HERE WE ARE! HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT!
GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!
~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER
(A)
I can't help but groan aloud, albeit softly, at Kili even as I grab a spear and tried to stave off the guards running toward us. Needless to say, the weapons are cumbersome and we are not used to them, so we are not able to resist arrest effectively. Kili looks up at us remorsefully as we are rounded up. I gulp, feeling a pinch of guilt for groaning at his accident. His leg is more trouble than a simple arrow wound should give him.
Oin really needs to look at it. We are then hauled roughly out into the winter weather, where it's snowing and the rest of the Company are looking like kicked puppies at the mercy of more guards.
A huge spectacle is made of our march to see the Master, and soon enough, all of Laketown can see us being mercilessly prodded, poked and otherwise herded toward the mansion near the center. Once we reach it, this wiry, thin, and ugly man comes peeking cautiously around the door to see what the commotion was all about. Once we're spread out in a line, the man closes the door and is soon back with a man that can Bombur a run for money in terms or obesity comes out, wrapping a fur-lined robe about him.
"What's the meaning of this?" He growls, coming to the first stair, where his lackey waits, looking us over.
"We caught 'em stealing weapons, sire." The captain Bard talked to earlier as we hid in the marketplace, Braga, replies, gesturing to us as we stand there awkwardly, huddled fairly close as the crowd is very anxious to get a look at us. There are several voices ringing out, but none of them are separable from each other.
"Ah." The Master muses, frowning and coming closer. "Enemies of the state, eh?" He snaps. I roll my eyes. As if.
"A bunch of desperate mercenaries, if ever there was one, sire." The wiry man replies, and I recognize him as the one that tried to stop Bard taking the fish into Laketown. Alfrid, wasn't it? Beside me, Dwalin growls.
"Hold your tongue." He growls, voice not raising too much, but it is somehow enough to still the crowd and bring silence to all as he steps forward.
"Dwalin!" I hiss. He doesn't pay me any mind. I curse under my breath. He's going to ruin the whole quest and any chance of us getting out of here and up to Erebor in time.
"You do not know to whom you speak!" I lick my lips, hoping that somehow, this won't go as badly as I fear it will. "This is no common criminal. This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!" He calls, stepping over and gesturing to Uncle, who stiffens a little, but steps forward. I bite my lip. The murmurs and outcries return at this proclamation and Thorin steps foward, placing a hand on Dwalin's shoulder to let him know that Thorin had this now. He'd take over.
"We are the Dwarves of Erebor." Thorin proclaims proudly. "We have come to reclaim our homeland." He adds, a little unnecessarily. The crowd gets a little more eager to glimpse us, or more accurately, Thorin. "I remember this town in the great days of old." He notes, a wistful, reminiscent look in his eyes I know isn't faked; I've seen it every bedtime of my childhood when Thorin spoke of Erebor, Dale, and Esgaroth. "Fleets of boat lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems." He added. Murmurs rang out again, not that they'd ever stopped, really. "This was no forsaken town on a lake!" He calls, getting a little more passionate and invigorated. Oh, Mahal. Why do I have such a bad feeling about this?
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(M)
I run alongside Bard as he and I search the town desperately along the path to the Armory. So far, nothing. I can't help but think over the prophecy in my head. The King of Carven Stone shall come into his home. So, that should mean that we make it to the Mountain in time, right? We get into Erebor, don't we?
Then there's the lines after that. 'And the bell shall ring in gladness at the Mountain King's return. But all shall fail in sadness, and the Lake will shine and burn.' Those two lines have a variety of implications. One, that we unleash Smaug accidentally upon Laketown, either because we're roasted alive or just that stupid. It could also mean that we all move in and that we light the fires once more within the mountain, signalling to all that Erebor is back in business, causing a light to reflect off the Lake. Right? No, I fear. 'All shall fail in sadness' probably means nothing good. Great. Just then, there's a racket stirring up at the Armory, or in that general direction. I hurry along with Bard over, but am suddenly swarmed by a gathering crowd I can only guess the meaning of; the Dwarves' heist didn't quite go as planned and now we're all going to die. Perfect.
