Author's Note: I've done it. They're finally out of Thranduil's Halls. And now it's on to Lake-town! I can't believe this is already the tenth chapter, it has been such fun writing this story. I want to apologize in advance for how this chapter ends, as it's a bit abrupt, but I didn't want to get too far past my usual word count and I figured it was as good a place to stop as any.

I had a lot of fun with this chapter mostly because Bard. He is one of my favorites, especially after I've seen the third movie. I hope that I've done his character justice as I'm a little nervous about his interactions with Laura, since she is so different in her way of approaching people and problems than Bilbo.

I am so grateful for all of your favorites, follows, and reviews. I know I keep saying it, but it bears repeating: thank you all so much. I love hearing from all of you.

Chapter Revised: April 2017

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Laura.

Bard was being watched.

I shouldn't have been so surprised. Alfrid, the man from the gate, had said that they were going to keep an eye on Bard. I just didn't think they would have stepped up their game so quickly. But I was wrong.

Bard had guided us through the streets his eyes wide and watchful as he made sure we were all close behind, peeking around every corner and sweeping his gaze over our surroundings constantly.

That was when Bard's son Bain, who had the same grim mouth and coloring as his father but with a rounder face and the clumsiness of someone who was still not at ease with their own body, appeared declaring that their house was being watched. It was then that Bard was forced to come up with an alternate plan of getting us inside.

We were going to get in through the water.

Through their outhouse.

Hell. No.

The dwarves, predictably, threw up a fuss, albeit a more contained fuss than usual in an attempt to remain unnoticed by the townspeople. Bard ignored them and instead turned his eyes to me, either in hope of help or support, I wasn't sure. I glared at him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the dwarves did as Bard suggested, realizing that there was no other way to get into Bard's home without being spotted by the Master's men. I watched warily as the last dwarf, Bombur, slid into the water before turning to Bard.

"If I go in that water," I told him firmly, "I won't be coming back out."

Bard looked very close to the end of his rope but his eyes softened as he seemed to notice how badly I was shivering.

"Don't worry about me," I assured him, "I'll follow you to your home and then go around the back."

Bard and I locked eyes for a long moment before he finally sighed and nodded.

Bain and Bard quickly weaved along the docks of Lake-town while I stayed as close as possible, avoiding others' lines of sight and sticking to the walls of buildings as often as possible. I was pleased to see that my hobbit-magic was as strong as ever like- as I had hoped- and not one person glanced my way.

Once Bain and Bard began climbing a staircase that was wrapped around a building, and Bard threw an apple down to a man in a boat, I knew that we had arrived at our destination.

Once I was sure the man in the boat's attention was on the apple and no longer on the door Bain and Bard had disappeared into, I stole around the side of the house coming to a stop on what looked like a fusion between an dock and a deck. I watched as Bain appeared through the door above me, nodding at me as he passed, before throwing the outhouse door open and stepping inside.

Not thirty seconds later did Dwalin emerge from the outhouse, dripping wet and looking murderous. He glared unrelentingly at me as he passed but said nothing just as Nori slid out next.

Then came the rest, one after the other, each of them soaked to the bone and foul-tempered. At least the smell of fish had been washed away, though it was replaced by the faint waft of excrement. I had never been more thankful to have been put into a hobbit than in that moment; pleased that the hobbit-magic had spared me from going through the same ordeal.

Once Thorin, the last of the dwarves, emerged, I fell into step behind him as we climbed the stairs and then promptly fell back a few more paces. Oh, God, the smell.

At the top of the stairs was a girl, maybe seventeen or eighteen with the same dark eyes as Bard, who was watching us all march into the house a bit anxiously. I shot her what I hoped was a reassuring smile as I passed before she followed us in, pulling the door closed behind her.

I sighed with relief as warmth washed over us. I was honestly beginning to wonder whether I would be cold forever.

The girl weaved through us with ease, placing her hand on another much younger girl's shoulder and guiding her towards the back of the house into what looked like a large bedroom.

I moved closer to the cast iron stove, something that I had seen only in museums, in a desperate attempt to warm up as the dwarves milled around Bard's house restlessly. Bard and Bain stood near the front door, talking quietly with their heads bowed. A few minutes later the girls returned, their arms laden with heavy looking clothes. Bard immediately moved to take part of the burdens out of each girl's arms, and together the three of them dispersed clothes to our company.

The older girl was the one to reach me first. She gave me a once over, her brows furrowed in a way that struck an overwhelming resemblance to her father, and paused.

"I'm afraid these might be too big for you, Master Dwarf." She said hesitantly. "But perhaps we can find something a bit more suitable, if you would give me a moment."

