Bard grunted as he was overpowered by two orc warriors, their knives drawn in anger, their low guttural cries of fury ringing in his ears.
He managed to take down three with arrows before the crows managed to distort his field of vision and harangue him with their incessant pecking-not enough to pierce skin or inflict real damage, but enough to bother him terribly.
Now as he fell, trying to fend off the scraping nails and claws of the green and grey skinned creatures, he acknowledge a growing dread and fury welling in his chest.
These damnable creatures were going to be the death of him?! The thought was so utterly absurd and ridiculous!
And yet here he laid, pinned beneath a vicious monster of a creature, staring down the jagged end of a knife. He could die in this moment
And he would have let them down.
Everyone.
His son.
The children.
Even the little hobbit.
With a roar of frustration, he thrust his arms upward, catching one orc in the jaw. He kicked his legs and sent the other orc sprawling in a tangled mass of flopping limbs and annoyed cries.
Rolling, he managed to jab his bow into the orcs throat, pushing the creature completely off balance and giving Bard a chance to rise to his feet.
For a moment at least. Several crows dived at the man, sending him stumbling backwards in surprise. He tripped over one of the orcs and tumbled backwards, landing on his back with a groan of surprise.
And then an orc was on top of him again.
The orc he'd caught in the jaw, backhanded the bowman and managed to yank the bow from Bard's grasp, his knife poised to strike the man in the chest.
But something connecting with the orcs backside made the creature jerk forward in surprise and confusion, a look of pain crossing its features as the knife slipped from its grasp and it dropped forward landing atop the struggling man.
The body was utterly still and Bard tilted his head, as he pushed the deceased creature off of him.
He noted two arrows embedded into the creatures back. Bright golden and white arrows, far more pristine and elegant than anything he owned.
Elvish arrows.
"Get them!" Legolas' voice thundered through the air. "Don't let anyone escape."
The bowman scrambled to his feet as a large gathering of elves encircled the few remaining orcs, picking them off one by one.
The crows, sensing defeat, retreated, their caws echoing in the air. Bard dreaded where they might be heading, but there was very little he could do about them at the moment.
Retrieving his bow, he adjusting his sling of arrows, ensuring that the black one remained and then he turned to face the elf prince, who stood, his lips thin and pursed as he gaze around.
"Sorry we're late," The elf gave Bard a small smile and gentle clap on the back, "I was not expecting to find so many adversaries in these woods. This is bad news." He shot a more somber glance at the bowman, "Those were no ordinary birds and they've returned to report to their master. We've but a short time to complete our task. We must hurry. My father would already be in the city by now."
Bard nodded and followed after the tall, graceful creatures feeling a worry tickling his brain. If orcs were this far out, surrounding the lake, had they already infiltrated the city? Just what sort of alliances did The Master have?
He quickened his pace as he gazed at the cloudy sky, noting the lateness in the day. It was afternoon. They needed to hurry.
He hoped the little thrush had found the hobbit.
*****
The silence was deafening as they passed through the city, the city that lay in tatters, in ruin and completely undisturbed for decades.
Lyla's eyes shifted, absorbing every minute detail. She knew that the City of Dale must have been a truly remarkable edifice at the height of its glory. Everywhere there were buildings and winding streets, paved ever so carefully. The city was far larger than her little Hobbiton.
And what should have been a grand and bustling city, surrounded by a thriving, rich forest, by all accounts, lay in ruin, a town of ghostly memories and unspoken horrors.
The outer wall was crumbling, entire sections missing.
Houses had been demolished, rubble cluttering the streets.
Overturned baskets charred by fire lay, undisturbed, gathering dust
She even spied a small doll, obviously handmade, lying beneath a few strayed pieces of stone.
And everywhere there was ash.
Piles of ash, and bone (and Lyla bit back a gasp when she realized that it WAS bone) littered the streets, tumbling into the open doorways with their splintered, sooty wood. Scorch marks, undimmed by times movement grazed most walls.
And surrounding the walls, skeleton trees, blackened and barren dotted the hillside.
It was as if Dale was forever trapped in that moment where life and death connected.
It sent tremors down Lyla's spine.
Dwalin set a comforting hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.
