57 Chapter 57: Statis Quo
The thick mist had rolled in unexpectedly from the direction of Mirkwood, enveloping the entire town and nearly half the lake in a dense blanket of fog. The mist was abnormal for it had overtaken the city mid-afternoon. It was thick and almost tangible as if made from an oppressive shadow. Even the lanterns that swung and creaked in the chill breeze struggled to cut through the enveloping gloom.
"It's no use," called the elf prince from the top of the watchtower. "Still no visibility." Thorin cursed under his breath as he climbed the last few steps to see for himself. Grudgingly he had to admit that even his superior night vision could not penetrate the haze.
"I don't like it," he grumbled, turning in a circle, hoping to see something, anything but the dense fog. "It's not natural."
"Agreed." Legolas frowned in the low light of the lantern hung above them. "It's all too convenient that it should have come from Mirkwood to cover Escaroth. There is a quality about this mist that smacks of a wizard's magic."
"Is he capable of such a thing?" The elf shrugged.
"I'm no wizard, but if the conditions were favorable then it would certainly not surprise me. It puts us at quite the disadvantage for we are unable to spot any bird or spies he might send."
"What of the orcs? Any movement?"
"They vanished mid-day yesterday."
"And your last estimate of their numbers?"
"Somewhere in the thirties, but we can't be certain," admitted Legolas. "I have set all who can be spared to patrol along the edge of the forest."
"How many is that?"
"Eleven with the three that arrived yesterday, although we had to detain two more." Legolas's cheerless tone made it plain he regretted having to imprison his own kind.
"I sent Fili, Dwalin, Dori, Nori, Gloin, and Bifur to patrol the edges of town in pairs in case they should try and enter by water."
"And the others of the company?" asked the elf.
"Sara remains at the Masters, still searching the records for any trace to her family. The rest of the company is with Balin restocking the packs. I will not be caught without proper supplies again."
"Understandable, though orcs and low supplies may be the least of our concerns today," said Legolas. Thorin frowned. They couldn't help but overhear the whispered conversations among the townspeople and the energy of the atmosphere had shifted.
"There is a revolt in the air," said Thorin with a sigh. "Rather poor timing."
"Indeed, it is most inopportune timing. With orcs at their gates and a wizard to the West, they shall need every able-bodied man available and yet they squabble." Silence enveloped them momentarily as they each gave way to their own thoughts. "Do you intend to step in?" asked Legolas. "It's likely to happen soon, in fact, I would be much surprised if they didn't use this fog to their advantage."
"I'm not sure we could stop it, even if I desired to."
"Perhaps if we joined them we could minimize the loss of life while still ridding ourselves of the Master," suggested Legolas. Thorin grunted noncommittally.
"I don't relish getting directly involved with their politics."
"Will you condemn them to their fate? Surely there must be something we're able to do." Thorin thought for a moment before straitening.
"Perhaps there is," admitted Thorin, rubbing at his chin with the back of his hand. "But it will mean revealing the truth about Sara."
"To who?"
"The bargeman, Ranson. By his own admission, and according to the Master's fears he holds great sway with the people."
"I get the impression that Ranson doesn't much enjoy the limelight."
"No, you are right. He doesn't want to draw attention to himself, but he may have no choice. His friend Eric is too reckless, over-sure of himself."
"Can we draw him out?"
"I believe so, but first I would like to speak with him again. There is more to Ranson than meets the eye."
They descended the watchtower and strode back out onto the boardwalk. As they passed shops and stalls they heard more snippets of whispered conversation in the fog. For the first time in days, the gossip was not about the elves or the dwarves staying with the Master. The energy was still there, but it had shifted from curious and hopeful to determined and secretive. Men never seemed to realize that just because their hearing was poor didn't mean other was.
Whispers were not the only thing that gave away the shifting tide in the town. A figure rounded the corner at speed and fairly bounded off Legolas' side, spilling the contents of the sack in his arms. Makeshift weapons clattered haphazardly onto the boardwalk at his feet. It wasn't until the boy's hood fell back as he looked around that Thorin recognized him to be Ranson's son, Bain. Hastily, Bian gathered the contraband collection and stuffed them back into the sack. Thorin reached down and hauled the boy to his feet. Bain stood almost a foot taller than Thorin, but judging by the arm in Thorin's grip, he lacked much of the strength of a grown man. He pulled the boy back around the corner and into an alleyway. There would be too many questions if the guards discovered Ranson's son with his bag of weapons.
"What is all this?" asked Legolas, holding out a crude knife that had eluded the boy's hands.
"It's none of your business, " said Bain, pulling his arm free before snatching the knife from Legolas.
"Where are you taking these and to what purpose? It wouldn't have anything to do with the whispers we have been hearing around town today would it?" asked the elf.
""What whispers?" said Bain. "Don't know what you're talking about." Legolas wrapped the boy's skull with his knuckles.
"The whispers about a rebellion," stated Thorin flatly. The boy's face blanched.
"Does your father know where you are?" questioned Legolas pointedly. The boy's silence was answer enough.
"Eric put you up to this didn't he?" pressed Thorin. "He is behind this movement is he not?" Bain just stared back at him balefully.
"We don't wish you any harm," said Legolas. "We don't want to get involved, but don't you think you owe it to your father to at least tell him of your plans?"
"Father would not approve," muttered Bain.
"What if something should happen to you?" coaxed Thorin. "Or did it not occur to you that you might end your short life on the end of a sword this night?"
"Don't let Eric lead you blindly," said Legolas, folding his arms over his narrow chest.
"I'm no fool," argued Bain defiantly, glaring back at them. "The Master is a tyrant, ending him and his guards is the only way to bring peace to our town. You would not understand. Even my own father will not see sense." Thorin glanced meaningfully at Legolas.
"Our years far outnumber yours," said Legolas. "I feel it safe to say we understand the situation far better than yourself."
"Has it occurred to you that perhaps your father knows something you don't?" prompted Thorin. "That he has had a reason for not acting upon up to this point?
"I know the reason," said Bain ashamedly. "Father is a coward. He would rather keep his head down than fight."
"Your father's eyes are not those of a coward," stated Thorin. "I do not pretend to know his reasons for holding back, but your father is more of a fighter than his friend. If Eric were wise he would take counsel from your Father." The boy was quiet, his face sullen for many long moments and Thorin knew better than to press him. Young people had to be left to make their own decisions and the more they were pressed the more they resisted.
"You really think my father is a fighter?" asked Bain at last. Thorin nodded.
"It's in his eyes. Tell me, where is your father?"
"You're not going to tell him are you?" asked Bain, a hint of panic in his young voice. Thorin considered for a moment.
