Sigrid could not put her finger on precisely what will drew her towards the lake's edge that night, perhaps it was the contrast to the red hot carnage of Smaug's fire, or maybe she was still desperately clinging to any part of the home she had lost. Regardless, that was where she was to be found the night after the burning of Laketown; standing silhouetted in the moonlight in water up to her knees, her skirts drenched as long withheld sobs racked her body.

"Sigrid?" She turned at the timid voice of her sister, Tilda, and hurriedly wiped away the tears lest they bring further alarm to the young girl. Tilda had witnesses more violence and destruction in the past few days than one of her young years ought to; she needed to see strength in her older sister not fragility.

Sigrid wrangled her voice into something resembling its normal tone; purposeful and determined. "Yes Tilda love, what is it?"

"Da, needs your help, he says we don't have enough healers to tend to the wounded." The younger girls face was drawn, her features gaunt as she spoke.

Sigrid steeled herself before nodding and gathering up her wet skirts and stepping from the lakes waters, missing instantly their cool, soothing touch on the burns to her own legs. "I'd best get back to work them." She said in a jarringly cheerful voice. It wasn't lost on her that her sister winced at this false show of optimism and Sigrid cursed herself for it but resolutely continued, drawing the younger girl to her side in a tight squeeze as the made their way back to the makeshift encampment amongst the ruins of their people.

The wounded had been placed together the western side of the camp to reduce the risk of spreading infection and to allow for the limited number of amateur healers to attend to many at once. Sigrid herself could claim no competence in healing beyond that of nursing Tilda and Bain's many childhood injuries and maladies, however those with practised knowledge has demonstrated the correct ministrations for burns and Sigrid realized grimly that she would soon be able to count herself an expert.

When they had come near enough to western side of the camp that the cries and groans of agony reached their ears Sigrid sent Tilda to assist the cooks in the preparation of food before gathering her loose hair into a bun and determinedly stepping forward into whirl of activity.

That night she soothed many fevered brows, pressed herbs into angry crimson limbs, and handed out small pieces of wooden debris for the dying to bite down on when their pain pierced the night air.

Allowing herself a moment to pause and wipe her own brow, she watched as the baker she has known since she was a small child left this world with a hacking gasp, blood at the corner of his mouth and was eternally thankful that his family had not survived the fires to see their beloved's last painful moments.

"Sigrid, fetch some more cloth!" One of the healers called out from a bedside and Sigrid gratefully accepted the opportunity to step outside the overheated tent. She knew it was selfish to want to be anywhere else when others were suffering so much more than she, whose family had escaped the fires unharmed, but she needed a moment to compose herself, a moment to gather courage before she wrestled against death's greed once more.

The supplies that the survivors had gathered were being placed under guard in another tent across the camp and so that was where she set off for, moving past the unfocused gazes of the remaining villagers as they watched the flickering flames of the camp fires, touching a reassuring hand to the occasional shoulder as she did. There was so much sorrow here and yet they still held each other, sharing what warmth they had. Their kindness endured and Sigrid drank it in to keep as her own fortification.

When she finally came upon the tent the guards bowed their head and let her pass through. For a moment their formality struck her as odd, but then she remembered that her Da had been the one to shoot down the dragon. Nodding back she noted that not two days before these guards might have been employed to spying upon Da, but now they regarded Bard with reverence and respect. How strange it was that such trivial wrongs were righted by such catastrophic tragedies.

She lifted the flap of the tent, expecting to find it empty when to her shock she was confronted with the skulking figure of Alfred, the former master's advisor. Alfred froze upon her entry, one hand stuffing rations into his pockets and the other cramming the salvaged food stores into a rucksack.

"What are you doing?" She inquired sternly although she knew precisely the malice of his intentions.

Alfred turned to her, an oily smile plastered in his face as he tried to hide the rucksack from her line of sight "I was just gathering supplies for the sick." He said. "Just working for the people, we all 'ave to pull our weight don't we?"

She looked past him to see the unclipped tent flap at the back through which he had clearly entered and folded her arms scowling. This man did not scare her, rather she looked upon him with sympathy as another desperate soul scavenging for the remains of his old life. However, this did not mean that she would allow him to steal from others in the process.

"I will give you one chance to put those things back and I won't tell anyone what you tried to do." Sigrid stepping forward to block his escape out through the loose tent flap.

The oily smile slipped from his face and was replaced with a leering sneer. "And what is the Bargeman's daughter goin' to do 'bout it eh? You going to stop me are you missy? I'd like ta see you try."

