Farmer in the Dale RPG

[piosenniel]

Kransha’s post - Smaug

The eyes of the dragon, keen and sharp with malevolent pupils focused intently upon the lands that stretched far a wide beneath his soaring bulk, blinked together in an eerily rhythmic succession as the monstrous creature, the golden being lurching along through the river of the sky, neared his goal. Vague, pulsating embers lurked beneath the cold orbs set into his dragon skull and wafting plumes of smoke curled from the narrow gaps between his jagged fangs, jutting out from a pair of thick, muscular jaws that snapped together in anticipation. In the distance, not far beneath the red-gold form, there sat a single mountain rising out of the flat plane of the earth. The flat length of land around its sloping sides were dotted with some isolated tree groves and a minute stretch of woodland. Rising and dipping from the protuberant southern spur of was a thin line of water, a running river that looped gracefully around the crags of mountainous rock. At one end of the structure that was carefully laced into the mountain face, there were stairs and the indication of a modest gate, which presumably led in somewhere, the goal of Smaug. Therein, he knew, lay heaps of fantastic trinkets, baubles, bangles, precious stones, and a vast mélange of glittering objects that the excitedly vigorous dragon could assimilate into his hoard.

Smaug the Magnificent had not descended from his perch in the north for longer than even he, the mighty dragon himself, could recall accurately. His grounds for ‘nesting’ as the chattering aviary creatures around him dubbed it, where now vacant, probably inhabited by some unworthy band of thieving birds who had alighted there unknowingly. But, he would soon find a new lair, a place to lay his weary head in times of weariness that was no longer bleak and dreary, but altogether magnificent, decked in full with the spoils that Smaug would collect from each and every wretched mortal in these lands who had a particle of necessary wealth upon it.

As a sinister grin peeled across Smaug’s scaly lips, the dragon’s wings turned up with drastic force, causing his bulk to arch forward and veer down, honing in on the rough mountaintop. He soared, with as much grace as was possibly for a being of his tremendous size, down through the last thin, shriveled wisps of ivory cloud. He wheeled about through the air, watching with narrowing eyes, glowing with faint and gleeful fury, as the lonely cone of rock, worn away by years of wind, rose up to meet him while he fell, stretching his arms and legs out to each side with talons ready and eager, wings flapping madly against any meek gust that tried to stand in his way.

His mouth, the whole gaping maw of it, suddenly opened, each monumental jaw stretching with his glinting teeth pulled back into his ferocious face and a great and terrible light, brilliant red with orange fringes that flickered outward like feathery capes, began to well up in the pit of his throat. Soon, the building surplus of flame began to billow out like foamy waves which worked their way out from the gates formed by Smaug’s daggers of fangs. As his throat swelled, pulling in a gargantuan gust of air that filled his innards to the brim, he let loose the breath. From Smaug came a searing, blinding pillar of fire that spiraled down and stretched out like two giant hands and countless jagged talons that wrapped around the side of the mountain, burning away the rock itself. The dragon wasted no time in propelling himself from side to side through the sky’s ocean, zigzagging madly about as murderous gusts of fire bubbled up from him and poured out onto to the mountain. He burst out column after column of the searing red, its fringed edges lapping at the rocks and the force of each blast sending up a spray of dust, rock, and rubble from each point of impact. The mountain began to feel the sting of his mighty attacks, by now checkered with blotches of ashen rock that had been charred into disintegrating rubble by the intense heat of the dragon’s breath. As he continued his maniacal assault, his fiery eyes turned up, away from the current target of his incendiary strategy, and looked off into the distance, towards the cleansing river and south.

He saw a new goal. He would certainly return to this mountain, try to get inside and claim his wealth, but he had to eliminate the scent of man and dwarf from these lands as best as he could. Beneath him once again was a city, or town, or some gathering glade of houses and structures that dotted the southern slopes of the Lonely Mountain, looking with a calmed serenity out onto the looping river that ran down from its source in the mountain’s side. A more narrow, almost voracious grin began to grow on Smaug’s face as he turned around the mountain, still spouting flame bursts every few seconds as he turned, extending his magnificent wings perpendicular to the plain below and turning his glittering, gem encrusted underbelly towards the ruined, crumbling side of the mountain.

Slowly, holding in his breath as he dipped again, Smaug the Golden headed towards Dale…

[piosenniel]

ArwenBaggins’ post

"Eli, hand me a stake," Arinn Millwind was kneeling in a garden amongst growing corn and okra. A young boy, straddling a row of green beans, walked quickly toward his father with a sharp wooden stake in his small, tanned hand.

He dropped to his knees and handed his father the piece of wood, wiping a large pearly bead of sweat from his forehead. "Here ya go Papa… whatcha plantin' now?" Eli picked up a handful of dark brown soil, a worm wriggling up his short finger.

Arinn took the stake and nodded in thanks and used the pole to straighten a feeble tomato seedling. He then mopped his forehead and held the small of his back, standing slowly. The sun blazed down upon the farm in Dale, the workplace of the Millwind family. "Come on in with me Eli; 'tis probably time for lunch… where's your brother?" Eli stood as well, shrugging and running off toward the house about half a mile away. "I wish he'd slow down once and a while! He will overheat!" he shook his head, laughing slightly at his energetic son, and walked briskly toward his home.

His wife met them on the porch. "Lunch is ready, my big men!" she kissed Arinn and rubbed Eli's messy waves of dust-color. After the boy dashed into the open door and skidded to a stop in the kitchen with his older sister and younger brother, the woman leaned in close to her husband and pushed a lock of sweaty chestnut hair from his ear, whispering: "How was he today? You did not have him sit in the sun too long, did you?"

"No dear. He sat under the dogwood tree most of the time- he came out for naught of five minutes to hand me a stake and hurry home. Do not worry," He kissed her forehead and entered their home.

Arinn sat at the table, between his daughter and his youngest child, a son. "Gimme my rock back!" Eli kicked the other twin in the shins underneath the table, trying to choke back tears. "Papa! Mama! He won' gimme my rock back!" Arinn cast a swift, austere look to the boy, who immediately dropped the shiny, polished, gray rock. Eli smiled weakly and sat back in his chair, dropping the rock in his pocket. It was a rock given to the boy by his father, a precious gift that he treasured with all his heart.

It's normal… Arinn forced himself to think. Fighting was a normal part of having children. He didn't like it, but it was normal.

*****

Only roughly a dozen miles away, a large, ominous shadow flew over Erebor, the very edge of the dark silhouette growing dangerously closer to Dale. Arinn was again outside, working without rest on the planting of the season. Eli, seemingly unseperable from his father, sat in the cool shade beneath the dogwood tree, the smooth gray stone lying in his hands.

Suddenly, a loud but distant screech was heard, and Arinn looked up instantaneously toward the shadow. "A dragon…!" He muttered under his breath in disbelieve. "Eli! A dragon! We need to get home and warn everyone. ELI?" Arinn pulled himself from the ground and looked around frenetically, calling his son's name.

Eli had already taken off. He heard his father yelling behind him, but he would catch up, wouldn't he? He would suspect that Eli was a smart enough boy to run home, wouldn't he? "Papa! I'm over here!" a rising wind and the rustling of field grass soon drowned his voice out.

His legs were growing weak; he wasn't used to running this long and far. He stopped for a moment and twirled frantically, looking and yelling for his father without answer. Deciding that it was absolutely necessary that he got home, he continued running, running, toward the seemingly-safe confines of his home.

"Eli! Eli? Where are you?" Arinn cast another quickly glance toward the north, but then turned his eyes back to the land in front of him. Where was his son?

Eli could not run any longer. With one last scream, he collapsed amidst the tall millet. His breath came slow and he moaned like a small wounded animal. Arinn found him five minutes later, lying sprawled on his stomach in the dirt. Muttering his son's name, he tried to crack a smile as he lifted him from the ground and cradled him like an even younger child.

The boy cracked open his dreamlike eyes, struggling to get a good hold on his father's loose shirt. "Papa, I'm sorry dat I ran. I'm just real scared of dragons. An' I wanted ta be tha big boy, warnin' everyone 'bout it. I'm sorry," his bottom lip puckered and a single tear dropped down his cheek onto his heaving chest.

While he wanted to express how serious what he had done was, Arinn couldn't seem to bring himself to do it. Instead, he hugged Eli close and shook his head, kept walking fleetly, and said, "Do not worry. We will go home and tell Mama, and then I will go out and tell everyone else around here."

"Okay Papa. But… but d'you think dat I could come with you?" Eli's breathing came a little slower now, nearing its normal rate.

Arinn sighed. He could not let Eli find that he was scared as well. "We will just have to see."

[piosenniel]

Regin Hardhammer’s post

Eric watched sadly as Eli and his dad walked out into the fields after lunch, leaving him all alone to reflect on the horrible time he’d just had. Eli had kicked him in the shins under the table and left a blue bruise. His parents hadn’t even seen what happened and made him return the shiny rock that he had borrowed from his brother the day before. “It’s not fair,” Eric muttered. “My crybaby brother always gets what he wants.”

Eli was a sickly and frail boy, so his parents naturally felt the need to pay more attention to him. It seemed to Eric that whenever he did anything to his brother, the older boy immediately whined about it to his parents, who always sided with Eli. Nor did he like being called a “younger brother” when he was born only two hours later than his twin. “Life can be so unfair!” he noted with a grimace.

His father always took Eli to help him with the work in the field, but never Eric, even though he was probably tougher and could work harder. A couple of times he had thought about asking his father if he could come too, but stopped himself because he was afraid that his father would say no. Anyways, Eric reflected, he probably wouldn’t want me to come, since he likes to be with Eli.

Determined not to sulk in the house all day, Eric decided to go for a walk in the meadow near the lake. Maybe he could gather frogs there that he would later put in his sister’s bed. She always loved his little surprises, he thought with a grin. Walking through the tall grass, he noticed that a grey shadow had suddenly appeared on the ground and swiftly crept closer until it finally enveloped him. Eric looked up curiously and saw a very strange looking, monstrous bird. I didn’t know birds had scales and I’ve certainly never seen one that large before. Enchanted with this new creature, Eric sprinted gleefully after it, giving no thought to how he would get home. He whispered proudly to himself, “I bet Eli has never seen anything like this!”

[piosenniel]

Araréiel's post

Sunlight streamed through the freshly cleaned windows of the tidy kitchen. Heat emanated from the oven, lunch nearly prepared. Willow Millwind glanced out the window, wondering where her husband and children were. It was uncommon of them to be late. She pulled the buns from the oven and placed them on a plate. Grabbing a bowl of fresh-churned butter, she headed to the table. A noise outside distracted her and she headed instead to the door, setting the butter on a near-by chair. Pushing the door open with her foot, she stepped outside.

"Lunch is ready, my big men!" Willow looked with pride on her handsome husband, still as much in love with him today as they day they married. She gave him a kiss, and laughed as Eli cried out how gross kissing it. She ruffled the already-messy hair of her son, marveling in how much he looked like his father. Eli ran in through the door, and Willow caught a glimpse of her other children settling into their places for lunch, the twins fighting over who sat where, her daughter settling the fight. Hoping to not be heard, Willow leaned close to her husband and whispered, "How was he today? You did not have him sit in the sun too long, did you?"

"No dear. He sat under the dogwood tree most of the time- he came out for naught of five minutes to hand me a stake and hurry home. Do not worry," He kissed her and chuckled as he entered the doorway. His wife always worried about the children in the sun, worried they would burn. For this reason, none of them ever had.

*******************************

Lunch was long-finished. Soon it would be time to start preparing supper. Eli had picked on his brother horribly, this time for being a tad bit shorter. Eric had tried to defend himself, saying he looked more like Papa, that Mama always said so. Eli had thrown his bun at Eric, causing a fight as Willow hadn't seen in her table in years. She had forced her sons to clean up the mess, not caring who started what, only angry that they had participated in such a display of tempers.

She glanced down at the sewing she was doing. Those boys sure were tough on their clothing, and needed lots of repairs. But this was special. She was sewing a delicate white gown. It would have a white sash and lots of embroidery in shades of blue, pink, and the palest of green. Elanor worked so hard to help out, and Willow wasn't sure Elanor fully knew how much she was appreciated. This gown was beautiful, the gown she described for her daughter in stories of princesses as a child, but impractical, and she was glad to be finishing the last of the embroidery. The gown was complete, and she would give it to her daughter as supper that night. She carefully folded the garment and put it in a box, ready to surprise her eldest child, for Elanor knew nothing of the dress. The child sewed so much for others. She deserved a treat, and didn't understand why her mother had asked her to do mending in the afternoon instead of after supper, but she complied anyway. Willow just needed her out of the kitchen.

Elanor's favorite meal was turkey. Not chicken, but turkey. So Willow cut up the bird to cook it faster. Time had flown and she was running low on time. If she quartered the bird it would be done in time. She seasoned the bird with some pepper, dried garlic, salt, and some parley, and placed it in the oven, dousing it with a bit of lemon juice before closing the heavy iron door. Humming to herself, she peel the potatoes, toss them into a cast iron pot, fill with water, place on stove. Oh, how she hated peeling potatoes! But it must be done. The cream on the counter, she chopped up more garlic. When the potatoes were done boiling, she'd mash them with the garlic and cream. Elanor's favorite. Thankfully, Elanor's favorite dessert was strawberry shortcake. Shortcake is simple to make, and Willow sliced the strawberries and tossed them with a bit of sugar, singing now as she started whipping a bit of cream with sugar to make it fluffy. Satisfied with the texture, she sat back down to wait for the food to cook.

Smells of seasoning began to fill the room, and the sunlight combined with the smells and heat soon lulled Willow to sleep. A couple horsed reared outside causing quit a commotion, startling her from her sleep. She jumped up and headed to the window, and only saw the horses. What had frightened them? The house was momentarily covered in darkness, as if clouds covered the sun. She glanced up, but saw nothing. The potatoes began to boil over, so she pulled the pot off the stove, cursing as she accidentally burned her finger.

As she sucked on her finger, willing the burning feeling to subside, Willow stepped out the door. "If those boys are scaring the horses again...," she muttered under her breath.

Slight dust kicked up as her skirt swept across the ground to the corral. Nothing. Maybe he hadn't been at the corral after all. The horses reared again as a shadow came over them. Looking up she saw....