"That depends more on what your father has to say to me. But I would be much surprised if your father is not already aware of the situation. He's no fool," said Thorin bemused. Bain's shoulders dropped in defeat. "Now, where can we find him?"
"I knew this was coming," sighed Ranson, rubbing his hand over his forehead. "Eric has been more secretive than normal." He leaned back in the chair and surveyed Thorin and Legolas before glancing at his son. Bain sat with his head hung low, the weapons he had been smuggling were laid out on the table before them. Just before they had entered Ranson's home Bain had insisted that he would be the one to tell his father.
"I'm sorry Da," said Bain meeting his father's gaze.
"While I can hardly say I'm pleased with your choice, I understand it. Still, I can not allow you to participate, in fact I mean to find Eric and put a stop to this altogether. He's a fool to try and move now of all times."
"Why? Why do you do nothing? The people would rally to you," insisted Bain. "Step up and they will follow you."
"I can't," said Ranson wearily, folding his arms over his chest.
"Can't or won't?" shot Bain agitated. He rose and began to pace. "Do you want Tilda and Sigrid to always look over their shoulders in fear? Do you like being taxed out of our livelihood and having to smuggle weapons to assure our safety? Why will you not fight to protect us?"
"I am protecting you," growled Ranson, bringing Bain up short. "You know nothing of having to constantly look over your shoulder. Do you think I enjoy this place? I do not, not in its current state, but I can't afford to draw attention to myself. It's not safe."
"Are you really that frightened of the Master," scoffed Bain.
"There are more terrible and dangerous things in this world than a corrupt leader," said Ranson. "Sometimes it is more prudent to hide than to fight. There are some enemies you simply can't win against. I do not fear the Master, he is a power-drunk fool, but if I were to orchestrate a rebellion it would draw unwanted attention to our family and put us all at risk."
Thorin listened to the heated exchange trying to learn not only from what was said, but what went unsaid. What enemy drove this man into hiding? Was it worth it to ally himself and the company to him, or would it prove more dangerous? Thorin scoffed internally at that foolish thought. How could it get any worse? Saurman wanted Sara as a captive as did Azog and his master Sauron. Could there be any more dangerous trio? No, the real question would be if Ranson was willing to ally with them.
"Why have you never spoken of this?" demanded Bain. "Why are we in hiding? Who…" but he was cut off by a knock at the door. Ranson raised his hand, silencing his son.
"Enter," said Ranson. The door opened to reveal Eric. His eyes darted around the room anxiously until they landed with relief on Bain.
"There you are. I have been looking for you everywhere. Where have you…" But he stopped upon spying the table's contents.
"Eric," said Ranson, his voice like a whip. "Tell me, since when have you been using my son as your personal courier?" Eric staritend definaly.
"He may be your son but he's no boy. He can make his own decisions. I did not coerce him."
"You may not have coerced him, but you hardly dissuaded him either. You understand how I feel about this matter. I made it clear to you I don't want my family involved."
"You made your position clear, though not your reasoning. But it's too late to stop it now. I ask you again, will you not join us? The people look to you." Ranson shook his head and Eric's face hardened.
"I will not, even if I were so inclined, the timing is poor."
"Very well you leave me no choice but to continue this on my own." Eric turned to leave but was blocked by Legolas. "Get out of my way," growled Eric.
"We can't let you do that," said Thorin cooly, getting to his feet. "Now is not the time to be caught squabbling amongst ourselves."
"Squabbling," scoffed Eric. "We fight for our liberty from tyranny, and with the fog blanketing the town it is the perfect time to strike."
"The master may be greedy but he is no fool and neither is Alfrid," said Ranson. "They will be expecting your move. How will your poorly armed townsfolk fare against ready and waiting soldiers?"
"Some of the guards are on our side as you well know. We can handle the Master's guards," snapped Eric.
"And perhaps you can," said Legolas. "But at what cost? Can you hold your own against a mob of orcs without their help? The orcs will give no quarter."
"What is all this talk of orcs? There are no orcs!"
"The orcs are not a fabrication," said Ranson, resignedly. "The orcs are here."
"Have you seen them yourself?" asked Eric. Ranson nodded.
"Three days ago when I went to retrieve the latest shipment of barrels from Mirkwood there were no barrels. Instead, I found signs that a sizable number of orcs had passed through. If you had thought to use the fog to your advantage it will have certainly occurred to the orcs as well. We should be guarding ourselves against attack rather than cutting our defense."
For once Eric was silent, considering. Thorin moved to the window that faced the direction of the Master's house and opened it. The fog was still thick but now there was a heavy scent of smoke carried on the air.
"You truly believe the town will be attacked?" asked Eric, turning to look at Thorin, Legolas, and finally Ranson.
"I think the risk is too great to ignore," replied Ranson calmly. "I understand your desire to rid us of the Master, I truly do, and any other time I would not stand in your way. But now is not the time to strike. I feel that there are greater powers at work in the world at large." Eric glanced at Thorin and wrinkled his nose.
"You believe his tales of war and invasion?"
"I believe their story at least merits a second telling... Perhaps a much more detailed one," said Ranson, catching Thorin's eye. The bargeman sat watching him expectantly. "That among other things is why you are here is it not?"
"Can you be trusted with a full account?" asked Thorin, turning to lean against the windowsill, arms crossed. "There are those that I am striving to protect as well. One in particular, her enemies are most formidable."
"You speak of your companion Sara," stated Ranson, falling silent for a moment before grunting. "I too would see her safe. Despite not knowing her full tale I feel an unexpected sense of kinship with her."
Thorin stiffened. What did he mean by that? Ranson seemed to sense his thoughts.
"Worry not, she is yours," said Ranson chuckling and waving a hand. "My life's love has come and gone, leaving me our children. I simply meant that I trust her."
"She can be quite persuasive," said Legolas.
"Will you bring her to relay her own story, for it is more her story than yours is it not?"
"She should be present, yes," said Thorin, looking out the window again.
There was a faint glow from the direction of the Master's mansion and the acrid stench of ash and cinder was born in once again. Where was all the smoke coming from? It was too thick for mere residential fires. The sudden peal of bells rang out through the heavy air and Thorin's heart stuttered. Ranson appeared by his side looking out the window as well. The glow in the fog had doubled in brightness. That was no mere smoke.
"It's a fire. Looks to be the Master's mansion. What have you done?" accused Ranson, rounding on Eric. "Surely even you do not suggest that the Master's mansion be burned! He holds much of the town's goods and supplies."
"It was not me," said Eric, half definitely, half worried. "Our plan was to ambush them in the night, not torch the place that would be... "
Sara! She was still in the Master's house. Thorin seized the man by his loose shirt, half dragging him out of his seat.
