Chapter 16 – Returned to the Mountain –

"Far over the misty mountains cold, through dungeons deep and caverns old. We must away, ere break of day, to seek our pale enchanted gold." J.R.R Tolkien – The Hobbit

Kathryn stood on the riverbank, shouting without a voice as she watched the body float down the river. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her stomach felt like it would purge itself from her body. Why wouldn't she wake up? If Aragorn was dead, couldn't this nightmare release her now? She'd seen him fall, watched his body hit the water, heard the noise, seen the blood. Now he was limp and lifeless as the currents carried him away. Wasn't this enough?

No! She refused to believe it! Fate couldn't be so heartless and unfair as to take away humanity's only chance at peace and prosperity.

The Seer attempted to focus her mind, to force the vision to bend to her will. She pushed herself to go down the river with the body, to come to the shore as it was washed up on a riverbank. The chest did not move, Aragorn remained lifeless, his eyes closed. Kathryn stared at her hand, or what would pass for her hand if she could see it. Brows drawn together, teeth gritted in frustration, she tried to force it to become something physical. Briefly, it flickered in and out of transparency. Not wanting to push her luck for more, she knelt by the body and tried to touch the shoulder. An electrical shot zapped through her fingers, and for an extremely brief moment, she felt Aragorn's wet leather coat beneath her fingers. The flesh even jolted as if she had physically moved him!

She stared, wide eyed. That had never happened before! But she had done it! Emboldened, she tried again. The response was less than impressive this time, but Kathryn was determined to make it work. Trying to peer through the soaking tangles of hair that fell in his face, she attempted to see into Aragorn's eyes. But they remained closed, his skin turning blue from cold and where he refused to breathe. But she knew he was alive! She knew his heart was still beating – if sluggishly – as if she could feel it inside her chest. So why wasn't he waking up?! It was as if he had given up, couldn't muster the courage to fight on, as if…

As if he needed a reason to live…

A spark of an idea came to life inside Kathryn's head. She stood and closed her eyes, frantically attempting to clear her mind and picture the Path of Dreams. The silver gates, the ethereal trees – she begged them to materialise in front of her.

They were faint, as if she wasn't really all the way there, but even if they were flickering in and out of her sight and dim, she would still take what she could. The temptation to open the gates, to fling herself down the path of every reality… it was something that hounded the back of her mind, it had done since the day she first learned what the path truly meant. But that was something she would battle another day. She reached for the gates, but the moment she tried to touch them, they flickered out of view and her hand slipped through empty air.

Kathryn howled in frustration, aware of the precious seconds that were slipping by… What else could she do?! Curse this wretched ability of hers! What good was it if she couldn't even save the rightful King of Gondor?!

Something glimmered in the shimmering shallows of the river, reflecting the sun in a sparkle of silver. Kathryn glanced at it, distracted. A necklace hung from Aragorn's throat, the trinket at the end of which was laid across his breast, over his heart. It was clearly of elven make – no human nor dwarven craftsman could create something so delicate and feminine out of silver and jewels. It sparkled up at Kathryn, as if beckoning her to touch it.

That spark returned to Kathryn again and she knelt beside Aragorn's body to reach out for the necklace. Once again, she felt an electric shock, and was surprised to feel the real weight of the trinket in her hand; smooth and cool. She pictured in her mind a single figure. She'd only seen her once, half veiled in shadows, but she knew she was scarred onto Aragorn's heart as deeply as Smaug was on Kathryn's. Kathryn imagined a silver thread attached to the trinket, connecting it to the one she sought – not too dissimilar as to how she imagined the golden chain connecting her to Smaug. Along that thread, she followed it, until finally she was beheld with the vision of dark-haired loveliness that was the elven beauty, Arwen.

Kathryn didn't need to say much. All she did was hold out her hand. "He needs you."

Arwen, her eyes alight with worry, gazing into Kathryn as if she could physically see her in front of her, took the offered hand without hesitation. With a pull of her mind, Kathryn brought them back along the ends of the chain until the pair of them were stood over Aragorn's body. Arwen whispered in the elvish tongue, her voice reverent and filled with love as she knelt beside her beloved. She kissed his lips, she stroked his hair, pouring into him the will to see her again.

