I do not own anything written by J.R.R. Tolkien or in Peter Jackson's movies, and anything Araceil came up with in Fate be Changed belongs to her.

Ignoring the dank, misty swamp the river had been flowing through since leaving the forest, Sakura huddled in the middle of the barge by its single mast between a concerned Fili and Kili, doing her best to ignore the deep river on both sides and the nauseating smell of fish that permeated the wood she sat on. She just knew that stench was going to haunt her dreams that night, along with the way the river had tossed her about while she fought to occasionally get her head above water to snatch a breath of air, to keep her feet forward to cushion the impact with any rocks she hit before Bifur had finally managed to grab her and haul her into his barrel (almost spilling himself out into the river in the process). If she was really unlucky, the stench would get mixed up with the memory of when she almost drowned as a child.

At least that would be better than dreams of brains blowing out the back of people's skulls, the light vanishing from their eyes. Pushing away the morbid thought, she looked around for a distraction. Other than the Li brothers, the Dwarves were huddled at the front, beyond the barrels they had helped load onto the barge, and she had been catching the occasional mutter — apparently, there was some disagreement over finances. Nothing for her to contribute there and the half-submerged trees dripping with moss were hardly inviting, so she twisted to look back at Bard, steering at the barge's rear. When he glanced at her, she waved toward the deer carcasses between them. "I thought you were up here to pick up the barrels."

"I am, but there isn't a set time for the barrels to be sent downstream." Bard shrugged. "I'm a fine archer, so I come up early and spend a few days hunting. The pay for collecting the barrels isn't much, but the extra from selling venison to people tired of fish and bread makes it worth it."

Sakura shuddered. "I'd think so! I'm glad we'll have a choice."

Bard's gaze shifted to the Dwarves seated at the bow, then back to Sakura. "Not much of one, the price of venison is high — normally only the Master of Lake-town and his hangers-on can afford it."

Sakura winced even as Gloin's voice rose above the rest: "No! I've delved deep into my family's savings to help pay for this, I'll not be trapped —"

The voice chopped off, and Sakura whipped around to see the Dwarves slowly rising to their feet in reverent silence, staring to the north. She followed their gaze, and her own eyes widened. The river's current had swept the barge out of the swamp and its thinning mist and into the lake, and in the fading evening light she could see a solitary snow-peaked mountain worthy of the Rockies towering into the sky. She whispered, "Erebor."

The silence was broken by the clinking of coins as Gloin handed a leather pouch to Balin. "Take it." Then the view was broken up as the barge passed beside a massive, broken stone pillar set into the lake, and the moment was lost.

As Bard maneuvered the barge through a series of further massive pillars, Dwalin examined them as best he could through the gathering dusk. "Dwarf work, and fine work at that," he finally announced.

"What you'd expect, with Dwarves for neighbors," Balin added. "Before Smaug came, this was Dale's trading outpost with the Woodland Realm."

"Yes ... yes, it was," Bard agreed, eyeing the Dwarf. "After Dale was destroyed Smaug burned it as well. Dale's survivors were too many for the size of the outpost, so rather than try to rebuild without the Dwarves' expert help they chose to build a new town just past it." He pointed forward with his chin. "There's Lake-town now." The Company turned to find a sizable town on the water, dark outlines in the growing dark lit up here and there by lanterns.

Balin finished counting the last of the coins in the pouch Gloin had given him, and frowned thoughtfully before turning toward Bard. "Tell me, laddie, d'ye know of a cheap inn where we can stay for a few days while we reprovision?" Sakura felt her heart sink — they needed to buy enough provisions to see them to the Lonely Mountain and then to the Iron Hills after they'd recovered the Arkenstone, and she suspected that they didn't have enough coin.

"I'm afraid not. We don't get many merchants and they only stay long enough to drop off their goods with the Master and leave — afraid of the dragon. So we only have one inn that spends most of its time as a tavern, and it costs." When Balin winced, Bard gazed at him for a moment, then swept his gaze across the rest of the Dwarves before settling on Sakura. Finally, he sighed. "If you are willing to sleep very close, you can stay at my home — for a small charge, of course."