Eyes widening, terror overcame Willow and she screamed. The dragon overhead turned back around and looked down at her as she ran back to the house. The winged creature continued to fly, not stopping, until he was far from the house. Willow tore through the door, running to a corner of the room. Where was her family? How could she find them? If she went outside and they came home, how would they find her? Willow cried with fright and confusion, praying in her heart that her family would return home soon, safe and sound.

[piosenniel]

Child of the 7th Age’s post


Elanor got up from the lunch table and began to clear off the dishes, waving goodbye to her father and Eli as they trudged back towards the fields. Her mother was so busy with the farm and household chores that she had asked her to keep an eye on her younger brother. Elanor had gone out to the garden to pick a bucket of beans for dinner. By the time she returned to the house, her brother Eric was nowhere to be seen. She was only mildly concerned that he was missing from the house. He was probably off with mother in the garden or out in the barn playing with the cat who’d just had a litter of kittens.

Elanor sat down to finish hemming the dress, a task that her mother had asked her to start the evening before. She held up the skirt against the sunlight which was streaming in through the window and took a close look at her line of stitches. She still could not match her mother’s skill with the needle. Some of her own stitches were long, others quite short and a little wiggly. She’d need to work on that some other time. For right now, this would have to do.

Elanor was determined to finish her chores so she could meet her cousin Elian Whitfield and perhaps one of his friends as they had agreed the day before. They planned to hike north about a mile or two to see if there was anything new or different to report now that the Dwarves had carts of ore heading to the west. Rumor had it that the Dwarves had again started doing business with the Elves who dwelled deep within Mirkwood. Elanor had no idea if this was true but she wanted to get a good look at those carts and the Dwarves who were driving them. Someday, she promised, she’d take a great trip all the way to the Lonely Mountain where the Dwarf folk were said to live, with all their grand halls and piles of gold and other rare ores. But, for now, a little hike a mile or so north was all that she could manage. Elanor threw the dress down in a crumpled pile on the table and slipped out the front door, running down the pathway in the direction of their agreed upon meeting point.

*******************


The two teen-agers had trudged along for a half hour or so heading steadily north. Elian told Elanor stories he had heard from his grandfather: how the Dwarves had returned to the mountain some two hundred years before and had dug deep into the tunnels and come up with amazing treasure. Elanor wondered what the treasure would look like. She imagined heaps of gold and mithril sitting in three of four large piles in the middle of the Dwarves’ Great Hall. It might be nice, she reflected, to have a pin or necklace to wear. The two stopped and sat under an overhanging beech tree, drinking from the water bottles they had brought with them. Despite all their hiking, they had not seen a single Dwarf or any carts laden with treasure.

“We’d best get back,” Elanor pressed. “Mother expects me to help with dinner.”

“But we didn’t see any Dwarves!” her cousin objected. “And that’s why we came.”

”Maybe so. But we can always come again any time we want.”

Just as they were about to head south, Elian got up and excitedly pointed towards the hills in front of them. Some distance away and barely visible, there seemed to be a whole herd of Dwarves running to the west as fast as their short legs could take them. Some of them were waving swords, staves, and axes in the air.

“By all Beruthiel’s cats, what’s happening over there?”

Before Elanor could open her mouth to venture an opinion, there was a terrible hissing and whirling noise that came from the air. Instinctively, Elian grabbed for his cousin’s hand and yanked her down into the tall grass and ferns so that they were totally hidden. Coming straight at them, a sinister, twisting figure made its way southward, flying through the air. The creature was gigantic, its color just as golden as all the piles of treasure that Elanor had envisioned in the tales that she'd heard. Elian could glimpse two long fingers of flame that seemed to shoot out from the wyrm’s gaping mouth, leaving trails of ashes and smoke behind. The two children huddled together under the bracken afraid to look up or show their heads above the foliage. When the terrible shadow had finally swept over them, they staggered abruptly to their feet. Elian was shaking and Elanor barely holding back tears. “Our families!” they both cried at once. With that the two friends took off running towards the south.

[piosenniel]

Fallinel's post:

The sun was warm on Rhysdan's shoulders as he clambered among the large rocks, in search of the lost black-and-white ewe and her lamb. He used his staff expertly for balance and leverage, as he leapt from one boulder to the next; he knew from experience that the heavy, clumsy sheep could easily become wedged between rocks, and lacked the sense required to extricate themselves. Rhysdan scanned all the narrow, grassy spaces between the tumbled boulders, yet there was no sign of the ewe and her lamb. It was as if they had disappeared into thin air. He had wanted to bring his son Elian along to help him search for the sheep, but the adventurous boy was off wandering the hills with his cousin. "Probably looking for Dwarves, or treasure, or some such imaginative nonsense, " thought Rhysdan, and smiled.

The ewe and lamb were not the first of Rhysdan's livestock to disappear; no-the old brown ram, and a young cream-colored heifer had also gone missing, without a trace left behind. No tell-tale sightings of circling carrion-birds for a sick or injured animal, either. The last time he had traveled into the Dale market, to sell cream, butter, and sheep's milk cheeses, he had heard disturbing tales of losses on other farms and homesteads, livestock spirited away mysteriously.

Rhysdan had hiked close to one of the towering southern arms of the Lonely Mountain in his search for the lost ewe and her lamb, enjoying the exertion as he moved steadily uphill, in spite of the nagging worries over his livestock. His red-speckled, blue-eyed sheepdog, Hawkweed, accompanied him, trotting to and fro amongst the boulders and patches of high grass, sniffing incessantly for the elusive sheep-scent. Something passed between the sun and the stone-littered field where Rhysdan stood, casting a long dark shadow on the grass, and Hawkweed immediately began barking frantically. That was so unlike the dog, who was usually devoted to his tasks; Rhysdan looked up, and in the bright sky saw something that left him feeling un-nerved, yet fascinated.

No, it can't be-those are only wild tales, meant to frighten children, thought Rhysdan. But there it was, golden-red scales glistening in the sun, long tail lashing from side to side as a rudder, immense leathery wings beating the air powerfully. Rhysdan could see fibers, or perhaps fur and skin trailing from one of the dragon's huge front claws. Hawkweed continued to bark madly, racing around the stones, and jumping on and off the tops of the smaller ones nervously. Rhysdan thought to silence the dog with a command, but then realized that the dragon was paying them little or no heed. Its attention appeared to be focused on the mountain itself, particularly on the southern side. It is looking for a den, just like a fox or wolf , thought the shepherd, who had little knowledge of dragons, but knew much about the wild animals of the area.

Then Rhysdan remembered that Elian and Elanor had decided to go adventuring near the mountain, and surely that golden monster had the vision of a hawk or eagle. Rhysdan called Hawkweed to his side, and began to run back towards his homestead...

[piosenniel]

Nurumaiel's post

The little brown-haired girl sat under the shade of a tree, finding comfort in the fact that there was at last a shady spot to keep her protected from the sun. After a glance to make sure no one was about, she turned her eyes to the tree and placed a tender kiss on its rough bark, murmuring her thanks to it for its gallantry in defending her from the sun. She smiled regretfully up at the sun, spreading her arms as if she were questioning what else she could do, and then fixed her eyes on some little clouds flitting across the sky and dancing together. A rapturous little sigh burst from her and she clasped her two small hands together, her brown eyes shining. If a passerby had looked into those eyes, he would have seen at once that her heart was not in Dale any longer but flying about to dance with those clouds.

Daisy Whitfield had always been a dreamer, and folk had resigned themselves to the fact that she always would be. They had nothing against dreamers, or so they said, but there was something queer about the way her being fled her body to travel in some other realm, and only a sharp word spoken would bring her back to the solid ground again. She was a sensible child and a great help to her mother about the house, but folk felt that the term 'down-to-earth' would not be appropriate for her.

Daisy Whitfield danced with the clouds before pulling herself away to rise to her feet and climb the tree and perch in reality amid its green branches. There, now she felt closer to the sky and more akin to it. She let her brown head rest against the trunk of the tree and once again set about to dancing with the clouds. A soft wind rustled the leaves of the tree and made her long skirt billow out; so absorbed was she in her dreamings that she did not notice her skirt and been blown above her knees and could not pull it down again with maidenly blushes.

Caught up still in her dreamings, she wondered what it would be like to really dance with the clouds, like that large bird with scales was doing now. It had seemed to come from nowhere, but it made the dancing clouds seem more alluring. It was a beautiful thing, she reflected, and it would be interesting to ride on its back. Perhaps she would imagine she was riding on its back. She had never seen a bird so big... nor had she ever seen a bird with scales.

Her face paled, her lips opened in a soundless scream, and her little heart seemed to stop a moment before it resumed to beat: a loud, pounding beat that made her short of breath. She stared in wordless terror at the scaled bird and then a little scream did burst from her. Closing her eyes tightly, she buried her face against the trunk and tried to imagine the creature away. Opening her eyes again, she saw it was still there, and terror possessed her. But her limbs did not go numb, as they did so often in her nightmares. Instead speed was lent to her, and she slid from the tree with remarkable agility. Her eyes widened as she stared at the creature, and she realized again what it was.

The creature was a distance away, but it was growing steadily closer and Daisy could see the gleam of gold that dazzled from its scales when the sun fell upon it. Yet she was not enraptured by this sight. Beautiful, yes, but its beauty was lost to her and she saw it as only terrible. She pulled her skirts up to give her legs more freedom and ran, the tears of terror beginning to flow from her eyes. She had wandered far from home and she was frightened she would not reach the safety of her mother in time. She ran with all her strength, trying to imagine that the creature wasn't winging behind her.

But it was.

Her feet began to drag and her side burned like fire. But she ran still, until she saw her own house up ahead. A painful, breathless sob of relief burst from her and she began to slow a little. And then her feet stopped. She had run nearly a mile without a pause and her trembling little legs collapsed underneath her. Pitifully she crawled to the side of the road and buried herself against the side of the house in the shade of the tree. But it brought her no comfort. A tree could protect her from the sun; it could not protect her against the monster. She buried her face in her little hands and wept in despair.

[piosenniel]

Pippin Pondlily's post:

Esmerelda stood over a cauldron of hot water and stirred with a thick staff her family’s laundry. Cottons and linens in earthy tones would surface and recede at random as they were soaked through in preparation to be soaped down and cleaned. She stopped for a moment to prod at the coals beneath the large iron pot and waited for signs of an orange glow before she resumed her stirring.

This was a wretched day for doing laundry. The sweltering afternoon heat was relentless as it beat down through the feeble shade of an old hickory and Esmerelda was very uncomfortable in her soft brown overdress and itched incessantly underneath the blue sash coiled about her waist.

Finally satisfied with the hot laundry she picked out one of Rhysdan’s shirts and set it hissing into a wide pan of cool water and draped it over the wash board. Securing the gathered ties of her linen chemise above her elbows she went to work soaping and scrubbing the shirt until the water was murky with dirt and grime. As she moved the fabric up and down over the ridges of the board the wooden disc that hung on a chord around her neck repeatedly knocked against the frame until she finally tucked it behind her into the back of her dress’s neckline, the front neckline she preferred for the hot weather being too low.

After four shirts, two of them Rhysdan’s and two of them Elian’s, Esmerelda sought out the water pump to refresh herself and splashed water onto her face and hands and in her mouth. As she was walking back to the cauldron a hot wind picked up and blew dust about the base of the cauldron and made the clothing hanging on the line snap in a frenzy. The hickory tree groaned and shuddered and the leaves rustled frantically. In the street and up across the hills Esmerelda could hear dogs barking and in the paddock outside the barn the horses reared and whinnied. She looked around for some explanation searching the horizons when an immense shadow passed across the fields before her. The woman shielded her eyes and squinted up into the sky. Her heart beat fast in her chest and her mouth opened in shock as she took in the gigantic, red-gold figure that soared overhead.

Esmerelda watched only for a second before quickly dousing the coals beneath the pot and abandoning the rest of her washing. She yanked open the back door of their home.

“Daisy! Daisy, come down here!” she called up the stairs to the bedrooms. There was no answer. “Daisy?” she walked into the kitchen and dining room area. The wind was ripping through the open window and whistling through the gaps in the boards. It had already blown the flowers from table onto the floor and the hanging herbs and roots were parallel to the ground and spinning, straining against their strings. “Daisy!” Esmerelda shouted again. When it was clear that her daughter was not in the house, the tall woman ran out the front door into the street. She cupped her hands about her mouth and called, “Daisy!” There was still no answer and her voice had to fight the wind to be heard. Her eyes searched about her frantically, up and down the street but there was no sign of her daughter. Then she rounded the house and nearly stumbled upon her.

“Mother!” the little girl cried, leaping up from her huddled position alongside the house. She wrapped her arms tightly around her mother’s neck and buried her face into her shoulder. Esmerelda held her daughter tightly, whispered soothingly into her ear and ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s alright darling, I’m here, shh, it’s alright.” She went around again to the front of the house and stepped up onto the small porch ducking again into the doorway. Holding still to her daughter she crossed the living room into the kitchen and peered out the window. The dragon had flown to the edge of the town and was just out of sight. Then she glanced across the fields to the hills where her husband was tending the sheep. There was no way to reach him, undoubtedly he’d seen the beast. Suddenly she thought of Elian. Out for the day with his cousin, probably a mile north!

“Mummy, I’m scared,” whispered Daisy, her frightened body tense and salty tears hot against her mother’s cheek and neck. Esmerelda patted her back tenderly.

“It’s alright,” she said calmly, “we’re going to wait here for Daddy and Elian for a little while longer and then we’ll go over to see Uncle Arinn and Aunt Willow, alright?” Daisy nodded, her face still muffled in Esmerelda’s shoulder. “You’re a very brave girl,” she whispered, “it will be alright.” If Elian wasn’t back soon, she would take Daisy over to the Millwinds’ and go out to find him. She looked up again into the sky, the dragon was headed back their way…

[Nurumaiel]

Daisy buried her face in her mother's apron, feeling comforted by the tender arms about her. She kept her eyes tightly shut, for she did not want to see the dragon again, but she could imagine it, its large scaled wings spread out, casting a shadow over their once-peaceful home, and its goldeness beautiful but terrifying. Her sensitive mind began to imagine what fates would befall her when the dragon's fire descended upon them, and the tears began to flow faster than before, and she clung to her mother tighter. Yet still she was not wholly terrified, until she remembered that Elian and Cousin Elanor were out rambling together. It was then that fear smote her to her little heart, and she pulled herself away from her mother's embrace, gazing pathetically up into her face.