Aragorn's eyes snapped open, his lips bursting wide as he coughed up the water from his lungs. The change was so sudden, Kathryn lost her grip on keeping Arwen with them, and the elven woman vanished. Sagging from sudden exhaustion, Kathryn thought she would float away back to her own body, but she did not.

Instead, Aragorn coughed and spluttered, and when he eventually regained control of himself, he looked up at her, as if she were physically there before him. "I thank you, Kathryn… for bringing her…"

"Don't do that again," she scolded half-heartedly. "I don't know if I'll be here the next time you decide to go diving off a cliff."

He huffed amusedly. They sat there as Aragorn attempted to regain his breath, sitting on the riverbank. Sometime later, a horse came to them, Aragorn's horse. Kathryn briefly wondered how it had managed to find them…

"Why were you out here?" Kathryn asked eventually.

Aragorn stared gravely out onto the horizon. "Saruman has created his own Orc army. They are beasts of war. Stronger than anything we have seen before. They are destroying all of Rohan. King Theoden has decided that he will take his people to Helms Deep, so that they can be fortified there."

"And then what?"

"Then… they will stay there."

"And what of the war?" Kathryn demanded. "Will he simply stay there, will he not join the war effort? If he does, the war will come to him eventually – there is no escaping this!"

"I have attempted to tell him this also."

"Aragorn, he must be made to see reason!"

"All that Theoden is concerned with at this moment," said Aragorn, "is the safety of the women and children. The vulnerable. Whilst he was under Saruman's thrall, his army abandoned him. All we can hope for now, is that we reach Helms Deep before the Orcs catch us, and that Gandalf can come to our aid in time."

Kathryn could feel the pull of the dream begin to fade. It was like a tingling had taken over her extremities and was working its way towards her core. "I don't have much time left! Aragorn, you must get back to them. Help them! I will contact you soon – perhaps together we can make our kings see–"

Kathryn awoke to someone shaking her shoulder. Blinking her eyes wearily, she looked around, her brain taking a long moment to recognise her surroundings. There was an aggravating banging on a door some distance away. Little hands shook her shoulder again, and she turned to find Kolstros knelt on the bed beside her, hands on her arm to shake her awake. In the dim light, where not even the early morning could pierce through the thick curtains, his draconic eyes seemed to glow as bright as candles.

"Mother?" he called softly. "Dwarves are here." He wrinkled his nose as if said dwarves offended his senses.

With a groan, Kathryn threw back her covers, untangled her nightgown and made her way to the door, opening it to allow the maids entry. They hurried in, ignoring Kathryn's attempts to ask what business they had to barge in before she had arisen. They threw open the curtains, causing Vervenia to hiss from where she had been attempting to sleep on the far side of her mother's bed. The little girl bared her teeth and buried herself beneath the blankets.

As the maids prepared the room, bringing in breakfast and clothes, Kathryn felt her ire rise. "I ask again: what is the meaning of waking me so early?"

"All the dwarves are up, so should you be." Muttered a maid who was laying out a dress for Kathryn to wear. In a louder voice, she said: "King Dain wishes to speak with you."

A second maid tried to move Kolstros to the other room to get him dressed, though it was clear she was wary of physically touching him to do so. Kolstros grumbled but did as the maid pointed out, grumpily sliding off the bed. The maid then attempted to pull the covers back from Vervenia, but the moment her head was revealed, the girl lashed out and tried to bite the maid's hand. The dwarf shrieked and leapt backwards, hand over her heart. Not wanting to let Vervenia win, she tried to wrestle the blankets away from her, but ever her father's daughter, Vervenia fought and hissed and spat and writhed in order to keep a hold of her treasures.

Taking a deep breath with a prayer for patience, Kathryn snapped aloud: "Leave the breakfast! I can see to myself! Tell the King I shall be down to see him shortly."

The maids were all too happy to leave her there, and Vervenia smirked smugly as she reclaimed her nest. Kathryn gave her a withering look. "I am not a silly maid. Get up. Now."

Vervenia pouted and grumpily did as she was told.

Only half an hour later, dressed and fed, Kathryn made her way down towards Erebor's throne room. She'd left the twins in their rooms under strict instructions to not leave it. They had been most upset but had at least been slightly placated with the toys she left them to play with. Kathryn needed no escort but wasn't surprised when a guard followed her the entire way. Kathryn didn't have the energy to be mad at the guard, however, she was angry enough as it was.

