35

"As soon as we have the weapons, we'll make straight for the mountain." Thorin whispered to the Company, nudging Nori forward. "Go."

The dwarves and Bilbo were just outside the armory building, having left Bard's home after the sun had set. Unlike Talia and Balin had suggested, their leader had decided to go to the armory and break into Lake-Town's supply of weapons. The pair exchanged a glance as Nori makes ran for the building, using his momentum to climb on the rest of the dwarves as they piled in front of the window. Although Bard had told them that the Master was nothing more than a greedy fool, they knew he was still the one in charge; one slip-up and they could be jailed, meaning they would miss their chance to reach the mountain. 

"You must know this is foolish." Talia shot him a look as the other dwarves filtered in through the unguarded window. Balin couldn't help but listen in, nodding along with Talia.

"Maybe." Thorin admitted. "But should anything happen that would cause the dragon to wake, we cannot kill him with a pike hook."

"Then we should be searching for Black Arrows."

"As far as we know, the Black Arrows are gone. You saw your father with no more than two remaining. If anything, they are lying under the rubble that is Dale."

"They are the only thing that can pierce his hide."

"Who said we had to aim for his hide?" Thorin pulled his wife closer. "I saw your dagger in his eye on that fateful day. We know there are other ways to kill him."

Talia sighed, sparing a glance at Balin. The elder dwarf could only shrug back, for he could not deny Thorin had a point. "I don't like it."

"You don't have to." He fired back, motioning to the few dwarves remaining outside. "Go on."

Talia rolled her eyes, scaling their backs and hopping through the window. Upon her arrival, she saw the dwarves arming themselves with piles and piles of weapons. She wanted to scold them for their greed, but it was warranted, since these weapons were of beautiful make. Talia eventually met with Fili and Kili, exchanging daggers and swords wordlessly to find what best suited each other.

Minutes later, all of the dwarves were inside. Thorin was the last to hoist himself through the window, gesturing to Talia to help him collect extra weapons. Soon, her arms were loaded with swords as the dwarves began to filter through the building and down the steps, successfully evading the sleeping guards.

When only the last of the sons of Durin remained, Talia started down the stairs, followed by Thorin and her nephews. She paused momentarily, sparing a glance out the window adjoining the steps.

That was when she saw him.

Bard was standing on the docks a little ways off, conversing with an elder man as the frigid air puffed from his mouth. The moonlight glistened off the lake behind them, illuminating both figures clearly. Talia pushed the window open to hear their conversation as Bard listened to the beggar earnestly, transfixed by what he had to say.

"But the prophecy is a fairy story, lad. One from ages ago, from Dale."

"Yes, but I am positive it is him. I know the line of Durin has long been forgotten to our people, but I went to the keeper of the tapestries and found my proof. His name was on it, clear as day— Thorin. If you would recite it to me but one more time."

"Alright, lad. Only because I like you." The elder man sighed, taking a small sip from his canteen and beginning to recite the prophecy.

"The Lord of Silver Fountains, the King of Carven Stone. The King Beneath the Mountain shall come into his own. And the bells shall ring in gladness at the Mountain King's return. But all shall fade in sadness, and the lake will shine and burn."

Fili and Kili exchanged worried looks at the information before looking to their aunt. "Is it true?" Fili asked as Thorin descended the steps alongside them.

"Is what true?"

But Talia was focused on something else. As Bard continued to ask the elder man questions, he gestured and freed a chain that had hung underneath his tunic. The ornament on the silver was nothing special; to the ordinary eye, it would appear rather dull. Still, it was enough for Talia. Now, she understood why Bard was so familiar to her. His looks, his eyes, the way he spoke all came back to her, for she had seen it before. She had seen it in her own father.

A silver bar, long tarnished by many owners and years of wear, dangled from the chain.

One that was exactly the same as hers.

"Auntie?"

Before the dwarves could even react, Talia stumbled backwards, catching her foot in the step and sending the weapons tumbling down the stairs with a CRASH. Fili and Kili rushed to help her as the dwarves froze, hearing the guards snort awake at their posts. Bard spared a glance in their direction at the noise, meeting Thorin's eyes before the dwarf rushed down the stairs.

"Run." He said, moving towards the door. "Run!"

