Thank you for all the reviews! We broke 20! Yay!
You shifted your position in the boat, pushed a sweaty lock of hair out of your face, tightened your grip on the oar, and kept rowing. The man who had rented you his boat had told you that it would take you about ten to twelve hours to cross this lake, rowing at a fast pace, and by the appearance of the sun, you had been rowing for at least 10.
The sun had set behind the flat horizon hours ago and your upper arms felt as if they were on fire, but you kept rowing. The thought of kicking the living shit out of Thorin Oakenshield kept you going.
You still found it hard to believe that he had chosen to abandon you in the way that he did. His parting words, 'I had no choice' echoed in your head, but you could see no logic behind them. Despite being, as Thorin had often referred to you, a 'mere woman', you had proven beyond doubt that you were a skilled fighter, and an excellent aim with a throwing knife.
Ok, so you couldn't cook to save your life, but that didn't seem to be a good enough reason to abandon you.
As you rowed, your mind wandered to other things, specifically the tall, blonde elf you had spent the last few days with. A small smirk crossed your mouth you imagined him stutteringly explaining his five-day absence to his father, Thranduil. It was intriguing to see how two people, even a father and son, can be so totally different.
Thranduil was like ice. Hard and cold and flawlessly chiselled, never a hair out-of-place or an emotion shown. Legolas, his son, on the other hand, was fire. Once you had squeezed your way past his crispy exterior, he was passionate, chatty and funny. You truly enjoyed your time his company, and even though it appeared to be over, you doubted that you would forget about him in a hurry.
A bright, yellow light on the horizon brought you out of your train of thought and you quickly identified the source as the gates to Laketown. Rowing your small boat further forwards, silently cursing as your stiff arms took the strain, that would hurt tomorrow, you heard a voice call out to you.
"Who goes there?"
Crap. You hadn't expected this. You had hoped to just be let in without any hassle. But honestly, when had anything in your life happened without any hassle...
"A visitor!" you called back, hoping to keep your response as vague as possible.
"And who might you be visiting?"
You turned your head and found the source of the noise, a greasy, bent-over man with one single eyebrow that stretched from one side of his face to the other. You wrinkled your nose involuntarily. He stank of fish.
"A friend." you replied, keeping your voice steady.
He was about to interrupt when you cut him off.
"-Please, I've had a very long journey, and I would really like to get some sleep..."
As usual, you hated playing the 'innocent female' card, but it seemed to work this time. You even batted your eyelashes for added effect.
The man leered at you and your tried to hide your disgust.
"I don't usually allow this," he drawled, "But in the case of a pretty lady, I'll make an exception..."
You smiled thankfully, attempting not to throw up in revulsion, and rowed on.
Eventually, you found a place to tie up your boat, and stepped out of it onto slippery cobbled stones. Craning your neck to one side, you heard raucous laughter and out of tune singing that could only belong to dwarves, so you headed towards a large tavern.
Golden light spewed out from the musky windows and the very rafters seemed to shake with the heavy, stamping feet of those inside.
Peering through one of the windows curiously, you spotted Bofur downing an entire tankard of mead in one sitting to the applause of an encaptured crowd. Yes. This was definitely the right place.
Straightening your jacket and smoothing down your soaking wet hair, you stood in front of the entrance, knife in hand. Taking a shuddering breath and nodding your head, you kicked the door hard, and it swung back on its hinges.
"THORIN OAKENSHIELD!" you yelled.