Sakura sighed in resignation. Of course he's offering to help, can't have the poor cute little Hobbit spend the night on whatever passes for streets here. She glanced toward the approaching town, and noticed the dark length that could only be a bridge connecting town to shore. Or in the forest ... never mind that we've been camping for months. Forcing her voice to stay even — he was being generous, after all — she asked, "You'd really do that for us?"

Bard shrugged. "You arrived with the barrels a few days early, so I don't have as much meat to sell as usual. The extra coin will be welcome. I'll even have a space apart for you, my two daughters have a separate room and you're tiny enough there should be room in their bed for you."

/oOo\

Bard was right, the addition of thirteen Dwarves and one Hobbit to his home made for very tight quarters — tight enough that half of the Company stayed out on the damp wooden planks of the walkway until after the quick meal out of their rations (Sakura finishing off the last of the soaked lembas she'd salvaged). And he was almost right that there was enough room for everyone. (It helped that he and Dwalin slept on the barge, making sure that none of the deer carcasses vanished in the night.) And he was right that there was enough room in his daughters' bed for Sakura, so long as Sakura slept on her side. Between being lightly pressed between two girls about half her age and half again as tall as she was and the Dwarves' snoring in an enclosed space, it was not a comfortable night, though far from her worst even on the Quest, much less during the War.

Now, with Bard off delivering the barrels and selling the carcasses; Balin and Oin off bargaining for supplies; and Bard's son Bain off with Dwalin, Gloin and Bifur to see if anyone in the town needed any laborers for the day; she was sitting on the roof looking over the town and watching the people in boats and walkways passing below as she worked the holster off her belt after removing her Bowie knife. It was a peaceful day, as peaceful a day as she'd had since leaving Beorn's homestead without the whole 'recovering from a near-fatal wound' thing. And if a little boring ... after the last few weeks haunting Thranduil's halls and then the excitement of the escape she could use a little boring.

Besides, what with the way she'd found herself reliving the River every time she closed her eyes, she had had a very poor night. A lazy day was just what she needed.

She'd never seen a place so crowded that didn't include soldiers marching in formation, and she had to smile at energy that seemed to fill the town as she watched a matron calling for others to make way as she hurried past with a basket full of fish, three little children lined up behind her like so many goslings. Sakura was beginning to realize that the variation in the way different places felt was real, not just her imagination at work. The Shire had a homey feel of land and families well-loved, and loving in return; Rivendell, underneath Elrond's glamour of peace, had a feel of history, the passing of ages, the quiet of a library; Mirkwood had been a twisted horror, one that in retrospect she was grateful she'd been too overwhelmed to fully experience for most of her time there; the Woodland Realm, watchfulness and a resigned determination. But Lake-town seemed to practically vibrate with life like she'd never felt, and she wondered if it was because of how many people were packed into such a tight space, or because it was a town of Men ... or both.

A panel in the roof she hadn't known was there lifted, and Sigrid's head poked up into sight. The older sister looked around, then her face lit up at the sight of the Hobbit. "There you are! That grouchy Dwarf said you'd promised to stay in the house, but I couldn't find you anywhere else. How'd you get up here?"

"The window, jumped for the eaves, swung up." At the teenager's disbelieving look, Sakura shrugged. "I'm not exactly heavy, and my people are a nimble bunch."

"You must be." Sigrid climbed out of the opening and carefully made her way over the roof's wooden shingles to sit beside Sakura (making sure no wandering eyes from below had a chance to see up her patchy, threadbare skirt). She looked out across the town. "Lake-town must seem small to you, after your journeys."

Sakura softly laughed. "Small? Perhaps in area, the way you're all stacked up, but in people, no. There aren't many towns in Mirkwood, and Rivendell with its Elves is beautiful but not very crowded. I suppose Hobbiton might actually have more people, but mostly on farms so the town itself isn't much. And ..." She laid a hand flat to the top of her head, then tried to lift it above Sigrid's head and failed. "If you want small, nothing beats Hobbits."

