LOTR: Bringing an MC System to Middle-Earth

"What are you doing here?"

The vast meeting hall echoed with tension. On one side of the wall, Smaug was still roaring insults at them, calling them "cowardly worms," but no one paid the dragon any attention. The focus of the company had shifted. A private council had formed in the corner of the chamber.

"That's my question, Eric," Thorin growled, arms crossed. "What in Mahal's name are you doing here?"

"You weren't supposed to charge in recklessly and wake the dragon. That's not what we agreed on!"

"You've risked the entire quest! My father's key and the map - wasted!"

Eric merely shook his head. "No, Thorin. The plan was doomed from the start. Your information is out of date."

"What?"

"Smaug's already made a deal with our true enemy. Remember that Necromancer Gandalf mentioned? The one gathering power in the East? That's Sauron - Lord of Darkness."

He let that sink in before continuing. "Smaug isn't asleep. He's been wide awake the whole time, just playing dead - waiting for you to walk in like lambs to the slaughter."

Thorin's angry expression faltered, morphing into disbelief.

Eric pressed on, "What's worse, a massive army of Orcs and Wargs has united under Sauron's banner. They've already begun marching from Moria and the Misty Mountains. Tens of thousands strong. Their goal? To crown Smaug as the new King Under the Mountain and seize this entire region."

"No!" Thorin shouted, slamming a fist on the table. "I am the rightful King Under the Mountain!"

"Which is exactly why we need a new plan," Eric replied calmly.

Thorin took a deep breath, absorbing the heavy truth. "If the dragon's already awakened, then we face it head-on. The original plan is scrapped."

"We kill it before the Orcs arrive. Otherwise, there's no saving this mountain. I'll also send word to our kin for reinforcements."

He turned quickly to one of his companions. "Balin. Do you remember how to make blast charges?"

Balin scratched his beard thoughtfully. "It's been a while, but if you take me to the forge, I think I can recall the process."

"Excellent. We'll lure Smaug into the furnace chamber, set up the explosives to draw him in, then flood the place with molten gold. Once it cools, he'll be frozen solid. Crushed under his own greed."

The dwarves muttered in agreement. It was a long shot, but better than charging in blindly.

Eric, however, frowned. "That won't work."

Thorin turned sharply. "What?"

"I already tried magma. It only irritated him. To Smaug, it's like soaking in a too-hot bath. He'll crawl out before it even hardens."

Thorin scowled. "Then what do you suggest? Let him link up with the Orcs and prance around calling himself king?!"

"Calm down," Balin interjected. "There may be another way."

Thorin narrowed his eyes. "We're listening."

"There's an old tale about the fall of Dale," Balin began slowly. "They say the last Lord of Dale shot Smaug during the attack. He didn't kill him, but he did knock off one of the scales covering the dragon's heart."

"If we could find another black arrow and strike the same spot again - we could kill him."

Balin looked at Eric. "Well?"

Eric gave a faint, almost reluctant smile. "It's true. I saw it myself. There's a bare patch right over his heart. No scale there. If you can hit that... you've got a real chance."

"But the Lord of Dale's long dead," one of the dwarves objected. "Where are we going to find another legendary archer?"

"Oh, we've already met him," Balin said, eyes twinkling.

The dwarves exchanged surprised glances.

"You mean that man is Bard?! The bargeman from Laketown?!"

Thorin's expression grew thoughtful. He turned toward Eric once more. "Will you stay and keep watch on the dragon while we go?"

"We'll be back in a few days at most."

Eric nodded. "I'll be here. That noisy lizard won't be going anywhere."

"Also... you mentioned the forge. Is it stocked with powder?"

"It is," Balin confirmed. "Do you need some?"

"No need for a full tour. Just tell me the direction."

Balin blinked. "Just... straight west. Three hundred paces through the mountain."

Eric rolled his shoulders. "Much faster to dig my way through than take the scenic route."

Once the directions were given, and with no further questions, the dwarves departed in haste.

Bilbo hesitated, casting a glance back at Eric, but then hurried after Thorin and the others. They needed him more right now.

Laketown – Outside the Prison

Alfrid leaned casually against the jailhouse wall, peering through the barred window with a sneer.

"Look at you, Bard. Once a beloved man of the people. Now rotting in a cell."

"They used to cheer for you. Trust you. And what did you do in return? Teamed up with burglars. Helped them steal from the town."

He twirled the cell keys dramatically in his hand, letting the metal jangle in Bard's face.

"The people will curse your name. Your little revolution is over."

Bard's hands tightened on the bars, his eyes cold. "The only plot here is yours."

This entire arrest was nothing more than a convenient excuse to get rid of him. He'd known it was coming.

Alfrid chuckled and turned to leave. "Well, enjoy your stay, hero. This is your final chapter."

Thwack!

A dull blow sounded from behind him. Alfrid froze mid-step, eyes rolling back as he collapsed like a sack of potatoes.

Click.

The lock turned. Bard looked down in confusion... and saw a group of dwarves staring back at him, weapons drawn.

"Bard - heir of Girion, last Lord of Dale."

"You now have a chance to restore your family's legacy. Will you take it?"

It was Balin who spoke, the most diplomatic among them. He'd been pushed forward to make the pitch.

Then, pushing through the crowd, a boy ran up and threw himself into Bard's arms.

"Father!"

"Bain?" Bard was stunned. He knelt and hugged his son tightly. "What are you doing here?"

"They came to rescue you. But they needed someone to show the way."

Bard's eyes flicked to Balin, who nodded warmly. "Your son's remarkable. Brave, clever. He's kept your home safe, remembered your prison cell's location, and didn't hesitate once."

Bard looked between his son and the group of armed dwarves, expression unreadable.

After a moment, he sighed.

"I suppose I don't really have a choice, do I?"