"Mamma!" she cried. "Mamma, Elian is out there somewhere!"

"I know, darling," said her mother, reaching forward to stroke her daughter's hair. "They will take care of each other and come safe home, and Papa will make sure no harm comes to them."

Daisy shook her head fiercely, the tears frozen on her cheeks. "No, Mamma," she said. "The dragon will see them and kill them." Her voice rose to a shrill scream, for she could envision their deaths clearly in their mind. She couldn't just let them die, yet she was afraid. "They need someone to find them and take them home." A wary look sprang into Esmerelda's eyes, and she took a little step forward. Daisy hopped nimbly back. "Mamma, we have to go look for them."

"Daisy, I would much rather you stay at your aunt and uncle's house," said her mother softly, moving a little closer.

Once again Daisy moved away. She had to help her brother and cousin, for they were in danger and she could not let them die. "No, no, Mamma!" she cried. "They need me to help them." Without further ado, she sprung for the door, and Esmerelda hurried after her. Daisy went through the living room and to the front door, and flung it open, gazing wildly up at the sky. She glanced over her shoulder at her mother's following form, and then sprung off the doorstep into the street.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Pumping her legs as fast as she could, Elanor bolted across the open field, too afraid to gaze up into the open sky. The young woman could see Elian sprinting just in front of her, intermittently glancing back to make certain that she was still alright.

Panting as much from fright as exertion, the two managed to find their way back to the outer ring of farmhouses on the far outskirts of Dale. The shortest way home was to cut straight through the fields and pens, ignoring private boundaries, clambering over the wooden fences. They were quite prepared to do this but some saving instinct inside Elanor's head warned her to stop for a moment and spy out the lay of the land.

As she and Elian crouched behind a hedge and peered cautiously outward, a horrifying spectacle caught her eye. They stared unbelieving as a commanding shadow swooped down from the sky spilling flame and ashes in its trail. Two of the smaller sheds on the nearest farm had already caught fire and the greedy tongues of red and orange were threatening to spread to the adjacent house. Worse yet, the beast had now alit on the ground and was tossing cattle out of the way with a shake of its head as if they were nothing more than little toys, like those made in Dale that were so popular among both human and dwarven children.

Struggling to stay calm, Elanor bellowed out above the racket, "Let's get out of here. It's too dangerous. There has to be another way home."

Elian nodded curtly, "Back there. Up, over the rocks." He pointed to a string of boulders that were grouped around the base of the nearby foothills. "We can get over those, and cut around to avoid this mess." With a wave of his hand, he gestured towards the dragon who as yet showed no signs of leaving.

The two swiftly backtracked towards the path Elian had recommended. As they started to clamber up the rocks, Elanor thought she heard the scream of a woman from behind her in the same direction as the burning house, a scream that lasted only a few seconds and was then cut ominously short. She shook her head and covered her ears to block out the sound. But the only thing she succeeded in doing was to conjure up a picture in her mind of her younger brother Eric, the one she usually dismissed as a great pest. When she had left her home that afternoon, she had not been able to find him. Surely, he was with their mother. He had to be with mother!

But for the first time that day, Elanor felt her confidence waiver. What if she was wrong.....?

[Regin Hardhammer]

Eric raced after the humungous creature, his heart pounding. He was determined to catch up with it to get a closer look. Wide clumps of trees flew past him as he ventured deeper into the forest. His shoe caught on a tree root protruding from the ground and he fell, receiving a large mouthful of dirt. Blubbering under his breath, Eric hastily scanned the sky to find the beast.

“Where did you go bird?” he yelled desperately. After several minutes of searching, Eric guessed that the bird had flown away into a clump of thick trees. Why did nothing he did ever turn out right? His left leg now swelled with a sharp pain from the bruise that he had received from his ungraceful descent. But he was not going to cry about it like that little baby Eli, who wailed whenever he got a paper cut. Mom and Dad, of course, always tried to calm him and assure him that he was okay. Well I could get their attention too if I was such a baby, thought Eli.

Thoroughly depressed that his adventure seemed to have hit a brick wall, Eli sat down on an old oak stump. Eric looked up at the old trees surrounding him, their long branchy fingers reached far into the sky and were covered with thick clumps of green pine needles. Squirrels scuttled up and down the trunk, munching on bunches of nuts and kernels. He wished that he had something to eat as it was getting late and his stomach rumbled tumultuously

Eric had explored most of the forests around his house, but these woods were not familiar to him. As the sun crept lower in the sky, he searched for something, anything, which would remind him of where he was. Over hours, the foreboding darkness crept up on Eric, cast upon him by the elderly trees. As the bleakness of the situation became apparent, panic set in. He was not safe in this strange forest all alone, no matter how tough he was. Eric cringed as he could have sworn he heard a long, mournful wolf howl echoing through the crisp air. No, he assured himself adamantly, I will make it out of this place and I will find my way home. And I’m not going to sit here and cry about it.

[ArwenBaggins]

Arinn rushed recklessly through the door of his home, a struggling Eli in his hands; the boy was pushing locks of sweaty hair out of his father's eyes. He let the weak boy down gently, hoping he would find a seat for rest after his frightening ordeal. Instead, he beamed proudly, put his hands on his hips, and proceded to waddle to his mother. "Momma! There's a big monster in da sky! Did ya see da big birdie-thing?"

"A dragon," Arinn clarified, even though he himself was unsure if their sighting. "It was a dragon, coming from the North." He tried to remain calm, with the blood rushing through his veins and the breath coming quick. He had to be strong for his family.

Arinn collapsed into a kitchen chair, apparently tired from the hastened jog and the evident fear. He opened his mouth to say something to Willow about Eli's near fainting, but decided that this jumbled and panicked state of mind was not the best time to tell his already-frightened wife.

"I think we should head over to Rhysdan's and Willow's and make sure everyone's alright- on the way back I saw some flames over that way," he faltered slowly, not sure if it was in his best interest for his wife and son to know that he saw fire near their loved ones. "Eric! Elanor!" Arinn stood from his chair and looked to Willow, still cowering in a chair in the corner.

Why hadn't the children come yet? Surely they had heard his call! "Willow," he said calmly (even though very frightened), but hastened to add, "my dear, where are Eric and Elanor?"

[Pippin Pondlily]

Esmerelda toppled a chair as she raced after her daughter. "Daisy!" she shouted. There was a panicked tremor in her voice when she called again louder. "Daisy! Daisy, come back this minute!" She was nearly screaming. Her daughter threw open the door and ran out into the street. She made for the fields with a wild determination that propelled her with an incredible speed. Her mother raced after her.

Esmerelda looked up into the sky for the dragon. It was flying very low in to the right of her, seemingly towards Erebor. Smoke from its recent destruction and leaping flames could be seen from the roofs of houses or sheds nearest the mountain. The dust had caused salty tears to well in her eyes and fall down her cheeks and she wiped them away, desperate to clear her vision.

Wild whinnies and echoing hooves caught Esmerelda's attention and she was horrified to see a hysterical herd of half a dozen or so horses pummeling their way through the fields towards her and Daisy not fifty meters away. She slowed, "Oh my God…Daisy! Daisy!" The wind was unbearably fierce and took her voice away when she screamed for her daughter. Esmerelda ran faster, racing the horses, praying that she'd reach her daughter before they did. The dust spun in the air and caught in her throat making her heave and cough and threatening to slow her down. She pushing herself forward, fighting against the terror of loosing her daughter that rose up inside her.

A slight glance to her left made Daisy come to a halt as she saw the horses nearly on top of her. Her eyes became very wide and her mouth opened in a scream. In the next few seconds Esmerelda reached her and scooped her up in her arms, racing just out of the horses' path. She dropped to her knees and held Daisy under her, shielding her little body from the spray of dust and gravel kicked up by the frantic herd. The tiny girl sobbed and pulled at her mother's dress, consumed by fear and grief.

Finally the horses passed and Esmerelda opened her eyes, pulling Daisy's face up to look at her. She was crying herself to exhaustion and her tiny face was smeared with tears and dirt. Esmerelda brushed strands of wet hair out of her eyes and rocked her slowly. "Shh, shh," she said, rubbing her back. She was quiet for a minute, concentrating on sending a soothing vibe to her daughter to help subdue her hysteria. She put her mouth next to her daughter's ear and whispered tenderly but firmly. "You must never disobey Mummy again, is that clear? You could have gotten terribly hurt!" She cupped her daughters face in her hands and kissed her forehead. "Now, we have to go back to the house and wait for Daddy and Elian," she said. "If we go out and look for them, we might get lost or hurt, and that would make Daddy and Elian very, very sad. If we stay where they can find us, they'll come home and be happy and relieved, okay?" She stroked her daughter's hair. "Alright, we have to be brave. We have to be brave for Daddy and Elian."

Esmerelda helped her daughter stand and brushed dust from her dress and arms. "Let's go," she said. Esmerelda took a deep breath as they walked briskly back to the house. She held firmly to her daughter's hand and tried not to think of what might have happened if she had been too late in getting to her daughter.

[Fallinel]

Although Rhysdan’s impulse was to run as fast as possible downhill towards his farm and family, he realized that reckless flight over uneven and rocky terrain might very well result in serious injury. And then, of course, he would be no help whatsoever to his wife and children. Man and dog threaded their way through the maze of large rocks and boulders, until they reached a sloping meadow littered with smaller stones. Rhysdan decided to stop briefly to look back towards the southernmost shoulder of the Lonely Mountain, and to scan the sky for the golden wyrm. He could see the monster circling in the air above the junction between the two southern ridges, where the Dwarves were rumored to have their great Front Gate. Rhysdan could just make out a few tiny figures moving agitatedly in that region, and he supposed that they must indeed be Dwarves.

Rhysdan resumed his rapid, yet careful, descent through the meadow, and was once again overtaken by the shadow of the flying dragon. Suddenly, something fell from the sky, and landed perilously close to the shepherd and his dog, with a dull thud. Rhysdan paused briefly to glance over at the fallen object, and what he saw made his stomach churn and his heart sink. It was the head of an adult sheep, attached to the tattered remains of a black-and-white pelt, and it had slipped from one of the monster’s huge claws. He thought of his daughter Daisy, how much she loved the sheep and cattle, how she would ask about the lost ewe and lamb, and what…what could he tell such a sensitive little girl to answer her questions? Rhysdan shook his head at his silliness for worrying about such things in a time of crisis, with imminent threat to human lives.

Rhysdan paused again to look down towards Dale, and realized that the dragon had flown towards the town. The golden monster circled a few times, gliding ever lower, until it appeared to land near some of the farms closest to town. Rhysdan resisted the instinct to panic, though he was consumed with worry and fear for his family. He began to run again, faster this time and over better terrain, with the red-speckled sheepdog close to his side. Hawkweed’s ears were pricked forward, and he was whining softly as they rushed downhill; undoubtedly the dog could hear the whinnies, bleats, and screams of panicked livestock and humans.

Suddenly, Hawkweed began to bark eagerly, and raced away from Rhysdan’s side, towards two lithe figures that were running uphill, away from the besieged farms. The loyal sheepdog would only leave his master for another family member, and Rhysdan felt a surge of hope as he realized that the figures must be Elian and his cousin Elanor. At least the two teenagers had had the good sense and presence of mind to run away from the dragon and his rampage.

[Pippin Pondlily]

Back at the house, Esmerelda washed the dirt off of Daisy's face and arms and cleaned out the minor cuts and scrapes on her knees and bare feet. The wind had started to settle down a bit, which had helped calm the trembling eight year old.

"Will you hold that square on your knee for me dear?," Esmerelda moved her fingers to let Daisy get a good hold on the square fabric that held the aloe cream to her particularly abused knee. "Make sure none of the paste slips out, there, you've got it." She was working very fast and as she went about she was tossing things such as some medicinal effects into a bag that she set on the table. Daisy saw it.

"Mama?" she asked looking at the bag. "Are we leaving?"

Esmerelda stopped somewhat suddenly and looked at her daughter. "I don't know dear," she paused and ran her fingers down the slack of her waist-sash. "When your father gets home we'll decide what we're going to do." She glanced out the window for any sign of her husband or son. She would wait about five more minutes for them and then she'd get Daisy over to the Millwinds'; Arinn might be home and it would be safer there with them than just the two of them at their house alone.

Suddenly a great shadow passed over their house and Esmerelda rushed to cup her hand over Daisy's mouth preventing a scream. "No, dear," she whispered hurriedly, crouching down behind the back of the small stool the small girl sat on, "No, darling, don't scream. Stay very still, and very quiet." Her daughter squinted her eyes shut and closed her mouth. The two waited for desperately long seconds until the sun again shone easily onto their yard in a wicked mockery of the early, sunny morning when dragons were not part of the people of Dale's everyday worries.

Esmerelda kissed her daughter gently on the forehead and moved away her hand, stroking her daughter's hair. She pressed her cheek to the top of her head and hugged her close. "You're very brave, Daisy. You're such a brave girl." She kissed her again and stood, moving carefully to the window and looking out. She was breathing quite briskly and her heart fluttered uncomfortably. She tried very hard to hide her nervousness from her daughter as she pulled in the blinds and latched them shut.

Esmerelda turned back to her daughter, placing her hands on the windowsill behind her and closing her eyes. She took a deep breath before opening them again.

"How's your knee, darling?" she asked softly. Daisy nodded and readjusted the square on her knee. Esmerelda lifted a long piece of linen off the table and wrapped it around her daughter's leg, keeping the square in place. "Keep the fabric pressed to it, dear," she said.

"It's itchy, Mama," Daisy whispered.

"It's alright, you can fold it under so the loose threads don't itch too much." She tucked the ends under the folds of the bandage. "How's that?"

"That's alright." Daisy took a deep breath. Esmerelda smiled at her but her heart was worried. Where was Rhysdan and Elian?

*************************************

Child of the 7th Age's post

With great difficulty, Elanor and Elian picked their way through the rocks and boulders that dotted the foothills east of Dale. At their backs were the vertical slopes of the Lonely Mountain rising tall and proud over the plain. Half walking and half stumbling up the hill, the teens gradually managed to inch forward and upward so that they now had a better view of the town of Dale and everything that was going on.

Gazing towards her left, Elanor heard the familiar sound of a dog barking and made out the image of Rhysdan who'd come bounding up onto the base of the hill. Hawkweed started trotting up for a moment but then pulled back, daunted by the large boulders, and went racing back to his master.