Then, the Company was stopped by two guards, blocking the armory's exit. Before they could even move, more and more Lake-Town guards piled into the armory, forcing the dwarves to drop their weapons in defeat. The brothers had finally helped Talia stand as she pulled her foot from the step, but no one paid them any mind as they were all swept into the custody of the men.

As they were dragged out of the armory, Talia surmised that they were headed towards the town square. Some people whispered as they passed them, while others cheered and rejoiced at the sight. She figured that they had been recognized because of the prophecy, but she didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing from the mixed reaction she received.

Meanwhile, Thorin and Dwalin shot each other a look, seeing Talia's dazed expression. They could tell that her head was clouded with a million thoughts, probably regarding what had caused her to fall. They were worried about her downcast expression, her lack of struggle against the men, for it was so unlike her. Since Thorin clearly wouldn't do it, Dwalin pulled against the guard holding him to get closer to her, trying to meet her averted eyes.

"Talia, what the hell just happened? Is everything alright?"

"I saw a ghost." She whispered, meeting Dwalin's eyes. He saw that his friend was enormously pale and evidently distraught, but he still didn't know why.

"What ghost?"

"Of who?" Thorin whispered, trying to remain discreet. He was trying not to get cross with her for her actions, but he also knew that Talia was rarely distracted from an objective. Whatever she had seen had a strong hold on her, if it was enough to sacrifice her stealth.

She lifted her head slightly, looking to her husband. "My father."

Before they could question it further, the Company had reached their destination. They were shoved into the center of the huddled masses, surrounded by townspeople and guards alike. Based on the size of the house in front of them, they had been taken to the Master. In Lake-Town, committing a treason as weighty as theirs could not wait until morn to be brought to justice. 

"What is the meaning of this?" The Master questioned, quivering in his robes and nightgown from the cold.

"We caught them stealing weapons, Sire."

The Master let out a noise of understanding, though he was not as cross as he typically would be. Dwarves in these parts interested the Master enormously. "Enemies of the state?"

"A desperate bunch of mercenaries if ever there was, Sire."

Talia rolled her eyes at the servant's words. She was sure she could gut him from where he stood if she had but one knife on her person. But Dwalin already had the situation covered, stepping forward from their ranks.

"Hold your tongue! You do not know to whom you speak." The burly dwarf stepped aside to reveal his leader. "This is no common criminal. This is Thorin. Son of Thrain, son of Thror!"

Thorin stood beside Dwalin, ignoring the intrigue of the Lake-Town natives. However, the Master's eye caught on another figure who was revealed by the dwarf. Talia glared at him as he leaned on his cane, taking in her frame. "And who is that?"

"No dwarf, Sire." Alfrid observed, noticing the lack of facial hair on her jaw. "Actually, it's quite hard to tell. She's built like one, but she's got no beard."

"What is she, then?"

"I can speak for myself!" She stopped Dwalin before he could introduce her as well, passing him and walking forward next to her husband. Anyone in the crowd could feel the respect her presence commanded. "I am Talia Rue Ashenstone. Butcher of Beasts, and—"

"The Queen Under the Mountain." Alfrid finished, turning to his Master.

"I thought she was proclaimed dead after the Battle for... for... what's the bloody mine called?"

"Moria, Sire. But evidently not; she lives, clear as day."

"Oh, well that's good, then. It would be a shame to lose such a pretty face."

Before Talia could rip his own face off, Thorin took his chance to put an end to the formalities. "We are the dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland."

Upon this revelation, the townspeople murmured amongst themselves, whispering of the prophecy. Talia watched as the Master leaned forward, sharing a similar captivation with the prospect. 

"I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake. This was the center of all trade in the North!" Thorin began, turning to address the people. "I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves, and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!"

The crowd cheered, pumping their fists in the firelight. Women hugged their families at the idea of prosperity, nearly sobbing from delight, while the men roared alongside them.

However, another figure could not share the same sentiment. "Death! That is what you'll bring upon us!" Bard shoved his way through the masses and walked towards Thorin, eying Talia momentarily before addressing the King. "Dragon fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all."

Thorin paid him no mind, turning away from him and back to the crowd. "You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this; if we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!"

The townspeople roared alive once more, but Bard took it upon himself to silence them. "All of you! Listen to me, you must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?" People exchanged glances within the crowd, shaking their heads. "And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a mountain King, so driven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!"

