A Clash With Swords -A Thorin Fanfiction- (Discontinued)

Chapter 17: The Mark

*WARNING: THIS MAY BE INACCURATE.

CARRY ON.

-

"Was that an earthquake?"

"That, my lad, was a dragon." Oin said.

Bard looked unsure as he looked at his children. "Da?"

"It's coming from the Mountain," he finally said, and looked about their surroundings.

The Dwarves looked very concerned on matters with Bard's family. Finally, Fili spoke up. "You should leave us," he said sternly. "Take your children, get out of here."

"And go where?" the fisherman retorted angrily. "There is nowhere to go."

"Are we going to die, Da?" Tilda asked, her voice full of worry. "No darling." He promised sternly.

"The-The dragon. It's going to kill us."

"Not if I kill it first." Bard said, and went off.

-

"The King Under the Mountain is dead," Smaug snarled, encircling the hobbit. "I took his throne... I ate his people like a wolf among sheep."

The hobbit only hoped that the dragon wouldn't smell fear... or else he would be dead right now.

"I kill where I wish... When I wish." Bilbo realized he was holding his breath, not wanting to be found by the dragon. "My armor is iron, no blade can pierce me."

-

"Listen to me carefully." Bard told Bain, his only son, as he held him by the shoulders.

"I need you to distract the guards. Once I'm at the top of the tower... I'll set the arrow to the bow." He commanded, pertaining to the Black Arrow.

"Bard! There he is! After him!" A band of guards shouted, and Bard quickly told his son to hurry. "Now go!"

"You're under arrest." One of the guards said.

"On what charge?"

"Any charge that the Master chooses."

Bard punched the guard and fought the others. He ran through the streets of Lake-town as his son hid the Black Arrow to safety.

Unfortunately for Bard, the Master knocked him unconscious, and what followed was darkness.

-

"You're afraid."

"Yes, I'm afraid."

Thorin looked at Balin in question.

"I fear for you. A sickness lies upon that treasure hoard," Balin said, his voice etched in worry, but he kept to try it stern as well. "A sickness, which drove your grandfather mad." The old Dwarf's features softened. "The girl would not allow you to do this. She tried to stop you."

The Dwarves kept their mouths shut as the two fought.

"I am not my grandfather," Thorin seethed quietly. "And she may be as well dead."

With the wait gnawing at Thorin's patience, all the thought about the lass had been gone from his mind and was directed more towards the gold, in which Bilbo was now risking his life for. "She may be dead..." his voice fell into a harsh whisper. "It's what she got after deserting me."

"She did not desert you," Balin commented, putting a hand on Thorin's shoulder. "She never did. She was only scared..." his face morphed into a soft frown. "That it will come to this. Thorin, you're not yourself."