At first there was laughter, cheering and even singing.  Adelle pushed open the window of her small kitchen which overlooked the small deck-like lanes that separated the tight rows of houses making up Lake Town.  She smiled at her neighbor, who was also peering out her second floor window at the gathering crowd below.  Her smile changed to a soft chuckle at the sound of a few teenaged boys singing in their awkward, cracking voices, "The river is running gold from the Mountain!"

It was late evening and little Drake, her infant son, lay sleeping in the cradle nearby as she scrubbed distractedly at a dinner plate, listening to the folk chatter below. Three weeks had passed since the Dwarves had been guests of the Master of Esgaroth, and the tales of the wealth and treasures which they were in search of had long been the subject of debate and discussion.  Clearly something was happening outside, and Adelle wiped up her last dish quickly so she could check with her neighbors to find out why it seemed a parade was filing past to the farthest part of the town.

The distinct call of the warning trumpets rang in the darkening skies, and Adelle's face fell.  Screaming and sudden panic echoed on the planks outside as folk began racing back from whence they came.  She threw open the bedroom window, which had a better prospect of the city, in time to hear the shout, "The dragon!! To arms! To arms!"  

Blood drained from her face and she was filled with dread and panic as she slammed the window shut against the news.  There was soft crying behind her and she quickly ran to the cradle, pulling Drake close to her, and began to prepare for the worst.  Her husband Dirk was in the watch, and would already be upon the front lines to defend the city.  Always she had known that when sudden danger would arise, she must act without him, and hope against all things that they would be reunited once more.   Though their union had only been a few years, the panic and anguish that filled her heart at the prospect of losing him threatened to overcome any semblance of rational thought and she quickly brushed away the tears that sprang to her eyes.  Now was not the time to think about any of that; now was the time to act.

Fabric lay on a worn rocking chair, and she wound it about her in a practiced manner, strapping the child to her chest tightly and securing the bundle with a knot around her waist.  A satchel was filled with a few essential needs and slung across her shoulder as she rushed down the narrow stairway and out to join the throng and the panic. 

The sky glowed red and gold;  the clouds hung low in the darkening sky like a mystical haze as the water of the lake reflected the fury of the dragon unleashed.  The brightness of the night was eerily like those times of her youth, when fire spread across the distant forests; only now it encircled the city, the lake and all the distant shores; all were lit in an angry orange hue.

"Smaug has awoken! Arise folk, flee!" came another abrupt shout and her baby awoke, snug against her breast, at the noise; adding his cry to the others coming from the crowd running about the streets.

She ran with the throng that seemed to pull her toward the Market Pool, a central access point to the docks, and the tunnel that ran under the town and led out to the lake itself.  The sound of creaking wood thundered and shook behind her, and she heard a cheer rise up as the men had thrown down the bridge that linked the island city to the shore.  At least now the depths of the water about them offered some protection.

The steps to the water below were filled with people, and all able hands were passing every available container imaginable up to line the crowded streets; readying the town for the fires that inevitably would come. 

Suddenly, amidst the terrified chatter about her came a deafening roar and an angry, horrible cry breaking across the sky.  A crackle of kindled flame echoed against the wooden decks as the townsfolk froze in terror, all eyes pausing in dismay to see the fantastically dreadful form of Smaug, Great Dragon of Lonely Mountain, belch forth his fiery breath upon the rooftops nearby.  The brightness of the sudden flame reflected the tiny shadows of men far at the edge of the city, sending up a barrage of futile arrows into the sky at the beast.  A second angry blast exploded from the snarling jaws.  Sharp teeth, like so many spears, reflected ominously in the red of the blaze and the row of figures below vanished into ash. 

Up, up, up the great red wings flapped against the night air. The heat of his angry ascent rippled toward the crowd like a warm breeze that smelled of death.  Those around her dissolved into panicked screams and weeping, and smoke poured between the houses and covered the docks in a choking mist.  Baby Drake wailed and Adelle instinctively patted him, offering him comfort, when she herself had none.  The crowd about her began to scatter, some panicking and others dashing off to help douse the flames.  There seemed to be no order, and for a moment Adelle simply clung to a wooden beam to keep from being pushed about by frantic townsfolk.

Strong hands of a soldier gripped her shoulders and aimed her down the steps to the docks of the Market Pool, where to her surprise she saw an organized evacuation taking place. Small boats were being filled to overflowing with women and children, one strong lad rowing each away through the tunnel and out to the blackness of Long Lake.  She found herself tucked beside two women, and three children sat on the floor in front of her, trembling as their boat slipped along the surface and into tunnel. 