"Oh, no." I mumble as they're parked right in front of the Master's Mansion (if one could call that wreckage a mansion). Alfrid peeks up, withdraws, and two guards heave the doors open for the Master, wearing a fur-lined robe. I skid to a halt at the edge of the crowd and hope for the best.
"This was the center for all trade in the North!" Thorin roars, and I grimace. Great. Bard tenses, pacing back and forth in an attempt to see a way through the crowd. "I would see those days return!" He calls, and I genuinely think he means it, even if we have to get through a dragon first. "I would relight the great Forges of the Dwarves, and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the Halls of Erebor!" None doubt him, it seems, given the passion and vigor he pours into his words. I squirm a little, torn between staying here and remaining just a face in the crowd, or picking my way through and claiming my place among my friends. Bard, apparently, has the same hesitation, though I doubt he'd claim them as friends. More than likely, he'd denounce our quest, reciting that Valar-forsaken prophecy and claiming that we mean them destruction.
Wow. I just...I just said we would, not they would. I suppose Legolas was more right than he knows. I just claimed these Dwarves as mine, something that has never happened before. And that makes up my mind. I stride forward, intent on breaking through the crowd, when Bard calls out, picking his way through the crowd, me alongside him.
"Death!" He roars angrily. "That is what you will bring upon us." He growls, striding right up to Thorin. I, however, stand beside Aili, who frowns, looking between us.
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(A)
Just when I thought there was a chance we could make it through this alive and home free...Bard shows up.
With Mia? What? I remember her going after him, but she'd never returned. Bard looks angry, but Mia looks...intent on something. Maybe she's with Bard, but maybe just to get to us. Apparently, she doesn't like crowds, judging by her body language, which changes once she reaches us and stops beside me. Her gaze is only on Fili, however, though she frowns at Kili for a moment, as well.
"Dragonfire and ruin." Bard adds, growling, using his height to play the intimidation factor. Clearly, he doesn't know Thorin. My Uncle, and all Durin's for that matter, do not get intimidated easily. "If you waken that beast...it will destroy us all." He warns gravely.
"You can listen to this naysayer," Thorin calls in response, "but I promise you this: If we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the Mountain." I can tell he really means it. Honorable and honest, Uncle is. I just hope we actually do somehow succeed. Everyone roars in applause and excitement. Of course they do. After all, wouldn't anyone in a place like this want to get a better life? Wouldn't they believe anyone who promises wealth and riches? "You will have enough gold to rebuild Escaroth ten times over!" He adds, throwing his hands out as if to indicate how much gold they could expect. I glance up at the Master, who was a devious, scheming gaze to his eyes.
"Why should we take you at your word, eh?" Alfrid asks, slithering nearer, a dead-eyed gaze fixed on my uncle. The crowd quiets and murmurs amongst themselves. "We know nothing about you. Who here can vouch for your character?" I frown, and am about to stomp forward and explain that 'yes, my uncle can deliver on his promises. He has every time before', when, surprisingly, Bilbo of all people step forward, hand raised slightly as if to ask permission.
"Me." He calls. "I will." Thank you, Bilbo. I was about to answer, but thank you. I tell him internally. The Master squints to get a better look at him. "I'll vouch for him." I smile as Bilbo steps forward and Thorin looks utterly grateful and a little bewildered that this little Hobbit would risk his good name and honor for him. "I have traveled far with these Dwarves, through great danger, and if Thorin Oakenshield gives his word, then he will keep it." I do believe a certain fondness and pride overcame Thorin then.
"And I do, as well." I call, coming forward to stand with Bilbo in more ways than literally, to a few murmurs, even from the Company. No way in Valhalla would I let Bilbo be alone in this. "I am Thorin's sister-daughter, and he always comes through when we need it most. When Smaug destroyed Erebor, he was there to lead his people to safety. When we found our home in the Blue Mountains, his home was the last built and he the hardest-working on others' shelters. If my uncle gives his word, I promise you he will honor it." Thorin looked even more proud and fond of Bilbo and I then, and all was still silent. Mia is suddenly beside me, facing the crowd.