"If Sara comes to harm because of your schemes, so help me…" Legolas's hand fell on his shoulder bringing him up short.
"There's no time. We need to ascertain the precise origin of the fire and keep it from spreading. We need to find Sara." Reluctantly Thorin released the man before turning to follow Legolas out to the door, Ranson, Eric, and Bain hot on their heels.
There had to be more in the records, there just had to be. Sara shoved away from the table trying to fight down her disappointment as she made her way to the stack of crates she had already been through. Not one lead to point to her family.
She had spent years longing for, searching for her family on Earth with to no effect. She had been beating her head against the same wall for years but finding the mark inside the locket had felt like the wall had suddenly been knocked through and a multitude of possibilities were now open to her. That hope had only increased the closer she drew to Lake-Town. She now realized that the wall had not truly been destroyed. Instead, she had been thrown into this void of information. What good was the symbol inside her locket if it never let her further? That's all it would remain, a symbol, full of false promise.
It had been foolish to get her hopes up again. She should just face reality. She had no family. It was better to move on as if they never existed than to repeatedly have her hopes dashed. She was on her own here in Middle Earth, she had to look to her future, if she had one, instead of wallowing in the what-ifs of the past. They were gone and nothing could change that.
Sara growled, running her fingers through her hair. Who was she kidding? She would never be able to quash the glimmer of hope, as much as she sometimes wished she could. It was the coal burning away at her core ever since she had been old enough to realize that Clarice Miller was not her biological grandmother. Were there really no more records?
Alfrid was bent over a parchment, scratching away. He did not look up as her shadow fell across his work, but she could tell by his stiff posture that he was very aware of her presence beside him. He continued his work, ignoring her. She folded her arms and cleared her throat loudly. He continued working. She wrapped her knuckles on the table sharply.
"You made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with me, Ms. Miller," he said, his voice giving away the anger in his bowed face. "What could you possibly want from me?"
The past few days in the records room with Alfrid had been interesting, to say the least. The day after their altercation Alfrid had been absent, but that had suited Sara just fine as she had still been recovering from the symptoms of her cycle. The herbs Sigrid had given her had helped and even speed up the process, but she had been all too happy not to leave her bed. Besides this, it was better that Thorin and Alfrid not encounter each other just yet. Thorin had promised he would do nothing to retaliate but Sara was not sure she trusted his resolve in the immediate proximity of the perpetrator.
When Sara and Alfrid had met in the records room again to allow her to continue, the counselor had sported a dark bruise under and around both eyes. He had not spoken a single word to her in the past three days. He had stayed out of her way and worked at the table farthest from hers. But she had not been fooled. She had not heard or seen the last of the handsy chancellor. This seeming quiet would only last as long as the status quo remained unchanged.
"Are those really all the records there are?" she asked, not sure she would believe his answer.
"All save the records in the Master's three chests."
"And what is in those?"
"I have told you, simply the Master's financial records, nothing for you." She glanced down at his work.
"Then what are you working on? That doesn't seem like finances."
"That is none of your concern," he hissed, yanking the parchment out of sight. "If you are quite finished I have work to do."
"Look, I just want to make sure I have seen everything possible, left no rock unturned."
"There is nothing here for you. If you're finished then leave me in peace. Don't waste my time further." Even now his tone was arrogant and condescending. She was tempted to see just how well his nose had mended, but there was no point in provoking him when they were so close to never needing to interact again.
"That's all the records of the people here in Lake Town?" she insisted.
"You have seen them all and I..." Someone knocked on the door.
"What now?" grumbled Alfrid, pushing away from the desk and going to the door. Talson stood outside."What do you want?"
"The Master wants to see us immediately." He glanced over Alfrid's shoulder to Sara.
"What could he possibly need now? I saw him only a few hours ago."
"We need to talk. It's urgent." Sara inched closer to the empty table and scanned the documents spread over the surface of Alfrid's desk.
"What's so all-important?" asked Alfrid, crossing his arms. "The Master's books won't keep themselves." She skimmed over the parchment. Nothing.
"He is concerned with the current state of affairs here in town and the ongoing situation with Mirkwood." Sara's attention snapped to their conversation. What was going on in Mirkwood?
"Is that so," said Alfrid, turning to glance at her. She straightened. "Very well, Ms. Miller was just on her way out anyway. Weren't you Ms. Miller?"
"It would seem so," she conceded, crossing the room toward them. Alfrid backed hastily out of her way so she could pass through the door.
"If you're looking for your companions I believe they went into the market," said Talson. That didn't surprise her, Thorin had grown antsier by the day he was determined that they be prepared in case they needed to make a hasty getaway. Given how many times that very scenario had played out in reality for them, she could hardly blame him.
"Thank you. Perhaps I will go find them," she said, nodding to him before they turned to leave. She watched them round the corner and counted to ten before creeping forward to follow them. It would be best to keep abreast of things happening in Mirkwood. She crept after them slowly, wishing she had Bilbo's ring. Invisibility made eavesdropping and sneaking so much easier. Then again the ring was also the most corrupted item in all of Middle-earth, so it was most definitely better left in his possession until it was given to Frodo.
Trying to look inconspicuous she examined the paintings and tapestries on the wall as she kept just out of sight of Talson and Alfrid. What situation in town was the Master so worked up about? Could it be them or was it perhaps Ranson or Eric? She examined a painting of the Master draped in finery trying not to gag waiting for Talson and Alfrid to disappear around a corner. She jogged after them but then cursed softly. The hall was empty. Where exactly had they gone? Glancing around she crept forward, pausing to listen to each door she passed. Nothing. She turned into another hallway and stopped. Voices were coming from the door to her left. She pressed closer, listening.
"You have not appraised me of the situation for some days now," said the Master's irritated voice. "I told you to keep an eye on the cooper and the bargeman."
"I have," said Talson's exasperated voice. "I understand your concern in regards to them but I'm telling you we have bigger problems at present."
"What could be more dire than an uprising?"
"There have been more and more sightings every day,"
"They are not our concern," said Alfrid dismissively. "The elves have always done as they please, so long as they do not interfere with us and business continues to be steady."
"Business is not continuing," said the Master darkly. "They had missed the last two shipments without explanation, it is unlike the elf king."
"I wasn't talking about the elves," said Talson impatiently. "While there have been more elves about than normal, they are hardly a threat to us. I am speaking of orcs."
"Orcs?" scoffed Alfrid. "I doubt that."
"Doubt it or not, it is the truth. They are not simply passing through. More and more are sighted with each passing day but now they have simply vanished. I suspect that would explain both the increased number of elves and the lack of communication regarding the situation from Mirkwood."