From her lofty vantage, Elanor could see the familiar rooftops of the houses and stores that made up the core of the city. The mountain itself had six ridges that reached out onto the plain: between two of these on the southern fringe sat Dale. The town was literally surounded by the mountain on three sides, and was situated no more than one to two miles distant from its towering peaks.

There were dozens of small farmsteads scattered over the outer plain from the base of the foothills all the way down to the banks of the Running River. Her family's own farmhouse lay about a mile south of the main town, not too far from the river's edge. The source of the river lay in the mountain. Two sparkling falls cascaded outward, their waters coming together as they dropped down onto the flatlands. The wide loop of the Running River bulged around Dale in an easterly direction.

From her lofty perch, Elanor could see the hazy outline of Long Lake that stood about twenty miles to the south and east. She had been there only once, when she had come along with her father on a trip to sell produce in Esgaroth.

The great dragon no longer perched in the farmyard where Elanor had spied him before. She had no idea where he was. For the moment, at least, everything appeared quiet. She could see groups of people milling in the streets of Dale, but they looked no bigger than ants.

Carefully making their way back down the slopes, the hikers finally came to the flat plain on which the houses and farms were nestled. Taking a final look over their shoulder and seeing no dragon in sight, they sprinted towards their homes. Elian made a hasty goodbye at the outer gate that led across the garden to the farmstead, while Elanor continued on, rushing next door to her home. Running across the front yard and slamming the door behind her, she raced inside yelling, "Mother, Father, Eric, Eli.... I'm back. Where's everybody?"

[Kransha]

Over Dale flew Smaug the Golden, his radiant scales gleaming as coins of brightest gold in the light of the gently shining sun. The jewels on his breast were dulled as shadow found them, no light piercing them to be reflected down upon the ground so far below, and they did not glint as they had. But, exercising his flapping wings, the dragon swerved and spun, his body, serpentine but careful, spiraled downward and upward again, exposing the multitudinous gems encrusting his underside to the sky. Though none could see the true glory of Smaug the Magnificent from where they stood, he swelled with ominous pride, like a cloud bearing rain before a storm to rival all others, as his front shimmered so grandly, his form ablaze as bright fire. Then, abruptly ending his skyward acrobatics, flipping and twirling in the heavens, he dipped and plowed suddenly downward, seeking prey.

He swept himself, his two crumpled wings of scaly leather unfolding and unfurling with a grandiose flourish, sweeping out to each side to loom over the town. His head, atop a long and winding neck, cocked slightly to one side to see the rough slopes of the Lonely Mountain. He saw its ragged terrain, speckled with numerous rocks and boulders that lined it otherwise smoothly declining sides. He would change that soon, though, and set afire that mountain and all that hid ignobly within. That was his first goal, to see the mountain fall, is proud peak humbled by his fire, but first, he could enjoy the fruits of Dale as a brief interlude. He swooped down, his flying form barely hovering above trembling rooftops and the people that now inevitably wished to seek refuge beneath them. He careened over the buildings of Dale, over thatched and wooden roofs, gardens, fields, fences, and all manner of manmade establishment in the community. It was a rural place, yet untouched by the withering hand of industrialization that might leech the life from its fields, the green from its grass, and the many playful children from its dirt and cobblestone roads. Still the place was picturesque, painted by a natural instinct for beauty and added to by the race of man who settled there. But Smaug cared for none of this, since he did not doubt that whatever was rebuilt after his desolation of the areas would not retain its former tranquil innocence.

Finally spying the victims he sought, Smaug veered sharply to one side, the great gales of wind carried by his wings singed the houses he passed over, the many gusts following him ripping shingles from roofs and mortar from walls with its mighty force. Snorting a plume of billowing smoke, Smaug shot down, tearing over the countryside dotted with smaller structures until most of what lay below him were dappled fields of crops, pockmarked by confused livestock. Another demonic grin appearing on Smaug’s face, showing his countless, dagger-like teeth, the dragon swung himself up and uncoiled his legs beneath him, clenched palms opening to reveal glistening talons. Those claws hooked into the grass beneath him, ripping up dirt and soil, as the dragon alighted nimbly on the ground, sending the surrounding animals braying madly in the opposite direction. After the mild shockwave from his landing had settled and his perpetually moving wings had slowed their pace to a standstill, Smaug began to move, cautiously lifting one leg after the other and soon bounding across the fields, wings flapping again.

His gargantuan back legs shot out suddenly from under as his whole body surged forward along the swiftly rolling hills, scooping up several members of the scattering herds of cattle. After barely a minute, his front and back claws were filled with the noisy creatures, grunting and growling in bewilderment. Smaug, a dank laugh bubbling up in him, circled back into the air, spiraling back and forth again and dropping the beasts one by one, tossing them from his grip to plummet down helplessly. He heard the miniscule wails and shrieks of meager bystanders in the town, sprinting through the streets and seeking safety in homes. The sounds of fear ran rampant in the streets as Smaug let all his quarry drop, many clattering noisily onto the streets. Then, once his load was fully released, he fell again, his wingspan spreading and stretching until he’d reached the earth again. He tucked his legs and arms into their appointed places and his monumental jaws dropped open, smoke cascading from their corners. He buried the tips of his talon in the ground, tearing it easily asunder as his open mouth clasped around two more unfortunate creatures and eagerly devouring them without a thought, letting the minute bulk of each simply glide down his throat carelessly. After the four herd animals had ‘fallen’ into his waiting maw, he turned up again, tossing more sheep and cattle aside, letting them fly into the distance all around him. He swung himself, claws and wings out, across the fields, pondering his midday meal.

In a short time the fields of livestock were all but cleared, Smaug’s monstrous belly still not filled, and the town of Dale, in severe disarray, awaited Smaug’s coming. Leaving the last few lone beasts galloping over their sundered home, Smaug the Golden shot up and over the wooden fences that bordered all these open lands, heading back over the town. Again his jaws pulled open, but this time more oozing smoke dripped over his many teeth as a deep-rooted light grew behind his flickering tongue. He aimed his head down and a torrent of red and gold fire blossomed from him again, his narrowed eyes following its course down. He watched the prongs of flame stab mercilessly at the first few houses. They erupted beneath him, the tongues of fire dripping over them and enveloping each part of them until a row of three or four houses was completely aflame with the jets of crimson now spreading to other structures. Again he dipped low, letting another incendiary fountain burst from his gaping jaws. The force of it struck a house’s wall head on, crashing through feebly constructed stone and causing the building to cave in instantly, fire and dust spraying up around it to create a smoggy cloud of black and red that roared up into the sky, overshadowing most of the town as the fire at its epicenter consumed houses block by block.

Smiling again, another tremendous laugh brooding in his throat, Smaug plunged through the smoke, carrying some trailing plumes with him, clinging to the tattered edges of his wings and his curling tail. Now he hovered high above, his narrowed gaze straying from the blackening cloak over Dale to the ruptured ridges of Erebor. After more destruction, he would continue his assault on the mountain. He would have headed there many moments ago, but he always put pleasure before labor, and he felt he would get far more pleasure causing the inhabitants of a half-destroyed town to cower in fear than assaulting a mostly inanimate object. But, he knew that Erebor would be the more dangerous target. The weak forces in Dale might oppose him with stone and arrow, but his hide could withstand whatever they could throw. He would have to overtake Erebor soon. So, taking all this into account, he decided to conclude his fun with something particularly enjoyable, and then turn from Dale.

There had been a long, disquieting silence as Smaug lurked in the sky, despite the damage; the ant-sized forms below were now coming out into plain view, gathering in the streets. The dragon, though, was far from done on his rampage. Suddenly roaring with more monstrous laughter that filled the skies, using the blackened clouds of smog as rivers to carry its bombastic sound hither and yon, he dipped again towards the earth, aiming himself carefully at one of the unpaved streets of the town. Soon, the ground flew up to meet him and he pulled up sharply, opening his claws to the roads and tearing down the length of one such road. Every poor creature, man, dwarf, or otherwise, that lingered still on the road could not avoid him as he flew, many caught up in his groping talons, flung aside by the flailing span of his wings, or crushed beneath the bulk of his tremendous tail. Most who were not slain fell beneath the crumbling houses which he left in his wake, a trail of havoc that appeared behind him wherever he flew. As he completed the destruction on that road, Smaug leapt and soared into the air, high above the earth, again through the plumes of black smoke and then, emitting a most terrible roar, plunged down again to repeat the process.

[ArwenBaggins]

Arinn bounded from his seat and was immediately standing near his daughter. "Elanor!" He bent a bit and hugged her close, thankful that she was safe.

Straightening himself again, he touched his teenage daughter's shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. "Do you know where Eric is? Have you seen Eric?" He was practically yelling, but not out of anger. He was afraid for his youngest son. "Was Eric with you?" Elanor shook her head in defeat.

Eric had to be around somewhere, but where? Arinn nodded slightly, looking around frantically. He felt a small tug on his pant leg and looked down to see Eli's faerie-like eyes gazing up at him. "He pro'lly went 'sploring and got lost," Eli said softly, hoping that the answer was one his father wanted to hear. "He's pro'lly mad at me 'cause of what happened at lunch."

"Lost... with a..." he stopped. "A dragon about? Oh Lord." Arinn sank into his chair again, burying his head in his hands. He felt a warm hand on his back and looked up to his fretting wife. "I'll have to go and find him. I don't know where he is, but I must find him."

[Fallinel]

Rhysdan was close enough to recognize the two figures as his son Elian, and niece Elanor, and was relieved that they had avoided the dragon as it wreaked havok among the farms. The teenagers were climbing up some of the larger boulders, and appeared to be trying to gain a vantage point on the scene below. Rhysdan was proud that the two youngsters had the intelligence and maturity to avoid a dangerous situation, and to instead retreat and assess their options. He cried out a "Halloooo" to the teenagers, and called Hawkweed to his side as he began his rapid descent into the valley where the farms of Dale lay nestled.

As Rhysdan reached the outer circle of farms and fields, he could see evidence of the beast's rampage, but no sign of the dragon itself. The thatched roof of one large livestock shed on the Fairlake farm was aflame, and Rhysdan could hear the panicked screams of trapped horses and cattle in the burning structure. The Fairlakes were an older couple, whose daughters had left to help their husbands establish homesteads; it would not be possible for either Fairlake to rescue their animals, assuming that both man and wife were still alive.

Rhysdan ran quickly to the opening of the livestock shed, where he found Meryn Fairlake sobbing hysterically, "Please, help them!" Rhysdan commanded Hawkweed to stay outside, and ran into the breezeway between the stalls, shirt held over his mouth to cut out some of the smoke. Fortunately, most of the smoke and heat was rising away from the animals, and Rhysdan was able to free the majority of the cows and horses by simply unlatching the stall doors and slapping the beasts on the rump to send them out the breezeway to safety. One young colt, however, was panicked and frozen with fear and confusion in his stall, the furthest from the door. Rhysdan grabbed a halter and lead rope, as well as a large cloth used for rubbing down horses after a workout, and entered the colt's stall. He threw the cloth over the animal's head and eyes, and the horse immediately stopped rearing and struggling. Rhysdan fastened the halter on the colt, and led him out of the burning shed, just as some of the beams in the roof began to collapse.

Camon Fairlake had joined his wife, and the two had managed to divert their rescued livestock into a small safe paddock. The old farmer took the colt's lead rope and brought him to the paddock with the other animals, while Rhysdan sat on the ground and coughed for awhile from the inhaled smoke. Camon brought him a pail of cool water and a mug, and Hawkweed nuzzled against his master and wagged his tail.

"Meryn and I can't thank you enough for what you did, Rhysdan," said Camon, "but I expect that you'll be wanting to get back to your farm and family as soon as you catch your breath." Rhysdan drank some water, and got to his feet. He shook the old farmer's hand, and said, "None of us can fight this monster alone. We must meet and discuss the situation before the dragon returns. I expect that it has headed back to the Mountain to seek a hiding place or den. For now, Hawkweed and I will hurry off to our farm-I've seen Elian and Elanor up on the hill, but I'm desperately worried about my wife and daughter."

[Regin Hardhammer]

Eric roamed through the forest scanning the thicket for any signs of a clearing, but found none. He regretted chasing after the dragon so recklessly, getting himself totally lost. Although tired and hungry, he vowed to continue his search, pushing his aching body forward. This is no fun at all, he thought. Eric wondered what Eli was doing right now. He imagined his older twin being tucked into bed by Mamma and kissing her good night. Even though he had often been angry at his parents for favoring Eli, Eric still wished that he could hug them now and tell them that he loved them. He had never spent so much time alone in such a strange place.

Eric’s ears perked up as he heard the sound of flowing water just a few feet ahead. He rushed toward the noise and saw, to his astonishment, something that he did recognize, a wide river. His heart leapt as he remembered that he had often seen this river near his house and even played with his friends there. He also remembered that, afterwards he had forgotten to dry off before entering the house and his mother had given him a good scolding. Maybe, he hoped, she can scold me again when I get back for running off into the forest.

A little wooden rowboat lay on the bank and two oars were laid neatly inside it. Eric felt the squish of the wet mud between his toes as he approached the small boat. After pushing the boat into the river, he hopped in and began rowing. As the boat moved down the river, Eric’s attention drifted to the large fish swimming in the surrounding water and his stomach grumbled. If only I had brought my pole, he thought, I could have caught tons of them. The water splashing into the boat reminded him of the sizzle of fish being fried by his mother in the kitchen. He could almost smell them as he rowed. Eric remembered that his house was only a little farther down. After a couple of minutes he stopped where he was sure his house was and got out.

He walked a ways down the path when he realized that his jacket was wet, and he did not want to catch a chill, so he cast it aside. The jacket had once belonged to Eli and Eric had never particularly cared for it. Now thoroughly exhausted from rowing, he laid down in a bed of soft pine needles underneath a towering tree. It was not like the soft bed he had at home, but it was the best alternative he had seen all day. As Eric closed his eyes, he felt happier than any other time in his life. He was going home.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Elanor was relieved to have found her way back to her family, but somehow things did not seem so safe and happy when her brother Eric was not with them; he was probably lost, out wandering somewhere on the hillside with no idea of where he was or how he could get home. All those times Eric had put frogs or grass snakes in her bed quickly faded from her mind. Instead she remembered a sweet, tan-skinned boy with an unkempt mop of chestnut curls who was always doing silly things so that she couldn’t help but laugh. When her father had asked her if she knew where Eric was, Elanor couldn’t help but feel it was partially her fault that he wasn’t here. She should have checked on him before leaving the house. Elanor shook her head and sighed, listening carefully to what her mother was saying.