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(M)
I don't know what's gotten into me! I really don't! Stoppit, feet. Stop it!
Never the less, I am suddenly beside Aili, facing the crowd. Regardless of the hurt, betrayed look Bard sends me.
"And if you do not trust these Dwarves, you can trust me!" She calls. "I have traveled, like my friend here, with this Company through many perils and tribulations. I promise you that Thorin cares for others far more than himself. He comes through on promises with honor and dignity befitting his royal heritage." She calls, to renewed whispers. She flushes, but stands firm. "Do our vouches satisfy you, Alfrid?" She asks snidely. A few snickers can be heard, as well as a little laughter.
"All of you!" Bard calls, looking shocked at the townsfolk. Honestly, he shouldn't be shocked. No one would refuse an offer of wealth, even the wealthy. "Listen to me!" He roars. "Listen!" He calls again, and everyone obeys, mainly out of curiosity, I suspect. "Have you forgotten what happened to Dale?" He asks rhetorically. Of course no one has forgotten. The wreckage is only a short hike away. "Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?!" I gulp. So much for winning the town over. "And for what purpose?" Bard spits, whirling on Thorin.
"A dragon's rage cannot be predicted." Aili points out. "No one was to blame."
"That may be what Dwarves tell," Bard replies hotly, "but we know the truth; they perished for the blind ambition of a Mountain King, so riven by greed, he cannot see beyond his own desire!" Aili steps forward.
"That is not Thorin!" She snaps. "My uncle will not fall into the trap of his forebears. He is a thousand times the Dwarf they were!"
"Now, now, Bard." The Master adds. "We must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, that failed to kill the beast!" The Master snarks, pointing a fat finger at Bard, who looks enraged, embarrassed, and humiliated. I blink. Huh. No wonder he is so well-versed in what happened that day.
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(A)
...
Okay...did not see that one coming. Bard just got a lot more interesting. Who knew? Is that why everyone is so quick to follow him? Interesting...
Bard almost looks embarrassed, but I know he feels so worse internally, if not angry at being humiliated for past failures he had no part in. I know Thorin has felt the same, when people discuss his prospects at dodging the greed so prevalent in his family. I suppose that means it's my family, too. I swallow.
"It's true, sire." Alfrid is quick to reply, smirking at Bard, enjoying this humiliation. "We all know the story; arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing it's mark. Bard stalks forward to Thorin. He looks hacked off, once again trying and failing to intimidate us.
"You have no right. No right to enter that mountain." Thorin, angry himself now, glared right back at the bargeman.
"I have the only right." Thorin growls, and the pair face off in a staring contest of wills. Then, Thorin, not breaking eye contact, turns before looking at the Master of Laketown. "I speak to the Master of the Men of the Lake." Thorin calls, and the Master frowns, but nods in acknowledge. Bard stalks forward as Uncle goes up a few steps. "Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?" The Master looks around for just a moment before looking back to Uncle. "What say you?" Thorin presses. The Master shakes a finger as he deliberates for a moment.
"I say unto you...Welcome!" I breath a sigh of relief. Now that we had the town's favor (more of less) we're that much closer to Erebor already. "Welcome!" He calls again, spreading his arms as if he actually meant it. "And thrice welcome to the King Under the Mountain!" He adds dramatically. Bard grimaces, letting his eyes close in resignation. I frown. Why did he protest like that? I know Bard is worried about the town, but...there's something more to this than that. I wonder what it is.
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(M)
Once that whole debacle settles down, we're free to roam where we wished and sleep where we willed.
So, we ended up in the meager inn in town. A but run-down, I'll admit, but then everything is here. People scurry around and try to make us welcome on no notice. I insist on helping out, as does most of the Company, thankfully. I spread sheets on beds and dust where possible, then take a broom and sweep floors and knock down cobwebs before collapsing on the couch in a smaller gathering area on the second floor. Something keeps sticking in my mind; everything about failing and Smaug destroying us. That prophecy could spell trouble for the future or be no more than paranoia...it's impossible to say.