Sara relaxed a bit. I didn't sound like they had any idea of Thranduil or Saurman. The orcs were worrisome but no surprise. She only hoped that they would not attack the town looking for her or Thorin.
"Surely you are able to handle a few orcs," said Alfrid. "Is that not your job?"
"Upwards of 25 is hardly a few," said Talson scornfully. "And well I am reasonably confident that we could, as you say, handle them, it would not be without losses. Couple that with this strange fog and I'm concerned for our safety. I want to know why they are here and what they plan."
"Have they made any type of move against us?" asked the Master.
"Not as of yet, but it is only a matter of time. Did the dwarves not say that there was an army of orcs on the move? Could this not be an advanced scout party?"
"I would not believe a thing that lot said," dismissed Alfrid. "They would say anything to..."
Someone was approaching around the corner. Sara looked around for a place to hide and spotted a heavy floor-length tapestry. Dodging behind it she held her breath as footsteps stopped just outside the door and knocked.
"What is it?" growled Alfrid, yanking the door open. "We are busy."
"Begging your pardon," said a young timid voice. "But this bird just arrived with a letter for the Master. He told me that I was to bring any messages to him directly."
"I see, give me the letter."
"No, I wouldn't... " but a moment later a bird screeched and Alfrid yelped angrily.
"That thing almost took my hand off!"
"I was about to tell you, King Thranduil's birds are very particular about who touches them. Only the one to who it is addressed may remove the letters." A bird from Thranduil! Perhaps Gandalf had reached Mirkwood and broke the spell over the elf king in which case their troubles here may be almost over. If not, their situation was about to go from bad to worse.
"Very well, very well," snarled Alfrid. "Come in and deliver the letter." The boy stepped in and the door closed. Sara inched closer to listen.
"Sire this bird just arrived for you with a message from Thranduil."
"At last. Perhaps… By all the stars, Alfrid, go wrap that hand. You're bleeding all over the rug!" She heard footsteps, ruffling feathers, and the crinkle of parchment.
"You may go now boy, but keep the bird in case I need to send a reply," instructed the Master. Sara dove back behind the curtain, waiting until the boy had vanished down the hall before emerging once again to eavesdrop.
"What does it say?" asked Alfrid, peeved. The master did not answer, and Sara held her breath. "Well?" prompted Alfrid again.
"Be silent while I read," hushed the Master. "This is illuminating." It was silent for several minutes. "Most illuminating indeed."
"Does it give an explanation to the many orcs in the region?" asked Talson.
"No, but he does give us some rather intriguing information on our erstwhile guests, in particular the woman Sara Miller."
"What about her?" asked Talson.
"It would seem that she is no ordinary woman."
"Unordinary how?" asked the guard. "Good or bad?" Sara leaned closer, not wanting to miss a thing.
"I could tell you that," said Alfrid scornfully. "Simply take a look at the company she keeps. When have you ever seen or heard of elves and dwarves working together?"
"It would seem that Ms. Miller is behind that as well," said the Master. "According to King Thranduil, she is a powerful witch." Sara's heart sank but she continued to listen.
"A witch? That's absurd," said Talson.
"Not according to this letter. Apparently, Legolas truly is the elf prince but bewitched by the woman. Thranduil insists that all the company is in her thrall, which explains why she's able to force their unusual mutual cooperation."
"That makes the perfect sense," said Alfrid.
"No it doesn't, you simply wish to believe that to save your pride," said Talson. "I know she was the one who bloodied your face."
"What has that to do with this," snapped Alfrid.
"Simply that you would believe anything that paints her in a negative light."
"What of it? You seemed just as determined to believe the opposite. Perhaps you have simply fallen for her spell, the dwarf king surely has."
"I just don't think it is wise to jump to conclusions."
"Who's jumping? All the proof we need is right here," said the master gleefully, the paper rustling.
"Then why does he not address the Orcs," argued Talson. "A threat of that magnitude should merit at least a passing comment."
"It's obvious. If this Ms. Miller is a witch then they are hers to command. What other explanation is there," said the Master.
"But that does not fit the facts. If the orcs are hers to command, why did they attack her? We are missing something."
"Missing something or not, Thranduil is offering a handsome reward for her life capture."
"He wants her alive?" said Alfrid. "Why?"
"He wishes to interrogate her. He also wants his son detained until he can be brought to his senses."
"How large is the reward?" asked Alfrid eagerly.
"Quite substantial. Talson, bring them to me and be sure to search their rooms. Thranduil insists that the woman stole something precious from him. Some sort of magical device capable of showing visions and producing music." Sara drew in a sharp breath. Saruman wanted her phone. Thank goodness Legolas had kept it during their stay in Mirkwood.
"I'm telling you this is a mistake. We are missing too much information and everyone is still ignoring the issue of the orcs."
"I do not pay you to make decisions," dismissed the Master. "I pay you to carry out mine. Now go take the woman and her possessions into custody along with the elf prince."
"What of the dwarves and that small fellow?" asked Alfrid.
"If they surrender, fine, if not... They are disposable."
"Let me bring in the woman," said Alfrid, poorly disguising his eagerness." Talson and his guards will have their hands full with the dwarves and the elves."
"No," shot Talson. "I can handle it."
"I don't care who does it but I want her brought to me before I sleep tonight."
"But what of the…" began Talson again.
"Yes yes, the orcs. Once the woman is in our custody and the others are secured we will discuss them again, but not before. Understood?" It was silent for a few moments. "Is that understood or should I relieve you of your duties as head guard?"
"Understood," said Talson curtly.
"Then be off." Sara drew back behind the heavy tapestry, holding her breath as the door opened and closed and the sharp click of boot told her that the two had gone. She had to retrieve her phone from her room and warn Thorin and the others. She stood there for a moment waiting before she slipped back out into the silent hall. She snuck towards her room, pausing at every corner. No doubt Talson would have taken most if not all the guards with him into town to search for her but even so the halls were much more empty than expected. So much the better, fewer people to dodge around.
She turned into the hall where their rooms were and came to a stop. Had Talson already been here? The candles in the hall were all out and the doors to the room stood open. Something was off, several of the paintings had been knocked off the wall in the hall. Why would the guard have been so careless? She reached for one of the decorative spears that had been knocked to the floor and holding it at the ready proceeded towards her open doorway.
She peered into the gloom of the room, the only light coming from the dying coals in the grate. The sheets were ripped from the bed, the nightstand overturned and the window thrown wide. The patterned screen lay flat on the floor, one of its corners beginning to smolder as it had fallen partially into the fireplace. Sara seized it and stamped out the heat as a chill breeze blew past her from the window. Quickly checking the other's rooms she found them in much the same condition, beds ripped, furniture toppled, items strewn across the floor. The chaos appeared to be random and born of frustration rather than a real search.