I smiled at her, trying not to be offended that I was being mistaken for a dwarf. "It's no problem. Thank you for your kindness." I paused, unsure, "I'm sorry I don't know your name."

The girl smiled back cautiously. "Sigrid."

"A pleasure to meet you," I told her sincerely, "I'm Bilbo Baggins."

Sigrid dipped her head in acknowledgement. "I will return with something more fitting, Master Baggins."

She moved away before I could reply, handing off the rest of her load to Nori, Bofur, and Gloin as she passed before disappearing into the bedroom, pulling her sister behind her. I averted my eyes to the stove as the dwarves, once they were sure the girls were no longer present, began to strip and pull on their new clothes much to Bard's incredulity. Naked dwarves were something I had not yet seen, nor would I ever if I had my way.

"Alright there, Bilbo?" Kili asked at my shoulder.

I chanced a glance up at him relieved to see that the dwarves were all at least covered if not fully dressed. Kili himself was dressed in woolen layers of blue while Fili had on more muted shades of beige and green with a scarf looped haphazardly around his neck.

"Yes, thank you." I told him with a smile.

Fili moved closer, his shoulder pressing into mine on my other side. "Haven't they given you anything to wear?"

"Not yet," I said patiently, trying not to be annoyed. Fili was now between me and the stove and the loss of heat was noticeable. "Sigrid is looking for something more suitable for me, since I'm so small."

"Sigrid?" Fili repeated with confusion. "Who's Sigrid?"

I sighed, this time not bothering to hide my displeasure. "Bard's daughter, the elder one."

"How'd you find that out?" Kili wanted to know.

I stared at them. "I asked her."

Kili opened his mouth, no doubt to ask me another question, when the two girls reappeared with a smaller bundle resting in Sigrid's arms.

They made a beeline for me, causing Fili and Kili to move away quickly, and I smiled at them when they came closer.

"Here you are, Master Baggins," Sigrid said lowly, offering the small bundle to me as her sister hovered curiously behind her. "These were Bain's once, before his growth, I hope they'll do."

I glanced down at the clothes. They were worn and frayed, in the way that second hand clothes often were, but they seemed closer to my size than I was expecting. "They're wonderful. Thank you."

Sigrid smiled, this time with more pleasure than politeness, and said, "I am glad. You are welcome to use the bedroom to change, if you'd like. Tilda and I will start dinner. It won't be much, I'm afraid, we weren't expecting company."

I held back a wince. I was certain that even if she knew we were coming, there wouldn't be much she could do to prepare.

"Do you like stew?" The younger girl, Tilda, asked. "Only I've heard stories that dwarves eat rocks and we don't have many of those around."

"Tilda," Sigrid chastised, looking exasperated. Fili and Kili, who were hovering nearby, glanced over looking offended.

"That sounds fantastic," I replied with a laugh. Honestly at that point I would've eaten a boiled shoe I was so hungry. "I'm afraid those are only stories, though. Dwarves eat just as you do, if not more."

Tilda looked disappointed. "Really? Do you bring luck, at least?"

"Yes," Fili cut in, moving over to join us. "Bilbo has brought us much luck indeed."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You're awful."

"But not wrong," Kili interjected, sounding remarkably cheerful.

"I'm leaving," I announced, skirting around the girls and throwing one last thank you over my shoulder at them.

Once in the bedroom- clearly the only one in the house if the three beds, one of which was a double was any indication- I stripped quickly, relieved to finally be rid of my damp chilly clothes. I moved to drop my jacket, once a deep maroon now a faded brown, but paused, reaching into the pocket and pulling out my ring.

I stared at it for much too long, my mind wandering, before I shook myself and began to pull on my new clothes. They were definitely children's clothes and even with that playing in my favor the pants were too long and the sleeves fell well over my wrists. With a bit of a struggle I was able to roll up my sleeves into cuffs before pulling on the faded blue coat with a frankly hideous fringe. But it at least had an inner pocket, into which I deposited my ring with a sigh.

I slid back into the main room after folding my wet clothes into a neat and hopefully inconspicuous pile in the corner, only to find Thorin and Dwalin in a heated discussion with Bard.

"You took our money," Thorin said crossly, stepping forward into Bard's space. "Where are the weapons?"

Bard looked incredibly put upon. I knew the feeling. Dealing with Thorin tended to have that effect on most people. "I cannot get them tonight. There is a curfew under the Master's rule. I will bring them to you tomorrow at first light."

Dwalin glowered impressively. "And what do we do until then? Sit here and twirl our thumbs?"