"One chance or I call for the guards." Sigrid said, her voice low but no less malevolent. She had little patience for anyone who stood between her and aid for those suffering. She could feel the heat of temper rising inside her.

Alfred sneered and tried to push past her, a response he would go on to regret for the rest of his days. Since she had been a young girl her Da had taught her to defend herself, to bring a man to his knees with a well-aimed blow and that was what she did to Alfred, a little harder that the situation warranted but she was exhausted and not willing to abide this thief.

She would have stopped there had Alfred not reached up from the ground to grab her, pulling her down so that the breath was knocked out she fell hard on her front. Gasping she was about to draw breath to call for the guards when cold fingers closed over her mouth and she felt his hot breath at her ear.

"Don't you dare girly." His voice sent a chill up her spine and she struggled to free herself from his tight hands but he held her fast. "Man's got ta make a living after all, imagine the price I could get for 'em? You could join me, take a cut for yourself, I could use a girl like you." She squirmed as a cold hand coarsely caressed her face. Fighting the need to be sick she saw her opportunity and pounced, elbowing him hand in the side with her now free arm and biting down hard upon the hand at her mouth.

Alfred cried out in pain, doubled over in the floor and this time she didn't hold back her rage, the blood roared through her ears as she kicked him hard in the side sending him crawling on all four but she kicked him again.

"How dare you!" She screamed, her voice nearly breaking with the potency of its hatred; hatred for Alfred but also for the Dragon, for those who had brought such suffering in her family, hatred for the years of poverty, and hatred at the world for bringing such pain upon them all. "There are people who have lost everything and yet you would take what little they have. Have you no humanity? There are people dying and still others who would rather be dead in the same camp as you but you don't care, you would bring more suffering on them. What is wrong with you? Why do you hate us so much? What have we done to deserve this?" Sigrid's voice broke, her throat raw from smoke and screaming, her rage giving ways to despair and horror as she looked upon the bleeding and shaking man at her feet. Had she really done that to him? Did this make her like the Orcs that had attacked her house; violent and bloodthirsty?

She stood there horrified until she became aware of rustling behind her, turning she saw the shocked faces of the guards and a few other curious faces who had no doubt been drawn by her yelling. They looked at her and she thought there was a hint of horror in their; could they see the monster she felt to be lurking within?

She didn't want to be here anymore, she couldn't look at them or Alfred still sobbing upon the ground. Grabbing a pile of torn cloths she ran between the parted crowd and back towards the healing tent, ignoring the calls of 'Sigrid!' that chased after her.

They wouldn't call for her father; he would be too busy searching the ruins for survivors. They wouldn't bother her siblings; they were too young. Hopefully they would put it down to retaliation and stress; they wouldn't have the capacity to care for such trivial things when there was so much suffering to go around.

Back at the healing tent although she loathed admitting it, the outburst afforded her a clarity that enhanced her ministrations and concentration and she worked to silence the voice of guilt in her mind. She worked into the early morning when many of the sufferers had fallen into an exhausted sleep, dreading the moment she would be turned away to get her own rest. She put it off for a while, assuring the kindly healer that she was not tired and that the healer herself ought to seek rest. Soon however those who had already rested began to return and she was forced to retreat from the tent and into the tortured solitude of her own thoughts.

She wondered aimlessly through the tents lit by the soft blue light of the morning sun, past the dead embers of the fires and the sleeping bodies of those around it until she found herself at the entrance of their own tent. Peering in she saw the huddled bodies of Tilda and Bain sharing a thick blanket as they slept, Bain softly snoring and Tilda resting her head peacefully upon his outstretched arm. Her heart swelled with love and relief to see the safe and at peace but she could not bring herself to disturb such an image and left as silently as she had entered.

She hadn't thought she would see her family again when Smaug was attacking, she had watched the lone figure of her father at the windlance surrounded by the fiery inferno and had been helpless to stop Bain leaping from their boat. In that moment a small but no less vocal part of her had accepted that they would die, and even as they searched amongst the survivors the faint hope within her had withered, just as it had all those years ago when she lost her mother.

She came again to the shores of the lake and watched the smoking ruins of her home in the distance. She didn't cry, she couldn't even she had wanted to, there were simply no more tears in her, no more rage, just a great sadness and a lurking fear.

Sigrid had no intention of sleeping, she would wait until her father returned and then she would go back to the healing tent and do her best to drown out the guilt. Settling herself upon a cold and uncomfortable rock overlooking the lake she waited, looking past the smoke and to the lonely mountain in the distance.