Sigrid laughed softly. "I suppose you are right, you are a tiny thing, aren't you? Are you really grown up?"

"Half again your age, I think — I'll be twenty-eight years shortly after the winter solstice. I'm even betrothed to be married, so I'm all grown up and doing adult stuff." For a moment, the memory of her last night in Hobbiton — with Bilbo, the two of them naked in the candle-light — flashed into her mind and Sakura blushed. To distract Sigrid from asking why, she hastily pointed toward a tower some distance away, toward the middle of the town. "That tower — I thought at first it was a bell tower, but that's no bell it's holding. What is it?"

Sigrid's gaze followed Sakura's pointing finger, and she smiled proudly. "That's a windlance — the windlance, the one manned by my great-grandfather, Lord Girion, against the Dragon when it came. He was killed when his tower collapsed, but his windlance was salvaged from the wreckage and repaired." Her voice dropping to a whisper, she added, "The current Master doesn't like people talking about it, but a single scale knocked loose by the Black Arrows was found not far from his body ... if he had had the chance at one more shot, he would have killed the Dragon!"

"Oh?" Sakura quirked an eyebrow as she slipped her sheathed knife back on her belt. "How large was the scale?"

"I've never seen it, the last Master hid it away, but Father says it was this big!" Sigrid spread her hands a pace, maybe a pace and a half apart.

"That big, huh?" Considering the terror and chaos that haunted any battlefield, even she was sure one out of a fantasy novel, the likelihood of Lord Girion even noticing the scale was missing on a dragon in flight blitzing the city — much less actually hitting the mark — was the next thing to zero. And that was assuming the size of the scale hadn't grown in the telling. Still, there's no point in stomping on her dreams of being a princess 'if only'. Such dreams were harmless enough if one didn't overindulge, and Sigrid seemed steady enough for a teenager. "You bet, kid, he would have dropped it like picking off a pheasant. So, as fun as this is, was there a reason you were looking for me?"

Sigrid blushed scarlet and bolted upright, almost sliding off the roof before Sakura steadied her. "Oh! Yes, there was. With so many here, cooking for everyone is ... there's just me and Tilda and she's still pretty small ... I know it isn't proper to ask a guest, but ... could you help?"

She was so ashamed at the request that Sakura couldn't keep from giggling. "Oh, Sigrid, no one expects you to cook for thirteen Dwarves and one hungry Hobbit! Not even your father, I'm sure, he really should have said something before he left. Sure, I'll help, but I'm not the one you really need to ask — that would be Bombur." At Sigrid's confused look, she added, "The really fat one."

"A male? He can cook?"

Sakura rolled her eyes at Sigrid's astonishment. "Yes, he can cook. Your father can cook, when he's out in the forest by himself." Rising to her feet, she whipped her belt around her and cinched it tight, adjusted the knife sheath for comfort, then leaned down to a Sigrid scooting backward up the roof on her butt and whispered, "A saying of my people, 'never trust a thin cook' — so Bombur is very good."

A still-giggling Sigrid opened the trap door and led the way into the house.

/\

" ... and then Dwalin rushed by me on one side and his brother Balin — the one with the long, white forked beard doing the shopping right now — rushed by on the other and piled into the Goblins approaching us. That was the last I knew that day, as I finally lost my battle with the injuries I'd taken and collapsed unconscious. I didn't wake up for days, and was even longer healing.

"And that is the tale of how I lost and found my Company, and how I saved the lives of Bombur and Thorin, and was saved in turn."

Sakura finished the last of her tale at the same time she finished breaking up the head of cabbage for a salad (there had to be farms south along the shore of the Long Lake, she just couldn't see merchants hauling cabbages all the way up the Long Lake to Lake-town or most of Lake-town being able to afford them if they did), and looked up at the two girls sitting at the sunlit table with her — teenager and prepubescent — staring at her in awe.

"Wow!" Tilda breathed. "You're betrothed?"