"Eat," Bard suggested exasperatedly, "Sleep here tonight. Tomorrow I will gather your supplies and weapons and you can be on your way." And out of my hair, his tone implied.

"We cannot travel in darkness," Balin reminded them patiently. "We will have to wait for the sun either way."

Thorin looked incredibly unhappy but seemed to relent. "In the morning, bargeman. Do not disappoint."

Bard nodded and quickly moved away, clearly eager to end the conversation and be as far away from the dwarves as possible.

I moved closer to Balin and asked quietly, "How long do we have?"

Balin sighed, looking worried. "Three days. We must reach the mountain before then."

Three days, Christ.

I nodded, moving away to sit at the table next to Nori who gave me a once over as I settled in.

"Alright, Burglar?" Nori asked, watching my face closely.

"As well as can be," I replied tiredly. I was still freezing despite the warmth of the house and the thickness of my new clothes and I could feel my nose beginning to clog. God, if I got a cold I was going to lose my shit.

An hour or so later, dinner was served. Night had completely fallen and the lamps were lit inside the house and, I could see through the windows, out along the docks as well. Most of us gathered around the table, while others, like Thorin and Dwalin and Bard and Bain ate off to the side.

It was the most awkward dinner I had ever had. No one spoke and the dwarves were tense and quiet, more so than I'd ever seen, even at Rivendell and Beorn's. The food was good, a watery if not filling stew with bread, but the tension among us all was palpable. We couldn't speak of the quest and with Durin's Day looming we were all anxious.

Bard and his family were somber as well, eating quickly before gathering as many blankets as they could for us to sleep with before slipping away into the bedroom with an absent call of 'good night.'

After we finished and carefully stacked our dirty dishes on the table, something I didn't know the dwarves were even capable of doing, we retired to sleep.

Though Bard was generous, more than, with us he still had very little to offer. There were only seven blankets available to us and most of the dwarves ended up curled under a blanket with their family members. Beneath the window was Thorin, Fili, and Kili, the blanket hardly covering them all. Dori and Ori were curled up underneath the table together while Nori was in a corner wrapped in an overlarge coat that I was sure belonged to Bain. Balin and Dwalin were a few feet from Thorin and his nephews, propped up against the wall with Balin's head resting against Dwalin's shoulder. Oin and Gloin seemed content in the corner opposite Nori's, a blanket easily shared between them. Bifur, Bombur, and Bofur, meanwhile, were near the backdoor with Bombur in the middle as a makeshift pillow, a blanket draped over his brother and cousin each.

And I cheerfully claimed the floor next to the stove, wrapping the smallest and incidentally rattiest blanket around my shoulders. I rolled onto my side, allowing my back to face the stove and soak up its heat and let out a stuttered sigh.

I slipped into sleep before I could even finish counting backwards to ten.

I slept for a long time.

It was a strange sleep, hazy and too hot. I could feel myself slipping in and out of my nightmares and consciousness, like passing through a doorway between two rooms, spending little time in one or the other. I could hear the others talking, in low urgent voices around me in my dreams. Twice I thought I felt hands on me, pushing at my shoulders and brushing against my forehead but I didn't have the strength to push them away. I wanted to tell the voices to be quiet, that I was so tired, please leave me be.

And then, the haze lifted and I fell into my nightmares once more. It truly felt like I was falling, through darkness and fire and then, suddenly, it stopped.

I woke with a heaving gasp. Panicked, I tried to figure out what had happened. Where was I? Why couldn't I move?

I flailed a bit, desperate to get my bearings and to control my breathing. I felt like I had run a marathon, my sides ached and air wasn't coming in fast enough. These nightmares were getting seriously old.

Struggling for a long moment to sit up, once I caught my balance I realized what was keeping me so confined. Blankets. A lot of blankets. I frowned. I didn't go to sleep with so many.

I squinted, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, and peered around. All of the dwarves were accounted for, each of them in the same place I had seen them before falling asleep but with a few differences. Thorin, Fili, and Kili were now propped up against the wall underneath the window with Thorin in the middle and Fili and Kili on each side curled against him. No blanket. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur were also in the same place with no blanket. I narrowed my eyes, sensing a trend and if I'd bothered to count, I had a feeling that every blanket was wrapped around me.

What?

I pushed myself to my feet, tripping over the blankets and shivering in the night air. It was remarkably warmer in Bard's house than it had been when I first went to sleep, which was a relief. I would have to thank Bard for stoking the fire in the night. I rolled my shoulders, feeling my shirt beneath my blue coat stick to my skin uncomfortably in the same way my t-shirt would after walking into an air-conditioned building on a hot day. Then I took in the odd dichotomy of thirst and a pressing need to go to the bathroom. But at least my stuffed nose had cleared in the night.

