From The Ashes

22

When it came to escaping the cell which he had found himself in, Bard was gradually finding himself becoming more and more at a loss. No one was present to open the door, so in fact the guards which had got such enjoyment out of locking him up, had now abandoned him to perish in the flames. Though when he stopped trying to hit at the bars of the windows, there were no flames. But he had caught sight of the creature which the burning fires would come from. Smaug was just a shadow in the clouds. A fleeting winged form which kept out of sight, using the cloud cover and darkness of the surrounding night to his advantage. The screaming and shouting and constant ringing of the warning bell alerted Bard that everyone was aware to what was happening.

And because they all now knew that Smaug had come, they had turned to desperately trying to escape. From between the window bars, Bard could spy people in boats paddling quickly below. Wrapping his fingers around the bars he tugged, he called out, and pulled with all his might again. He was on his own. The calls he sent out were either ignored, or not heard. The bars of the doors could not be broken, and the lock on the door could only be opened by a key. A key which he was in no possession of. The window however, seemed to be his only real means to escape.

Bashing away at the bars with the – thankfully empty – pot Bard only faltered when the first flicker of bright flames came to his attention. He dropped the pot and looked to the line of fire which was now firmly fighting its way through the poorly made buildings of the towns. The sight of fire and its presence more so caused the people below to frantically scream and scramble, more so than what they already were.

Looking about himself, he wasted no time pulling the thin blanket off of the equally thin mattress. It didn't take much effort to start tearing it apart into narrow strips. Once there were enough, he took to tying them together in a rather quickly fashioned rope. Lassoing one end and tying the other he walked to the bars and threw it outside. All he'd need was for it to latch onto something, and for that something to have such force behind it that it'd manage to pull the bars free from their holdings.

Though when it came to actually attaching to something he didn't expect it to happen so quickly. Feeding the rope through the bars, he let go of it as it quickly twanged from the tension which was building up in it. Watching with relief as his idea had succeeded, Bard moved forwards and looked down to see what, or who, had successfully freed him. Really the last person he expected to see, not to say he wasn't secretly pleased, was the Master, who now was slumped on his large barge heaving and coughing from the tight lasso which was previously around his neck and chest.

Looking around the full trauma which had befallen the town became clear to him. Managing to move away from the cell, Bard made his way steadily over the rooftops before managing to break into the armoury. Grasping onto a bow and a quiver of arrows he headed upwards. These buildings really didn't have any defence. With a few well aimed punches, Bard had managed to hit his way through to the roof. The tiles of which slid down and clattered to the ground below. If the flames which scorched and destroyed the town were bad from the view in the cell. Then they were even worse from above.

Streets had been eradicated. Houses crumbled and crackled from the flames which travelled through them. And as if on cue Smaug swept down and past dangerously close to him. He paid no mind to the crouching man on the roof, Smaug's lone objective was the destruction of this lowly town, and of its people. So far, for the most part, he seemed to be succeeding. There was no fighting back, no arrows being shot at him, unlike Dale. The people screamed and fled all the same as they did with Dale. But none of them seemed to have it in mind to pick up arms and fight against him.

With wide eyes, and a hesitant look, Bard watched as Smaug made his way through the town. He destroyed another street as he passed him by. Seeing as how he was looping back, he seized the moment to push himself from his crouch, stand and run along the rooftop. Reaching the end, he expertly leapt over to the roof in front of him. He was making his way to the watchtower, with its ever constant ringing bell. The closer he got to it however, the more the destruction was greeting him. A few days ago, an evening like this would be cold and quiet and rather mundane. But tonight was hot with flames, and the atmosphere was thick with smoke, tension and fear.