All her life, the foolishness of kings, whether they be man, elf or dwarf, had hampered her from doing what was right. Their belief they were infallible, that no other ideas but their own were correct, had led to pride and misery. And Kathryn had finally had enough. She had come here to help these people survive Sauron's coming attack, and she wasn't going to be held back a moment longer! Even hundreds of miles away, King Theoden was making the same mistakes that would lead his people – and possibly the world – to ruin. If no one but Kathryn could see that, then she would show them.

She arrived in the throne room, not daunted by the rebuilt giant statues of dwarven warriors, nor the soldiers that lined the hall. King Dain sat upon his throne, the small crevice where the Arkenstone might've once been held above his head now empty and bare. She came before the throne and dipped low in a curtsy.

"King Dain," she said. "You sent for me?"

"Indeed I did, lass." Sighed the old dwarf, shifting in his seat as if the stone was incredibly uncomfortable. "I wish to know how ye and yer children have faired in my Kingdom thus far?"

Kathryn bit the inside of her cheek to keep her expression stony if not blank. However, she couldn't stop the scathing sarcasm. "Aside from the constant looks and foul words both behind my back and to my face? I wouldn't consider it a bad visit."

At least Dain had the decency to look ashamed. "Forgive me, lass. Must be hard on ye; yer amidst strangers in an unknown land, I–"

"Unknown?" she snorted indignantly. "King Dain, during Smaug's reign, I was taken prisoner and held here for just over a year. I know these halls almost as well as you do, perhaps. This was my home, once… and yet now I am disrespected in it constantly."

"Apologies, lass. Yer'll have te forgive my people. They are slow to trust and even slower to forgive."

"I did nothing to them."

"Yer husband did. They canne take vengeance on him, can they? Yer easy prey. But I wish it weren't so."

"Then perhaps I might earn their forgiveness?" Kathryn stepped forward bravely. "We both know Sauron means to take this mountain. With my help, we might be able to prevent this."

"Danne know if it'll be that easy, lass. But we can try." Kathryn was pleasantly surprised by Dain's willingness to comply. By all accounts, she'd heard he was even more stubborn than Thorin had been. She had not expected him to see reason so soon. "Can ye tell me what ya see?"

Kathryn closed her eyes and attempted to recall the vision that had spurred her into coming here. "Easterlings, mostly. Sauron's bringing them in – elephants, cavalry, everything."

"I danne wanna believe it…"

"They'll try to take Dale, first. It's the easier target."

"Then we'll move 'em all in the mountain. We can defend 'em from in here."

Kathryn frowned, Aragorn's words about Theonden echoing inside her head. "But you plan to fight back, yes? You cannot just accept a siege."

"If ya could tell me how many there are, I might," growled Dain in exasperation. "But if I'm outnumbered, I won't be fightin' when my people have enough food to last us three years."

"But –!"

"King Dain!" shouted a voice, the pair of them turned to find a dwarf, covered in mud and filth running towards them. He dropped to his knees before the throne, struggling to heave in much needed air to his lungs. "Scouts… have reported… forces approaching… Easterlings… thousands of them… with siege weapons… outnumbered… three to one!"

Dain's eyes shifted back and forth as his mind span with ideas to combat the problem. "If King Brand were to join our –"

"That number is with King Brand's army!"

The dwarven king was silent upon his stone throne. Kathryn felt the weight of the situation rip control out of her hands. Finally, Dain muttered: "How much time do we have, lad?"

"Few days… maybe more… maybe less."

He nodded and stood. Pointing to a guard, Dain ordered in a voice that reverberated around the stone throne room. "Send word to Dale. Have them move their supplies and people to the mountain. We'll make room for 'em in the vaults and the mines if we have to! And get us prepared for a siege!"

From balconies and along walkways, the dwarves all hurried along to do their king's bidding. It wouldn't take long, and then the entire mountain would know the dire situation. And once again, Kathryn thought of Aragorn, of his tale of Theoden walling himself away and the fight continuing on to consume everything else.

"You're not going to fight…?" she asked in a weak, defeated voice.

Dain sighed, rubbing his temples. "We don't have the numbers, lass. And without outside help comin', we got no way to even out move 'em. I'm sorry."