At her father’s announcement that he was about to leave and look for Eric, Elanor quickly piped up in the hope that she could make amends, “Please father, let me come too. I know most of Eric’s secret hiding places where he’d be likely to go and hide.”

In response to his sister’s query, Elian began to jump up and down, “Me too! Me too!”

At this point, Willow spoke in a calm but tense voice, “Let’s use some sense here. Dad and Elanor can go out and search the area around the farm, all the sheds and fields and the little stream that runs off the river. That shouldn’t take too long. He’s probably off playing somewhere on the farm. I’ll stay here with Eli for the moment. You never know. Your brother might find his way back on his own. Let’s meet back here in a little while.”

“But what if we don’t find him?” Elanor interrupted. She pointed towards the open window. Outside, the sun was setting. In another hour or so, it would be completely dark, and much more difficult to search.

“If we don’t find him…?” Willow’s face turned pale but she was careful to respond with a calm voice. “I’m sure we will. He doesn’t usually run off. But if something has happened, we’ll organize a search. I’m sure Uncle Rhysdan and Aunt Esmerelda and their children will help us, if we need them.”

At that point, there was an audible shuffling noise coming from the front hallway. Elian had pushed the door open and made his way inside as was often his custom of doing. The young lad immediately spoke up, “We sure will help! But I needed to tell you something. My mom and little sister are at home. But dad still hasn’t come. Mom is sure he’ll be back any minute, and he probably will. But, just in case, I’m going to start poking around the neighborhood and take Daisy with me, like Aunt Willow suggested. Mom will be helping too, but keeping an eye on the house in case dad gets home. I’ll keep my eyes open for Eric as well. If either of them aren’t back by nightfall, my family can meet you here in your house, and we can see about that search.”

Elanor noticed that, when Elian talked, he sounded much older than he ever had before. She hoped she could sound so calm and certain. It would not help if everyone got so frightened they couldn’t think clearly. Determined to be helpful, she added, “Elian’s right. We’ll get a lot more done if we all go out looking and have a plan. First, let’s check the farm itself and meet back here shortly. I’ll go ask some of the neighbors if they’ve seen my brother. But if that doesn’t work….” Elanor’s face turned somber. “Should we go out searching at night? Or wait till the morning?”

Her mother responded with a gentle smile, “Let’s hope we won’t need to do that. But if we do, we’ll talk about it later. Now everyone off to where they need to go. Let’s start looking and see if we can come up with our two missing culprits.”

With that the group split up, each one going to do what they’d promised. As Elanor went out the door, she muttered to herself, “Let’s just hope that monstor has flown away from here and won’t turn up on our doorstep.” Elanor pushed those thoughts aside. Right now, she had a job to do: to find her brother and Uncle Rhysdan.

[ArwenBaggins]

Arinn walked swiftly from the house, following his daughter and nephew. Frankly, he had listened to very little of what was said. He was not one to worry on any normal occasion, comforting his sons (and even Elanor sometimes, although she denied it entirely) during storms and the time the year before when a robber tried to steal a cow. No, he didn't worry much, but with his youngest son missing with all of the evident danger, he had the right to fret.

All he had heard was that they were searching the farms first and elsewhere later. He also knew that time was against them. The sun was sinking faster than normal it seemed, as if playing a wicked game with the farmers of Dale. "Elanor, search out by the stream and the other hiding places of Eric's that you know of. Don't stray too far," he called to his daughter as she headed off to the right, followed by Elian. Another child missing couldn't be handled.

Searching thoroughly the dusty corrals and sheds, Arinn found nothing but thirsty horses and a few rabbits. He rubbed the muzzle of his chestnut mare, pushing away her sweaty forlocks. "Sorry girl... I'm looking for Eric right now." He wanted to ask her if she had seen his little boy, but he knew that the horse couldn't speak back to him. Oh, if only it could!

"Eric Roland Millwind, where are you?" he yelled loudly yet hopelessly as he left the mare, ignoring the gate entirely and jumping over the fence. He knew that Rhysdan was also missing, but he hoped that Esmerelda or Elian and Daisy would find him- right now, he was concerned about his son.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Elanor climbed to the top of the old wooden fence and sat down on the upper railing, curling her fingers around the nearby fencepost for added support as she stared at the surrounding plain. For the past hour she had been searching all over the farm, investigating every cranny where she knew her brother sometimes hid. Despite her efforts, she'd found nothing. Even the neighbors claimed not to have seen Eric, but most of them had been so involved in rounding up family members that Elanor wondered if they would even remember a small boy slipping though the fields. At least, she had not had any trouble with the dragon. He seemed to be lying low for the moment.

The sun had sunk below the horizon; only a tiny wisp of light remained in the skies. With a rueful shake of her head, Elanor climbed down again and then trotted back in the direction of her home. She had not gone more than a dozen paces when she heard a sound over her shoulder. Halting for a moment to glimpse back, Elanor noticed a familiar figure sprinting towards the south, trying to catch up with her.

"Elian!" she cried out in greeting.

"Yes, it's me. And I have news. I went further north of here, about a half a mile, and came across Farmer Brand. This, afternoon, he saw Eric. Brand was rounding up his herds right after the wyrm was sighted. Eric was racing southeast through the fields, all by himself, heading towards the river; he was apparently doubling back chasing after the dragon, who was going in broad circles."

Elanor's face blanched white at the idea that her brother could be so far away from the house and that he'd been running after the dragon instead of away from him. She only hoped that the dragon hadn't noticed him. Fighting back tears, she responded grimly, "And your father, Elian? Have you seen him?"

"No. But I think dad will be alright. I am more worried about your brother."

"Let's go back then," urged Elanor, "and tell the others. Maybe your father is there by now. Anways, it's getting dark and we can't go running off on our own. My dad and mom will know what to do."

With that, they turned around and continued together.

[ArwenBaggins]

The sun was only a small glowing shred of light on the far horizon, much to Arinn's dismay. If only they could have more time... even an hour! If only he had offered Eric the chance of going in the fields with him as well. If. That's all it was. An if.

He emerged from the hay storage shed and started at a slow walk towards home. He knew that going slower would mean less time to look for the boy and his brother-in-law, but he didn't want to break the news to everyone that he hadn't found a speck of evidence of Eric anywhere. He only hoped that Elanor had some sort of clue or information that could reasured him. Hope was all he could do now.

After several minutes of not-so-leisurely walking, Arinn had arrived again at the door of his home. From inside, he could hear shaky and hurried voices- more than two. "Willow, Eli?" he called as he entered, but then noticed that his sister-in-law and her daughter Daisy were also there. Deciding that he wanted to acknowledge them all, he continued: "Esmerelda, Daisy."

He smiled weakly and kissed his wife's head, and then bent down to ruffle Eli's hair. Everyone seemed to stop talking after he arrived, but soon started again as Elanor and Elian came inside. Elian came first to Arinn. "Uncle Arinn, Farmer Brand saw Eric earlier."

Again the whispers stopped. "Brand? Up a ways north?" It wasn't really a question, and he didn't expect any answer other than the nod he recieved. "We need to go out now."

A huff from his present son drew his attention away. "Eli, if you were missing, wouldn't you want us to go and look for you at night?"

"Yes," he said softly, kicking his feet around.

"That's what I thought. Now, I know everyone is tired, but my son- and it seems Rhysdan as well- is still missing. We should all go out together, so no one else gets lost. Does this sound good?" He looked around at everyone's faces, the fear present on them.

Nothing. No nods, no disagreements, nothing. Supposing that no one had any objections, he turned to the door. "Now, let's find Rysdan and Eric."

[Kransha]

In the sky, the golden dragon, his wings no longer slapping the smoke-filled air with crazed fury but merely acting as devices to direct him as he glided gently, pondered his situation. He was still slightly hungry, the feast on Dale’s livestock having not been entirely filling, but he had more important matters to look to. He would have to wage a next level of assault on Erebor, the Lonely Mountain, the only obstacle that did not cower and tremble before his shimmering might. Then he could see to further pleasure, and perhaps another belated meal, in Dale. He would have to be cautious, though, and show logic and tact in his offensive maneuvers. He would not delve into the mountain yet, but conquer it from without. After the petty resistance in Dale and those of Erebor were annihilated, he would seek the innards of the Lonely Mountain and the needed treasures that they held. Slowly, whipping his long tale and arching form about in midair, Smaug turned again, more fully, towards weary Erebor. What little specks of sunlight shone through the thick smog clouds were brightened when reflected on Smaug’s scales, illuminating the dragon’s magnificent hide as he suddenly swerved, swiveled, and dove forward towards the oncoming mountain.

Another torrential explosion of powdery dirt, fractured rock, and billowing dust shot out of the wound in the mountainside, rimmed by the bright crimson of Smaug’s flames. The column of fire penetrated the rock and bored through it, plowing into the face of Erebor and causing the mountain to quake as it was uprooted from within. As the outpour of produced smoke bore towards him, Smaug moved aside and directed another precise pillar of his fiery breath at another piece of the mountain, scorching the grayish rock into coal-black rubble. He continued doing this, parallel with the mountain again as he had been when he first attacked Erebor, but this time his attacks were more lethal, more concise, and more destructive. As he circled the mountain, moving in a diagonal spiral so that he moved steadily around the cone of Erebor and towards it dulled peak, he blasted every area that retained itself, causing most of Erebor’s protective stone to crumble, melting off the mountainsides and onto the earth far below. Finally, he’d reached the mountaintop, its majestic tip obscured by flame and smoke plumes still. As his the circles his bulk drew in the sky shrunk around the peak, he honed in on it and let loose countless gusts of the brightest fire which tore the mountaintop asunder, easily destroying its former prowess in the sky and causing rock to fall away, leaving the jutting mountain no more than a looming lump of fiey earth and dust and rock built up by time’s winds.

Satisfied with his work, Smaug soared over the fallen peak and, his wings skimming the mountainside again, flew down towards the land and Dale. His focused and unmoving eyes caught sight of an uncharacteristic hue present on the landscape. It was blue, not bright and gleaming blue, but irritatingly tranquil when superimposed against the sweeping darkness of Smaug’s Desolation. It was a river, winding delicately around, flanking Erebor and swiftly moving. It was the river he’d seen earlier, and taken little notice of, that poured out of Erebor and moved calmly around the fringes of Dale, on its eastern side. Now that Dale and Erebor were so marred by Smaug, the river seemed out of place. At first, the dragon could not think of a way to rectify the problem, but he soon resolved simply to see what advantages he could find in or alongside the river…perhaps another much desired meal. Snapping his jaws gratuitously, Smaug dipped low, his gem-encrusted underbelly gliding along the water’s surface. The river’s gentle waves were pushed aside by the massive gales of wind that Smaug carried alongside him, his two magnificent wings fanning the body of water and sending bursts of river up onto each bank, soaking the swaying trees on both sides. His two beady, gleaming eyes tried to focus, but the spray that shot up from beneath him obscured the dragon’s vision as he searched for his prey.

Finally he saw it, though it was not exactly what he’d thought it was, or hoped it was. A small figure, curled up protectively in the trees’ shade on the unwashed shores, barely visible (except in Smaug’s keen vision), but close below. He grimaced from his hovering perch in the unsettled air, disappointed by the quality of his meal, but dismissed the size of it, guessing that the creature was probably more tender in its youth, and easy prey, not swift or adept enough to escape him. His dark frown twisted malevolently into a grin as he veered expertly sideways, the fringes of his leathery wings caressing the surface of the river. He quickly moved toward it, descending to the lowest point he could reach while flying without being hindered. The dragon aimed himself, now not moving, waiting for his chance, at the targeted tree and tore towards it, his jaws pried open and ready for another satiation of his hunger. He saw the small bundle growing very slightly larger in his sight as he closed in over the river.

But, before he reached his prey, he became aware of an obstacle he had dismissed before. The tree branches were too low and too much in his way for the dragon to reach the ground smoothly. Instead, countless gnarled branches pricked irritatingly at the soft flesh of his wings. He tried to brush the trees aside, but many of them were firm where they stood. He tore off branches, pulled up tree trunks, but could not delve to where the small form lay beneath. He could no longer see it through the disheveled array of branches and guessed that the great commotion of his tearing up the forest had scared it away. He roared angrily, but could do no more than vent. There would be other prey, surely, but Smaug found it easier to be as vengeful as he wished to be just then. His eyes radiating with tongues of golden-red, like the light welled up in his throat, Smaug bore down on the forest and let loose his destructive breath, incinerating the just beneath him, turning them to blackened dust, and as he rose he saw a great, dark mark upon the earth, a crater in the forest where his breath had scorched.

More food to be found in Dale, he thought, and turned that way…

[Child of the 7th Age]

They were a party of seven as they set out from the house to try and locate Rhysdan and Eric. Even tiny Eli was tucked in a sling across his mother's chest, his head drooping down since he was already half asleep, and his mother could not bear to stay behind in the house.

Each of the other family members carried a torch as they plodded steadily towards the south and east in the general direction of the river. Fortunately for the searchers, a full moon shone bright in the cloudless sky. Between the torches held aloft and the pale reflected moonbeams that bathed the ground, it was possible to see a fair distance across the land. Elanor had also thought to bring along Ruff, one of the hunting dogs, who was sure to be able to ferret out Eric if they came anywhere close to him.

Still, the trek was long and arduous. Elanor found her own head nodding and her eyes almost closing when they stopped for a moment to rest in the grass. In several spots they passed, the earth was scorched black from Smaug's attack earlier in the day. Once or twice they passed the mangled carcasses of cattle and sheep, which made Elanor tremble and fear for her brother's safety. Young Daisy had the hardest time of all. When she grew too tired to put one foot in front of the other, Uncle Arinn lifted her up on his shoulders, where she clung like a small burr.

The group plunged onward through the night, with Ruff running ahead to try and catch the familiar scent of either of those who were missing. But despite all their efforts, they found no trace of either Eric or Rhysdan. Trudging forward along the muddy ground, they came to a spot where the river narrowed. There was a tree growing immediately above the river bank, with a rope hanging down from its lowest branch.