She returned to her room and after being sure she was alone lay on her back and slid under the bed. The dust tickled her nose and she had to repress a sneeze as she scooted to the head of the bed. After a momentary search, she pushed her hand into the hole in the bottom of the mattress until her fingers found the puzzle box she had stashed there. Sliding out from under the bed she brushed the dust from her clothes and hair. Stuffing the box into her pocket she retrieved the spear and went to the window. The windowsill pressed into her thighs as she leaned out over the drop trying to see the water below.
How high was she? Since Talson and his guards had already searched her room perhaps she could leave through the window and sneak into town without being spotted. She needed to find the others so they could leave immediately. She looked down through the mist and some 20 feet below spied a crude raft made of… barrels. But wasn't Ranson supposed to collect all the empty barrels from Mirwood? At any rate, jumping into the lake was out. The last thing she needed was to land wrong on the raft and break a bone. She would have to climb down. At least the fog would obscure her escape.
She had just finished tying the strips of her torn sheet into a crude rope when she heard someone approaching down the hallway. Hastily she stashed the rope behind the bed and snatching the spear hid behind the open door. With any luck, they would see the ransacked room and move on. A shadow passed across the crack between the door and frame and someone growled in frustration. A moment later the door was slammed backward, the doorknob catching her in the gut and driving the air from her lungs in a whoomph. She dropped the spear, her hands involuntarily gripping her stomach as she sank to her knee. The door creaked forward and Alfrid leered down at her.
"So you are here… little witch" he sneered.
"I'm not a witch," she said, lunging for the spear but Alfrid snatched it up first.
"I don't really care what you are," he said pointing the weapon at her. "Talson is busy rounding up your friends in town. It's just you and me."
"I bested you once, I'll do it again," she said. But as she spoke she knew this time would be different. The status quo had shifted drastically. Alfrid had nothing at all to lose, and not only that he had a better measure of her skills. She would not be taking him by surprise again and the spear was in his possession. He had the advantage of distance. She had Fili's knife but she was still not very good with it, and even if she threw it she would likely miss and then have no weapon at all. No, this would not be the same as last time, and judging by the self-satisfied grin on his face Alfrid knew it.
"Not afraid that I'll lay a curse on you and make your privates shrivel up and fall off?"
"I think not. If you truly had that power you would have already done so." It was true enough. He raised the spear tip and instead leaned on it as though it were a staff.
"Come now," he coaxed sickeningly, as he undressed her with his eyes. "I am the Master's right-hand man after all. If you please me well enough I may even save you from the wrath of King Thranduil. What shall you do to buy my favor?"
"Forget it," she said flatly, inching towards the mantle where the fire poker was. "I'm not fool enough to think you can actually do that. Even if I could bring myself to stomach the thought of you, the Master would never part with the reward on my head." Alfrid blew out an irritated breath.
"Still unwilling I see."
"For you, I doubt anyone will ever be willing." His face grew red with anger and his grip tightened on the sphere.
"It never stopped me before. It won't now."
He thrust the spear forward but Sara dodged sideways and ran to the fireplace catching up the heavy iron poker. No sooner had Alfrid righted himself than he lunged after her. The poker was heavier than she had expected and it was unwieldy in her hands. It took a considerable effort to swing, but she blocked Alfrid's clumsy strikes as she moved around the room toward the door. Just as he lunged forward again Sara backed over the fallen screen and fell backward, her head hitting the floor with a sickening thwack. In an instant, the tip of the spear was at her throat just under her chin. She froze. Alfrid stood facing her, his back to the open window. He trailed the sharp tip down to her neck.
"Whatever shall I do with you? It's true that the master intends to give you to the elf king and I cannot stop that. I would not want to displease him." The spear tip slid further downward, pulling at the collar of her shirt until the top button popped open.
"Then again I don't intend to do anything that would hinder his interrogating you." Another button fell to the floor. "No one ever need know." Her stomach turned. "And just imagine how pleased the master will be when I bring him to you after I'm finished with you." A third button popped and she reached to cover chest as he leaned closer, eyes gleaming.
At the last moment, she grasped the shaft of this spear with both hands and shoved. Alfrid was so taken aback and unprepared that it was only too easy to ram the butt of the spear into his nose. There was a satisfactory crunch but Alfrid clung to the spear and yanked it out of her grasp. There was a freezing pain as the tip of the spear sliced through her right arm above the elbow. She let out a strangled cry as Alfrid staggered back clutching his nose. Before he could recover she grasped the rug under his feet and tugged, sending the taller man toppling backward out the low window. Staggering to her feet and retrieving the spear she went to the window to find Alfrid's white fingers gripping the cill.
"Pull me up you wench," he growled. She simply stared down at him. Alfrid let out a string of foul curses.
"Since the angle is inconvenient to break your arms as promised, I suppose I will just have to settle for this." She raised the spear overhead and just as Alfrid let slip a particularly vulgar name she jammed the butt of the spear into his mouth knocking in his teeth. Alfrid let out a garbled scream and let go of the cill, plummeting down. There was a sickening crunch as he crashed onto the raft below. She peered down at him. To her relief he was unconscious, blood seeping from a wound on his head and his leg bent at a disjointed angle. Good, she had wasted enough time on this creep.
Working through the pain in her injured arm Sara tied the end of her bedsheet rope to the bed and threw the rest out the window. It didn't quite reach far enough. She rushed to gather the sheets from Thorin's room but as she rounded the corner back into the hall she ran headlong into a figure and found herself on her rear once again. A sword rasped as it was drawn from its sheath but in the dark, she could not see who held the weapon.
"Sara Miller?" asked the voice cautiously. Her heart sank. The voice belonged to Talson. He had found her. She pulled the dagger from her hip scooting backward on her butt back into the dim light from Thorin's room. "Thank the heavens," said Talson. Something was off about his tone, he sounded relieved, even anxious. His sword hissed back into its sheath. He drew into the light spilling from the doorway and she could see his raised hands were empty.
"Sheath your dagger. I will not harm you."
"I think I'll hang on to it, thanks," she said warily, scrambling painfully to her feet.
"I have been looking for you."
"I know, I was listening at the door. I would just as soon stay lost. I'm not going back to Saruman."
"I suspected as much," he said, shoulders slumping. "You misunderstand me. I sought you out to warn you. Who is this Saurman?"
"The wizard who has King Thranduil under the sway of his silver tongue. He's the one who really wants me. He believes my knowledge would help him attain greater power. The Master sent you to capture me. Why would you want to warn me?"
