Fate be Changed

Reborn as a Hobbit, Willowyn Proudfoot isn't about to let a doughy potato like Bilbo Baggins get himself killed on Gandalf's hairbrained idea of an adventure. She's taking his place. For better or worse.

WARNING
Canon-divergance (in kind of a BIG way in places), fem!Hobbit!Harry, allusions to History and Culture not covered in the films (I did research for this motherfucker and I'm going to damn well show it off), mentioned slash.

000

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – Lake Town

War leaves it's trail
in moonlight so pale,
it's shadows they flow
in rivers, in rivers
so put on my mask
I'll go where they ask
so I might once again see the
Roses of May
(Rose of May – Lyrics written and owned by Erutan/katethegreat19)

Bard had never seen Dwarves properly before. But this was a strange group, even compared to the pub gossip he had heard over the years. A group of thirteen males, and a female he wasn't entirely certain was actually a Dwarf, but treated well by them never the less. Of the group, it seemed as if the surly one with the long dark hair and short beard was in charge while the oldest, with the long white beard was perhaps the best negotiator of the lot. There were three young ones, a pair of brothers and an educated youth, probably a scribe. He could peg one warrior clear as day, the one who hard stepped forward with a branch when they first met, his battle tattoos stark and obvious upon his forearms and head.

But the lass, now she was interesting.

Wearing a shirt far to big to be Mannish or Elvish fashioned into a dress, a large red stone set in silver around her throat, a bottle of silvery grey shimmering powder at her hip, and armed with an elvish blade of beautiful craftsmanship. The Dwarves all treated her with great care, and she apparently had no love of water or sailing he noted as she huddled between the tattooed warrior and a fussy white haired Dwarf of impressive bulk, the two of them using their body heat to keep her warm as she hid her face in her knees.

At least he didn't have to smuggle them into the town. When he had seen the state of the barrels he had feared that the group had gotten into trouble with the Woodland Realm, if it was known he had smuggled them into the town it would be his children who suffered for it. But hearing of the Orc pack that attacked them as they were leaving, that they had been forced to use the barrels just to get ahead of them until the current slowed, had set those concerns to ease. There was only one way in or out of the Woodland Realm and that was by the gates by order of the King. Had these folk truly fled from the elves, the lass would not wear such a pendent, nor be armed with such a blade.

"That blade you carry," he finally spoke, drawing the group's attention, "It is elvish. Where did you come by it?" he asked.

The lass mumbled something into her knees and leaned against the warrior more firmly. He huffed and answered for her. "Not far from her homeland. We ran into Trolls on the Great East Road. They had it in their cave. Gandalf the Grey gave it to her." He paused as she mumbled some more and scowled, looking down at her, "Why would you do something like - " he cut off as she replied, again too muffled to be heard and huffed. "Foolish idea. What if she hadn't given it back?" he huffed before looking back to Bard, "The lass tried to return it to Lady Arwen of Rivendell, as the sword was made by her Kin during the Second Age. But the Lady said it was hers to keep and wouldn't take it."

Bard hummed eyeing him, "Why does she not speak for herself?" he asked coolly.

"Because she doesnae like deep water. And after what happened today, I'm just glad she hasn't started to cry yet," the Warrior explained harshly.

The girl mumbled something again and the Warrior huffed falling quiet and grumpily folding his arms, the white haired male beside him throwing an arm around the lass's shoulders and drawing her into a tight hug. Well, Bard pondered, watching the group. For all that Grumpy Face seemed to be in charge, the female apparently had considerable power within the group.

They continued to sail in silence as the small barge moved through frozen water, and ruins.

A hush fell over the Dwarves as they all turned as one and stared up at the Dragon's Mountain with varying expressions. Longing, heartbreak, grim resignation, determination, and open awe. Bard glanced over, wondering if they could see anything of particular note but no, the mountain looked the same as it always did. But he supposed a Dwarf would see if differently. It had, afterall, been their home once upon a time ago.

"We're approaching the Toll Gate," he called, spotting the familiar structure in the distance as the shrouds of mist peeled back before his eyes.

"Halt! Goods inspection! Papers please!" cried a familiar voice, Bard grinned in mixed relief and familiarity. "Oh, it's you, Bard. And..." the man eyed the group in surprise for a moment, like he himself, Percy had never seen a Dwarf either. "And guests. Now, Bard, I like you, but you know I have to call the Guard about this," he warned him, sounding sorry.