"Don't think too much on it lass," He murmured, his tone barely above a whisper and gruff with a bitter timbre, "Don't think about it."
The hobbit nodded her head and tried to brandish the disturbing thoughts from her mind as the silent company worked their way slowly through the streets.
That, however, was easier said than done. Each step she took brought her further into the city, further into the desolation.
She felt an odd, emptiness take hold of her. A sad bitterness swept through her veins.
She caught Thorin's eye and knew that he shared the same bitterness. His face was pulled into a frown, his eyes hard with a weariness weaving through the blue orbs.
And she was grateful that they didn't linger longer than need be, not only for herself, but for her companions as well. It seemed that no one was particularly anxious to remain in such a still and desolate tomb of memories.
Though, she wasn't particularly anxious to reach her destination either.
Inside that tomb of a mountain, a dragon lay.
A dragon she was going to face.
Her eyes swept over the mountain in awe and trepidation and she had to remind herself of the reason WHY she was doing this.
Why she was stepping into a dragon's den.
And WHO she was stepping into it for.
As they reached, what she assumed to be the main gate of the city, a wide, expansive roadway met her feet and she gazed with renewed awe at the vision before her.
The mountain sat, regal, unshakeable and proudly looming over the valley Lyla stood in. And the cloud cover only seemed to enhance this image, illuminating the jagged outcroppings and twisted, rocky spiraling peaks dusted in snow.
Lyla's breath caught in her throat as she stepped onto the road and saw before her two exceptionally large figures hewn straight from the rock of the mountain itself. Two giant dwarven guards stood like sentinels, their immovable axes at the ready, protecting, what must have been a grand entrance into the mountain, now crumbled and buried beneath rubble.
The breath disappeared from her lungs and she stopped for a moment spellbound by the image. It was almost surreal in quality and sent strange tingles down her arms and to her fingertips.
It was magnificent.
"Erebor," Kili whispered, coming to a standstill next to Lyla, "I-I never thought that we'd ever get here."
"Our home," Fili murmured coming to stop on Lyla's other side.
"It's beautiful," Lyla whispered in awe, her breath ghosting through the air.
"Aye lass, it's certainly a sight," Balin had stepped back near the two young princes and the stilled hobbit. Even his voice held a strange reverence. "You should have seen it in all its glory. Truly magnificent."
"Yes." Thorin had also turned and Lyla noted the dazed, faraway look on his face.
The same look that many in the company shared as they too took in the sight.
"Yes, it was magnificent. And it will be again one day." Thorin's gruff voice was soft, gentle. He gazed at Lyla thoughtfully, some unknown emotion flitting across his face. "We'll make it whole again. You'll see."
He gazed her a moment longer and then turned with a blink back towards the mountain in silence.
Lyla memorized the dwarf king's silhouette as he surveyed his home, a home that he had not seen since he was forced from it so many years ago. The man stood proud, his shoulders squared, a determined air about him.
"Come." His voice carried over the stilled, silent company. "We still have a ways to go yet and the day is half over."
Bofur turned back to catch Lyla's gaze with a small smile and a quick wave of his hand as they resumed their march forward.
She supposed he meant to comfort her.
So, too, she suspected, did Fili and Kili and Dwalin, as they remained on either side of her, as they followed their leader and king towards the entrance of Erebor.
The closer they marched, however, the more Lyla learned of the dragon's damage. One of the guards had been cracked, chipped, and disfigured, nearly broken in two, a sign that something powerful and sinister lurked beneath the façade of grandeur.
Lyla blinked a few times, her awe lessening as she was constantly reminded of the tainted spirit that hung over this place.
A low chirping noise made the hobbit visibly start. She gazed up in surprise and confusion as a small bird careened towards her a ball of fluttering wings and anxious movement.
Kili chuckled lightly, "Mistress Boggins!" he cajoled, "Startled by a tiny bird? How are you ever to face the terrible Smaug when you're so flighty and skittish?"
Dwalin's grip on her shoulder suddenly disappeared.
"Ow!" Kili cried pulling away and rubbing the side of his head, "What was that for then?" he scowled back at Dwalin.
"Oi you blockhead," Fili retorted, "We're right in front of the mountain! You can't be makin' jokes about the dragon, when it's right there inside!"