"He may be the Master of the lake, but he is only my master so long as it serves my purpose. Are you really a witch?"
"No," she snapped. "That's a lie fabricated by Saurman."
"Why would he claim that?"
"Because I know the future or at least a version of it."
"If you are not a witch then how do you know such things?" he asked warily, his hand staying close to his sword again.
"First tell me how you found me," she said, wincing as her arm gave a particularly painful throb.
"When I went to the front door the guards stationed there had not seen you pass. I knew you must still be in the mansion so I set out to find you before Alfrid did."
"Too late," she grimaced, clamping a hand over her arm.
"Are you all right?" he asked, looking at the blood soaking her sleeve. "Did he do this to you?"
"Yeah," she said. "His intentions were far from honorable."
"They never have been. Where is he? I will take care of him."
"He fell out the window. He's not going anywhere. I think his leg is broken. He landed on the raft under my window."
"What raft?" She led him back to her window and the half-finished rope.
"That one," she said, waving her uninjured hand. Talson looked out into the mist and then turned back to her apparently satisfied. He looked around in the low light.
"What happened here? Was your struggle really this...violent?"
"I thought it was you and your men searching for our belongings." He shook his head, his blond brows drawing together over his dark eyes.
"It was not me and none of the others know of the order to arrest you. Something's not right. Tell me what you know of what's going on." Could she trust him?
"I know some, but first answer one thing." He growled impatiently but nodded. "You said you only serve the Master as long as it serves you. What exactly is your purpose and why are you working for him?" Talson seemed taken aback as he regarded her.
"My purpose is the same as it has always been. I am a guard hired to protect the town… even if it is from the Master who threatens it." She waited, guessing silence would draw more out of him. "I want peace for all here. There is too much strife betwixt the guards and the people of Laketown," he said, taking the sheet from her. He ripped a strip free. "Let me wrap your arm until you can see a healer." She hesitated a moment before sheathing her dagger and holding out her arm towards him.
"When we arrived here some thirty years ago I was young, barely old enough to be considered as a soldier. The master paid well and the town was glad to have us. At first, things were as they should be, but as the years passed the Master corrupted himself, falling prey to his greed and abusing his power with excessive taxes. Then about seven years ago the Master hired an additional 40 guards, or rather ruffians. Along with the new guards came Alfrid and together they quickly worked their way close to the Master, taking advantage of his lack of interest to wreak havoc among the townspeople. Relations grew more and more strained."
"Between the town and the guards?"
"Yes, but also between the new and old guards. The ruffians were promoted because they worked for cheap and were ruthlessly effective, and Alfrid saw to it that they were granted clemency, allowing them greater freedoms. But after more than twenty years many of the old guards had grown attached to the town, a few even starting families of their own. Alfrid thought that dangerous so he put in a new law that forbade any new relations between townsfolk and the guards." Talson's cheeks flushed as he tied off the bandage on her arm.
"Despite the law and growing resentment, I found a woman who would have me. We were married in secret five years ago, but it has been... difficult. The townspeople have only grown more resentful towards the guards, despite the fact that not all of us are to blame. Then a year ago, the head guard went too far. I don't know who did it, but that cur got what he deserved. When he was found dead not many were eager to fill his position."
"But you saw an opportunity, " she finished, thinking over his explanation. He nodded.
"So did the Master. He came to understand that the situation was about to spiral out of his control, so he promoted me in an attempt to quell the rising tide."
"But it didn't work," she said, inspecting her arm.
"It stemmed the immediate uprising but it didn't fix the underlying problem. He did not punish the guards who had caused the problem or rescind the taxes and laws. I have tried my best to keep the ruffians under control but with Alfrid helping them, I'm afraid that I have not been entirely successful. I have come to understand that there may be no help for it, the Master is unredeemable. Alfrid and the others must be stopped. I want this town to be a safe place for my child." She looked up at him.
"Your wife is with child? When?"
"Sometime in the next two months as long as the child is healthy. My wife has a difficult time being with child. This is her third pregnancy. I only pray she and the baby remain well. Another loss would undo her." His face grew somber, but then his eyes hardened with resolve. "Now explain to me what's going on. What do you know? What is your purpose here in town? Do you know anything of the orcs?"
Could she trust him? Did she have time to debate it? Having his help would make things flow much smoother for her and the others. Perhaps he could even fix some of the problems here in Lake-town. Between him and Ranson, they could most likely get the evacuation underway.
"I want to preserve life," she said, stepping close to him. "I can't explain everything to you right now but suffice it to say there is a war coming just like we said when we first arrived. That was no lie, but the Master did not believe us. The only way for us to survive the coming battle is to take shelter inside mount Erebor. The Valar gave me knowledge of the future and sent me to save lives. I have no power in and of myself."
"The Valar sent you?"
"It's complicated," she hedged.
"But how do you expect us to shelter in the same mountain as a dragon?"
"Once again I can't explain it all now, but we know how to kill Smaug. He has a weakness we intend to exploit."
"But why are the orcs here outside Lake-town?" She sighed.
"They are after Thorin for revenge and want to take me captive. My knowledge makes me dangerous to them."
"When is this war supposed to happen?"
"In a matter of weeks. We need to evacuate to the mountain as soon as possible."
"How am I to trust you? "
"Would you rather trust me for a short time until I can prove my claims or put your trust in the Master who you know to be corrupt? We had hoped that Gandalf the grey wizard would have been able to break Saurmans hold on King Thranduil by now but..."
A gut-wrenching scream resounded further inside the mansion, sending chills down Sara's back.
"What was that?" She glanced around the room and her blood ran cold. "If you or Alfrid didn't mess up my room then who did?" Talson did not reply but drew his sword and went to the door as more screams echoed down the hallway.
"Stay close," he said, disappearing into the passage. She hesitated for a moment looking at the window behind her before hurrying after him, drawing her dagger. They made their way up the hall towards the main rooms following the screams and pounding feet. Talson jumped back, trotting on her toes as he avoided being trampled by three hysterical maids running past.
"What's going on?" he called after them, but not a one slowed to respond. Shaking his head Talson motioned her forward but before they had reached the next Junction a woman staggered around the corner. There was a dark red stain spreading quickly down her skirts and she held her hands over her stomach. Talson leapt forward catching her as her legs collapsed under her. Her face was ashen, her eyes wide with terror and shock.