Bard smirked, "Morning to you too Percy. And no problem. I'm just taking them over the lake. What happens to them now isn't my business," he declared easily.

Percy wrinkled his nose, "Where'd you pick them up, anyway? Dwarves don't come by these parts. Not anymore," he stated.

Bard shrugged a shoulder, "Necessity. I found them on the Forest River. Run afoul of an Orc Pack."

Percy squinted at the group, eyeing the young ones, particularly the one whose beard had yet to grow through, Kili Bard thought his name was. And the young Lady who was shivering and hidden amongst the group. Percy was a good man, Bard knew he would let the group in once their Toll was paid, he was not the sort who would condone leaving any Free Being to the mercy of a roving Orc Pack, especially when there were women and children in said group.

He sighed through his nose, "Right then. You lot wait here on the dock, I'll dig out some papers for ye. Bard, anything to declare while I've got you here?" he asked.

"Nothing but that I am cold and tired and ready for home," the Man said with surprising good humour as he presented a paper to the gate keeper.

Percy grinned as he took it, "Oh, you and me both," he agreed, rolling his shoulders in his heavy coat as he took the paper into the little room and stamped it. He returned the paper to the bargeman, "Here we are. All in order. If you gentlefolk, and lady, would step off the barge, let's get you sorted as well." With reluctance the Dwarves climbed off the barge, Bard watching as they carefully aided the female off, she was still shivering and stuck close to the males, the Warrior keeping a hand on her arm even as her own hands reached out to latch onto Grumpy Face's tunic. Family perhaps? Though none of them looked alike save for Grumpy Face and the youngest of the group (his father?).

"Morning Percy," Bard called as the last of them stepped off.

"See you tonight, Bard. Down the pub?" the Man asked cheerfully as the Dwarves huddled outside the gate, shivering.

"Not tonight no. I want to spend time with the children," he refused.

Percy nodded his head before turning to call to the guards on the otherside, "Raise the gate!" he called before turning to them, "Now. Let's get inside, see if we can't sort out your papers, sirs, and lady," he declared amiably as he ushered them into his small gate-house.

It was the work of an hour to get their papers sorted, thankfully he subscribed to 'Ladies first', and Willowyn was able to patch together a believable story that mixed both truth and lies together for the gate master to swallow with ease. They were on their way to the Iron Hills, she explained that she was to be married there, and that the Dwarves accompanying her were a protective escort to ensure she arrived safely. However, they were dogged by Orcs the whole while, lost their equipment and weapons in the Misty Mountains in Goblin Town – where she was injured, she explained showing the head wound and hip which were still fresh enough looking that he hissed in sympathetic pain. They took refuge with a friend of her ancestor's just outside of Mirkwood who gave them food and supplies enough to see them through the forest. They had just passed through when they were attacked by Orcs once again, they had been in the process of overrunning the river gate of the Woodland Realm when they came upon them. The Orcs then abandoned their trouble-making to give chase and the group took to the barrels in the river in the hopes they could outrun them on the rapids. They had lost the current and come ashore not five minutes before Bard found them and agreed to take them to the Toll Gate – had they tried to go around to the entrance, they would have been run down in short order, especially with their weapons and belongings lost in the mad water fight and escape.

Her story had been swallowed easily, and the others gave pretty much the exact same version but with some added little bits here and there. When asked why so many were chosen to escort her, Kili had been the cheeky one to pipe up that she was to marry into one of the Great Seven Clans, the Line of Durin. He even spun that the necklace she wore was proof of her engagement and the reason they were so hunted by Orcs on their journey. Willow could see Balin fighting the urge to put his face into his hands, Dwalin mean while looked like he was torn between laughing and hitting the boy himself. Thorin had already given up pretence and started to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Thankfully the gate master knew nothing of Dwarvish culture and bought the neat little pile of lies and truth whole. With their names down on paper, official stamps declaring their admittance, and the exchange of twelve copper pieces each (or in this case, five silver for everyone), they were allowed into Lake Town and even given directions to a fairly good Inn.

The River Eel was a fairly standard Inn not unlike the Prancing Pony back in Bree, the downstairs was a currently quiet pub serving early morning breakfast to those that wanted it, well lit and thankfully warm. The group couldn't help but sigh in relief as they stepped inside and were greeted by a wall of heat that washed over them. The barman chuckled at their reactions, "What can I get you Gentlefolk?" he asked amiably as he leaned over the counter, his eyes bright with curiosity.