Her knee bounced up and down from a trapped nerve. The needle pricked her finger. Cursing, Kathryn pulled her hands away from the fabric before it could be stained with her blood. Kolstros had ripped the shirt he'd been given when he and his sister had been playing in their mother's absence. Rather than drag up a maid and have to suffer through her insulting muttering, Kathryn decided to mend the garment herself. It was supposed to help her take her mind of her own powerlessness and the simmering frustration just beneath her skin.

As if sensing his mother's foul mood, Kolstros picked up the wooden toy horse and threw it across the room. "Don't want to play!"

Kathryn gave him a scowl to display her displeasure at his behaviour, putting aside her needlework. "Then what do you want?"

Seeing the disapproval of his mother, Kolstros ducked his head submissively and remained silent. To take his place in Kathryn's attention, Vervenia pulled on Kathryn's sleeve insistently. "Mother? Where Father?"

"Where is Father, Vervenia." Kathryn gently corrected. Her own heart lurched painfully. "Your father has very important things to do. He just needs to make sure they're done, and then he'll be coming right back to get us. Don't worry. He won't be long."

"Should be with him." grumbled Kolstros.

"I know darling. I think so too."

"Go outside?" asked Vervenia.

"No, sweetheart. Outside isn't safe."

The little girl's eyes suddenly brightened with anger, her scowl almost draconic in its ferocity. "Want to!"

"Vervenia…" warned Kathryn.

"Stuck here. Bored. Go outside!" said the other twin.

"Kolstros, that is enough." With a sigh, Kathryn pushed aside all her irritation. It would do no good to be angry with her children for saying what she already thought. Kneeling on the floor, she gathered the two in her arms, sweeping away their black curly hair from their faces. "Look, my darlings, I know this is unfair. But please… be strong for me. You two are what is most precious to me in all this world. We'll get through this. But we need to stand together. Do you understand?"

The two looked at each other, as if contemplating the merits of this proposal. And then, they looked back at their mother and nodded solemnly. "Mother protect us. We protect Mother."

Kathryn smiled, warmth spreading through her. She pulled the two against her breast in a tight embrace. Their matching black curly hair smelled of camp-fires. When the sound of the door latch came, Kathryn immediately stood, holding onto her children's hands in hers, pulling them behind her. But the one that stepped through the door was not dwarven. No, instead it was a familiar elf with brown hair and brown eyes, his robes new but the way he held himself still the same.

"Oh. You." Kathryn said bitterly. "Finally decided to show your face?"

"Kathryn," Faervel sighed, as if dreading the conversation ahead. "I understand you might be a little… upset–"

"Upset? Upset?" she laughed humourlessly. "Why should I be upset? After all, a friend I haven't seen in sixty years appears out of the blue and conspires to incarcerate me and separate me from my husband, and then decides I am not even worthy to see his face until he decides to indulge me. So no, Faervel. I am not upset. I am far beyond upset."

"I am sorry about that, but Kathryn, my hands were tied. We both know Smaug would not have shown mercy. It would jeopardise the alliance you are trying to build."

"He wouldn't kill them. He was trying to get me back. He's changed since you saw him last."

Faervel sneered. "I doubt that."

"And what would you know?" she demanded hotly. "I've seen neither hide nor hair of you in sixty years–"

"You disappeared for sixty years! I had no word, no letter, not even a sighting of you. I half believed you dead. And then you were the one who showed up out of the blue!"

"Though I see you've been busy in my absence. From a simple historian to ambassador? I didn't think you could stand politics."

"When my Lord Elrond wanted to help mend the bridges between my people and the dwarves, someone had to step up to the task."

Kathryn's purple eyes grew hard. "It has changed you. The Faervel I knew wouldn't be as cold as you have been."

"You have changed also. You have become… a mother." Faervel glanced down at the two children staring at him from behind their mother's skirt. He looked back to Kathryn, his expression like that of a disappointed teacher to a wayward student. "Is that truly wise? Birthing creatures with dragons' blood into the world when the free people distrust them so?"

Kathryn's chest expanded in an effort to control the anger that burst to life inside of her. For a moment, she wished she could spit fire at him. But then she glanced at her children, and held her tongue. "Kolstros? Vervenia?" the two looked up at her quizzically. The mother pushed her children towards the door. "Why don't the pair of you run along and explore. I'll come and find you as soon as I'm done here."