Sakura's jaw dropped, and Bombur — standing on a box by the stove where he was stirring his ever-popular stew — and Sigrid started laughing at her gobsmacked expression. Sigrid stopped chopping carrots long enough to ruffle Tilda's hair. "Really, little sis? That is what you find most amazing about that story? Considering how big he is, I find it more amazing that she wasn't hurt when she saved Bombur!"

Bombur and Sakura both winced. "Actually, I popped my shoulder out of its socket," Sakura admitted. "Dwalin had to pop it back in."

"But ... you're really betrothed?" Tilda asked again. "You're smaller than I am!"

Sigrid's mouth opened for what Sakura thought was going to be an epic rebuke, from the expression on her face, but closed again at Sakura's smiling shake of her head.

"Actually, I am a little short for a Hobbit my age, but only a little." Sakura put her hand on her leathers' pocket over her heart. "I have my wedding ring right here waiting, and in a few years we'll get married and a few years after that I hope I have a little girl just like you." She was looking up slightly — seated in her own chair, even Tilda had a finger-length on her — and she grinned. "Only much smaller."

Tilda giggled again but Sakura barely noticed, because something about her pocket didn't feel right, even through the handkerchief she had left in the pocket when it was stitched up. She drew her knife and started carefully working at the stitches sealing the pocket shut, she didn't want to cut up the leather itself...

The stitches came loose and she pulled out the bunched-up handkerchief and dropped it on the table then dug for the ring, and froze at the sight of a ring rolling across the table ... and the feel of another ring under her finger in the pocket.

Tilda slapped her hand down on the table. "I got it!" She picked up the ring and dropped it into Sakura's outstretched palm. Sakura dug the other ring out of her pocket and held it up next to the first, shifting to so they were in the sunlight. "This one is my wedding ring," she finally said slowly. "It has the scratches I remember."

"Let me see! Let me see!"

Sakura handed her wedding ring to Tilda, then went back to examining the other ring — absolutely flawless, not so much as a hint of a scratch. But she suspected that if she had the ring weighed, it would be solid gold.

"What is it?" The question was Sigrid's, but both she and Bombur were watching Sakura while Tilda was trying the wedding ring on one finger after another looking for one that would fit it.

"I don't know ... I didn't have two rings, where did —" Sakura blanched. "This ... this must be Smeagol and Gollum's Precious! He must have lost it down where I landed instead of up in the tunnels, and then when I saw it I mistook it for my wedding ring ... it was in my pocket all along! Oh, that poor thing..." For a few moments she gazed at that perfect, unmarked ring, then slipped it back in her pocket. "It looks like keeping my promise to visit them again on my way back to the Shire just became even more important."

Bombur frowned. "Are ye certain of that, lassie? This Smeagol-Gollum creature doesn't sound safe."

"I'm sure they aren't, but I doubt they're as dangerous as I am. I'll be fine." Turning to Tilda, she found her holding up her hand, admiring the ring she'd managed to get on one of her pinkies. "Enough play time, kiddo, time to give it back." Then when Tilda pouted, she just laughed as she held out her hand. "Come on, we have a meal to finish preparing."

With some Tilda managed to twist the ring off her finger and dropped it in Sakura's palm, eagerly asking, "Can you tell us another story?"

"Sure." She quickly ran over the stories that she'd told the children back in Hobbiton, and easily settled on one of their favorites, that they'd demanded over and over. "This one isn't about me, but it's one of my favorites: 'Once upon a time, in a far off land, there was a war so massive that the children of the land's greatest city were sent to the country to keep them safe. Among those children were two brothers, Peter and Edmund, and two sisters, Susan and Lucy...' "

/\

Sakura hummed happily to herself as she finished rinsing off her soap-lathered body, trying to keep as much of the water as possible inside the tub she was squatting in. This was the bedroom she was going to spend one more night in, after all. A wet floor would be bad enough, a wet bed?

It's been a good day, she thought as she set aside the bucket she'd used to pour water over herself, then stood up and snagged one of the (rather threadbare) towels from the bed to stand on and another to dry herself off. The two young girls she had spent most of her time with were a balm to her soul after the horrors of Mirkwood and the stress of haunting Thranduil's halls and the terror of their escape. And while the water for her bath wasn't exactly hot and what heat it had was fading fast, it was a lot warmer than the river water of the Woodland Realm!