Eli stepped forward to examine the rope, "Look here! There was a small boat docked on the shore and now it's gone." He pointed towards a small clearing amid the scattered grasses and ferns where a boat had obviously been moored, half in and half out of the river, right below the place where the rope hung down. "Someone untied the rope, or more likely forgot to tie it up when they beached the boat. Maybe the dragon scared them off when he attacked."

Elanor went over to the muddy bank and knelt in the bracken, holding her torch upright and looking intently at the tangled web of footprints embedded in the mud. What she saw caused her to leap up and run over to her father, dragging him forward to see, "Father, look here....the footprints of a young lad. I'm certain of it. And not just that. Those are Eric's shoes." She pointed to a spot where the edge of the shoe left a jagged, uneven mark.

Her mother came over and looked, "She's right, Arinn. The sole of Eric's shoe on his right foot was all run through with his toes practically sticking out. I was supposed to take him to town today to buy a new pair. I could swear this was the same imprint I saw in our farmyard before we left."

They all looked up at Arinn, wondering what he would do and say. In another hour or two, the sun would be rising.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Suddenly, Eric found himself back home at the dining room table. His mother and father were hugging him and telling him how worried they were when he did not return for so long. They vowed to pay more attention to him, just as much as they gave to Eli. Even his older twin brother was glad to see him back. His mother smiled as she brought out a large succulent turkey and a mountain of mashed potatoes. Fully content, Eric dished up his plate and dove into his food enthusiastically.

He awoke to the sound of a deafening roar. Eric arose slightly annoyed, not wanting to leave his dream world, wanting it to be real. With a start, he looked up to the rustling tree bushes where he saw the big scaly bird lunging at him, blocked by the topmost branches. He let out a scream and began thrashing in a state of frenzied panic. Large sharp pointy teeth tore at the air just feet above his head. He’s going to eat me, thought Eric. Eric tried extremely hard to stay calm and think, as he did not want to become someone else's breakfast.

He had to find a way out of here, away from this ferocious monster. Eric had never run from a fight before, but then again, he had never fought anything this big before either. The beast thrashed at the trees with its claws, gleaming and sharp as arrowheads, hurling branches to the ground and overturning stumps. Frantically, Eric’s eyes dashed back to the boat as he thought of escaping on the river. But he dismissed the idea immediately; he would be vulnerable out in the open and easy prey. Eric had to find somewhere he could hide and be protected, shielded from the monster.


His weary mind raced as he looked for a safe place. It was just like a harder version of hide and go seek, he told himself. Eric spotted a patch of thick and tangled underbrush, built almost like a wall, further into the forest and not more than ten feet away. As the dragon plunged and bellowed, Eric raced toward the strange vegetation and burrowed himself deeply within it. The beast can never reach me in here, he thought smugly. He was quite proud of himself for finding such a good hiding place and felt a good deal safer. Go ahead... try to get me in here, you big meanie.

The beast let losoe one final roar of exasperation and pushed even harder against the branch shield, seemingly in response to Eric’s challenge. A tongue of fire lashed out from its mouth, burning through the branches and etching a large black hole into the ground. Then the beast flew away, leaving Eric alone, covered in the underbrush. A strange mixture of fear and relief quelled inside his chest and he sat shivering, his mouth agape and his eyes plastered open. A scaly bird that can breathe fire, he marveled. But why was such a strange creature in Dale? Eric had lived in Dale his entire life and he had never seen anything there that such a powerful beast would want.

But what if the beast came back, Eric wondered fearfully. Next time he might not be sleeping under a branch shield. He did not know what he would do if he encountered the beast again in the open. But Eric resolved to keep going, the thoughts of his family flooding back into his pounding head. He was not going to lay hiding in this underbrush forever. Reluctantly, Eric stood up and continued walking down the forest path, trying to walk under tree cover whenever possible. He was bound to be getting close to his house, which was good, because he felt his stomach rumbling even louder than before. Hopefully somebody would get to eat breakfast today.

[Nurumaiel]

Daisy sat wearily upon her uncle's shoulder, her eyes desiring to close but her whole being rebelling against the mere thought of sleep. Worry pulled at her little heart and she wondered what had become of her papa and Eric. They had paused by the river, and she began to slide from her uncle's shoulder to let him know she wanted to be put down. He gently set her upon the ground, and she went to her mother and took her hand, squeezing it tightly. She felt a comforting arm go about her shoulders, and she buried her head in her mother's side, trying to imagine away all the terrible things that had taken place.

It was very odd. Every other time something bad happened she was able to pretend it hadn't, and imagine something good had happened instead, or that nothing had happened at all. But now she could see nothing but the ill that had befallen them, and when she tried to imagine something else she saw only worse things. Like her father lying hurt somewhere and calling for help... lying in the darkness, all alone, with the flames around him and the dragon above him. Her little knees trembled, and her mother sensed it and took a stronger hold on her, helping her to sit down, and thens sitting down beside her. Daisy crawled into her mother's lap and gazed with wide eyes up into her face. "Mamma," she whispered urgently. "Mamma, where is Papa?"

"I don't know, dearest," her mother whispered. Her face was tense, and the worry was clear in her eyes. Daisy could only imagine how hard it was for her mother to not know where Papa was.

"Will he be all right, Mamma?" she questioned. "Why is everyone so worried about Eric? Why don't they try to find Papa?"

"They are trying to find Papa, but he's a grown man and can take care of himself. Eric is just a little boy."

"But what if Papa is hurt and can't take care of himself?" Daisy persisted. Her mother said nothing but her lips tightened and a shadow passed over her face, and she pulled her daughter closer to her. Daisy gazed up at the night sky, and then down towards the river to look into its depths. Papa would not be hurt. If he was hurt she would take care of him and make him better. If only they could find him. It would be all right then, even if he was hurt. Mamma could make anyone better. Mamma had made her better when she had fallen and scratched her knee. Even if he was hurt, everything would be all right. But Papa was not even hurt. This she knew, or tried to believe with all her heart.

She let her eyes close as she lay in the warmth of her mother's arms. It would be sweet to sleep for a little while, and to wake refreshed and ready to search for her papa and take care of him if he was hurt. But sleep would not come. It lingered about her, but when at last it reluctantly gave in and moved forward to take her, worry would shove it aside and assail her mind with doubts and fears. Sleep would always be forced to flee. She heard her mother humming softly, and then faintly heard the words of an old lullaby.

"Hush little one, close your eyes
and sleep beneath the morning skies.
Though sleep may at the dawn flee
I will always keep you close to me.
Hush little one, sleep."

[ArwenBaggins]

Arinn sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. It was hard enough to keep them open, but he needed another moment of rest. "Uncle Arinn…" whispered little Daisy, poking his cheek through a mass of hair. He shook his head and jumped a bit, waking just before he fell asleep standing up.

Everyone was tired, and he knew this. Even though he wanted more than anything to find his son and Rhysdan and seemingly being on the right track, sleep was essential as well. Grabbing Daisy under her arms and lowering her gently, he looked to the group still studying Eric's footprints. Taking a few steps forward, he knelt in the grass next to Elanor. "Those are Eric's shoeprints. I kept telling him to let me see if I could patch them up." Arinn stopped for a moment. "But he said that he wanted new ones like Eli."

Again, Arinn felt like this was all his fault. Standing up again, he dusted the dirt and grass from his knees and straightened his pants. "I think we need to take get some rest and search some more in a few hours- besides, the sun will be coming up soon." Several agreeing mutters wafted up from the group. "We can all come back to our home, so we can set out again together."

He looked to the horizon, where little splashes of purple and orange were floating just above the ground. Lifting Daisy onto his shoulders again so he wouldn't have to later on, he blinked for a few seconds to try and shake the sleep away for just a little while longer. He felt Daisy's head on his own, and smiled gently as he noticed Eli asleep again in the little sling across Willow's chest.

They trudged on silently, the only noise the chirping of crickets, the flickering and crackling of the torches, and Eli's awkward but peaceful breathing. Arinn started humming a soft lullaby that he had heard Willow singing to the twins and Elanor when they were smaller. He then heard a sniffling and turned to see Eli awake again.

"Papa, we're gonna find Eric, aren't we? An'.... an' Uncle Rhysdan?" Warm tears were streaming now down Eli's face, his green eye blinking because of allergies and the gray eye red with sadness.

Arinn didn't want to lie to his son, or himself. He couldn't say that they were positivly going to find Eric, but of course he had to. He couldn't tell Eli that they might not find Eric! "Of course we'll find him Eli. Now you settle down and go back to sleep. Mama or I will wake you up when we go looking for him again."

Little Eli sniffled again and Arinn saw him nod in the brightening darkness. "That's good, 'cause I wanted to say that I'm sorwy an' that he can come out and plant with us next time…" His words trailed off into pleasant slumber.

"Uncle Arinn," Elian spoke simply, as a clue that they were nearing the house. Arinn nodded in acknowledgement and held the door for everyone as the entered the house.

Finding a chair, he fell onto it and breathed a very deep and relaxing sigh. "I think I'll just stay here, and let you all sleep. No Willow, I'll be fine…" His head bobbed, but he hurried to pull it back up. "Eli, take Elian to your room. Elanor, take Daisy to yours. Esmerelda…" he trailed off, looking around. Starting again, he tried not to sound rude. "Find… somewhere. We've got blankets in our room. You can probably go in there with Willow."

His eyes fell closed for longer than usual. A creak of wood jolted him back to the world of the awake. "Just… about an hour…?" It really wasn't a question, because if they were to leave at dawn that was all they had. "And then… we can go back down to where the footprints were… and look around there." As the family drudged off reluctantly to their places brief rest, Arinn pulled the chair away from the wall a bit and leaned backwards in it. His eyes started to drift closed again, but this time he could keep them that way for a little while...

Crash. A second before he was sitting in the chair, and now he was on the floor. Almost positive that everyone was already asleep and wouldn't come rushing to him, he grumbled it off and sat straight in the homemade chair again. He was now going to get a little rest, and then continue the search for Rhysdan and Eric.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Elanor noted that the return trek had gone much faster than when they had left the house last night to try and find Eric. Her father knew exactly where he was going, and was not pulled off on side explorations as they had been on the outward trip. Torches were quickly doused in the well, and a small fire lit in the front grate, since papa had decided to take his rest in the family's common room.

Despite her worry over Eric, Elanor was not sorry to get a chance to lay down and rest. She took one of her extra blankets over to Aunt Esmerelda who had decided to stay in her parents' room where mother was now sleeping. Elanor leaned over to kiss her mother and Aunt goodnight; she could see clear lines of worry on both their faces. One or two hours of sleep was not much rest, but at least it was better than nothing. And how could they delay longer than that when Eric was outside, lost and cold and probably sleeping on the ground?

*********************************

Much to her surprise, Elanor slept soundly and awoke about an hour after sunrise. Tiptoeing noiselessly outside her room, she noted that everyone else was still asleep, even her father who was sitting in a chair with his head slumped down on the table.

Elanor began preparing breakfast and packing lunches for the trip. They should eat something before leaving the house, and who knew how long they would be out looking during the day? After cooking a pot of hot porridge and setting a pitcher of milk on the table alongside a loaf of bread, Elanor fixed seven little packets of cheese and meat that they could carry along for lunch. Then she went back to assemble two more parcels of food. These were even larger than the rest. If they found her brother or Uncle Rhysdan, both of them would surely be hungry.

Suddenly, without warning, Elanor felt the walls of the house shudder once, then again. Pushing back fear, she hurried outside to see what was happening. The great wyrm was flying overhead in circles, bellowing in triumph as if he had something to celebrate. The dragon's massive frame filled the entire air, turning the rosy morning to a dull grey as the sun ducked under the clouds for cover. The noise the creature made was so deep and thunderous that it reverberated through the air from one side of the valley to the other so that even the buildings and the earth shook.

Shaking in revulsion to see that the beast had indeed returned, Elanor sprinted back inside the house, yelling out a warning, "Mother, Father, Aunt Esmerelda, everone up. We have to leave. That horrible creature is back."

[Pippin Pondlily]

Esmerelda woke with a start to the shivering timbers of the Millwind's house and the shouts of Elanor. "Mother, Father, Aunt Esmerelda, everone up! We have to leave! That horrible creature is back!"

Esmerelda wrapped her blanket about her shoulders and woke Willow. "The dragon's back in Dale. We're going to want to get going." Willow nodded and closed her eyes momentarily. She was nervous for her son; Esmerelda's heart went out to her. She hugged her close. "It will be alright," she whispered. She feared for Rhysdan too.

As she was walking out the room she got a look at herself in the mirror propped up over the dresser in the bedroom. Her face was dirty and her fine blond hair was tangled. She hadn't bothered to take off her dress before she fell asleep and it was now mussed and wrinkled with tears in the skirt from yesterday's difficult activity. She did her best to straighten her chemise sleeves and bodies and smooth the creases out of her skirt. Willow joined her at the glass. "Oh my," she said lightly, and smiled wearily, tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear.

Esmerelda poured a placid stream of water from the pitcher into the washbowl and wet her hands and splashed her face, rubbing the darker patches of dirt with a towel. She dried her face quickly. A brush was lying next to the bowl and she grabbed it just as the house gave a second shudder. It was part of Esmerelda's upbringing to be as presentable as possible and the image of strength and inner beauty for her children. Now above all times was when her children would need her comforting presence the most and she did not want to look mussed or harried. There was also something strangely calming about looking nice and feeling clean.

The two families gathered in the kitchen, quiet at first, watching Arinn who tracked the avian dragon with his eyes.

"It makes broad circles in the sky, dipping and breathing his fire without pattern," he said. Then he turned back to the room. Elanor and Willow were stashing food into small bags and slipping ropes through the flaps so they could be carried easily.

"Daisy," said Esmerelda, beckoning to her daughter. "Let me re-braid your hair, dear." The little girl walked over to her mother, running her fingers through the messy braid as it came undone over her shoulder. Esmerelda took the brush and began to pull it gently through her daughter's beautiful brown hair.

Elian began to ladle bowls of porridge for everyone and Willow encouraged everyone to eat it slow so as not to upset their stomachs. Arinn took his bowl of breakfast standing up but didn't seem to show much interest in it. Esmerelda finished Daisy's hair and sent her to her own. She stood and set the brush on a small table pushed up against a wall next to her small bag of medicinal herbs and bandage strips that she had brought from her house. She set her hand on its smooth leather exterior and then tied the strap to the sash about her waist.