The pair hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave their mother alone. But their curiosity and their earlier voiced want to move won out in the end. They pulled open the door and slipped through. When the door closed loudly behind them, Faervel quirked a brow at Kathryn in faint disapproval.

"Dain said nothing about us being confined to a single room. And the guards will follow them. They'll be safe." Kathryn said through gritted teeth. "And it also means I can spare them from seeing me scream at you."

"Kathryn–"

"How dare you stand there and judge me! How dare you imply my children are… unworthy of even being alive! I've had the scathing remarks, the contempt, the foul whispers from the dwarves – I did no expect it from you!"

"I just wanted to point out that they're obvious parentage is a disadvantage to them–"

She launched herself forward until only an inch separated them. "They are CHILDREN, Faervel! They have done nothing wrong. They are not responsible for their father's crimes. They are not beholden to the guilt their species shares."

"Like it or not, Kathryn," Faervel tensely bit back, "but prejudice is the one thing our world will never be rid of. No matter what society does, no matter how we might progress or change, there will always be fear and anger towards that which we do not understand, towards anything that threatens our illusion of control."

"Then perhaps that illusion should be broken."

"Are you determined to hate me, Kathryn?" the elf threw up his arms in defeat. "I thought you would be angry, I expected it! I forced myself away for this long because I thought you didn't want to see me. That you needed more time. I wanted us to reunite with nothing but the friendship we once knew in our hearts."

"So letting me stew in this melting pot of hate and anxiety was your solution?!"

"I couldn't do anything else!" Faervel's shout was such an unexpected burst of emotion that Kathryn was startled by it, stepping back away from him in the process. Faervel seemed to realise his outburst and tried to regain his composure, but it was falling aside brick by brick. "I… When I saw you, on that hilltop, Kathryn… I thought it was a ghost. Sixty years… for an elf that shouldn't seem like much, but to me… It was so long without you. I wasn't lying – I had thought you'd died. The last time I saw you was Vathveal, I allowed Smaug to go after you, to rescue you, and then… nothing. I mourned you."

Kathryn was left speechless as she watched the friend she had known so long ago throw aside his new persona and reveal the old self beneath. "Oh… Oh Faervel…"

"You're right. I have changed." He wrung his sleeve between his fingers in growing emotional turmoil. "What we went through in Vathvael, it… that entire ordeal, it subjected me to the sins of this world. Far more than an elf should."

"You fought with bravery and honour. You helped me. You cared for me. There was no sin–"

"But everything that happened – it hasn't washed clean." As if the weight of this invisible burden was too much to hold up a second longer, Faervel flopped into the nearest seat, slouched and undignified and utterly miserable. "Did you know that the elves are fading? Our power is draining, and most of my brethren, my family, they're all going west into the undying lands. But I'm not going. I do not think I am worthy."

"Faervel, I…" her hand reached out to touch his shoulder, to offer comfort, but she hesitated, unsure of what comfort there was she could give. "I don't pretend to know what that means to you, or your people. But surely staying here is not such a bad thing?"

"But I will never see the shores of Valinor, I will never know the warmth of its sun, the fruit of its lands. It's holiness. I am robbed."

At that, her voice grew stronger, determined. "You are not robbed, Faervel. You are gifted."

"How can you say–"

"Answer me this, Faervel: What is the point in fighting for the beauty of this world, if we are only to abandon it for a better one?" the elf was so shocked by her scandalous words, Kathryn had the courage to go on, unimpeded. "The elves are said to be one of the first peoples to awaken in Middle Earth, you've been here almost since the beginning, you've watched the world be shaped and changed. Yet now, when our need is greatest, you're all leaving? You're receding without ever really becoming part of this world to begin with!"

"You wouldn't understand, you're–"

"Mortal?" she finished. "Does it matter? I have seen people claim to be doing the 'right-thing', to try to do good, to work hard for something better. Do you know what the reason always was? In the hopes of securing a better place in the afterlife. Mortals don't know where we go once we die, so they do everything they can to try to 'buy' they're way in. And you know what? I'm sick of it! For once, I want to hear that someone fought for this world because it is WORTH saving!"

