The human loaded the barrels into his barge as the rest of them lingered upon the rocks, Balin at the front and trying to persuade the man as he worked.
"And what makes you think I'd help you?" he inquired, rolling another barrel on.
"Those boots have seen better days," Balin pointed to the articles in question – and he was not wrong. The boots Kili had made for Sylven were of better craftsmanship and they'd only taken him an hour or so. "As has that coat. Ah, no doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed. How many bairns?"
Sylven stood beside Kili as he sat upon a rock, breathing deeply.
"A boy, and two girls," the bargeman said in amusement, loading another barrel.
"And your wife? I imagine she's a beauty?"
The man paused, not facing them. "Aye… she was."
Sylven's heart clenched, and she raised her attention from Kili.
"I'm sorry," Balin said earnestly. "I didn't mean intrude upon your grief."
"Oh come on," Dwalin rasped to Thorin. "Enough with the niceties."
The man caught the gist of the lowered tones. "What's your hurry?"
"What's it to you?" Dwalin's utter lack of tack was somewhat jarring against his brother's honey temperament.
"I would like to know who you are," the man said reasonably, "and what you are doing in these lands."
"We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains," Balin assured him as the man examined them all, his eyes falling on Sylven again. "Traveling to see our kin in the Iron Hills."
This amused the bargeman also. "Simple merchants you say?"
"We need food," Thorin held out his hands in a show of vacancy, "supplies, weapons. Can you help us?"
The man ran a hand across one of the barrels, pushing back a chipping piece of plank where an arrow had scarred it. "I know where these barrels came from."
"What of it?" Thorin's good humor darkened.
"I don't know what business you had with the elves, but I don't think it ended well. No one enters Laketown but by leave of the Master." Leaning down the bargeman picked up the rope lashing him to the small rock dock built into the riverside and began unwinding it. "All his wealth comes from trade with the woodland realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of king Thranduil."
Balin caught the ropes clumsily as they were tossed at him. Thorin jerked his head, mouthing, "Offer more."
"I'll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen," Balin set down the rope as the man walked the length of the boat.
He chuckled, picking up his bow. "Aye, but for that you would need a smuggler."
"For which we would pay double," Balin remained at the man's side.
He eyed their company again, and again his eyes fell on Sylven. An idea sprung up, and with a loud gasp she gripped her shoulder, staggering and sitting back down hissing under her breath. "Damn!"
Kili jerked his head up, "Sylven?"
"It's worse," she said just loudly enough for the man to hear. "I need clean cloth, and a place to sit and staunch the bleeding before it worsens. Listen, we could try making it round the lake, the dizziness has stopped. I'll be fine."
"Dizziness," Kili moved aside frantically. "Sit down."
"Your friend is not well?" The man shouted.
"She's been wounded," Bilbo and Sylven locked eyes as he spoke. "Please, if we could just get her to a place to rest -"
"Double," the man nodded. "All of you, get aboard quickly. Before I come to my senses."
With the barrels all loaded, it took no time at all for them to get underway. Sylven took a seat upon the side of the boat, watching the wilderness behind as the dwarves piled into the front of the ship away from the man as he prepped the barge. They shoved off, and the river took them up again in a gentle glide as mist began to roll in. Setting her medicinal chest down Sylven eased herself onto the floor of the boat, letting her eyelids grow heavy as she pulled her legs to her with her good arm, the cut upon her hand radiating warm as she rested it against her shin.
It did not take the weather long to grow cold. As they left the river and entered the great expanse of the lake, the white swallowed them up and drew them through chunks of ice like bits of fractured bone amidst the azure blue of the mountain fed lake.
If the fog worried him, the man didn't show it as he guided the rudder gliding it back and forth is a mesmerizing way that made fighting away exhaustion that much harder. The water lapped against the wooden hull mildly, and overhead somewhere beyond a bird called out. One of the dwarves hummed from where they were huddling, deep voice rumbling like that of a great feline.
"Here, put this against your shoulder."
Sylven flinched in surprise as he eyes opened to find the man crouched in front of her. She rubbed her eyes, searching to see if she'd fallen asleep or for how long. Reaching out, she took the small square of cloth hanging between them in his hand. It was threadbare, but kept impeccably clean. There was some sort of stitching at the corner, but it had lost all color.
She held it back out to him. "Keep it. I can-"
"You need to stop the bleeding," he said firmly, pushing her hand back. "The dizziness, it's not a good sign. When we reach Laketown, you may need stitching."
She nodded. "I know how to tend a wound, but thank you… for your kindness as well as for taking us on."
She shivered as she slid the cloth inside her jacket, pressing it to her shoulder stifling a the noise that tried to flee her lips. She felt more eyes than that of her fellow human upon her, but busied herself with securing the cloth against the new blood of the shoulder. The river had clensed that which had dried against her skin, but the ramming and moisture had opened it enough again a dark patch bled through the white as she compressed it.