Filing these observations away for further examination later, I crept towards the backdoor, pushed it open, and eased it shut behind me before making my way down to the outhouse. Once I had finished my business I stepped back out onto the dock below Bard's house and gazed out towards the east, where the thinnest stripe of pink was beginning to appear above the horizon.

Resigning myself to the fact that there wasn't much chance of me getting anymore sleep that night, I trudged back up the staircase, through the door, and sat down at the table-mindful not to kick Dori or Ori in the head- determined to stare into space until someone else woke up. I occupied myself by alternately listening to the dwarves' snores, wondering whether if it was worth snooping around to find something to drink, coming up with a way to bathe that did not include dipping into the lake, and ignoring my growling stomach.

And then, after not much time had passed, ten minutes by my estimation, I heard the sound of movement. I glanced around, determining quickly that all of the dwarves were accounted for and still sleeping. Then a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned my head and found Tilda standing in the doorway separating the bedroom from the main room, staring back at me.

We both stared for a long moment, frozen, until Tilda broke our gaze and moved closer, stepping over the sleeping dwarves easily and wrapping her little robe tightly around her, before joining me at the table.

"Good morning," I said lowly, trying in equal parts not to wake the dwarves or wince at my raspy voice.

Tilda smiled and whispered, "Good morning, Master Dwarf."

We were gonna have to correct that, I decided. But I couldn't help but smile at her anyway. "Bilbo is just fine, thank you. And I hate to tell you, but I'm not a dwarf."

Tilda leaned back in surprise, her eyes wide. "You're not? But you're so small!"

I couldn't help but grin at her dismay. "No, I'm afraid not. I'm a hobbit, actually, of the Shire." At her blank look I tried, "A halfling?"

Tilda shook her head, examining me closely. "A hobbit? I've never heard of a hobbit."

"That's alright," I told her patiently. "Most haven't, I'm beginning to find. But now you have and now you've met one."

Tilda brightened up considerably, "Yes!"

We both went quiet for a long moment before Tilda asked, "Do hobbits like tea?"

"Yes," I replied with a smile, remembering Bilbo's stock of teas along one of his windowsills, "Yes, they do."

"Would you like some?" Tilda asked eagerly. "I can boil the water. Sigrid lets me help sometimes so I know how. And we even have some honey, for your throat."

My throat? Well, I guess my voice was a little hoarse.

"That would be lovely," I said fervently.

By the time Tilda had boiled a kettle and poured me tea- black and bitter even with the honey but enough to wake me up fully- and made a cup of hot water and mint for herself, the sun was beginning to rise enough that I could see the sky lighten through the windows. Outside I could hear Lake-town beginning to wake up; people were talking, bells were ringing, and docks creaking.

Tilda and I spent our time discussing her family, or rather she told me in detail all about them while I hummed and nodded absently in the appropriate places. I learned that Bard worked hard as a bargeman and on the town's night watch. That Bain would sometimes join him or help on the local docks with loading shipments. Sigrid was excellent at sewing and terrible at baking and could spot Tilda sneaking a biscuit from anywhere in the house.

The depth of love Tilda had for her family was obvious and I had no doubt that it was returned ardently. It made me miss my dad and grandma more than ever.

Tilda was in the middle of a story of how Bard had taken her with him on one of his trips across the lake, when the man himself walked in followed closely by Bain and Sigrid.

"Good morning, Da!" Tilda said cheerfully, not bothering to keep her voice quiet. I watched as several of the dwarves began to shift and groan.

"Good morning, my darling," Bard replied softly, dropping a kiss onto Tilda's head. "How are you feeling Master Baggins?"

I blinked, a little thrown by the question. "Fine, thank you."

"We were all quite concerned," Bard told me as behind him Dwalin and Balin were beginning to wake up. "Your fever was terribly high."

Fever.

Wait. I had been sick?

Well, I suppose that explained the blankets. And the grogginess, the thirst, and how my bladder had felt like it was going to explode. If I had been asleep for so long then that was understandable.

"I, uh," I stumbled over my words. "My apologies. I hope I wasn't too much trouble."

"You weren't," Bain mumbled from where he was looming over the stove next to Sigrid, his hand being slapped away from whatever it was Sigrid was doing.

Well, that wasn't good. I opened my mouth, ready to throw apologies around for the dwarves but was interrupted by Bofur shouting, "Bilbo, you're awake!"

And that really set everything off. The rest of the dwarves awoke at the shout, scrambling to their feet and darting their eyes around as if to pinpoint the source of the disturbance. Then they spotted me.