"Is it though?" Faervel asked in a quiet, unsure voice. "The world is collapsing on itself. The goodness of men is fading, greed and selfishness have taken the place of duty and honour."

"That doesn't mean we shouldn't try fighting for those things again. If Sauron wins, there is no world left. No matter where the elves hide, evil will spread all over if it is left unchecked. Gondor, Rohan, Dale, the Sh–"

A pain as if her skull had suddenly been cracked open shot through Kathryn with such intensity a strangled scream escaped her lips. Her body went limp, unable to keep her standing. Her vision flashed white as she fell. She was faintly aware of someone calling her name, of hands catching her, but she couldn't tell, and the sensations were numb. Spasms shook her limbs, her spine was ramrod straight. Her brain felt like it was bleeding liquid fire, a muttering arose from her lungs on whispered groans.

The white faded as she had a sinking, spinning sensation come over her, like she was being sucked down a drain. Magic tingled along her skin and the vision eclipsed her.

She overlooked Dale and Erebor. She watched as Easterlings swept up like a tsunami to destroy everything in their path. Their catapults destroyed Dale's towers, crumbled city streets, broke down every wall and barrier. And then their soldiers hung men and women from burning rafters, and stole children into sacks and killed the elderly. Dale was covered in smoke and fire, a wind beat the inferno into a frenzy.

And then the Easterlings turned their attention to Erebor. Their siege engines came and beat upon the great doors, even as their scouts searched around the mountain for back passages and secret entrances. The dwarves of Erebor and men of Dale that had been safeguarded into the mountain were forced out into the open, where they were met with a force that outnumbered them many times over. They fought valiantly, even heroically, but there was simply too many of them. At the heart of it all, she saw King Dain and King Brand fighting side by side, piles of Easterling corpses all around them. They would not be vanquished, yet Dain kept looking to the west, his eyes searching for something that wasn't there. Kathryn could see the dozens of lines of Easterlings prepared to take the place of the soldiers he currently fought. If only there was another force that could attack the Easterlings from behind?

As if to answer her question, the vision shifted focus away from Erebor, and went west towards a dark forest, and the halls of wood and stone buried within. Mirkwood.

Kathryn came back to herself with surge of breath, as if she'd been forced to the bottom of a deep lake and was now coming up for air. She coughed and tried to move, to reassure herself that she could move her own limbs once more. A soft mattress was at her back, pillows under her head. Funny, she didn't remember falling onto her bed when the vision took over.

"Kathryn? Kathryn! Wake up!" said a voice.

Opening her eyes, Kathryn tried to blink away the fog in her vision. Slowly, a face came into focus above her, Faervel's. His face was contorted with concern, his skin pale. She tried to reach for him, to speak, to reassure that she was well, but she felt a little too weak.

"Here, drink!" he hurriedly reached for the bedside table and handed her a cup of water. He tipped it to her lips. She drank gratefully. "What happened? What did you see?"

"I…" she croaked initially, but trailed off as a shadow stepped out behind the elf. The shadow did not speak, it merely raised a knife. "Faervel, look out!"

He spun in time as the knife came plunging down. Faervel swept the knife aside and attempted to wrestle the assailant for control of the weapon. As he did so, it brought the shadow into the light, and Kathryn saw it to be a dwarf, dressed in black leather, his face covered by a mask. Though Faervel tried to pry the dagger from his hand, the dwarf reached to his belt for a second knife.

A burst of adrenaline had Kathryn scrambling up the bed, though the weakness in her limbs still made her uncoordinated and drunken in her movements. Pressure clamped hold of her wrist and suddenly dragged her across the bed. Kathryn screamed as she came face to face with a second dwarf assassin. He attempted to pin her to the bed, straddling her flailing legs, and pressed a knife to her throat. Kathryn cried out, and in her burst of fear, her arm lashed out with a wave of magic. The weight of the dwarf was suddenly lifted off of her as he went sailing across the room, smashing his head on the wall. He fell to the floor, leaving a crimson streak behind him.

The vision had left Kathryn weak, but using magic without restraint so soon after exhausted her. She was boneless, and it took her several breaths before she could lift her head once again. Her fingers touched the scale necklace hidden in her bodice, and drew strength from it. For a fleeting moment, she wished to have Smaug with her, just to feel his warmth. But he wasn't; she was cold and she had to deal with that truth now.

