Ashes to Ashes

Scene 5

  The rest of the night passed in a blur. Only smoke, fire, screams. Death. He had rowed toward the shore, but was unable to go as fast as he had wanted, as there were hundreds of other boats crowding the waterways, rushing to get away from the dragon. He was still spewing that unnatural flame onto the city, covering the setting sun in a thick black smoke, turning the sky into a red night, the light of the flame combined with the smoke blacking out the stars.

Farin knew this city well, and while others did too, they did not think of this fact. Farin took what looked to be a go around route through the canals, when it was in fact a less crowded way, which in turn made it at least twice as fast. He avoided the grasping flames as best he could, but after a few minutes his sisters both screamed into his ears, and he took a bit more care in avoiding the flame. It didn't matter, though, unless they could get out of that accursed town on the lake before all that was left was ash and dust.

Farin swerved through the slightly less crowded streets, fire singeing his hair and clothing, and well as that of this sisters. The smoke seemed to force its way into his lungs, willing him to choke. At last, he did choke, doubling over to try and get the smoke out of his airways. He was back up in a second, rowing as fast as his aching muscles could bear, maybe more. The gravity of the situation was just beginning to hit him, and the tears streaming down his sisters' ash covered faces seemed to hurry along his own tears. His mother was gone, most likely dead, his sisters were relying on his to keep them alive, and he was almost out of energy. If he was honest, he was already out of energy, avoiding the fire costing much of his little remaining energy. 

It suddenly felt as if time had slowed to a crawl, his arms moving sluggishly as he pushed the oars of the little boat, the fire surrounding them whipping this way and that, reaching out toward its deadly hands to claw at nearby boats and houses, people and walkways as well. Ash from the ruined town rose through the air, whipped around by the unnaturally fierce wind, toward the moon veiled in smoke. Screams rose into the early night, screams of absolute pain and death. Death was all that was left. Was it worst it to keep going? Should they not just let the darkness take them? What was left for them if they resisted?

NO. Farin blinked, and the world was back. The boat had been drifting, slowly inching toward the flames, and with wide eyes and pushed the boat through the water away from the fire. He resumed his previous course, making sure that his thoughts would not keep him from taking his siblings to safety. They still had hope, they must. There was still good in Arda, even if Laketown was surrounded by evil. He could not give up, not now. He needed to protect his sisters, at least. Keep them both alive, for his mother's sake. Keep himself alive, so they would not meet in Mandos' Halls until he was old.

They were finally in the outskirts of town, where the buildings were less clumped together and there was more water, more places for a boat to go. Thank Illuvitar. Farin's hands were sore and splintered from where he had rubbed the oar handles one too many times. His arms ached, his throat was parched, his eyes and lungs burned. His sisters tears had become silent, but still persisted, leaving trails on their ash covered faces. He looked back, toward the town center. While it was now around nine hours after the sun had reached its peak, maybe ten, the light of the dragon fire sent light into all the dark places of the town. If Farin squinted, he could just make out one last wooden tower, standing crookedly, looking as if it would fall any second.

Then Farin DID squint, peering at the crooked tower. There were two PEOPLE up there. The dragon had ceased its circling around the city, instead hovering a distance from the tower. The taller of the two people (it was too far to discern age or gender) was backing up from the shorter, facing the dragon. The dragon had dropped to the rooftops, his heavy feet crushing many of the burning buildings. Smaug was crawling his way to the tower, slowly, surely. Farin would have kept watching the horrible scene, had a cry not rushed into his ear. He whipped around to find his youngest sister sobbing once again, terrified out of her wits. He needed to go faster.

Farin practically threw the entirety of his weight onto the oars, rowing as if his life depended on it. In reality, it very well could. Not only his, either, but also the lives of his two sisters, were at stake. He fervently hoped he had enough strength left in him to row them to safety. His throat was absolutely parched, his muscles burning as if the dragon fire had snaked its way into his veins, his eyes itched and burned from the ash and smoke, but he kept going. He had to keep going.

They were within sight of the open water on the outskirts of town, and the weight on Farin's heart lifted the slightest bit. They were going to make it. They were so, so close. Just a few more minutes. Of course, once they escaped the confines of the town, they would still be far from shore, stone ruins jutting out of the water between them and relative safety, making the way treacherous. At least they would be shrouded in fog, both their friend and their enemy in that moment. Also, they would be able to avoid the dragon fire, unless Smaug decided to leave the town, focusing instead on the fleeing men, women, and children. Farin prayed Smaug wouldn't. It would be the end of them -- all of them -- if Smaug redirected his focus.