"We should get going soon," said Arinn, maintaining a firm paternal energy that gave confidence to his family.

"With the dragon about?" asked Elian, offering his opinion. Esmerelda had always been very proud of her son and his display of maturity in his father's absence made her glow. But he had provided an interesting detail: Would it be wise for such a large party to search for Eric and Rhysdan in the blaring morning sun? They would draw attention to themselves from the wyrm and in doing so inflict a greater danger. But they couldn't possibly just sit at the house and wait. What if either Rhysdan or Eric was trapped somewhere amidst the dragon's destruction or hurt and unable to move?

Suddenly Esmerelda was inspired to act, to take control, but she said little, knowing to leave to Arinn his duty. "We can't all go," she said. "It will draw far too much attention." Oh! how she wanted desperately to go out and help search for her husband. "Some of us will have to stay here with Daisy and Eli. We cannot present too large of a group."

Daisy looked up at her mother. "But--" she began; Esmerelda shook her head, cutting her off. "I'm sorry dear but the danger is far too great."

"And we've got to be quick," added Elian, looking sympathetically at his sister. "I know you want to help, Daisy, but father would be much more pleased if he knew you were safe here instead of out under the dragon's sky, and in harm's way." Daisy dropped her shoulders but nodded understandingly. Her brother was right.

Esmerelda rested her hands on her daughter's shoulders and looked to Arinn. "Well what should we do?"

[Fallinel]

Rhysdan had not walked far from the Fairlake homestead, when he was greeted by another farmer, Skylden Oakwain, who was a leader and market organizer in the local community. “Rhys!” cried Skylden, “I’m so glad to see you-we’re desperate for a level head and livestock experience, in the wake of the monster. Your son Elian told me that you were on your way down from the foothills.”

Skylden explained to Rhysdan that he had spoken with Elian earlier, and that Esmerelda and Daisy had gone to stay with the Millwinds. The Whitfield homestead was intact, and the livestock had been herded into the largest paddock, with plenty of water and even a bit of cover from a small group of trees. Rhysdan let out an audible sigh of relief, and tried not to show his disappointment and exhaustion when Skylden enlisted him and Hawkweed to help round up frightened livestock, and to put out any remaining smoldering fires. This necessary work, which tested the limits of Rhysdan’s physical reserves, extended throughout the night, and it was sunrise before Rhysdan made his weary way to the Millwind farm.

As the shepherd and his dog approached the homestead, Hawkweed began running in tight circles and barking. Rhysdan thought that the dog was merely excited about returning to familiar territory, or that perhaps he had seen or smelled one of the children. A sudden loud rushing, roaring noise dispelled that notion-the dragon had returned, and was flying overhead. Rhysdan could not resist the temptation to look up as the monster sailed past, golden-red scales gleaming in the morning sun. The shepherd watched with a mixture of fear and fascination as the dragon disappeared in the distance, and then, as if released from a trance, he began to move once more. Rhysdan and Hawkweed ran up the path to the farmhouse, and rushed in through the front door.

“Papa! Hawkweed!” shrieked Daisy, very nearly upsetting her bowl of porridge in her haste. She ran to Rhysdan, who enveloped her in his strong arms and lifted her up in a hug. Father and daughter were soon joined in their affectionate reunion by Elian and Esmerelda, and all laughed and cried in their joy and relief. Hawkweed waved his feathery tail, huffled and whined and grinned a doggy grin.

“Where have you been, Rhys? Your face is covered with soot!” scolded Esmerelda, as she wiped some of it away with a dishcloth. “I’ll bet Papa has been helping put out fires all night, and that Hawkweed has been rounding up lost sheep,” said Elian knowingly.

“You’re a clever lad, Elian, and you’re absolutely right about my overnight absence. I met Mr. Oakwain, after I’d rescued some animals at the Fairlake farm, and he asked for my help. There was so much confusion, terror, and destruction-but I’m sorry that you all had to worry about me,” explained Rhysdan, shaking his head. The shepherd sank wearily into one of the chairs, and gratefully accepted a bowl of porridge. Daisy sat in his lap, and began to speak rather hesitantly, “Papa, we’ve found you now, but cousin Eric is missing. We looked for him in the dark-all of us-but we couldn’t find him. I know you and Hawkweed can find him, Papa, please let’s go look for him now!”

****************************

Child of the 7th Age's post

Despite her worry over Eric, Elanor could not help but smile broadly when she saw the reunion that was taking place in front of her. She glanced up at her mother and was not surprised to see Willow also smile, her eyes mirroring the solemn hope that there would shortly be a second occasion for all of them to celebrate. Even the wyrm's hovering threat could not erase Elanor's sheer relief at seeing her Uncle safely beside them.

It did not take long for the two families to reach a number of quick and sensible decisions. Esmerelda would stay home with Daisy and Eli, while the others went out to track down Eric. The two young children were simply too tired to push on without a rest. And Esmerelda had put forward a very good point. A large contingent of rescuers might inadvertently draw the dragon's attention, something that should be avoided at all costs. Once Eric had been found, they would all gather back at the house before deciding what to do.

Quickly, they picked up the satchels of food. Elanor also carried a packet of herbs and other healng remedies. She dearly hoped that she would not have to use these, but she reasoned that it was best to be cautious. This time both family dogs accompanied them; the hounds ran eagerly in circles, halting periodically to put their noses to the ground, as they bayed and sniffed and tried to pick up the scent. Walking out into the farmyard and heading towards the gate, Elanor noticed a steady stream of men, women, and children, tramping down the public path in a southerly direction. Many of them carried parcels of clothing or dragged along carts with other belongings; a few were leading the only sheep or cow they had managed to save.

Several women that she knew from the city beckoned to Willow and urged her to come over and talk. Willow explained about Eric, and hastily inquired to see if anyone had seen him. Once she and then she listened to what the women had to say. "It's bad in Dale," Goodwife Plunk confided in a gruff voice. "Some buildings are still burning and the few cattle still alive are all at loose ends and roaming the streets. That flying monstor struck two or three times, diving in and making a path of fire through the city. Some folk have decided to stay and fight the blazes."

"But not us!" added Goodman Plunk, with a hearty shake of his head. "Enough is enough. You can see how many have decided to leave, to head south to Long Lake or even beyond." The sturdy tradesman cocked his thumb and pointed it towards the growing number of citizens of Dale who were scurrying along the path.

"And you?" asked the Goodwife. "What will you and your folk do?"

Willow hastily shook her head, "We're trying to find Eric. That comes first. Once we do that, we'll figure out the rest."

The group said their goodbyes and headed to the gate, departing from the path to cut across the fields.

[ArwenBaggins]

After noticing all of the farmers and herders heading south, Arinn's spirit's were dampened even more. None had seen Eric, out of all of the numbers. They would have to keep looking themselves.

The five searchers continued on in the early morning sunlight, this time guided by the yellow rays of the sun instead of the flickering orange of the torches. They continued solemnly along the fields of destruction, Arinn shaking his head slowly as he noticed the cows roaming madly and fires still flickering. "Let us go to the river again and pick things up from there," he said softly but audibly to anyone who would listen, pointing off toward the water with a yawn.

Now that he found that he was still tired himself, he was glad that Esmerelda stayed behind with the young ones. Although he was fine with carrying Daisy, he didn't think he could do it again. And Eli... he was already weak, and Arinn didn't want him to struggle any more.

They reached the river a few minutes later. Elanor pointed out the pot where they found the footprints, and they stopped for only a second to gather in which direction they should travel. Deciding to follow the path along the river, Arinn would stop them at various points to look around and see if there were any clues of Eric's visit. Finding no signs whatsoever, the group continued sadly on.

"Look! A boat!" Arinn cried only a few moments later, with a tinge of a luagh on his voice. If Eric had used this boat, maybe he was still around somewhere!? "This is the boat that was tied down the river a ways. Someone- Eric, hopefully- has used it lately."

Elian then pointed something out that made everyone even more excited. "Uncle Arinn, footprints. Eric's footprints."

[Child of the 7th Age]

They were now on the east side of the Running River, an area that was far less familiar to them than the western banks. Swiftly they followed the muddy tracks that led away from the water and met up with a path continuing towards a wooded copse. The trees and bushes were smaller here and spaced wide apart. It would have been possible for a small boy to wriggle through without too much difficulty.

Elanor felt her heart thump feverishly as Arlinn picked up the pace, frantically pushing the branches aside in his keen anxiety to find his son before any further mischief could befall him. They had been going on like this for only a few moments when Elanor spied something familiar at the side of the trail. A small jacket was caught up in the thorns of a spiny gorse bush.

"Look, papa!" she called out, racing forward to her father. In her arms, she cradled the precious article of clothing. Although wet and dirty, the jacket was intact, showing no signs of blood or ugly rips. She bent down and let the dogs pick up the scent. They responded by sniffing the ground and hurrying ahead.

The jacket was clearly recognizable as one that used to belong to Eli. Willow had recently given the jacket to Eric, since he always lost so many clothes and she hesitated to buy him anything new.

Without a word, the party resumed its chase. This time Elian sprinted ahead, trailing closely after the dogs. He ran down the path some fifty paces, rounding a bend where the path continued on towards a strand of pines. These were much more imposing than the ones they had just pushed through. Covering the ground was a thick carpet of needles. Eli trudged more slowly up the steep hill, which was also blanketed with pines. He hoped that the slightly higher vantage would enable him to spot his cousin, despite the grove of tall trees.

But before he could make it all the way, Hawkwood and Ruff began baying out a warning a few paces ahead, clearly excited by whatever they'd found. Elian raced towards the barking hounds, fearful of what might be causing the ruckus. He halted abruptly at the top of the hill, staring out in disbelief. A few pines still stood but many of their branches were severely singed or snapped in two, hanging down to the ground. The floor of the forest appeared burnt and scorched, leaving large patches of earth that were barren and black Not an animal or plant remained alive. It was as if a maniac had attacked and rearranged the very bones of the earth.

Yelling back over his shoulder, Elian cried out shakily, "Arlinn, Rhysdan, Elanor, I'm up here. Come quickly....."

[ArwenBaggins]

Arinn held in a gasp when he climbed to the higher point of ground and noticed the charred ground. There was a deep black hole in the forest floor, where the dragon had unleashed his firey fury. 'We can only hope Eric made it out,' Arinn thought grimly to himself shaking his head.

The dogs started to bark madly and rapidly. They ran off together farther down the forest path, baying wildly and sniffing the ground as they went. "Come on!" Arinn ordered, motioning that the group followed the dogs.

Smaug had been here, and it was obvious. The tops of trees were gone, and random burn marks spotted the flora like a disease. Out of the corner of his eye, Arinn noticed a clump of underbrush that had a large space missing in the front, so he grabbed Rhysdan's arm and told him to stop. "It looks like someone crawled in-or out- of there."

Without waiting for an answer, Arinn got down on his knees in the mud and looked through the brush into the dark hole. Nothing. Standing with a sigh, Arinn dusted off the seat of his pants (with a few giggle from Elanor) and continued walking. It was several more minutes before Arinn noticed something a bit unusual.

'It can't be! Is it?' On the far edge of the path, just before it slopped down a hill, Arinn thought he saw a small lone figure moving slowly over the hill. With a burst of energy that he hadn't seen in ten years, Arinn took off quickly toward the shadowy figure ahead of them.

His wishes had been granted. As he neared, he noticed a small boy without a jacket and muddy boots. "Eric!" he yelled, careless to anything now. He had found his son. Although he was already tireing, his ran faster to reunite with Eric.

Scooping the boy up into his arms, Arinn couldn't help but let a few tears of joy run down his face. Other than a few small cuts and bruises, the boy was well. "Rhysdan! It's Eric!" he called to the group that was rapidly approaching. He cradled the boy like a small child, but quickly put his down so he could be greeted by the others.

After many hugs and kisses, along with a few stern looks (even though it was hard to keep a straight face), they were on their way back to the Millwind farm. "We should gather some provisions and then..." Arinn stopped for a minute. Did he really want to leave Dale? Of course not, but he had too... for his family. "leave with the rest of the farmers. For the safety of us all." He looked directly at Eric then, to whom he had sacrificed his jacket.

As they continued back along the forest path, the air about them was a little lighter. Eric was explaining his horrific experience for the first of many times, and Arinn was smiling for one of the first times in a day. Eric had been found.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Eric had never been so happy to see his family in his life, even his sister Elanor. They, apparently, felt the same about him, as he was embraced and kissed so much that he thought he was going to fall apart. Eric didn’t care how they found him or how long they’d been looking; he was just overwhelmed with joy to be going home. He was especially looking forward to some of his mother’s chicken pie, hot out of the oven. By now Eric felt extremely hungry and his stomach rumbled so fiercely that he was about ready to start eating tree bark. No bark for me, he thought, I’ll get hot fresh food when I get home.

All of the fear that he had kept pent up inside of him came flowing out like the tears streaking down his soft face. “Oh mommy, daddy” he stuttered, “it was so bad. I started following this big winged thing. And then I got lost in the forest and I didn’t know where I was and it was getting dark. So I went on the river, because our house is on it, but when I got out I didn’t see it. So then the big monster came and attacked me and blew fire at me, but I hid and it went away. Then you came and I’m so glad to see you and I’ll never run away again, especially after flying scaly monsters.” With that he gave his mother a big kiss on the cheek and hugged his father and Elanor so tight that he thought his chest would cave in. He promised himself he would give Eli a hug as soon as he got him. He wouldn't even mind if his brother kept the rock.

On the long walk home, Eric thought about how much he had missed his family. Maybe they really did love him after all, even as much as Eli. Getting lost had been very scary, it had taught him how much his family meant to him. His parents had never paid so much attention to him, but Eric decided that there must be easier, safer ways of earning their attention than getting lost in a forest, especially one with a big hungry monster. With a start, Eric wondered what would happen if the monster was waiting for him when he got home. From experience, Eric knew that he could hide from the monster, but he was not so sure about the rest of his family. He could just envision Eli fainting as the monster roared and flashed its teeth.

But Eric wouldn’t allow the monster to hurt any of his family; they were too special to him. He would find a way to hide all of his family from the monster before he could gobble them up. Besides, thought Eric, I may not be as strong or scary as he is, but I am certainly smarter. As long as I am here, the monster won’t be able to attack Dale. I won’t let it. Eric hummed as he walked and watched the tall dark trees passing by on the sides of the path, not quite as scary as he remembered them.

