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The dwarves are wrapped in blankets, and their wet things have been laid before the fire to dry. Some of them shiver. "It may not be the best fit, but it'll keep you warm," Bard says. Tilda passes out blankets, and Bilbo thanks her when he receives one. Thorin looks out a window and sees a wooden tower not far away. The building is a windlass, a giant cross-bow-type weapon with four arms. Thorin looks at it in shock. "A Dwarvish Wind-Lance." He whispers. Bilbo, who is sipping a hot drink from a mug, looks at the wind-lance too.
"You look like you've seen a ghost." "He has. The last time we saw such a weapon, a city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came." Balin buts in. Thorin looks sadly away, and the scene switches to a flashback, but with Balin still narrating in real-time.
FLASHBACK: Smaug is attacking the city of Dale. He blows fire, destroying buildings. F"The day that Smaug destroyed Dale. Girion, the Lord of the city, rallied his bowman to fire upon the beast." The city is in flames, but a man in armor, Girion, leads a group of archers in shooting at the flying dragon. "But a dragon's hide is tough, tougher than the strongest armor. Only a black arrow, fired from a wind-lance, could have pierced the dragon's hide, and few of those arrows were ever made." Girion runs to a rack holding three long, heavy, black arrows, each made of metal and at least 4 feet long, and grabs one. He turns and loads it into a Dwarvish Wind-Lance, and draws the arrow. He turns the wind-lance, aiming for the dragon. It isn't easy to see the dragon because it is flying swiftly, and the air is full of smoke. Girion fires and the arrow hurtles through the air. It hits the dragon in the chest but bounces harmlessly off.
"His store was running low when Girion made his last stand."
Girion grabs another black arrow into the wind-lance and fires. This arrow, too, finds its mark but bounces off the dragon's chest.
END OF FLASHBACK.
"Had the aim of Men been true that day, much would have been different," Thorin says. Bard approaches Thorin. "You speak as if you were there." He says. "All dwarves know the tale." Thorin answers. Bain speaks up. "Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon. He loosened a scale under the left-wing. One more shot, and he would have killed the beast." Dwalin chuckles. "Hahaha! That's a fairy story, lad. Nothing more."
Thorin strides up to Bard. "You took our money. Where are the weapons?" He says. "Wait here." Bard goes down the stairs to the lower part of the house. After looking around to make sure no one is watching, he pulls on a rope hanging off a small boat and pulls up a wrapped package that had been hidden underwater. While Bard is doing this, Thorin, Balin, Fili, and Kili whisper together. "Tomorrow begins the last days of autumn," Thorin says. "Durin's Day falls morn after next. We must reach the mountain before then." Balin ads.
"And if we do not? If we fail to find the hidden door before that time?" Kili asks. "Then this quest has been for nothing." Fili answers. Bard returns and lays the package on the table as the dwarves stand around it. He loosens the wrappings and reveals a couple of hand-made weapons. The dwarves look at them in shock, then pick up the guns and look at them in disgust. "What is this?" Thorin exclaims. "Pike-hook. Made from an old harpoon." Bard says.
"And this?" "A crow bill, we call it, fashioned from a smithy's hammer. It's heavy in hand, I grant, but in defense of your life, these will serve you better than none." Bard says. Thorin and Dwalin look disgustedly at each other. "We paid you for weapons. Iron-forged swords and axes!" Gloin exclaims. "It's a joke!" Bofur ads and throws his weapon back on the table, and the other dwarves follow suit. "You won't find better outside the city armory. All iron-forged weapons are held there under lock and key." Bard says.
Thorin and Dwalin look at each other out of the corners of their eyes, hatching a plan. "Thorin," Balin says, catching the prince's attention. Bard looks up at the mention of the name Thorin as if the name sounds familiar to him. "Why not take what's been offered and go? I've made do with less; so have you. I say we leave now." Balin says. "You're not going anywhere." Bard sates. "What did you say!?" Dwalin exclaims. "Spies are watching this house and probably every dock and pier in the town. You must wait till nightfall." Bard says.
Hearing this, the dwarfs begin to settle down. Kili, leaning on a pole, looks like he's in pain, and he slowly slides down the bar and sits on a couch. Wincing, he examines the bandage on his leg while making sure no one is looking. Bard is standing on his porch; he talks to himself, trying to recall where he'd heard the name 'Thorin' before. "Thorin..." he murmurs. With a sudden shock of understanding, he whirls around and looks at the Lonely Mountain in the distance. The door opens, and Bain sticks his head out. "Da?"
"Don't let them leave," Bard says and hurries down his steps and into the town.
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Tauriel, along with Silveria in pursuit of the orcs, comes to a rocky promontory at the end of the river and the lake's banks. Far across the lake, Laketown is visible. On the rocks are pieces of a deer that the orcs had previously shot and ripped apart. Hearing something, Tauriel turns her head slightly and reaches for something at her side. She whips around and comes to a crouch with an arrow nocked to her bow. Several yards behind her is Legolas, also with his bow drawn.
Silveria smiles as she sees the prince. "Ingannen le Orch." [Subtitle: I thought you were an Orc.] Tauriel says. "Cí Orch im, dangen le." [Subtitle: If I were an Orc, you would be dead.] Legolas says, and the two elves lower their bows. Legolas glances at Silveria. "Silveria, you two cannot hunt thirty orcs on your own." Silveria smiles, her head high. "But we're not on our own." Legolas smiles. "You knew I would come." Both Tauriel and Silveria smile. Legolas tuners to face Tauriel. "The king is angry, Tauriel. For 600 years, my father has protected you, favored you. You defied his orders; you betrayed his trust." He says. Silveria glances at them both.
She sighs. "Dandolo na nin...e gohenatha." [Subtitle: Come back with me...he will forgive you.] Legolas says. "Ú-'ohenathon. Cí dadwenithon, ú-'ohenathon im." [Subtitle: But I will not. If I go back, I will not forgive myself.] Tauriel says and turns to face Silveria, who smiles softly at her. The red-haired elleth smiles around. "The king has never let orc-filth from our lands, yet he would let this orc-pack cross our borders and kill our prisoners," Tauriel says, her side still turning to Legolas as she speaks.
"It is not our fight," Legolas says, he catches Silveria's glance, but she doesn't say anything. "It is our fight. It will not end here. With every victory, this evil will grow. If your father has his way, we will do nothing. We will hide within our walls, live our lives away from the light, and let darkness descend. Are we not part of this world?" Tauriel says. Silveria then turns to face the young elven prince fully. "Tell me, Mellon, when did we let evil become stronger than us?" Legolas looks at her. He looks conflicted.
——————— I am sorry for ending the chap so short; anyway, have fun designing it:)