"Now, now." The Master interjected, settling the crowd and eyeing his rival. "We must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget, that it was Girion, Lord of Dale— your ancestor— who failed to kill the beast!"

"It's true, Sire. We all know the story. Arrow after arrow, he shot. Each one missing it's mark."

Dwalin turned to face Talia, who had her gaze transfixed on Bard. "Girion was your father?"

But this did not go unnoticed by the townspeople, who gasped at the drama. The Master narrowed his eyes at the dwarf lass suspiciously, hearing the comment as well. "What did he say?"

"It's true." Talia began, turning her back to the Master to face Bard and the Company. She ignored the dwarves' looks of shock, for they had never fully understood her titles, and caught Bard's attention. "Girion, Lord of Dale, was married to my mother, a dwarven healer within Dale. I am the Lady of Dale by heritage."

"You are—"

"A Half-Blood, yes." She snapped over her shoulder, silencing Alfrid. "Still, that does not make my title at all false!"

But the people of Lake-Town were weary of the information, their prior looks of shock turning into that of disgust. The Master shared in such an expression, but still, her blood was not what was important. The truth of her words was what mattered. "Can you prove it?"

Talia reached for her necklace, pulling the chain over her head and hoisting it in the air. "This bar marks the lineage of the Lords and Ladies of Dale. It was given to me by my mother. Since Bard is my father's descendant, he has one to match."

The crowd turned to him wordlessly, awe written all over their features. Wordlessly, Bard held up the necklace that Talia had seen earlier, revealing the twin silver bar.

Talia turned back to the Master. "Satisfied?"

"Very." He replied. "Still, I thought we all agreed this was nothing to be proud of! Girion failed to kill the beast. What makes you think I will give you my blessing on this quest?"

"I am not asking for your blessing." Talia snarled, walking a few steps forward. "I am proving to you that this Company's quest is backed by our birthright. That surpasses any blessing of yours by far."

"Have you heard nothing of what I say?" Bard yelled, breaking through the edge of the crowd and meeting Talia in the center of the square. Thorin watched him carefully, his eyes narrowed and his gaze cold. "We may be the carriers of that title, but it means nothing now. We have no land, no city, no people to rule over, for they perished in dragon fire!"

"But if we do not reclaim what is ours, Dale will not be his only calamity." Talia responded calmly. "If we do not kill Smaug the Terrible, he will only grow in power. As long as that beast sits in those halls, Middle Earth is even more at risk for the danger to come."

"What of the danger in the present?"

"It is nothing compared to what I have foreseen."

Bard shook his head, turning back to Thorin and pacing towards him. "You have no right—no right to enter that mountain!"

Thorin only had to meet Bard's eyes with conviction. "I have the only right."

Before he could argue, Thorin faced the man on the steps. "I speak to the Master of the Men of the lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people? What say you?"

The Master hesitated slightly, but Bard knew his mind was made. "I say unto you... welcome!"

The crowd cheered once more, the joy of their future prosperity warming their hearts in the bitter cold. Bard let out a grunt of frustration, shoving his way back through the crowd to get to his home. If his people would not listen, then death would take them all.

"Welcome and rise! Welcome, King Under the Mountain!"

As the Company was ushered into the home of the Master, Talia broke away, having no desire to celebrate. She needed to talk to Bard, to make him see reason. But Thorin caught her before she could move, looking into her eyes with confusion.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to see Bard. I need to talk to him."

"Talia, there is no convincing him. He will never believe in us."

"He does not worry of what we are capable of accomplishing; he worries about what will happen when we succeed." She said, tilting her head. "I'll be back before the night's over, I swear."

Thorin sighed, letting her go as people milled about them. Whispering her thanks, Talia raced off, leaving the dwarves to enjoy the festivities in her honor.

"Bard!" She called into the night, racing back to his home. It took her longer than it would've if she had known the way, but she eventually reached him. "Bard."

He stood on his front porch, leaning on the railing. His forearms rested on the wood as he held his face in her hands. Then, upon hearing her voice, he lifted his head up, straightening to his full height.

"What do you want, Rue?" He scoffed, shaking his head at his mistake. "But I am mistaken. That is not even your real name."

Talia winced, hearing the anger and wear in his tone. "To talk, for as long as you'll allow me."

Bard sighed, not having it in him to fight any more this evening. He allowed her to approach the railing, watching the lake's ice floated on the water as she rested her hands beside his.