"What's happened?" asked Talson gently, pressing a firm hand over the wound on her stomach. The pool spreading out from underneath the woman was growing at an alarming rate. Likely a major artery had been severed. Sara shuddered. You didn't lose that amount of blood and walk away. The woman, probably one of the cooks, looked up at Talson trying to speak but her garbled words never made it past her lips. Her head lolled to the side. A block of ice formed in Sara's gut and her breathing became heavy, her mind swimming. Talson gently laid the woman to the side, sliding his thumb and forefinger over her eyes to close them.
"Are you alright?" he asked, pulling Sara to her feet by her uninjured elbow.
"I… I'll…" but her words were not coming out. Assessing her expression he made a quick decision and led her to a narrow door before ushering her inside.
"Stay here. I'll come back for you," he said, closing the door so only a sliver of light fell across her face. Holding his sword at the ready he disappeared.
Sara's mind reeled as she fought to get her breathing under control trying to suppress the images flashing across her mind's eye. More screams jerked her out of herself and it was only now that she realized that Talson had stashed her in a broom cupboard. The darkness enveloped her as she waited, trying to ignore the throbbing in her injured arm. What was going on out there? Her hand was on the doorknob ready to push it open when three figures flashed by the door and into sight.
"The large chests from my chambers," screamed the Master hysterically as he was dragged away by two of his guards.
"That section of the house is already ablaze," said the guard pulling at his arm.
"Without them, I am ruined. They must be retrieved!"
"I'm not crazy," said the second guard. "It's suicide to go back there." More screams echoed down the hall.
"I must have those chests," cried the Master, pulling free and running back up the hallway.
"Sir wait," called the first guard.
"Oh let him go," called the second moving closer to the door. "He's mad." Sara drew back into the shadows.
"Did you see this? There's a dead maid over here."
"Let's get out of here," said the second guard, backing away from the body and into the door, closing it with a click.
"I'm with you. I never signed up to fight monsters." Their footsteps retreated quickly.
Panic shot through Sara's heart as she scrabbled for the doorknob, but her searching fingers met with only the flat expanse of the door. She tried high and low but nothing. There was no doorknob on the inside. She had to get out, if what the Guards had said was true there was a fire in the mansion. Fear crawled up her throat, choking her breath or was that the smoke creeping in around the door.
A multitude of heavy footsteps thundered outside the door and she froze. A stony voice croaked out words in a garbled tongue. Instantly her mind flashed to her time as an orcish prisoner. There were orcs inside the Master's house! She held her breath trying not to breathe in the smoke. A cough now would be her undoing. There was another string of unintelligible words followed by the sound of flesh striking flesh.
"The dark one ordered us to use the common tongue," growled a heavily slurred voice. "You know we can't understand your twisted speech."
"She's not here," said a deeper irritated voice. "She must be in the village with the dwarf king."
"So much the better. We can get them both. That ought to please the leader."
"Not without the others," stuttered a gravelly voice. "The fire will have drawn the attention of the town's guards. We have lost the element of surprise." There was the sound of flesh on flesh again and a grunt of pain.
"I did not invite you to speak coward," said the slurred voice. A grumble in the foreign tongue was quickly followed by another squeak of pain. "I told you to use the common tongue. We're going to find the girl, now come." The heavy footsteps clattered away down the hall but it was nearly a full minute before Sara's heart clunked back into action.
As she drew in a breath the acrid smell of smoke brought stinging tears to her eyes. She pulled her shirt up over her nose and mouth but to no avail, the smoke was pouring in around the door as sweat formed on her body in the growing heat. The roar of the fire was growing closer. She banged on the door. Where was Talson? Had the orcs gotten him? The thought that he might not be coming spurred her to greater efforts.
The space inside the cupboard was small but she sank to the floor, pushing against the door with her feet as she braced her back against the wall behind her. She strained and the door bowed but did not open. She pushed again and heard the wood snapping. A mop dug into her back as she pressed once again. Still not enough. She drew her legs back and kicked out with all her might. A sliver of red-gold light glimmered into the dark and smoke poured in through the crack. Another kick produced a hole big enough to crawl through and in moments she was back out into the hallway. Black plumes of smoke filled the air and she ducked lower trying to avoid it.
Looking to the right and found the way to the main door was filled with flames. She turned to the left. There had to be another way out, a door or window, anything. Her foot snagged on something large and she fell on top of a warm mass. The air whooshed out of Talson's lungs as one of her knees inadvertently drove into his stomach and his eyes flew wide.
He jerked upright, causing Sara to tumble to the side. There was blood streaming from a gash near his eyebrow.
"There you are. What happened?" she asked as the immediate panic dulled from his eyes.
"Orcs," he said shortly. "They got the jump on me." He got to his feet. She tugged on his sleeve.
"Stoop to avoid the smoke and pull your shirt over your nose and mouth" she instructed, between coughs. She tried to ignore the sting of smoke and sweat in her eyes. "The front door is in flames. Do you know of a window or another doorway out?" He looked around them through the blistering waves of heat.
"This way," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her after him deeper into the house. They made their way through the burning mansion, the timbers creaking and cracking in a deafening roar as the flames licked and gnawed at them. Air, she needed air. Her lungs were filled with an inferno consuming the oxygen before her body could absorb it. Her eyes burned as they pressed through the rippling air, avoiding the larger flames. Talson led her into a room with a large stained-glass window and the pressure around her wrist vanished. He hurled a chair through the colored glass and seized her wrist dragging her forward. The world tilted fresh air whipping past her face for a split second before the water closed over her head and the world went black.
Thorin stared up at the raging inferno that had once been the Master's mansion. Black smoke billowed high into the air as the heat from the blaze dissipated the mist nearby making it possible to see across the plaza. The peal of bells had brought many of the townspeople from their homes; some toating buckets, others gripping weapons. Ranson was instructing a group of men attempting to keep the flames from spreading to the nearby buildings. Legolas and Tauriel were perched on a nearby rooftop searching for Sara as Thorin searched the frantic crowd from below Sara.
"Uncle," called Fili, he and Dwalin suddenly materializing at his side. "Where is Sara?"
"She is not here. We can't find her." He spied the guard who had been stationed at the Master's front door earlier in the day and pushed through the crowd towards him. The guard was talking to a frantic woman.
"I have not seen him," said the guard. "If he left the building it was not through the main doors, now step back." The woman wailed as she retreated. The man's eyes sized up Thorin, Fili, and Dwalin before his shoulders slumped in resignation.
"Have you seen our companion Sara MIller? Did she pass by you?" asked Fili. Thorin's heart sank as the man shook his head.
"If she was inside she did not pass me."
"What happened here?" pressed Dwalin gruffly.
"No one knows for certain, just that the blaze was started in the mansion. There were some hysterical maids going on about monsters but more than likely they were frightened by the fire."
"I would not dismiss their story so easily," said Ranson, approaching them. "Where is the guard Talson?"