She almost didn't hear the trudge of heavy boots towards her and started, jumping to her feet in alarm and spinning around to see Fili, the Lion-haired Dwarf as Tilda called him, making his way warily towards her. The trepidation in his blue eyes was like a physical blow for surly he had either heard or seen the violence that dwelt within her.

She drew herself up, determined not to appear weakened in front of the warrior who had defended her family from the Orcs.

He held out a blanket, his eyes peering up at her as though anticipating an attack. When she made no move to reach for it he stepped forward. "For the cold, My Lady." his tone was cautious, as if she might explode at any second.

A small ember of the anger she had felt earlier flared. "I'm not going to attack you and I'm not some poor fragile girl to be coddled, you should give it to someone who truly needs it." She said folding her arm, still not taking the blanket.

His proffered arm fell limp at his side. "I thought that it might an apology, the first peace offering between our people and I thought you might like to yell at someone else who truly deserves it." At her quizzical look he clarified. "As one of the dwarfs responsible for bringing the dragon fire upon your home."

Sigrid was taken aback. "Why would you think I would want to do that?" She asked quietly.

"You said as much when you were yelling back at the tent." He muttered lowering his gaze as he awaited his berating. The sight of his willingness to accept full responsibility for his kin mollified her anger, his own selflessness making her feel even more ashamed.

"I didn't see you back there." She said, avoiding his eyes.

He huffed and the hairs of his braided golden moustache lifting with its force. "I'm not that short."

Sigrid chuckled in spite of herself and the sound felt foreign but welcome. Fili smiled hesitantly back and seemed to relax, somewhat assured that he was no longer in danger of a verbal attack and Sigrid accepted the proffered blanket from him with thanks.

Sigrid was about to turn back to the lake when he spoke again. "You are allowed to be angry Lass, at us Dwarfs, at the man that attacked you, Malah, after all that has happened you could rightly be angry at the whole world for all the wrongs it has done you."

She sighed, feeling suddenly deflated. "Anger is all very well Master Dwarf, but harming others because if it... i'm just as bad as Alfred or the Orcs."

"True, but your regret and responding actions speak volumes in contest to such a damnation. And it's just Fili. I'm master to nobody and nothing." He shrugged.

"Are you not to be master to a mountain, now the dragon's dead?" She asked brushing aside his consolations.

"Prince actually." He muttered reluctantly.

"Should I be curtseying?"

"Please don't." He said quickly. "And you shouldn't be so quick to tease, from what I hear your father is looked upon as the new leader of your people, making you a proper Lady."

Sigrid looked back over at the smoking remains of her home and sighed; it would be hard to be a Lady of a people with no home. Turning back to Fili and saw the same exhaustion in his face that she was so stubbornly resisting in the hollowness under his cobalt eyes and the invisible weight upon his shoulders. They had both tried to protect their families and they had both nearly lost their families.

"May I at least offer the Prince a seat?" She asked.

"Only if the Lady wants the company." He replied.

Her brow furrowed. "I offered it did I not?"

He snorted as they settled themselves on the rock. "You may need to practice your diplomacy if you intend on accepting the role of Lady of your people."

She raised her eyebrows. "Etiquette from a Dwarf, I truly must be a monster."

"You are no monster My Lady." He said quietly. "You are strong, not the kind of strong that can wield a sword -although I don't doubt you would- but the strength of one who has endured and fought back. I saw it in my Uncle." His voice faltering as he looked towards the distant mountain and Sigrid realized with another pang of guilt that he did not yet know if his kin had survived the dragon fire.

She looked at him, his usually resolute face was stricken with the same terror she had seen as his brother lay dying on their kitchen table.

No words could sooth such pain and with little comfort to offer when surrounded by the deadly consequences of Dragon fire, Sigrid patted his leg reassuringly. It wasn't much, but it was all he needed to hope that everything they had been fighting for had been worth it.

He grasped her hand and they stayed like that for some time, taking comfort in each other's presence and their shared pain, watching as the light that reflect on the murky water changed with the dawning sun, and both dreaming of a future in which a Prince of Erebor and a Lady of Esgaroth might meet again in merrier circumstances.

Note: Hello fellow Figrid shippers and lovers of Tolkien! Although I initially scoffed at such a ship after reading some truly wonderful fanfiction Figrid found a place in my heart and I will defend it passionately. Afterall, the more love we spread (even if it's through crazy fanfiction ships!) the better our world will be!

So be kind to one-another and please leave a review. All constructive criticism is welcomed and I hope you enjoyed my first ever adventure into writing fanfiction.