"Bilbo!" Kili said, looking pleased and already rushing towards me, "Bilbo, you're up!"

"Good morning, Kili," I replied with a sigh, unable to keep a smile off my face.

"You were so still," Kili exclaimed, wrapping his hands around my shoulders and peering into my eyes as if looking for something. "And you slept for so long!"

I stared at him and then asked hesitantly, "Exactly how long was I asleep, Kili?"

"Long enough," Oin declared, elbowing Kili forcefully out of the way, causing him to yelp. "How are you feeling, Master Baggins?"

"Fine," I replied as Oin pressed a hand to my forehead and clucked around me. "A bit tired. Truly though, how long did I sleep?"

Oin snorted, using the fingertips of one hand to guide my head by my chin in different directions while the other pressed gently on different parts of my throat. "All through the day and night, lad. When we couldn't wake you yesterday morning, we knew something was wrong. Couldn't even get you to open your eyes much less move."

"Sorry," I said once Oin released my face and stepped back.

Oin waved a hand impatiently, "Wouldn't have been a problem, of course, if I had my supplies. But as it was, we simply had to let the fever run its course for better or for worse."

"We're glad it was for the better," Kili said at my shoulder as the others gathered around the table. "We were worried."

"You wouldn't have had to worry if you had let me bring him to Hilda," Bard said blandly causing the dwarves to glare at him.

Then, in a brilliant move, Sigrid announced breakfast was ready, and all tension left the dwarves at the mention of food.

We all ate breakfast together, quiet and awkward just as it was at dinner. The oatmeal was just shy of being bland and it was a testament to Sigrid's cooking skills that she was able to make it appetizing.

After breakfast, Bard and Bain took their leave, down to the docks according to Tilda. Bard warned us with an air of having already done so many times, not to leave the house before disappearing out the door with a dwarvish curse from Dwalin following him.

The rest of the morning was spent in sullen silence. I was granted the use of the family's washbasin, using it to wash my hair and face to the best of my ability. And then later that afternoon, after a lunch of bread and cheese, Sigrid and Tilda pulled on their coats and told us they were going to the market.

"I'm afraid there's not much left," Sigrid explained apologetically as she buttoned up Tilda's coat.

"I understand," I said empathetically, remembering how the dwarves had decimated Bilbo's own pantry at Bag End.

"Please don't leave," Sigrid requested quietly at the door. "Da is only trying to help. Really."

I smiled at her as she opened the door. "I know. Don't worry, I'll look after them."

Sigrid smiled back and with a wave from Tilda, the front door closed behind them.

Then the dwarves erupted. That's the only way I can describe it. They all began talking at once, gathering around Bard's table from where they had all been idling around the house throughout the morning.

"What is going on?" I asked helplessly.

"Nori," Thorin said gravely, "What did you find yesterday?"

"The armory isn't too far from here," Nori replied, "Only two guards at the front and none inside. Should be easy enough to slip around the back, there's a window we can use."

What.

"What are you all talking about?" I demanded, elbowing my way in between Fili and Bofur.

"Weapons, Master Baggins," Thorin said impatiently.

I stared at them all. "What about the ones Bard was getting for us?"

"That lake-man," Dwalin growled, "Was playing us for fools. As if fishing nets and hooks would be able to bring down a damn dragon."

I shot him a reproachful look which he ignored.

"The weapons of this town," Thorin explained with a sigh, "True forged weapons. Iron. Steel. They are all locked away upon orders of the Master. We need them if we are to stand a chance against Smaug."

So we were stealing them.

I sighed. Bard wasn't going to be happy. "I see."

"We are running out of time," Balin reminded me gently. "Durin's Day is only two days away. We need to leave and soon."

"Of course," I agreed reluctantly. "What's the plan then?"

"We are going to go steal weapons," Nori told me calmly. "You are staying here."

I narrowed my eyes at all of them. "Excuse me? If I recall correctly I was brought on this quest to be a burglar. This seems right up a burglar's alley."

"You are recovering," Oin declared lowering his flattened earhorn. I couldn't believe he still had it.

I outright glared. "So?"

"Master Baggins," Balin said gently.

This was unbelievable.

"I'm going." I informed them tersely. "Leave me behind and I'll just follow."

The dwarves all began to grumble, clearly displeased at my words. I took the opportunity to glare at each and every one of them as they spoke quietly among themselves in dwarvish.

"Very well, Burglar," Thorin said finally.

"Look," I said, feeling much more agreeable now that I had gotten my way, "If it's really that worrisome to all of you, I'll just stand watch. How's that?"