"You can still call me Rue. It is my name."

"No. You are the Queen Under the Mountain."

"Just as much as I am the Lady of Dale." She retorted, exhaling lightly. As her breath fogged around her lips, she thought of her next words carefully. "I told you to call me Rue because I thought it would keep you and your family safe; ironically, it is probably the most dangerous name I own."

Bard looked to her in surprise. "How so?"

"That was what I was called during my captivity, when I forgot who I was."

"Your captivity?"

"I was proclaimed dead after the battle for Moria because I was not found, not amongst the dead or the living." Talia began, laying the groundwork for Bard to see. "That is because I was somewhere in the middle— taken, by Azog the Defiler. He tortured me for one hundred and fifteen years for information on the line of Durin, information that would help him eliminate the threat it posed him. But I could not give it, for I had suffered a head injury upon my capture that sacrificed my memory. I only escaped him a little over a year ago."

Bard took her story in. A million questions spun through his mind, but he finally settled on one. "How did you remember?"

"Gandalf the Grey convinced me to join a quest to reclaim the Lonely Mountain, one I did not know the significance of at the time. Then, when I met my travelling companions, I laid eyes on my husband for the first time in over a century. That's when I remembered. That is why I knew I had to do this."

"Rue..." The man paused, considering her words. "If you knew the risk of the dragon, then why didn't you turn back? Why didn't you put an end to this madness?"

"I know what I said back in the square, but I must confess the whole truth. While I do maintain that it is the birthright of the dwarves to take back Erebor, I did not agree with the logistics at a time. For me, home has always been where my people were; it did not matter to me that we were nomadic. But for them, it is different. They need their home. And based on what I learned in my captivity, I must agree with their quest's necessity." Talia replied, looking to Bard. Every time she saw him, he looked more and more like her father. "Azog the Defiler did not act purely on his own will when he captured me. The Orcs have an alliance with the Necromancer. If such a sorcerer is attempting to rise to power again, who knows what evil will follow."

"You speak of the legends of the One Ring." Bard realized, his eyes glistening with memory. "The Ring that gave the Dark Lord ultimate power over all of Middle Earth, and nearly destroyed the race of Men all together."

"Yes. From the wars of the First Age."

"But they are nothing more than stories. Fables that even I've told my children, intended to warn them of the darkness within the world."

"I once thought that, too." Talia confessed, a grim expression overcoming her features. "I wish I could be that naïve. But ever since my Company has embarked on this journey, the darkness has chased us every step of the way, the very same as that which I encountered in captivity and in those fables. If it should come back, Middle Earth will be in great danger. That danger would be magnified tenfold if a dragon should join it, making it all the more impossible to beat."

"You say that Smaug, if not vanquished now, will cause even more harm in later years." Bard said, coming to an understanding. "You deem risking the lives of your Company and one town less of a tragedy then risking that of the future."

"Yes. Solely based on numerical considerations." Talia replied. "I know it sounds horrible, but in the future, it will be a war that involves the entire earth. If we are to win the war, must win the battle first."

"And if you fail? If you don't kill that dragon where it slumbers?" He asked, turning to face her. "If it descends on my people and choses to watch the town burn?"

"Then I should hope that you have a Black Arrow lying around, as Girion's descendant."

Bard looked to her, a grave expression coming over his features. Still, she saw his determination, and she knew that he would be the one to kill Smaug, if it had to be. "Aye."

"I swear to you this," Talia began. "I will do everything in my power to end this fight right where it began, in the halls of Erebor. I would gladly lay down my life for anyone's safety in this town, whether it be the poor beggar on the street or your very own children."

His eyes glistened with emotion that Talia could only understand as gratitude. She knew the sentiment was heavy to the father, but she meant every word. As he took her in, he found he only had one more question left to ask.

"Why?"

"Because my captivity would become everyone's reality, should Smaug live and the darkness come to pass." Talia's green eyes held his, her grit burning like hot embers in her stare. "Trust me; you do not want to find out what that reality is like."

Without another word, Talia gripped the metal that hung from her neck, beginning to back away. "A promise." She offered, pausing once she reached the docks.

Bard did the same, holding his clenched hand to his chest. "A promise." He agreed.

So he watched her run off into the night, surely in pursuit of her Company. He could only watch her fade into the darkness and pray that she was right; if not for his sake, then for that of his children.