"Two rooms please, next to each other if you can manage it, a large one for ourselves, and a small private one for the lass," Balin requested, "Food too if the kitchen is awake at this hour," he added glancing around.

The barman rubbed his chin, "I don't rightly think I have a room big enough for the lot of you. But I have two fairly medium sized rooms and a little one in the middle if that works out to your liking, Master Dwarf?" he offered thoughtfully.

Balin brightened up considerably at the idea, this way their female would be protected between the two rooms. "Aye, quite agreeable."

He nodded and drew back in order to rummage under the bar for a moment, he surfaced with a large book and an ink-well a moment later. "Right then, can I have your toll papers?" he asked and Balin handed over the needed strips to him, each were given a cursory inspection, the numbers atop the strips noted down within his book, "Now, who shall I put down for the rooms?"

"Masters Balin and Gloin for the mediums, and Lady Proudfoot for the small," Balin declared, not willing to risk Thorin's name being brought up and recognised.

The Inn-Keeper carefully noted them down, tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth as he wrote before nodding and setting his quill aside, "Right. For three days bed and board, breakfast and dinner, includin' a tub of hot water for bathin', that'll be ten silver for the two medium rooms and three for the single." The Man puffed his chest out proudly, "Best deal you'll get in Lake Town," he boasted, "Best fish and potato soup too."

Balin turned to the group and it was with great reluctance they ponied up the required coins (It took a particularly damp and well timed sneeze on Willowyn's part to get Gloin to guiltily part with the last of the coins they needed for the rooms).

Once up in their rooms, Thorin, Fili, Kili, Ori, Dori, Balin and Oin in one, with Dwalin, Nori, Gloin, Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur in the other (evenly splitting the warriors between the two rooms and putting Dori with Ori to lessen the fretting from the oldest Ri-brother), they all found it exceptionally hard not to just curl up and fall asleep then and there. They had spent almost the entire night within the Elf King's halls before escaping and right now the adrenalin crash was catching up. Willow had done as she promised she would once this was over and crawled into her bed, burrowing into her blankets and pillow and sobbing herself to sleep as the events of the day caught up with her. The Orc attack didn't bother her much, but the water... grey eyes haunted her sleep.

While she slept, the others discussed ways of getting weapons and armour and more equipment.

Their supply of silver was limited after losing twenty nine pieces on getting into the town coupled with room and board, that left them with twenty one pieces left – not including the twelve Gloin thought they didn't know about. Clothing, packs and survival equipment for the fourteen of them would set them back a good fifteen silver pieces, assuming that the Man-folk didn't try to fleece them as outsiders, which they were guaranteed to try. Armour and weapons would be impossible to buy. It would be one or the other after that.

"We could make weapons?" Kili suggested, "I'm sure they have a smithy here, right?"

Dwalin scoffed, "Yer Uncle is the only Blacksmith amongst us, lad," he stated flatly, "and he's a perfectionist to boot. We'll be waiting a week for just a single blade," he griped playfully, and had to then duck as Thorin threw a candle at his head.

Nori hummed picking under his nails with a steak knife he picked up downstairs, "We could steal weapons," he suggested with a tone of forced lightness. Everyone looked at him, he treated them to a long flat stare, "We won't be buying any here. This town wouldn't have any to begin with. It's under thumb," he explained flatly, he had seen it many times in his life as he did a great deal of under the table deals, towns and villages kept unarmed so that their Lord could stay in power if they were particularly paranoid about uprisings and riots. "Give me a week or two and I could find a way to get good quality ones from the Iron Hills. But we've only got five days before Durin's Day. If we want weapons, we'll either have to make-do and get creative, or steal them from the Guards. They're the only ones with any kind of steel here."

The group fell silent, debating it.

"We haven't much choice by this point," Thorin rumbled unhappily, "We shall just have to settle our debts with Lake Town once we are home." He pulled a face at Dwalin, "I'll forge them new blades myself if I have to."

It was decided then, they would steal the weapons they needed the night they left, and get out of the town before the alarm was raised.

000

Bofur eyed the trousers as he held them up, "What do you think Dori?" he asked their weaver, "Are these Willow's size?" he asked curiously.