The dwarves turned to each other once more, voices low. I watched them, unable to stop my exasperation levels from rising.

"A fine idea, Bilbo," Balin agreed once they were finished.

That was how, two hours later, I found myself hiding behind a stack of crates keeping lookout. It was agreed that I would signal the dwarves with a high shrill whistle if I saw any guards coming. Fili and Kili slyly suggested that I hoot like a barn owl but I cheerfully shot down that idea.

The dwarves disappeared around the corner of the building and I watched them go with no small amount of anxiousness. I had no doubt that we were spotted on our way to the armory, as stealthy as we tried to be the dwarves were no hobbits and didn't have magic to protect them. Though, they at least did have the shadows of the setting sun to hide in, thanks to the time of year. And we were not stopped nor did I notice any influx of guards on our way, though that was just as much a relief as a worry.

I waited, mostly bored, as the dwarves presumably snuck their way into the armory. I was wrapped in the blue coat Sigrid had given me as well as Bofur's grey coat and Fili's green scarf. They both looked me over when they were through plying me with extra clothes and sighed but left me to my watch.

I didn't know how they planned to get into the armory as I had, stupidly, tuned them out once I'd secured their promise that I could go with them. I also wondered, vaguely, how they were planning to get the weapons outside without being seen. Perhaps pry up the floorboards and through the lake?

I stayed where I was for a long time, long enough for my mind to wander and for the sun to begin to set in earnest, already starting to sink below the horizon to the west. I hoped Bard and his family wouldn't be too angry when they found us gone. At the very least, they would be able to deny any knowledge of us passing through if we were seen.

And then I spotted them. Four guards moving swiftly towards the armory, probably to return their own weapons after their shift.

Oh, shit.

I whistled sharply, loud and long, ducking behind the crates to take care that the guards didn't see me. Then I bolted. How they didn't see me, I didn't know, but I was able to make it around the corner before nearly colliding with Dori.

"Master Baggins what is it?" Dori demanded. Behind him I could see Dwalin, Ori, Kili, Balin, Bifur, Bombur, and Oin watching me anxiously.

"Guards," I panted, "There are guards going into the armory."

As if on cue, loud shouts came from within the building. I could recognize Thorin's angry voice anywhere as it rose in a chorus with the guards.

"Run," Dori urged us all, not even bothering to keep his voice down.

We all turned as one, already running, only to find three angry guards pointing spears at us not ten feet away. There was no escape. I skidded to a halt only a few inches away from the blade of the spear one of the guards was holding.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Hello."

A guard pressed the flat of the spear blade against my throat and ordered, "Move."

"Yes," I agreed with a sigh, raising my hands to show my compliance. "Alright."

We were brought around to the front of the building where a crowd was already forming. In the distance I could hear more shouting either other guards or, just as likely, the citizens of Lake-town spreading the news. More guards were rushing to us, weapons drawn and shouting. I watched the crowd helplessly before feeling a bolt of surprise run through me when my eyes landed on a familiar face.

Bard.

Our eyes locked. I watched, wide eyed, as several emotions passed across his face quickly, one after the other: Disbelief. Fear. Anger.

I moved my eyes to the dock underneath my feet, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

"Thorin, Fili," Kili called out, panicked and struggling against his own guard who had his hand wound tightly in the fabric along Kili's shoulder.

My head shot up and I peered around. Thorin and the others had emerged from the armory, the guards' swords at their throats.

Great. Just great.

My eyes found Bard who looked like he had been struck. His eyes narrowed and before I could even think to call after him he disappeared into the crowd.

I sighed, feeling defeated. Our only ally, if one could even call him that, was gone.

A huge hand landed on my shoulder, wrenching me out from my self-pity. "Come on, you." The guard growled.

I looked around, taking in the sight of the others being manhandled away from the armory. "Where are we going?"

"To the Master," the guard sneered. "He'll know what to do with ya."

Excellent.

And, naturally, the Master couldn't be bothered to live nearby, oh, no. He lived on the other side of town.

Which meant that as we were dragged along, me tripping over my own feet as usual, the townspeople were given a great view of the idiots who had broken into the armory. But they didn't just watch us walk by, they followed. At a distance but they followed all the same.

God, as if this couldn't get any worse.

By the time we reached the Master's home, easily the largest and grandest building in town as it towered over the other buildings, night had begun to fall in earnest, the last light of the sun stretching over the horizon. I could see that lamps had been lit and I had no doubt that within the hour the sky would be completely dark.

The guards brought us to a halt in front of the large set of doors that were seated at the top of a wide porch. Around us the crowd of people talked amongst themselves, eyeing us with varying degrees of mistrust, curiosity, and disapproval.