Lyla gazed back towards Kili who had a sheepish look on his face.
"Oh, uh yes..." he trailed off giving Lyla a bashful smile. "Sorry."
'Oh give me strength' she murmured silently turned a wide-eyed gaze towards the mountain, 'Aule give me strength to do this.
And then, suddenly time seemed to speed up in Lyla's eyes. The ascent to the hidden doorway was over in a flash. They traveled, single file, up the tall dwarven statue where a small path had been carved along the dwarf's arm and axe handle, silent as mice towards a low lying outcropping tucked away from view. Once or twice someone's footing slipped (even Lyla's), but Balin's suggestion to loop rope to their belts was a well thought plan, one that saved all their lives when Nori took a tumble backwards, nearly falling to his death on the jagged rocks below.
Lyla also thought it was a stroke of genius to keep Bombur at the BACK of the line.
When they were all safely situated in the alcove and untied, the dwarves dispersed and clamored about the space, searching, whispering and gazing about in wonder. The sun was still too high, and they could do nothing but watch and wait for the right moment when the door would be revealed to them.
Lyla chose, instead of following their example, to rest herself for a moment.
And all the while the little bird twittered and chirped near Lyla's head, much to the hobbit's surprise.
"What is it you want little creature?" she murmured, curling into the inner most alcove of the outcropping as the other surveyed the view and hunted for signs of a doorway. She started, perplexed a at the fluttering wings and black eyes that swirled in her vision. "I'm afraid I'm not particularly good company."
The bird gave a mighty chirp and then pecked at the hobbit's nose before settling on her shoulder with a small shake of its feathers.
Lyla rubbed her nose agitatedly and shot a perplexed glare at the small, flighty creature resting on her shoulder and turned to gaze at the sky, watching the way the dwarves fidgeted and explored, their energy coiled into every movement.
Bofur stood closest to the hobbit, his face turned towards the valley, leaning on his mattock and tapping his fingers in a very careful rhythm. Ori stood across from him, jotting furiously in that journal of his (And how he managed to keep track of the infernal thing through all their travels Lyla had no idea). Every few moments the scribe would pause and gaze around at the company, eyes assessing and critical and then return to his task, his deft hand moving quickly across the pages.
Bifur, Dori and Oin were gazing upwards at the height of the mountain, their mouths open in wonder, eyes wide. Occasionally, one would whisper and point upwards, the other two following suit.
Nori's eyes, in contrast, were shifting around the ground, inspecting something or another, as he dragged his foot through the dirt, his face was pinched and contemplative.
Perhaps he was inspecting the reliability of the stone?
But the others were huddled together, whispering heatedly as Balin and Thorin pointed at the map that the dwarf king held in his hands
"Durin's day is upon us," Thorin muttered his eyes shifting around "How-how will we know where the door is?"
"How indeed," Lyla murmured gazing about.
All she knew was that they were to stand by the grey stone at the last light of Durin's Day. That didn't exactly narrow things down did it?
Everything was grey.
"I see you have the right idea Lassie," Oin remarked slumping down next to her.
The bird on her shoulder gave an angry chirp and flapped forward, starting to peck at the unsuspecting dwarf.
"Hey!" Lyla cried, "Leave him alone. He's not going to hurt you! Or me...or anyone really, so just calm down!
The bird chirped again, pinched the tip of the hobbit's ear and settled back on her shoulder, its feathers puffed up and a glare (or that's what it appeared to Lyla anyway) on its face.
"Temperamental little bugger," she grumbled as Oin stared at her, a look of confusion written on his face.
"How'd ye get that little thrush to perch on yer shoulder like that lass?"
Lyla huffed and shot a glare at the bird, the thrush, that had closed its eyes for the time being.
"Nothing. I did nothing." She remarked gruffly, folding her arms and scrunching her legs up, "The thing won't leave me alone!"
Oin chuckled again and rubbing his cheek where an angry red welt was growing, "Mighty fierce little thing isn't it..." he trailed off giving Lyla a thoughtful look, "Kind of like you hobbit folk I'd say."
Lyla gaped at the dwarf in surprise, her mouth falling open slightly.
Did he really just compare her to a tiny little bird?
