores and wished to get away for a bit before Mama came home. She had to be careful, though, because Mama would be furious if she knew Seren was beyond the city walls alone. It wasn't safe outside of the city. Ruffians and Orcs and all sorts of evils could be found out there and Seren would do well to remember that and never find herself out there at all. Then again. Mama didn't know Seren never went anywhere unarmed, although she would be unhappy to know her only daughter carried steel with her anytime she left the small flat they called home. As far as Seren knew, Mama was blissfully unaware of the small sword in the scabbard at Seren's side, the one that smacked her thigh reassuringly with every step. If nothing, she had sense enough to protect herself.
The voices rose, the speech growing more coarse as she made her way along the downhill path leading down from Dale, to the flat plains between it and the dwarf kingdom of Erebor. Where the path curved, it overlooked the plains, and with all of the boulders dotting the edges of the path, it was simple to remain out of sight and yet be able to see everything. Sometimes she saw dwarves, other times, she saw those who came to Erebor to barter with the dwarves. Sometimes, she would just sit up there, as if at a show, and people watch for a good part of the day. But today's show was different. Today, there were two men, one considerably taller than the other—a blond human and a dark-haired dwarf. She recognized the taller one. Alfryd was always fighting other men. Mama said he lived to cause trouble. All sorts of trouble, she'd say, but she'd never specify.
"I told you to keep away from her, dwarf," he growled.
"And I told you, I answer to no man," came the dwarf's deep-voiced retort.
"Is that so?"
"Did I stutter?"
She eased around the opening, moving closer. They were lower, down where the city of Dale sloped into the rocky plains that led to the dwarf city of Erebor. All that could be seen of Erebor was the massive stone entrance, guarded to keep out anyone not a dwarf, but when Mama told her stories at bedtime, she described Erebor as a city of gems and precious metals, sparkling and filled with the most beautiful jewelry and metalwork created by dwarven craftsmen.
Boulders and smaller rocks ringed the edge of the precipice and Seren carefully picked her way around them to a break in them. That break offered up a view of the entire vista, as far as Ravenhill in the distance. The winds were stronger there, tugging at her braid, which made her scowl as she shoved it into the neck of her tunic. Mama wouldn't let her cut her hair. It was enough she let Seren dress in leggings and tunics instead of shoving her into dresses, but she drew the line at letting her cut her hair short.
The shouts below grew louder. Carefully, Seren leaned forward. But then, the rock crumbled, skittering down the slope and she ducked back just as the men turned at the sound. Her heart beat faster as she counted slowly to thirty, then peered back just as the first punch was thrown.
She moved back to the now-broken rock and stared down as Alfryd reeled back, regained his footing and then drew a sword. "I said, stay away from my sister," he growled, stepped back toward the dwarf.
Seren's fingers tightened about her own small blade. Mama didn't know it, but Mr. Whitestone sharpened the blade for her the other afternoon, and taught her a few simple maneuvers with it. He said it would do her good to know how to protect herself, even if Mama thought she didn't need to worry about such things. She was too pretty, Mama said, and would have no trouble marrying a man who would take care of her, even if she was small for her age of nearly fourteen summers.
Well, she agreed with Mr. Whitestone. She didn't want to rely on a man for anything. After all, Mama did and it seemed nothing good ever came of having one around. They were loud, they drank too much, and they were violent when they didn't get their way, much like good old Alfryd.
Alfryd swung and she winced as he caught the dwarf's shoulder. The dwarf withdrew his own steel, swung back, and the tip nicked Alfryd's cheek. Alfryd leaped back, two fingers swiping at the bloody gash and when he drew back his hand to look at it, he growled, "You'll forfeit your life for this, dwarf."
"Do your worst."
Metal clanged as the battle began and she carefully crept along the curved path for a closer look. Alfryd towered over the dwarf by at least a foot, but the dwarf either didn't notice or didn't care, for he did not back down.
But, he also must not have known Alfryd well, for he closed the gap between them, and then let out a howl of pain and jumped back, his free hand pressed to his side. Seren was close enough to see the small scarlet stain creeping across the dwarf's midsection.
Alfryd sneered, and spun about, his fist meeting the dwarf's jaw with a resounding crack and the dwarf dropped to the ground. His sword hand opened, the blade skipped out of his grasp and out of his reach.
Steel glinted in the brilliant sunlight as Alfryd raised his blade, grasped in both hands, blade down, and started his downward swing.
"No!" Seren lunged, swinging her own sword to catch Alfryd's blade and knock it far enough to the right that it sank into the dirt instead of the dwarf.
"What the— what are you doing? This is not your concern!"
She swung again, the vibration of her blade meeting his rattled up her arms, but she only tightened her fingers about the handle to keep her hold firm. Alfryd was not so lucky. He yelped, grabbing his sword hand by the wrist as his blade went sailing.
"You little whelp! I told you to mind yourself!"
"And I will not let you hurt this man."
"Man?" Alfryd spit into the dirt. "He is but a lowly dwarf. One who thinks too highly of himself, as if he is good enough for a daughter of man."
"I mean it, Alfryd. Leave him be or I will run you through."
His eyes narrowed. "Threatening me, are you? Just you wait, whelp. I know where you live."
"Everyone knows where everyone lives here," she told him, standing over the prone dwarf, one foot on either side of his thighs, between him and Alfryd, "that hardly makes you a genius. Now," she held out her blade, almost touching his cheek, "take your leave or you can explain how I bested you and gave you that scar."
"What scar?"
"This one." A flick of her wrist and the blade sliced cleanly along his cheekbone.