And then the doors swung open and the Master emerged.

Tall, fat, and with a terrible comb over, the Master was not exactly what I was expecting. But then, Middle Earth seemed to be a constant surprise for me.

"What," the Master shouted, his voice reedy even at such a volume, "Is the meaning of this?"

Immediately the crowd fell silent and our guards released us, stepping back and leaving us in plain view.

"Caught them stealing weapons, sire," a guard declared. If I wasn't mistaken he was the one that had led Thorin out of the armory.

The Master's eyes narrowed, "Ah, enemies of the state, eh?"

Was he serious?

"A bunch of mercenaries if ever there was, sire," said a man dressed all in black with an impressive unibrow as he stepped out from behind the Master. I recognized that voice. That must be Alfrid.

"Watch your tongue," Dwalin snarled, stepping forward. "You do not know to whom you speak."

Dwalin then gestured to Thorin, "This is no common criminal! This is Thorin! Son of Thrain, son of Thror."

The crowd around us began to murmur and even the Master looked surprised.

So much for laying low.

My resignation was cemented when Thorin stepped forward, looking as regal as ever even in secondhand ill-fitting clothes of men. "We are the dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland."

The crowd's murmuring intensified and I could see more than a few of them crane their necks to get a better look at Thorin.

Then a switched seemed to be flipped inside Thorin. He was no longer the surly, distrustful, bad-tempered dwarf that he often was around strangers. Thorin stood tall, met the eyes of the crowd, spoke with surety. Now he was acting like a king.

Thorin spoke of the people of Dale. Not as they were that day but as they were when Dale was jewel of the North. A great city of wealth and trade. A friend of Erebor.

"I would see those days return!" Thorin told the crowd, who responded enthusiastically. "I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!"

The crowd cheered and Thorin smiled.

And then, "Death!"

The cheering stopped and Thorin's eyes darkened.

"That is what you will bring upon us," Bard declared solemnly, pushing his way through the crowd to face Thorin. "Dragon fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, you will destroy us all."

Thorin turned away, dismissing Bard in the same way he dismissed me on the slopes of the Misty Mountains. As if he were no more than an errant child. Instead he looked to the crowd.

"You can listen to this naysayer," Thorin said calmly, "But I promise you this: if we succeed all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!"

I watched in amazement. Good God where was the angry unsociable Thorin I knew? Was this who he really was, underneath his sullenness?

The crowd cheered around us and over Thorin's shoulder I could see the Master's face light up at the mention of gold. My eyes narrowed.

Meanwhile Bard had a reply that silenced the crowd once more, "Listen to me! All of you! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale?"

The people went quiet as an ominous silence fell over them.

"Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?" Bard demanded passionately. "And for what purpose?"

Bard turned to Thorin who met his gaze head on. "The blind ambition of a mountain king so riven by greed he could not see beyond his own desire!"

Holy shit. Bard was not having any of it.

And that was when the Master interjected, cheerfully throwing Bard straight under the bus. Girion, the Lord of Dale and apparently Bard's ancestor, had failed to bring down the beast and it was he who allowed the dragon to ravage Dale.

The crowd murmured around us, eyes accusing and on Bard. As if he stood in Girion's stead.

What a bunch of bullshit.

I could see Bard step forward as the crowd spoke urgently among themselves, leaning down to speak to Thorin. Thorin's face changed then. No longer was he a charismatic speaker but now something darker. His expression was one of self-righteousness, pride, and. And greed.

Thorin said something quietly back, causing a look of disgust to pass over Bard's face as Thorin turned away.

Oh no.

"I speak to the Master of the men of the lake," Thorin called up to the Master, his diplomatic mask slipping back into place. "Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?"

There was a long moment of tense silence before Thorin urged him, "What say you?"

"I say unto you," the Master said, pausing dramatically. I rolled my eyes. "Welcome! Welcome! And thrice welcome, King under the Mountain!"

Well, alright then. That was as good as it was going to get.

It turned out that when the Master said we were welcome, he meant it. Gold, it seemed, was a compelling motivator and the Master was nothing if not ambitious, at least for that.

We were given a house. Not to keep, of course, but a place to stay on our own all the same.

And then there was a feast. A great dinner of roasted pig, potatoes, meat pies, spiced cake, and fresh steamed vegetables. All of which were ours for the taking.

The Master left us after presenting the a meal, promising to have supplies ready for our sendoff tomorrow morning before stealing out of the house, likely back to his own residence with Alfrid like a creeping shadow behind him.