Teasing Thorin had been fun, too. He had been as grouchy as a bear with a sore tooth, and she knew why — he was feeling the press of Durin's Day rapidly approaching, and couldn't say anything without risking Bard or his children asking why its approach was so important. His growl when she'd oh-so-innocently commented that his cousin Dain wasn't expecting them any time soon (or at all for that matter, though she left that unsaid) had the girls giggling again and the most interesting expressions on the faces of the few Dwarves around as they fought to contain their own laughter.

But now the Company's gear was dried out and repaired as best they could manage, their ruined supplies replaced, their clothes all washed, Bard paid for his hospitality, and a barge owner promised the last of their funds to take them across the Long Lake at first light to drop them off at the usual place for merchants headed to or from the Iron Hills — from there they could head east along the road until they were out of sight, then cut north for the Lonely Mountain. They were almost to home base, all that was left was to acquire the Arkenstone and head for the Iron Hills for winter lodgings. Thorin could send out the summons for the Dwarves to gather and march on Erebor. But that was the Dwarves' business, she figured she could travel back to the Shire with the messengers headed for the Blue Mountains.

Yeah, right, and denial is a river in Egypt — they're your squad mates now — shieldbrothers, I think Dwalin said — there's no way you're leaving until it's done. No matter how much Thorin rants about it ... or how little use you'll be in a real battle here and now, as small as you are. Or how many new nightmares will be haunting your nights. Maybe there'll be some scouting first, to check possible entrances into the mountain beside the two —

"You really are all grown up."

"What?" Jarred out of her increasingly grim thoughts, Sakura looked up at Sigrid and Tilda sitting on the bed, visible in the flickering candle light.

"You're all grown up," Sigrid repeated. "Your chest wrappings and clothing hides it, but ..." She held up her hands and made mirrored S-curves in the air.

Sakura looked down at herself, then hefted her breasts. "Yes, I actually have a figure. I don't bind these as tightly as I did when I was pretending to be male, but they're still large enough to be painful during sparring or a fight without some support." She looked up at a choking sound and found a furiously blushing Sigrid looking away while her little sister giggled. "Oops! Sorry."

She hastily finished drying herself off and practically dove into Tilda's extra nightgown (a little big). A few minutes later Dori and Nori had removed the tub, the candles blown out, and the three of them were snuggled together on the bed listening to the sounds of the Dwarves settling down for the night, giggling at the occasional complaint and curse in Khuzdul the process entailed.

As the sounds died down, Tilda whispered, "Sakura, do you know any lullabies?"

"Lullabies? Yes, but not any you'd know. Why?"

"Before she died Momma used to sing us lullabies. Could you sing one?"

With a gentle smile no one could see in the dark, Sakura twisted to give Tilda a one-armed hug. "Sure, Little One, I can sing one."

"I'm bigger than you!"

Sakura mock-growled. "Do you want a lullaby, or not?"

"Yes, yes, I didn't mean it! You're bigger."

Sigrid's giggles on Sakura's other side turned into outright laughter at the obvious untruth. Sakura waited until the older sister got herself under control (fighting back her own giggles), then softly began:

"You came from a land where all is light,
"To a world hath day and a world hath night.
"To guard you by day, you have my love,
"And to guard you by night, your friends above."

She sang of Maiar that watch over little children, waiting to wake them with the sun's rise, and by the time she was finished Tilda had gone limp with sleep. Sakura lightly kissed her forehead. "Sleep well, Little One." She rolled back onto her back only for Sigrid to pull her into her own one-armed hug with a whispered "Thank you."

"No, thank you."

Maybe tonight's dreams wouldn't be so bad, after all.

A little longer than my usual non-finale chapters, but I wanted to get the entire Laketown stop in a single chapter. I again followed Araceil's lead in skipping the whole "smuggle the Company into Lake-town" thing, like her I found that aspect of the movie kinda silly.