"He has not been seen yet either."
"How many are missing?"
"Our best guess so far is seven, including the Master, his counselor, Talson, Ms. Miller, two maids, and one servant."
"Are there no other ways out of the building?" insisted Fili.
"Two doors in the back for delivery purposes but they don't lead anywhere but the waterway, there are always windows, but the front door is the only way that doesn't require a swim."
"That would not have stopped Sara," said Fili. Perhaps Sara had not been inside the building after all. Thorin prayed she was instead wandering the streets searching for the others as Ranson and the guard continued talking. They had to...
"Thorin!" shouted Legolas from the rooftop. The elf was pointing between the Master's burning house and the building next to it. "Sara, she is there!"
At last, he saw her. She was in the water, the Master's head guard struggling to keep her head above water. Thorin pushed through the crowd and in few moments he held her limp body in his arms.
"What happened?" demanded Ranson, turning to Talson who was clambering out of the water, great coughs wrecking his body.
"Orcs," was Talson's one-word reply. Legolas and Tauriel landed lightly beside Thorin as he searched Sara's body for wounds. There was a bandage on her upper arm but besides that, she appeared to be uninjured.
"What's wrong with her breathing? Why is it so shallow?" asked Ranson.
"It's the smoke," said Tauriel, turning to Talson. "Were you two trapped in the fire long?"
"We were likely the last ones out," coughed Talson. "We had to jump from a second-story window to escape." Legolas's long fingers gently probed Sara's neck.
"Her airway is swollen shut," said the elf prince.
"Give her to me," said Tauriel. The elf captain took Sara from Thorin and holding her gently under the chin with one hand, pressed the other into her back. The elf muttered a quick spell and Sara's breath began to deepen. Her eyes cracked open and she began to cough.
"Thorin," she wheezed, coughing again.
"It's all right," he said, taking her back from Tauriel.
"The master... He... Saruman..." She broke off into more coughs.
"What is she trying to say?" asked Dwalin.
"The Master has ordered your arrest," wheezed Talson. "He got a letter from Mirkwood." Instantly Legolas and Dwalin had drawn weapons against Talson who lay supine on the boardwalk still coughing.
"Thorin," coughed Sara, pulling weakly at his hair so he would look at her. Her face was red and covered in soot and blood was seeping fresh from the bandage on her arm.
"Be still, you are safe now," he said, taking her hand from his hair. She shook her head.
"Trust…" she coughed. "Trust Talson." He studied her face as the others waited for him to speak. She wanted him to trust the guard instructed to capture her?
"You heard her," said Fili. "Lower your weapons. We have bigger problems."
"How many orcs did you see? Did you see where they went?" asked Ranson.
Talson shook his head. "I don't know, they struck me down. Sara woke me only just in time to escape"
"How many?" insisted Ranson.
"At least five."
"Likely there are more," said Legolas.
"We need to search the town without starting a panic," said Ranson, getting to his feet. "How is Sara? Will she recover?"
"It will take some time and attention for her lungs to fully heal but she will be okay for now," said Tauriel. Talson staggered to his feet and Thorin scooped up Sara in his arms.
"They are after Sara," said Thorin. "She needs a safe place to…"
A long dark arrow sank itself deep into Talson's right shoulder from behind, knocking him forward into Fili. Screams filled the air as more arrows rained down on the gathered crowd. Men and women ran past seeking cover only to stop when orcs jumped down from the rooftops to land in front of them, turning them back. Thorin narrowly avoided having Sara knocked from his arms by the panicked throng. An arrow snagged his hair just past his left ear.
"Ya need to get to shelter," boomed Dwalin, stepping in front of him to shield them as Thorin ducked, cradling Sara closer to him. They retreated across the square until they had the large statue of the Master at their back.
"They are coming from the north," called Legolas, losing a return volley and narrowly dodging an arrow from behind.
"And the South," warned Tauriel.
"Hold!" thundered Talson's gravelly voice as he struggled to his feet, the arrow still protruding from his shoulder. "All guards hold your ground. Draw weapons!"
"Do not run!" came the boom of Ranson's voice. "Assemble in the square, women, and children in the center." Their words reached most of the scattering crowd bringing them up sharp.
"Surround the civilians," ordered Talson. "Raise shields!"
There is no time for hesitation," shouted Ranson over the confusion. "Come together and fight or we will fall." Sara gripped the front of Thorin's shirt pulling the collar tight at the back of his neck. Her hacking coughs were lost in the noise of commotion. Orcs approached from both sides of the square, the flames from the fire casting wavering shadows over their jagged faces and weapons. They pushed forward driving the crowd back and leaving them with no escape save into the dark lake. At last, this seemed to jolt the humans into action, the men and guards rushing forward to meet them head-on.
Thorin shifted his grip on Sara, searching for a way to hold her while wielding his sword.
"Put... Put me down," said Sara, squirming weekly in his arms.
"You are in no fit state to defend yourself, and you forget that you are their target."
"You too," she reminded. "Azog wants you dead."
"I can't just…"
"Sara," called Bofur, leaping off the small dinghy as it bumped up against the edge of the plaza, Balin and Oin close behind.
"We'll see to her lad," said Balin. Relief washed over Thorin as he passed Sara into Balin's waiting arms.
"Kili, Bombur, Ori, and Bilbo were gathering supplies elsewhere," said Balin, answering Thorin's unasked question."
"What happened to ya Sara?" asked Bofur as Oin examined her.
"She was caught inside and inhaled a large amount of smoke," said Thorin. Bofur turned to look just as the main support beam of the mansion gave way in the blaze. The building collapsed in on itself with a roar. Screams rose as a few of the crumbling pieces just missed the edge of the fighting crowd.
"There is another fire to the southeast near the main gate," called Legolas over the clash of weapons, shouts, and shrieks of the Orcs. The elf did not turn as he fired at an orc approaching from behind, the arrow driving through the orcs head, dropping it where it stood.
"It's likely the town was invaded from several points at once," said Thorin, grinding his teeth. He lunged forward to block a blow intended for Balin and Sara, driving Orcrist to the hilt into the orc's belly. Black blood splattered the ground as he yanked the blade free. There was a flash before his nose and it took a moment for his eyes to focus on the arrow tip that would have driven into his cheek if Legolas's hand had not been quicker. The elf spun the arrow in his fingertips and returned it to its sender with a snarl Thorin would never have guessed him capable of.
"Let's end this quickly," growled the elf. Thorin glanced at Sara in Balin's arms, Oin tending to her as Bofur stood guard over them. With a roar Thorin leapt forward, Orcrist gleaming in the glow of the flames. He would end this himself.