He howled, his hand clapping against the wound. "You cut me!"
"I told you I would. And I'll do so again unless you take your leave now. Oh, no," she shook her head as he moved toward his steel, lying innocently in the dirt just beyond her right foot, "that remains with me."
He backed away, hand still to his face. "You'll pay for this, whelp," he growled.
"Is that so?" She took a step toward him, smiling as he spun about and ran like a whipped dog, back up the slope and out of sight.
Dust settled as she slid her sword back into its small scabbard at her right hip. A low groan wafted from the ground, and she turned back, sinking to one knee alongside the dwarf. His black hair fanned out beneath him, his black lashes lay like crescents against his cheeks. He was older than she was, with a long, full black beard as well. He was also tall for a dwarf, with broad shoulders and a wide chest.
"Easy," she said, letting her hand come to rest on his chest, just above the wound. "Let me see—"
He came to at once, shoving her hand from him as he sat up, snarling, "Take your hands from me!"
She stumbled back, hit the ground hard enough to send up a small dust cloud, and said, "Take care, dwarf. I mean you no harm."
He glared at her, getting to his feet to brush the dirt from his back. "I need no help."
"Is that so?" She got up and also brushed herself clean, "because it certainly didn't seem that way to me."
"You saw wrong." He pressed his hand to his side and grimaced. "Leave me be. I've had quite enough of men today."
She almost corrected him, but thought better of it as she lifted Alfryd's sword and held it out to him. "I suppose this is yours, then. Since you bested him and all."
He didn't trouble to reply, but turned and stalked away, leaving her to smile down at the sword in her hand. She'd have to sneak it past Mama, but that wouldn't be too difficult. Mama was so tired from her long days sewing for the people of Dale, Seren could sneak a troll into the house and she wouldn't notice.
The sun began its descent in the west, but she remained where she was, watching the dwarf make his way back to Erebor. The golden light danced along his wavy hair, which fell far below those broad shoulders. He didn't bother to look back, which was a shame really.
He had the most beautiful blue eyes she'd ever seen.
****
Seren thought about the dark-haired dwarf in the days that followed. She learned his name was Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, and he was the heir to the throne of Durin in Erebor. He didn't venture into Dale often, but every now and again, she caught sight of him, and when she did, she'd carefully track him. Just in case. Alfryd still sputtered about revenge, and Seren already decided that no one would lay a hand on Thorin as long as she was nearby.
She returned to the rocky promontory, where she could see Erebor's façade, took in the rock that became statuary and designs instead of simple rocks and stones. And that was where she stood when Smaug the dragon attacked.
She didn't see the northern fire drake until his shadow fell long over her, but then, she heard a terrible roar and spun about to stare skyward as he unleashed a great ball of fire at the heart of Dale.
"Mama!" Her heart stopped as the town square, with all of its shops, erupted in an inferno that roared worse than the dragon as the orange flames licked skyward. Black smoke rolled toward her, the acrid stench of immolated stone and wood, of flesh and bone, gagged her and made her eyes water.
Then she saw him. Smaug circled back, his leathery wings almost lazy in their swishes to keep him airborne. His greenish-gold scales glinted like armor in the sun, his belly glowed an angry orange as he drew in a deep breath and spat another fireball toward Dale. In a flash of orange and yellow, half the city was smoking rubble and she could only stand there, frozen in horror, the screams of her townspeople, her kin, echoing in her ears.
The dragon ignored her as he changed course and she spun about beneath him, following him as he swept toward Erebor. With a mighty crash, he burst through the stone fortress and she crouched alongside a boulder, watching in horror as the same orange fire spilled forth from Erebor's gates as he disappeared beneath the mountain.
Thorin.
He was in there, with his kin, with his people, and although there was truly nothing she could do, Seren unsheathed her sword and broke into a run toward the dwarf kingdom. The least she could do was help.
But, her efforts were more than pointless, as moments later, dwarves spilled from Erebor. She breathed a short-lived sigh of relief as she saw Thorin, sword drawn, free arm about another dwarf, guiding his people to safety.
He stopped, stared at her and hollered, "Help us!"
She started at the order, but nodded, only to realize she wasn't the one to whom he spoke, for every dwarf stared up, over her head, and she turned to see Thranduíl, the Elvenking, high above them, astride his majestic elk, his army of elves behind him. He stared impassively, made a gesture with one hand, and turned to amble off. The elves would not help.
She spun back to see Thorin and his people hurrying off in the opposite direction as both Erebor and Dale burned, and when she turned back to her city, her heart sank into the ground beneath her. Black smoke poured from so many buildings, fires raged in others. Dale was lost.
Her eyes stung with tears as she put the dwarves from her mind and hurried back toward Dale. As she drew nearer, her lungs almost burned from the smoke she breathed it. It left her dizzy and lightheaded, and she tried to ignore it as best she could. She had to find Mama. Had to make certain she was all right.
She wasn't. The shop where she toiled had been incinerated and their house stood, but was empty. Seren stood in the kitchen, whose back wall had been blown clean away from the dragon's blasts, and called, "Mama?" only to have silence answer her.
She was gone. Most of Dale's population was gone. A few survived, but none looked at each other as they all tried to salvage what they could and move to safety. A dragon had come to claim this land as his and as long as he was there, no-one was safe, so they all scattered to the winds.
Less than a week after the dragon's appearance, Seren stood on the outskirts of Dale, having managed to salvage some clothing, her sword, Alfryd's sword, and two knives. She was the only soul left, and that was only for a few minutes longer. Then, she bid it a final farewell and set out toward the west, where she could start anew.