I won't lie, I was glad he was gone. I didn't like the Master. He was greedy, even more so than what I would say an average person. The way he watched Thorin, the way his eyes lit up at the mention of treasure, the way he publicly slandered Bard it was not endearing. Quite the opposite.

And I couldn't shake an overwhelming feeling of guilt. Bard had helped us, for gold sure, but he was kind enough and generous when he had very little to share. And this was how we repaid him.

The guilt gnawed at my stomach and I couldn't bring myself to join the dwarves at dinner. Instead, as soon as I was sure they were distracted by the feast, I slipped outside into the night.

I wandered for quite a while to the point where when I looked up I had no idea where I was. I sighed. Typical.

I pressed on along the streets that were dead now that the dwarves had been ushered away and the promise of rebuilding Dale secured. I walked and walked, relieved to be on my own for a short time, before come to a stop at the edge of town. The piers at the end of the docks jutted out into the lake, surprisingly empty of boats, and stretched before me was dark water, calm and sparkling from the night sky as nearly full moon shone above it. And across the water I could see a lone peak.

The Lonely Mountain.

I stared at it for a long time, long enough for the chill of the night air to settle into my bones. I shook myself out of my reverie and turned back, deciding I didn't need to risk getting sick again and had pressed my guilt down enough to become hungry. Hopefully the dwarves had left something for me to eat.

And then there was a splash.

I glanced back over my shoulder, eyes narrowed. That wasn't the sound of the waves hitting the docks. It sounded more like something falling into the water. I waited for a few breathes but upon hearing nothing else I turned back.

Only for a second splash to come. Then another. Then another. Five, six, seven. All in a row.

What the hell?

I moved out onto the nearest pier warily. I had no idea what was making such a noise or whether or not the piers were even safe. Every dock I had seen seemed to have boats tied to them but these didn't. It wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement.

Once I had reached the very end of the pier the splashing stopped. I froze. Tentatively, I got on my hands and knees, figuring it would be the safest position to be in if the pier suddenly broke apart. And then I leaned over the edge of the pier and saw it.

A blob of white.

At first I thought it was foam from the water but then I realized that it was under the water and it had a definite shape.

Like a man. A man looking up at me.

And then it talked. Well, sort of. "Good evening."

Oh, shit.

I scrambled backwards away from the edge, falling onto my back. I took a few deep breathes and then froze as a thought occurred to me. Wait. I had heard something like that before. It was not a sound, not really, but instead it had been in my own head.

Oh hell no.

I rolled onto my front and pushed myself to my knees before inching my way back towards the edge of the dock. I remember vaguely being grateful that no one was around to see me move so awkwardly.

"My apologies," the thing said, not sounding very apologetic at all. "I did not mean to startle you."

I stared at the white blob. Well, at least it was better than lying bruised and disoriented at the bottom of a huge cave ravine.

"You're one of them aren't you," I said warily, after a few moments of silence. "The Valar."

"Ulmo," the blob said. Ulmo. Was that its name? Well, it was better than white blob. I'd run with it.

"I have not much time," Ulmo told me. "I am here only to guide you."

"Guide me," I repeated flatly. "Yeah, you guys have done a great job of that so far. How about you guide me straight back home?"

"You have already changed the weaving of the world. You have set into motion," Ulmo continued as if I hadn't spoken, "Events that even we cannot foretell."

Oh, great. Then everyone was going in blind.

"You must be very cautious, little one," Ulmo said as the waves splashed against the docks. "You have already entangled yourself with great evil. It has left its mark on you, though you cannot see it. And now you walk headlong into another."

Alright, the ring. That much was obvious. But another evil? A cold dread washed over me. The dragon. It was really alive, then.

"What do you mean?" I asked desperately, hoping for at least a little clarification if not outright confirmation. "This cryptic stuff is getting really old, you know."

"We have done all we can," Ulmo replied patiently. "It is up to you to see this through. One way or the other, you must set the board. In doing so you will not only protect the soul of Bilbo Baggins but perhaps even others."

"Great, thanks," I said helplessly, feeling tears beginning to form. Set the board?

"You have changed this world, Laura Aldine," Ulmo said, surprisingly gentle. "Whether it is for good or ill, that is your burden to bear."

"But I don't want it," I insisted angrily. "You gave it to me."

And then Ulmo was gone.

Son of a bitch.

I stared into the water and cried for a long time cursing myself, Gandalf, Middle Earth, and the Valar. This was not what I wanted, not what I ever wanted. I was only me. I was nothing special, certainly not a hero. But now I was being forced into the role, had been forced into it from the very beginning.

I had changed things, Ulmo said. For good or for ill.

I would make it for good if I had to die trying.

And if a dragon was really in my way then that was almost a certainty.