Queen Under the Mountain - Thorin Oakenshield

~Eleven~

~The Dwarves of Erebor~

The Company of Dwarves were not about to stay put. As if they were - they were running out of time after all.

Bard dashed out of the house rather urgently, giving a stern, "Don't let them leave," to his children before disappearing.  As soon as he left the house, they pushed past the children and left themselves, heading for the armories. 

"As soon as we have the weapons, we make straight for the mountain," Thorin ordered. The others were all in agreement. 

"Won't we have to steal a boat as well?" Dahlia pondered aloud.  "If we're to cross the lake."

Using their teamwork skills which had brought them this far, the Dwarves created a boost, allowing for one of them - Nori was the chosen Dwarf - to be hoisted up into the armory through the window and unlock the door, allowing the rest to climb up and inside.

They set down to work right away.  Some worked to collect the weapons, while they loaded the others up with armfuls. Kili was clearly struggling with his armful of heavy weaponry. 

Thorin stopped him.  "You all right?"

Kili managed a brief nod.  "I can manage."

However, just moments later, poor Ki tripped down the stairs due to his wounded leg, sending the weapons flying and crashing to the floor in a very noisy episode. 

Armed guards arrived almost instantly. It didn't help that the guards all towered over the Dwarves and Hobbit. 

They were marched to the largest of the town buildings. "What is the meaning of this?" demanded a well-dressed man, storming out of the building. It didn't take them long to guess that this was the Master of Lake-town. 

"We caught them trying to steal weapons, Sire," said the Captain of the Guard. 

"Ah enemies of the state, eh?"

"A bunch of desperate mercenaries if ever there was, Sire," said the man standing beside the Master, clearly of importance himself. 

"Hold your tongue! You do not know to whom you speak," snapped Dwalin, stepping forward.  "This is Thorin, son of Thrain, Son of Thror. Heir under the Mountain! And this is Lady Dahlia of the Iron Hills,  his bride."

Thorin stepped forward. "We are the Dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland."

This arose gasps from the amassed crowd. 

"I remember this town in the days of old." Thorin looked around.  "Fleets of boats lay at harbour, filled with fine silks and gems.  This was no forsaken town on a lake - this was the great trade centre of the North! I would see those days return, I would relight the great forges of the Dwarves and see great wealth and riches flowing from the doors of Erebor!" His declaration won cheers form the crowd.

"DEATH!" A sudden shout silenced them all and everyone turned to see Bard making his way through the crowd towards them.  "That is what you will bring upon us! Dragon fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all."

"You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this: if we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the Mountain," Thorin insisted. 

"All of you listen to me! Listen, please!" Bard desperately pleaded with his fellow townspeople, fighting for their attention.  "Does no one recall the prophecy? 'The Lord of silver fountains, the King of carven stone. The King beneath the Mountain, shall come into his own. And the bells shall ring in gladness at the Mountain King's return. But all shall fail in sadness and the lake with shine and burn'. Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? How many died in the firestorm? And for what purpose? The blind ambition of of a mountain king? He was so riven by greed he could not see beyond his own desire!"