"Aye that's a true comparison isn't it!" Bofur chortled, swing his mattock lightly, a grin on his face. "A little bird of a hobbit facing down a monster of a dragon!"
He gave Lyla a cheeky smile and shuffled nearer to the Shireling.
Lyla just frowned up at the dwarf, trying to ignore the truthfulness of his comparison.
"That's hardly fair, you know," she retorted heatedly, "You lot are hardly much taller than I am."
Bofur ruffled her hair teasingly, "Aye lass, that'd be true, but we're not going in after some giant furnace with wings are we?"
Furnace with wings?
Lyla swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.
"I don't think yer helpin' much there lad," Oin remarked, his gaze drifting between the hobbit and the miner. "Best not talk of the dragon right now..."
But for some reason, Bofur was takin' delight in this conversation and he waved the concerned doctor off. "Oh it'll be nothin'. This lass here can handle anything. Lacerations...incineration..."
Lyla's eyebrow twitched. "Incineration?! Are you suggesting that I'm going to die?"
Bofur only laughed some more and slung his arm around the confused hobbit. "Nah, nothin' so terrible 's that! Just givin' ye a description of the chiefest and greatest calamity of
our age." He turned and winked at Lyla, who was utterly flummoxed by the dwarf's actions. "Teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks...extremely fond of precious metals..."
WHY was he saying all this to her?!
Lyla closed her eyes trying to block out the growing panic. She was starting to feel a bit faint. Here they say at on the doorstep, so close to the dragon.
It was all so real now. No longer just a dream or a story.
And did Bofur think he was being helpful by saying all those things?
Was he really that DENSE?
A hand grasped her chin and Lyla's eyes flew open in surprise and wariness.
Bofur turned her face towards his own and brought their foreheads together, a soft smile on his face.
"Aye lass, it may be a scary thought to go after that monstrous beast. But, he's got somethin' coming that he's never seen before. Ye'll be just fine. Smaug doesn't stand a chance against ye."
Lyla's brows knit together in confusion. Was he being serious?
"All of this is hardly comforting," she remarked pulling away. "I'm going to face a dragon. I'm not a hero, or a warrior...or even a burglar! How am I to do this?"
"Aye," Bofur leaned away but tucked his hand inside her own, "A burglar or a warrior ye may not be, but yer a quick-witted thing. Ye'll think of somethin'."
Lyla snorted in derision, but gave the dwarf's hand a gentle squeeze.
In his own strange way, the miner meant to bring her comfort.
She snuggled into the crook of the dwarf's arm, mindful of the little bird that still sat, perched and asleep on her shoulder and stared out into the valley, watching as the dwarves also began to settle down, with most sitting and staring around in awe, trepidation and confusion.
Lyla caught the familiar mass of long dark ebony hair and the stern gaze of the dwarf king as he gaze about in frustration, his hands clenched into fists. When he noted her gaze upon him, the dwarf sat straighter, his eyes softening ever so slightly and a small smirk appearing on his lips.
He gave a nod of his head towards her and Lyla felt a creeping heat warm up her neck.
But she returned the smile hesitantly.
And then, the sun's light burst forth from the clouds and bathed Lyla and the rest in a brilliant bright light. The hobbit, cringed and put a hand up to shield her eyes from the sudden brightness.
The little thrush on her shoulder chirped loudly in the hobbit's ear and then twittered away in the flurry of movement, out into the open sky.
'What could have possessed that creature to finally move? The sun?' She thought in confusion.
Her confusion only heightened, however, when the thrush returned just as swiftly, something small and round captured in its beak and returned near Lyla, sitting on a small jagged piece of rock above the hobbit's head.
Lyla scrambled to her feet, eyes wide, when the bird started to knock, what she now recognized as a snail, against the side of the mountain.
She heard Balin's intake of breath and felt the rest of the dwarves clamor around, watching the bird in rapt attention.
"Stand by the grey stone," She whispered. By Aule this was happening...
"Where the thrush knocks," Thorin's rich voice was near her ear, "And the last light of Durin's day will show the key hole."
A large warm hand wrapped around hers, a thumb rubbing soft circles across her wrist, as the sun's light slowly filtered down, setting below the horizon.
And in a flash of brilliance, a small keyhole was illuminated before the wide-eyed audience of the company members.