The older Dwarf eyed them sceptically, "I'll have to take them in at the hip since she lost weight in the forest but yes, they'll do. Add them to the basket," he said, pointing to where Bifur and Dwalin had been relegated to pack-mules for all their goods. Already they were carrying a fair few bags and packs of goods, mostly food and camping equipment. Fili, Kili and Nori had already been sent back with a few armloads of goods to their rooms where Balin and Ori were sorting through them into individual packs for everyone (None of them had felt comfortable leaving the Inn when Willow was asleep alone in her room without protection – hence why some of them had stayed, keeping their door open so as to keep an eye on the corridor).

Bombur was choosing food while Bofur was grabbing a few extra bits and bobs he thought they may need. He decided to get a few extra things for Willow that he guessed she would need. It would surprise a lot of the company to know that Bombur had once been married. A lovely lass she had been, but without the protection of a Hall it hadn't been long before she met her end on the road. Pregnant, unable to fight, it had been Goblins that took her in the fight. Bombur had forever blamed himself for not being there as he had broken his leg and not been fit to travel. He sobbed with remembrance of her whenever he passed by certain kinds of cakes, because it had been her cakes that they had met and bonded over. Sharing recipes and working in the kitchens of highborn Men together. But aside from that, Bofur had always been perceptive and more aware than his little brother. So he knew, that after a little while of not taking certain herbs, a lady's body would have certain... troubles. Perfectly natural ones that weren't really troubles per-say, but made for some exceptionally awkward and embarrassing moments for the lady in question, especially when she was in the company of male folk. So with that in mind, Bofur had a quiet word with one of the lasses and asked where he might get the required hygiene necessities. Willow may not need them right now, but he was willing to bet that she would eventually in a short amount of time. It had been almost two months since she lost her possessions to the Misty Mountains and stress could only delay such things for so long.

By the time the group returned to the Inn, it was well towards dinner time and the group were not only famished, but also eager for that hot water to get themselves cleaned up.

While they split the newest selection of things, Bofur slipped the extras he bought for their lady into her pack before going to get himself a bite to eat downstairs with Nori, Ori, Bifur, and Dwalin. Pints of watered down ale chugged, plates of mashed potato and fish and mushroom pie delivered, the group ate with gusto and relaxed in front of the fire in order to enjoy the warmth of the pub and the easy chatter around them as fishermen, dock hands, guards and other assorted folk came in to have a drink and a smoke and a wind-down after a hard day's work.

It wasn't long later that the others came down as well along with a certain Mistress Proudfoot, who looked as though she had seen some considerably better days, but was now a lot more composed than she had been before. Bofur grinned around his pipe as he watched his friends and kin fall on their meals like starved animals while the lady pulled a face and took her time with her meal, using both knife and fork. Well, he decided, glancing to the rest of the room from under his hat, it certainly added to their image if the future wife of Durin's line was more refined than the rest of them. (He made a mental note to never let Kili live that little fib down, as was his solemn duty as self-declared crazy uncle to the Young ones. He now had to decide which one of Kili's family members he was trying to set up with their Burglar. His uncle or his brother, or even himself. That would be a fun thing to tease him with, Bofur decided, hiding his grin behind his pipe.)

After relaxing a time, the group eventually returned upstairs where their packs were distributed between them and hot water was brought to their rooms to get cleaned up.

Willow could only shake her head as she heard the sounds of what was unmistakably a water fight between Fili and Kili in the next room while Bofur lead Bombur on a jaunty sing-along in the other room. She finished washing in the hot water and then, instead of tipping the water out the window, dunked the dress Beorn made for her into the basin, taking the chance to clean it up. She gave it a good scrub in order to get it clean before wringing it out hard and setting it to hang off the end of her headboard. Hopefully it would be dry enough to pack by the next morning, she hated musty smelling clothes.

She tugged on a long deep red tunic and curled up in her nest with the sound of Dwarves singing around her.

It wasn't bad, she decided as her eyes drifted shut. Going to sleep like this.

They had surprisingly nice singing voices.

000

Bit different to canon. I always wondered why they didn't just bullshit their way into Lake Town with Bard like that. Surely a smuggler would cost a hell of a lot more than the toll into the town, they don't have to mention anything to do with the Woodland Realm.

It wasn't like they would be able to check.

But alas, Dwarves and their honour. It probably never even crossed their minds to fib.