When she managed to crawl to the edge of the bed, to set her feet upon the ground and stand on her own, she let out a quiet sigh. Turning slowly to survey the room, she found the dwarf she had blasted unmoving, the leather hood he wore doing little to protect his skull – which was now caved in. On the other side of the room, Faervel was laying down his own dwarf, the neck cleanly snapped. A scratch from the dagger on his cheek cut across the elf's otherwise flawless beauty. He looked to her breathlessly, and she waved him away with a gentle nod. They were both alright, that was all that mattered.

With the heat of the moment fading, Faervel looked properly at their assailants, thumping one of them with his boot incredulously. "These are Assassins?!"

"Are you really that surprised?" Kathryn murmured. "I'm not well loved in Erebor…"

"Yes, I realise that. But it makes no sense." He shook his head, thinking. "Everyone knows you are a Seer, and even if they don't, they know you are affiliated with Smaug. Two assassins for a family of dragons? I would've expected a far larger force, to be sure. Seems they were doomed from the start."

"Unless…" Kathryn trailed off as Faervel's words sank in. Two assassins did seem far too small for a family. And they had come when she was alone, when they must have known she was alone. How long had they been watching?! "Where are my children?" spinning on her heel, Kathryn threw open the door and raced down the hall, shrieking in panic: "WHERE ARE MY CHILDREN?!"

Two days of battling harsh and unforgiving weather; where winds were strong enough to fight even his mighty wings, and snow and ice stung his eyes and caked his scales. Two days of navigating treacherous terrain; of fog so thick it concealed sudden mountain peaks, or avalanches threatening to engulf him at the slightest whisper of noise. The cold was so deep, so penetrating in this unforgiving place, it threatened to even make his inner fire sputter out. Smaug shivered, remembering why exactly he'd always hated the far north. And yet, after those two days, it was worth it, to finally break through the clouds and behold his destination.

The Withered Heath was an unforgiving and mostly inhospitable place so far beyond the north, most mortals never dared to venture here. It was a valley between neat rows of mountains to the north, south and west. The east carried on seemingly forever until it supposedly reached the sea. The valley itself was a land where winter held sway forever. No matter the time of year for the rest of middle earth, the snows of the Heath never melted. Hardly any plant life grew in such a harsh environment, and as a result, the prey was selective at best. Yet this was the world that the dragons had been forced to, the last refuge where no mortals would bother them. A place where few survived.

As Smaug flew into the valley, his keen eyesight spotted cold drakes dotted about the mountain sides. Or lesser wyrms skulking about the valley edges. The moment they were shrouded in his shadow as he passed over them, they all bowed their heads in subservience. They knew their betters without question. Smaug had to hold back the urge to attack, to believe these were threats or interlopers. He had to remind himself that here in the Heath, there was little room for all of them, and so where he might have instinctively wanted more space for a territory, now he had to shrink down those expectations. Dragons were crawling over every inch of this place, desperate for breathing room, where they might've otherwise wanted to spread their wings without complaint.

Into the heart of the valley, Smaug went. To the place he had not dared return to since he had been an adolescent. Somewhere here, there would be a small cave that was the place of his birth, if he could remember the way. But at the very centre of the Withered Heath, on a plateau that garnered the most sun, beside a lake that didn't freeze over, surrounded by thermal vents, was the throne of the Fire Drakes. From this place, the last of them ruled over this small domain that was the last refuge for their kind. And it was here that Smaug made his way towards.

As he approached, he spotted them. Dragons, real dragons, Fire Drakes! Though… not many. Only two males remained, one the furthest down from the sunny plateau, the lowliest rank. The other male had his wings stretched across it to soak up as much of the sun's rays as possible – the highest rank. Not far from him, a female was curled up close to one of the vents, and beside her was an adolescent female, perhaps just about to mature into full adult-hood, if Smaug could judge correctly.

As he swooped in to hover above them, the dragons all turned their gazes towards him. He saw the moment when they recognised what and who he was. The females had wide eyes, tails lashing with excitement. The males, however, overcame their shock and bristled, their spines shivering as their chests glowed hot.

"Your eyes do not deceive you, brethren." Smaug declared, his voice booming across the valley so that even the Cold drakes might hear him even from their distance away. "It is I, Smaug – alive and returned!"