An unnatural silence fell over the lake as they skimmed across the water, watching while the dragon again plunged low, bathing the city in flame.  The dragon rose high above them, circling the lake and the town, its great wings sending ripples to the water that rocked the boats carelessly.  The awful, heavy thumping of the wings against the air unnerved them all as they sat vulnerable and open on their lonely boats.  The young boy closest to Adelle whimpered softly, his mother gently reached down and held his small hand, but needed no word to remind him to keep quiet.  The great beast glittered with jewels, and though more frightening than anything she could imagine, Adelle was still awed by the majesty of its perfectly poised, nearly serpentine manner as it flew through the air. 

The dragon appeared to eye the tiny boats spreading out from Lake Town, almost smiling at the dangerous predicament of the innocents as they slowly made their way away from the burning structures.  They seemed to be rowing aimlessly, keeping away from other boats and from the shore to avoid being an easy target.  As the creature turned again toward the city, sparing the boats for the moment, the townsfolk could only watch as more flame engulfed the city, and the small terrified forms of men within his path splashed into the water from the decks.  It seemed inevitable now, the entire town, everything Adelle had ever known as home, would burn; there was no escape, they would all be killed.  Would anyone live to tell the tale?  Adelle wept openly, and tried to comfort her little son, offering him her smallest finger's knuckle to suck upon to pacify him. The pain of anxious worry redoubled as the fleeting thought of her own Dirk, somewhere out there, perhaps no longer living raced through her mind. 

Mortified cries erupted from the women beside Adelle, yanking her back to the horrors at hand.  They trembled and held one another as they watched the great dragon, flying high and proud, swoop down toward the lone silhouette of a man taking aim with a bow.  Adelle swallowed in dread to see another valiant opponent die in their defense.  She too cried out in dismay at the scene laid before them, but she seemed transfixed and despite the assured outcome, unable to look away.

Yet, as if in answer to the hopes and prayers of the townsfolk, the dragon abruptly shrieked in its own magnificent agony.  It was a deafening cry that filled those near with dread and terror and the earth itself seemed to groan in answer.  The little children covered their ears and the women watched as the dragon arched high into the air, seeming to burst upon itself with flame writhing, snakelike against the orange skyline, and turned to crumple suddenly upon the burning ruins of the town.  The beams and wood of sturdy buildings seemed splintered like kindling and there was a great shudder and an unworldly groan as the lake poured into the vast wound of the town.   Ripples became rising waves, and the boats rocked heavily with the rises and falls of the water.   The great Smaug was dead, but the women wept. 

Not for the wicked creature that took such joy in dispensing death and terror, but for those lost, for the cold nights to come, and for the very worst of all terrors--the unknown in a bleak future.  It wasn't until the boat carrying Adelle and her child splashed upon the rocky shore of the lake that she began to comprehend the magnitude of their predicament.  The shore was now littered with boats, and filling quickly with the remaining villagers.  Several huts and small thatched houses dotted the shoreline, but not nearly enough to house them all.     

For a long time, as the waxing moon rose high, the townsfolk wandered the banks, families reunited, and others waited, shivering in the damp November air.  There was much discontent, many were angry at the Master of the town, and others cheered the arrival of Bard, the man who had taken down the dragon and lived, despite all odds.  But Adelle walked to each boat, to each group and looked among them, all the while patting the sleeping bundle nestled close to her. 

While the Master of the town calmed the villagers, and Bard organized efforts to find shelter, the night grew late, and Adelle sat on a log, exhausted and filled with grief.  No one had newly arrived on shore for over an hour, and it seemed that she was now one of the unlucky ones, for no one had seen Dirk since the dragon, and all knew that many had perished.  Her head in her hands, silently weeping so as to not upset the baby cuddled in her arms, she was surprised when suddenly a large hand rested upon her shoulder.  Looking up she was face to face with the hero Bard, a large man, damp and rather worn looking, but his eyes filled with earnestness and compassion. 

"Are you Adelle?  Wed to Dirk of the Taylor Street?"

Adelle swallowed and wiped her tears to stare at him, no voice would come but she managed to nod. 

"Weep not.  I bring good tidings.  Never fear, your husband lives," he said softly, a wan smile upon his weary face.  "I beg forgiveness for not seeking you out sooner.  I sent him directly with his small company upstream to seek aid from the King of the Elven Wood." 

A weak smile broke out upon Adelle's face, and she again wiped at her tears, hardly daring to believe her ears.   As if on cue, Drake cooed softly and Bard smiled and held the babe's tiny hand for a moment before breaking the silence once more. "He stood most valiantly with me till all his arrows were spent; he is a brave man, and one I now entrust to bring us the help we need sooner." 

Rising he held his hand toward her, "Come and be safe with my own family this night, for you need shelter and warmth to keep you and your baby well.  I owe that much at least to repay such a fearless comrade."

Adelle rose to go with him, but in the end could not restrain her elation, and wrapped her arms around the man Bard and again wept, but now for joy. 

~*~