[Pippin Pondlily]

Esmerelda was startled by a knock on the door. She had dozed in one of the chairs in the living room of the Millwinds' house while Eli and Daisy slept. It was still early in the day. The rest of her family had left to find Eric a couple hours ago while she stayed home with the two littlest ones. She stood and approached the door, swinging it open quietly.

"Willow?"

Esmerelda smiled. "No, Cherry, it's me."

"Oh, Esmerelda!" Cherry was a hefty woman in her mid-fifties, her children all grown and gone but a dear friend of the Whitfields and the Millwinds. "How is the family? I've just come by to see if everyone's alright before we get on our way."

Esmerelda frowned. "On your way?"

Cherry nodded heartily and tightened her shawl about her shoulders against the rising wind. "Aye, there's no staying in Dale for my family. We're all going Southeast to Esgaroth. That dragon'll be back and with a mind for total obliteration. Don't want to be around for that ye know." She looked tired and frazzled, her messy brown hair falling out of its bun. "You should be coming too. I'd hate for two wonderful families such as yours and your brother's sisters to be left at the mercy of that thing." Esmerelda nodded, her eyes were sad at the thought of leaving. Cherry looked past Esmerelda into the house. "They're not here?" she asked, concern rising in her face.

Esmerelda shook her head. "No, they left a couple hours ago, Rhys, Arinn, Willow, Elian and Elanor too look for Eric. Daisy and little Eli are sleeping here though."

"Poor Eric!" cried Cherry clapping her hands to her face.

"Ah," said Esmerelda, "I think he's a brave boy and I have faith that he'll be found safe and sound. They're probably heading home even at this minute."

Cherry winked and smiled. "You're a brave woman, Esmerelda." She gave her a warm hug. "We'll meet in Esgaroth, then, eh?"

Esmerelda nodded slowly. "Yes, I guess so…"

"Goodbye dear, take care."

Esmerelda shut the door and leaned her back against it. Leave Dale. It made sense, it really did. But how, in what manner, would they do so? Pack a wagon and hitch up horses piling their belongings in the back? Would they walk with bags over their shoulders, their pockets stuffed with food? And what about crossing the lake? She definitely wasn't sure of how they'd do any of these things, but she was starting to get an idea of what they'd need. She could make herself useful by beginning to gather them up while the others were out.

She went into the small bedroom and roused Daisy. "My dear, I'm going to go over to our house and get a few things. Will you be alright here with Eli or do you want to come with me?"

Daisy yawned. "We'll be fine, Mum." Esmerelda smiled and kissed her daughter's forehead.

She ran quickly over to her homestead. She passed the laundry cauldron on its side in the lawn. The clothes that had been inside were strewn about, soaked in mud and ruined. There were but a few clothes, covered now in dust that hung on the line flapping idly in the breeze. She abandoned these and went inside, hoping there were at least some things that could be of use.

Luckily there were still a couple clean clothes in her children's trunks. These she took out and folded, placing them into a leather saddlebag along with a cloak apiece. She did the same for herself and Rhysdan, working as fast as she could. Once clothes were packed she went into the kitchen and rummaged through her pantry, taking things such as dried fruit, bread, hard cheese, and a block of tea--things that would travel. She ran about the house again picking up a handful of things that they would surely need and one or two that were of sentimental value.

In the end she had four bags: perfect. And who knew, maybe they would find a way to take all of their belongings--it all depended on when the dragon was to return.

Once back at the Millwinds she found Daisy and Eli awake and anxious about the missing family members.

"When do you think they'll come back?" Daisy asked.

"When they've found Eric, dear." Esmerelda said it with such assuredness that Daisy and Eli were quite convinced that the boy would be found. Around noon they looked to the west for their families …

[Child of the 7th Age]

The Millwinds and Whitfields who now trekked back to their homes were in considerably better spirits than when they had left that morning. Even so, there was still the problem of the wyrm. No one knew if the winged creature had made his last strike and decided to fly off to other parts, or whether he would revisit Dale shortly to launch another attack. Willow was careful to keep a close eye on Eric to make certain he did not stray too far from the path, all the while thinking and wondering what they should do next.

The answer came sooner than expected. Much of their return trek lay close to the river. The group intended to head south along its bank and then swing east directly to their farmstead. Just before they reached the spot where the path curved round, they were surprised to look back and see a contingent of small boats paddling speedily to the south.

"Haloo, there!" A voice carried over the water in their direction. "Farmer Millwood, is that you?" Arlinn turned about and recognized the face of an acquaintance. He waved a hand and stopped to listen to what the man was saying.

"You're heading in the wrong direction. Some of the Dwarves came to town this morning. The wyrm has taken up residence in the Lonely Mountain and sits on a hoard of gold. He has driven them out of their home. This creature--Smaug--calls himself the new master of Erebor and Dale!"

"Then, where shall we all go if this monstor will not leave? Where are you going?" Willow interrupted.

"Many in town have decided to travel south to Long Lake and the town of Esgaroth, hoping things will be safer there. Some have gone off on their own, but many are gathering in the city to travel in a large group, thinking that would be safer."

Willow and Arlinn exchanged a quick glance but said nothing out loud. After offering their goodbyes to the boatmen, they quickly turned, veered westward on the lane and, in a short time, had arrived back at the farm.

"What shall we do?" whispered Elanor to her mother. "Are we heading to Long Lake on our own or joining up with the group that leaves from Dale? Or should we just stay here and wait?"

Her mother sighed and shook her head. "We shall see what your father and Uncle Rhysdan decide."

[ArwenBaggins]

Arinn opened the door and held it so the family could enter the home. Eli jumped up and hugged his father and mother tightly, quickly moving to hug Eric without one bit of embarassment. "I'm sorry..." he said simply, his lip pouting. "Don't ever run 'way an' get lost 'gain, okay?"

Arinn smiled a bit and bit a hand on Eli's shoulder, and then Eric's. "Now, you two can say you're 'I'm sorry's' later. We grown-ups need to talk." With the final words he looked around to the adults in the group. "We need to talk about what we should do- flee south or stay and wait everything out."

No one said anything, but by the looks on the women's faces he could tell what needed to be done. He himself wanted to go, but couldn't bare leaving his home and coming back with only a pile of dying embers. "Maybe we could join up with the party heading to Esgaroth and Long Lake; mind you, we must move quickly." Looking around, Arinn noticed that Esmerelda had already started packing some provisions.

"Sounds good to me," Rhysdan said plainly.

Arinn nodded and looked to Willow. He could see the worry on her face, but he could also see that she was trying to be strong. He took a few steps forward and put his hand around her waist in a sign of comfort and love, but they were both still very shaky and disturbed. "Start gathering things we will need for the trek, and I will go and get a wagon. Hurry as fast as you can. We need to leave and meet up with the group." He swallowed hard, but tried to keep his voice unwavering.

Nearly twenty minutes had now past, but Arinn had hooked up a wagon and loaded in all of the possessions being taken. He helped the young ones into the back of the wagon; a quick rearing of the horse took his attention away from everyone else. Deciding that the adults were fully capable of doing whatever they wished to do, he mounted the painted steed and looked back. "Here we go..." he said softly as a warning to anyone standing. "We can only hope our farms will be still be standing when we return."

Looking back at the deserted house was heart-jerking. Cows and horses were roaming randomly, and several singe marks dotted the nearby landscape. He could only trust in hope that they could return to Dale; soon or later, he didn't care. He only wanted to be able to go home.

[Kransha]

The attack on Erebor was completed, at least for the most part. Smaug had yet to fully clear out the inside of the mountain, but the damage he had wrought on its once-mighty walls would surely suffice to clear out most pockets of Dwarven resistance. Now, the already half-destroyed town of Dale would feel the full and unmitigated wroth of Smaug the Magnificent. His gargantuan wingspan stretched to its fullest, the dragon’s shadow loomed wickedly, as a hovering storm cloud waiting to burst, over the streets. Low he veered, wings unmoving and swaying gently up and down with the movement of his form. His jaws snapped together several times eagerly, puffs of coal-black smoke pouring out at random intervals. Deep in the well of his throat loomed a monstrous crimson light, fringed by dull gold, the color of searing fire that threatened to pour out of the beast’s open mouth and erupt in a single, volcanic flourish onto the town below. He aimed himself at various blocks, each dotted with unready homesteads. His eyes, honed like beams of sunlight, fell upon one such section of the town and the dragon plowed heedlessly through the air towards it, not breathing, the light in his throat growing steadily brighter.

At last he let loose, and without relent. A single, mighty pillar of luminous flame burst through his jagged teeth, spilling forth onto the houses that were just beneath and before him. In an instant the pale colors of the houses’ walls were turned to pitch-black and sickly brown, charred away by the flames. Straw and thatch that made up various roofs was burnt from existence, leaving bare, opened shells were residences had been moments before. He passed over the patch of wreckage, his blinking eyes taking a weary but satisfied glance down at the blackened earth and scorched structures. His satisfaction increased significantly as he heard the bewildered and terrified screams of bystanders and citizens scattering through the streets, searching in vain for refuge or sanctuary from the incurring dragon. Smaug smiled grimly, still belching monumental plumes of smoke. This was only a small sample of his power. Still grinning eerily, the dragon swerved on his wing, executing a hairpin turn, and doubled back on the blocks he’d already halfway leveled.

Letting his lower jaw loll open again, another tremendous burst of fire, a bright red column pierced the earth. The crumbling walls of the houses on that block seemed to melt beneath the heated strain of the flames. Even the black-scorched ground beneath the ruins turned to sandy dust, whipped away easily in the gust that followed Smaug’s attack. As the dragon bore himself regally over the seen of destruction, all that lay beneath him was a barren ring of nothingness, surrounding on all sides by untouched civilization which seemed out of place silhouetted against the carnage. His tail curled playfully, dragging through the heated air, as if to suggest the pleasure he derived from the brutal havoc he wrought. He spun, overlooking the town and carefully examining each street, path, and building. Screams and shouts rent the disquieted air for the second time, much to Smaug’s enjoyment. The dragon swooped over Dale, searching for a spot to continue…

He decided to pick randomly, as the dragon had no need for care or precision. Wreaking havoc was art as far as Smaug the Golden was concerned, and the picture he painted beneath him was most beautiful to his eyes, but it did not require too much care, for that would take all the pleasure out of the endeavor. Spying a larger, several-story building with clustered structures swarming around it in an uneven circle, Smaug whipped himself up and down, wings no longer battling the windy air after clearing the thick smoke, and headed towards that area. In barely a moment, he was near enough to breathe his torrential fire down on central house, creating a focal point for his flaming typhoon that quickly enveloped all the buildings surrounding.

Quickly he swiveled again in mid-air, doubling over backwards, and breathed again, his stomach and throat depressing as the fire-laced air poured out of him. The wreckage and ruin of the devastated area was cleansed again by the flames, and the living things in the vicinity easily expunged. Slowly, eying his work in a less-than-satisfied manner, Smaug flew up and swooped down, summoning his flames to deal with as many buildings as he could until the town was pockmarked by gaping scorch marks, black as night. Steadily, Smaug the Golden searched for more interesting prey. The people in the streets were grouping together and fleeing, though none were safe, many had taken refuge in some sheltering zone, to Smaug’s chagrin, but many still roamed the streets in a panic. Smaug decided that, now that the town was devastated and crippled, he could have some real fun…

[Fallinel]

Once the decision had been made to join the exodus from Dale, Rhysdan raced to his homestead to retrieve the large wagon and remaining livestock. He was grateful that Esmerelda had previously packed clothes, food, and small items, and the four bags were already at the Millwind farmhouse. Working quickly, but without nervousness so as to avoid frightening the animals, Rhysdan hitched the two roan oxen to a large wagon, and urged the animals to pull it near the small pens and paddocks. The back portion of the wagon was divided into several compartments for hauling lambs to market, and Rhysdan placed two of the ewes with their lambs into these areas. He quickly caught several of Esmerelda's laying hens, as well as the rooster, and rather unceremoniously contained them within a large overturned basket in the remaining wagon compartment. Rosebush, the children's bay pony, and Granite, a stout horse who was used for plowing and riding, were tied to the back of the wagon and could trot along behind. The dairy cow, whose calf had been taken by the dragon, would also follow behind the wagon. Rhysdan quickly threw a few bales of hay and a barrel of oats into the wagon, and hopped up onto the seat, calling Hawkweed to jump up as well. He twitched the reins and clucked to the pair of oxen, and drove back to the Millwind farm.

Once at the Millwind homestead, Rhysdan helped his wife and daughter onto the wagon, and Elian placed the bags that Esmerelda had packed behind the seat. The Whitfield family wagon fell in behind that of the Millwinds as they headed into Dale, filled with uncertainty and fear rather than the usual excitement and optimism of a journey into the market town. From the homesteads, it was not far to Dale, and the road was wide and smooth, so the pair of wagons made good progress. As they neared the outskirts of town, Arinn called the wagons to a halt, and both he and Rhysdan stood up on the seats and scanned the view in front of them. Behind the wagon, the pony and the horse flared their nostrils and pranced nervously, and Hawkweed's pinkish-brown nose twitched at a disturbing faint scent.

"What is it, Pappa?" asked Elian, "I see smoke rising from the center of town!" Rhysdan nodded, "I don't like the looks of this, Elian-I think that dragon has attacked Dale. I saw it fly overhead this morning." Rhysdan called out to Arinn, "Let's make our way to the warehouse if we can. Dale seems to have been targeted by that winged beast, and I doubt it will be safe to stay there." Arinn signaled his agreement, and the two men sat down and urged their animals forward with the wagons.

As they approached the town of Dale proper, it was clear to everyone in the Millwind and Whitfield families that the once-bustling trade hub would never be the same. Gone was the famous Toy Market, with all its magical clockwork animals, musical instruments, miniature boats and wagons, dolls and dollhouses. Many of the beautiful buildings had collapsed, or were flattened and incinerated completely. Women and children, faces blackened with soot and hair singed by the dragon's flames, wandered the streets, confused and weeping. Daisy was very upset by this sight, and hid her face in Esmerelda's lap. The great Dwarven-wrought bells on the yoke of the roan oxen made a mournful sound as the wagons progressed through the ruined streets of Dale.