Although...we are going to have to fight a dragon, fer Valinor's sake! How in the name of Valhalla are we, fourteen Dwarves, a Hobbit, potentially a Wizard, but most likely not, and a hybrid going to fend off-much less kill-the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities?! I just hope Gandalf gets here and actually meets us at Erebor as planned.
"Hey." I hear Fili call before me, but I am focused on the fire, which helps calm me and provokes thoughts. I don't look up.
"Hey."
"What's wrong? You've got a frown that rivals Uncle's and a haunting to your eyes." I sigh, finally peeling my eyes up from the fire.
"Oh, it's just something...Bard...said..." I mumble, trailing off when I find a set of rippling abs below a smirking Prince's face. I gulp, feeling suddenly quite thirsty and dry. "Fili!" I then squeak. "Hammer and stone, boy! Put a shirt on!" He then seems to realize that it is inappropriate to show up without a shirt to cover...marvelously chiseled abs. I mean, they are a welcome sight, but...he needs a shirt. I lost my train of thought. I shake my head and the sight reluctantly recedes, but is by no means forgotten. He's then back and I am thinking through the prophecy again.
"So? Why the frown?" I turn to him, determined not to look at where those glorious muscles were now covered. Good, I remind myself. I don't need that distraction right now. This is serious. "What did Bard say that troubles you so?"
"He told me of a prophecy. One that may spell doom for us and Laketown." Fili frowns.
"You mean the one that says we make it into Erebor?" I lean my head against the back of the chair.
"You haven't heard it all, then." I rely, then lean forward, gazing intently into the fire. "The Lord of Silver Fountains. The King of Carven Stone. The Kind Beneath the Mountain shall come into his own. And the bell shall ring in gladness at the Mountain King's return. But all shall fail in sadness, and the lake will shine and burn." I hear him inhale.
"That's...that's one melancholy prophecy. But. That's not the only reason I wanted to talk to you." He muses, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, like me. "I also wanted to...thank you. What you did back there, vouching for Thorin like that...I would have, but I didn't think the entire company needed to add their own two cents. We'd have been there all night." I nod.
"I knew they weren't quite convinced. I just...gave them the push they needed. We need supplies and this is the only way to get them." Fili frowns.
"It means more than that." He assures me. "You...you claimed us as friends. You...before...you hadn't exactly seemed like the mushy, friendly type. I was a little surprised." I choke back a sigh. Of course he doesn't approve. Who would approve of a hybrid vouching for your relative? Who would want a hybrid associating themselves with your family, anyway.
"I was, too. I'm sorry. I don't know what came-"
"You misunderstand." Fili interrupts gently, smiling. "I mean it was unpredictable, but not unwelcome. I was surprised, yes, but also happy. It felt...nice to know you would risk your good name on my uncle. That you would defend us all." For some reason, I gulp thickly. Tears prick my eyes.
"I...Fili, you have to understand..." I whisper hoarsely. "I don't do this normally. I...I would have normally left after Goblin Town, or sometime in the night shortly thereafter. That's what I do; I run when the fancy takes me or danger arises. I...I am a very selfish person." He then smiles.
"Is this the same Mithra who met me in Rivendell? She wasn't selfish at all. Sure, she was a little stuck-up at times, and her humor was not to everyone's taste, but...I like her well enough." I gulp to ease my constricted throat. I honestly don't know what to say.
"I...hope you like this newer version just as much." I whisper, suddenly aware that Fili is sitting not two feet away and seems intent on sealing that gap with a hand on my knee.
"I think I like her better, but only just. They are, after all, virtually the same." I smile.
"I think they are more different than you know."
"I think they are both beautiful and one was hidden behind the other." He whispers, and suddenly, I am hugging him fiercely.
"Thank you, Fili. Truly...thank you." I whisper, drawing away reluctantly and cupping his cheek. Neither of us know who starts leaning in, but we end up snuggling on Fili's chair, and I am curled in his lap, but I find that I do not mind it as much as I might have before. I tuck my head neatly under his and just enjoy the rise and fall of the muscled, rock-hard chest that is somehow soft and comfortable. Quite suddenly, I feel drained and as if I may...may fall asleep...
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