Renacida || Fili x MGIME OC ||

Of Kings

Bilbo's dirty nails scraped against one of Dale's decrepit rampart walls he collapsed on. The heat from Lake-town carried on the breeze, for it had become a battlefield of fire and light.

"She got everyone out, laddie," Balin assured, though the dwarf's voice strained and wavered.

"Aye," Dwalin added, his gruff tone unusually soft. "Cannae ye see the lights on the shoreline? Smaug was flying there...but she drew him back. Smart girl."

"I don't care that she's smart," Bilbo snapped. He moved to look back at Dwalin, but only his body turned. His eyes could not be torn from the burning town. "She's there. She's there, alone, and—and—and she shouldn't be!"

"Perhaps Fili is there," Nori mused. "Or the elf lass she swore would come is with her."

Bilbo scoffed. "Don't be daft! Look! Look at that town!" He pointed a shaking finger at the atrocious bonfire upon the lake. "Valeria wouldn't let anyone but herself be in there! She went—"

His throat closed, up, causing him to choke. "She went alone! Because we couldn't kill Smaug like she told us to!"

"And how did you expect us to kill him, eh?" Gloin questioned almost defensively. "That's a fire drake! We barely made it out with our lives!"

"She cannot be alone, Bilbo," said Balin. He came forward and clasped Bilbo's trembling shoulder. "Remember? Remember what she said? Bard is there. This will not go on for much longer."

"I don't want it to go on at all," Ori whispered. He had curled up on the rampart farther away, too fearful to watch the destruction.

Bilbo's panic was interrupted by a great blast of flame rolling off a sudden shield of white. It decimated that area of Lake-town; blazing fire and rebellious light flattened buildings, and the breeze sharpened unnaturally.

The taste of Smaug's terror turned to Valeria's courage.

He nearly toppled right off the ramparts. Bifur shouted something, and the remaining Company pressed themselves against the rampart to gape at the collision. Then Dwalin bellowed a war cry, and the dwarves followed suit, bringing their guttural cheers up from the depths of their stomachs.

Bilbo did no such thing; he took ragged breaths through the tears that stung his eyes, and he beamed so widely that it hurt his cheeks. He hoped Valeria heard the dwarves, as unlikely as it was. He hoped she knew she wasn't alone, that they were with her, that she was strong and good and capable—

Smaug's roar drowned out their own. Though the light flared again, the dragon beat his great wings, leveling more houses, then reared back and brought his hind claw forward. It disappeared in the veil of light.

It—she—lifted with Smaug's abrupt, screeching ascent, and Bilbo's grin sank to a mask of horror.

The dragon veered back toward the Eastern shore. The Company fell silent, too stunned to move, to speak, to do anything but pray to Mahal and Yavanna and any Valar that would listen for the safety of their foreign Valeria.

But she was indeed smart. Valeria kept her terrifying light on Smaug's breast to illuminate the black pinprick amidst his crimson armor. Bilbo felt the dragon's breath billowing upon him, asking questions about the smell of dwarves and humans—of a human, whose scent was unlike the others.

Smaug had made a mistake in mentioning Valeria, though; it reminded Bilbo of her steady courage, which would not die in him under the mountain.

She would live, if she were to die—except Bilbo did not want Valeria to die at all. Dying had been different each time, she said, and she could still feel the orc blade set in her chest if she sat still long enough, or the spider venom burning her leg. Why should she be burdened with yet another trauma? Another memory of death?