And in Bard's house, two more unexpected guests had been added—Legolas and Tauriel.
Luke leaned back in his seat like he owned the place, completely relaxed despite the situation.
"Make yourselves comfortable," he said casually. "Although it's not my house."
Tauriel glanced around the room. Bard's home was simple—wooden walls, a small table, a few chairs, and the quiet sounds of the lake outside.
Legolas remained standing near the doorway, his posture straight and alert as always. His eyes moved across the room, taking in everyone present—Luke, Natasha, Wanda, Bard's children, and now themselves.
Tauriel finally stepped inside and took a seat near the table.
Luke watched their reactions carefully.
"You two came at the right moment," he said casually. "It's not every day you get to see one of the calamities of this world."
Tauriel's expression hardened slightly, while Legolas' eyes narrowed the moment he understood what Luke was implying.
"You speak of the dragon," Tauriel said. "Smaug."
Luke gave a small nod.
"Exactly."
Legolas stepped forward a little, his voice calm but firm.
"The dragon has slept in the Lonely Mountain for many years," he said. "The Dwarves would be fools to wake it."
"They are desperate," Luke replied. "Erebor was their home. Their kingdom."
Luke rested his chin on his hand, watching the two Elves.
"Desperate people tend to do interesting things," he said.
Legolas did not seem amused.
"If they awaken the dragon," he said, "many will die."
Tauriel's gaze moved toward the north, toward the distant shadow where the Lonely Mountain stood beyond the lake.
"Smaug destroyed Dale," she said quietly. "He burned it to ash. If he rises again…"
Her sentence trailed off, but the meaning was clear.
Lake-town would be the closest target.
Luke looked between the two Elves and shrugged slightly.
"Well," he said, "good news."
They both looked at him.
"I'm here."
Legolas shook his head slightly.
"Human, you may possess some tricks," he said calmly, though his tone carried clear doubt. "But that is Smaug."
The name carried weight in the room.
"Smaug the Terrible," Legolas continued. "The last great fire-drake of the north. His hide is harder than iron, his flames can melt stone, and entire kingdoms have fallen before him."
Luke shrugged.
"Ummm… so what?" he said. "I've faced things stronger than Smaug. Dealing with a dragon isn't a big matter. If you don't believe me, ask my wives. They know my feats better than anyone."
Tauriel glanced toward Wanda and Natasha. The word wives made her pause for a moment, though her expression quickly returned to neutral.
Natasha crossed her arms.
"Well, I don't know about Smaug," she said, "but I can say this guy owns a dragon of his own. One breath from that thing can light up the whole sky and melt anything in its path."
She still remembered the scene above New York during the Chitauri invasion—Luke's dragon appearing in the sky and burning through the alien forces with a single blast of fire.
"You own a dragon?" Tilda asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
Bard immediately looked down at her.
"Tilda," he said firmly. "A dragon is not a toy."
Luke chuckled.
"Yeah," he said. "I do have one."
He didn't bother explaining that the creature didn't exactly have its own will and mostly acted through his control. Still, it was technically a dragon.
Bard's expression remained serious.
"That makes this no less dangerous," he said. "The Dwarves should never have been allowed to go to the mountain. If Smaug wakes…"
He didn't finish the sentence, but everyone understood.
Luke waved a hand dismissively.
"No need to worry," he said.
Bard frowned. "You don't understand—"
"I understand perfectly," Luke interrupted calmly. "Some things are meant to happen."
The room grew quiet.
"In stories like this," Luke continued, "certain events can't really be avoided. The Dwarves reaching the mountain… the dragon waking up… those things were going to happen sooner or later."
He leaned back in his chair again.
"And honestly," he added, "this is one of those moments."
***
Thorin and the Company moved carefully through the broken streets of Dale.
What had once been a great city now stood silent and ruined. Burned stone walls leaned against one another, shattered towers rose like blackened teeth, and the wind passed through empty windows with a hollow sound. Nothing had lived here for two hundred years.
Balin slowed as he looked around the remains of the city.
"Dale," he said quietly. "Once the greatest city of Men in the north."
He gestured toward the empty streets and the broken buildings.
"When Smaug came, fire fell from the sky. The city burned in a single night."
Bilbo looked around uneasily. The ground itself still carried the marks of dragon fire—stone melted and twisted in places where the heat had once been strongest.
"And since that day," Balin continued, "these lands have remained empty."
The Company continued forward until they finally stood before the enormous gates of the Lonely Mountain.
Two colossal statues of Dwarven kings guarded the entrance, their stone faces stern and weathered by time. Between them stood the sealed gates of Erebor—huge doors of iron and stone that had not opened since the day Smaug claimed the mountain.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The Dwarves stared at the gates in silence.
Their home.
Thorin stepped forward slowly, placing his hand against the cold stone.
"Home," he murmured.
Balin looked toward the side of the mountain.
"The secret entrance is not here," he said. "It lies hidden on the western side, where the last light of Durin's Day touches the stone."
They began searching along the mountain wall, moving between the massive statues.
Bilbo walked along the base of one of them, studying the stone carefully.
Then he noticed something unusual.
Near the foot of the statue, part of the stonework looked slightly different—narrow cracks that formed the outline of steps.
"Thorin," Bilbo called quietly.
The others came over.
And looked up at the narrow stairway built into the statue itself. The steps were carved carefully into the stone, almost invisible unless someone was looking closely.
Balin smiled faintly.
"The hidden stair," he said.
Thorin looked up toward the path that climbed along the mountain wall.
"Up there lies the secret door," he said.
Without another word, the Company began to climb.
The narrow stone steps spiraled upward along the side of the mountain, leading them higher and higher above the ruins of Dale. The wind grew stronger as they climbed, and the air grew colder.
At last, they reached the ledge.
But like the mountain itself, it appeared to be nothing more than bare stone.
The keyhole remained hidden.
And the sun was already beginning to set behind the mountain.
*****
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