Author's notes: I imagined Bard to be something like the character Jack Sparrow in PotC but not too loony and more.. slippery. I obviously haven't read his introduction of the book yet, so forgive me if he is too OOC. His looks are based by the actor that is going to portray from who I have forgotten the name. Forgive me.

Pssth! Did you guys also know that Richard Armitage probably wrote a fanfic about the relationship of Thror and Thorin? I am totally spying the web right now :ninja:

Also, I realize that we are slowly creeping towards the end. One that I dread and.. o dear :(

PS. sorry for the short chapter. But I really wanted to introduce him. Even though it's a bit weird.

Chapter 25: Bard

The dwarves and Bilbo had slept quite peacefully, despite the circumstances, except for one; Thorin. Who was twisting and turning, throwing the covers of his bed around, but seemed to failing in any way to make himself comfortable and succumb to sleep. Thus, the prince crawled out of his bed, got dressed and eventually took a seat in the pub downstairs with a pipe in his hands and his elbows leaning on the table.

The embers of the pipe lit up his dark, contemplative eyes with each time his lips drew at the mouthpiece. Smoke swirled around the prince in strange shapes and forms, making him even more mysterious than he already was. Then, when the wooden floor creaked in the dark corner on his left, Thorin's eyes flicked to the side for a moment and then continued to resume their glare at the darkness.

"I know you are there, human." His deep voice finally cut through the air in a few silent moments.

To the right a figure appeared, tall and lean. A cloak was draped over the man's shoulders but did not hide his face that was handsome, defined and framed with long dark curls. With a few long and powerful strides the man was at Thorin's table and took a seat to his right. He sat down, graceful for a human and leaned back in a casual non-caring matter.

"You have keen senses, for a dwarf," the man's voice muttered in almost a husky tone. "I am surprised, really." His lips quirked upwards in a broad grin, showing a row of strong and white teeth as his dark brown eyes twinkled in the faint light of the lanterns that shone through the murky windows of the pub; lighting the room very dimly, but enough for their eyes to maintain their vision.

"Why have you been watching us?"

Finally the grey eyes of Thorin settled on the man next to him. The prince disliked the man almost immediately; he was too sleek, too cunning for his liking. He made him on edge and aching for his blade in his hands. He distrusted him to say the least and probably for good reasons.

The male shrugged and waved away some of the smoke -from Thorin's pipe- that was slowly curling in strange figures in the air between them and drifting in his face. Thorin judged him as freelancer, a man without bounds and do as he pleases, but also a man with contacts. Thorin wasn't surprised by his answer, for his judgement was always correct (in Thorin's own opinion) and the human seemed to be evasive, but his brown eyes held knowledge that he apparently refused to speak of.

"Because I have found my interest being peeked, obviously. For what other reasons would I watch you dwarves? I have been following you the moment you had escaped the barrels of Thranduil and wandered aimlessly at the edge of Mirkwood." The human chuckled softly as a flash of some undefined emotion crossed Thorin's grey eyes in a moment of shock.

"I know about your imprisonment, but also about your quest. Do not worry, the elves will not find you for all they know is that you and the rest of your little company are still wandering around in Mirkwood, lost and hungry."

Thorin's hand, that held his pipe, tensed almost visibly as the prince let the words of the human sink in. They have been followed by this man for all this time? How come they could have never noticed him before? Thorin vaguely recalled sounds and rustling of bushes each night they camped, but he –and the others- just figured that it was the wind or forest animals. The prince glanced up, his eyes filled with fury, but his voice was so calm that the human quirked up and eyebrow.

"I distrust the words that roll out of your mouth, human. Do you have any proof or assurance that the Elves won't be standing at our beds by dawn? Why help us in the first place? What is your name?"

The human chuckled and motioned to Thorin to slow down a bit. "So many questions, Thorin Oakenshield, but we have so little time. I will keep this short and simple; I know of your quest. Some suspect it and others deem it rubbish, but I know why you are here. You are here for Smaug, right?"

He didn't wait for Thorin's reply and continued on talking. Meanwhile the male had stood up and started to pace around, gesturing wildly whilst he answered the questions that the prince had asked him. Almost with a smug smile on his face whilst his eyes twinkled with amusement and the power that he seemingly held over the dwarf with the thing he knew about them. It was something that Thorin disliked greatly.

"My name is Bard and know that Smaug is still alive. He hasn't left but was never seen for the past sixty years. That is enough for people to think that he was a mere legend, a mere story, and that he isn't real. I do. And I believe that your hobbit Bilbo Baggings can trick him with the right push in the back. I also believe that you have made a good choice to let Ayne accompany you on the journey. She is quite the moral reminder of everyone and will have an even greater role to play later on, of that I am sure."

The man called Bard spoke quite hastily and was pacing up and down with his hands finally clasped behind his back, the grotesque gesturing irritated Thorin a bit. He took a few breaths before continuing; "If I get to the point of my rambling let's say that I believe your cause and I want to say that you have my support and if you ever need help; call." he bowed at the prince.

For a moment it was silent between the two sentient beings in the dark pub. Thorin then got up after he had extinguished his pipe and turned around to leave this lunatic to his own rambling. His heavy boots made the wooden floor creak with each step he took. "I won't need your help," the prince said without looking back. Bard took no action to stop the prince but when he reached the staircases he said something that made Thorin halt in his tracks and his grey eyes to widen.

"You love her, a lot. I know you do because it shows in your eyes every time you look at her. You love her as much as you love Erebor, but be careful that you love for the latter spirals down in an obsession, Thorin Oakenshield. I have also seen that lurking in your eyes. You are warned."

With those words Thorin could hear Bard's footsteps move to the door. It was followed by the sound of a door opening, a faint gush of cold air and the creaking sound of a door closing. Thorin was alone now, his back turned to the dark pub and his hand clenched around the rail of the staircase. His heart was thumping thickly against the prince's chest as an almost unfamiliar feeling constricted around that beating organ and made his palms grow clammy and his forehead sweaty.

Thorin shrugged it off, his mind denying Bard's words that now resonated again and again in his ears as he made his way up the creaking staircase as quietly as possible. He looked up when a door on the dark hallway opened and a sleepy you leaned against the doorframe, your hair ruffled and your hands rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"What's wrong? Why are you up?" You drawled with a thick voice and blinked a few times to focus on the dark silhouette of Thorin that had halted at the top of the staircase.

"Nothing, go back to bed," Thorin whispered reassuringly, stepping closer to give you a peck on your forehead and wrapped his arms around you. As he took in the scent of your hair in that embrace –that you happily welcomed by wrapped your arms around his waist and snuggled your face in the crook of his neck- his eyes glanced in your room and to your window. He would never drop you for some stupid obsession. Never.

Thorin could never be so wrong.