"Where did you get that?" The bargeman nodded to her shoulder, frowning.
"We were lost in Mirkwood, and we came across some spiders," she tried for carelessness in her tone but it didn't sell. "They'll latch onto anything that moves, and unfortunately I did."
"Don't let her sell herself short she was very brave," Bilbo appeared as if from smoke, a small flask in his hand. "Here, drink some of this."
She took shifted hands holding the cloth, then took the flask with her uninjured hand, uncorking it with her teeth. She sniffed it experimentally, then wrinkled her nose. "Whose is this?"
"Gloin's," Bilbo admitted half-heartedly, "but it'll warm you up."
She took a breath, then tilted the flask and drank as big a swig as she dared. What she did almost came rushing back up as she coughed, dropping the cloth to cover her mouth as she hacked, now both her throat and her hand on fire.
"What – what -" she managed to get out, the dwarves cackling as they watched her.
The man smiled, taking the flask and sniffing it. "Dwarvish fire malt – that's difficult to come by."
He held it out to Bilbo, and the hobbit capped it and tucked it away. "You know, I don't believe I caught your name."
"Bard," the man got to his feet. "And you?"
"I am Bilbo Baggins, and this is Sylven Bonemender," Bilbo did a little bow, and Sylven inclined her head.
"Bonemender," Bard considered that. "You're a physic then?"
"Not much of one, but yes," she shrugged a shoulder.
"Not many women choose that life."
"Not many women get to choose," she said a little stiffly.
"Sylven, Bilbo."
Balin waved them over, and Bilbo helped Sylven to her feet as best he could. Sylven tucked her hands inside her jacket, shivering and going over to Kili were he sat, settling down next to him.
"How are you feeling?"
His question drew her attention, and her breath caught as she realized how pale he'd become. A fine glisten of sweat sat upon his skin, and underneath his eyes dark circles were beginning to form like bruises.
"Your leg," she went to fussed over the bandaging, but it hadn't bled through. "Are you warm enough? I -"
"I'm plenty warm now," Kili caught her hand, drawing it to his lips with both of his own and kissing the skin upon the back. "Don't fuss."
"Watch out!" Bofur cried, and Sylven jerked her head up as from the mist a form appeared alarmingly close. Bard dug into the rudder and they slipped between ruins of old walls as if the boat were a living thing. Sylven exhaled, moving a little closer to Kili. She let her head rest upon his, yawning quietly.
"What are you trying to do," Thorin demanded. "Drown us?"
"I was born and bred on these waters master dwarf," Bard said with surprising flippancy. "If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here."
"Oh, I've had enough of this lippy lake man," Dwalin said to his friends. "I say we throw him over the side and be done with it."
"Oh, Bard!" Bilbo groaned. "His name's Bard."
"How do you know?" Bofur wanted to know.
"Uh, I asked him?"
"I don't care what he calls himself," Dwalin muttered. "I don't like him."
"We don't have to like him," Balin said reasonably, sitting at the foot of a box diving up coins in stacks. "We simply have to pay him. Come on boys, turn out your pockets."
"How do we know he wont betray us?" Dwalin and Thorin exchanged grim expressions.
"We don't," the king answered.
"He's not going to betray us," Sylven rolled her eyes. "He's nothing to gain by it. What should he do, tell the guards he's a smuggler?"
"And speaking of smuggling, there's just a wee problem," Balin fixed everyone with a hard eye. "We're ten coins short."
"Gloin," Thorin crossed his arms as the harry man huffed. "Come on. Show us what you have."
"Don't look to me!" he puffed. "I have been bled dry by this venture, and what have I seen for my investment?"
As he continued to bluster, all others fell silent. Sylven lifted her head, and from the mist came another much farther sentinel.
The Lonely Mountain appeared once again, only the black top puncturing the mist. Sylven helped Kili to his feet while Gloin's words dropped off, and he to rose is the shadow of the colossus. He pulled out a little pouch, shoving it to Balin. "Bless my beard… Take it. Take all of it."
Bilbo cleared his throat, and they all returned to themselves as Bard approached.
"The money, quick. Give it to me."
"We will pay you when we get our provisions but not before," Thorin said in a very final tone.
"If you value your freedom, you'll do as I say," Bard said exasperatedly. "There are guards ahead."
Mistrustful glances mixed around as the ghostly shapes of Laketown swelled up ahead, but Balin gathered the coins of silver into a single pouch and handed them to Bard.
"Good, now into the barrels," Bard nodded, moving to the rudder.
"Now wait just a minute," Oin complained.
"Just do it!" Fili urged, and the dwarves reluctantly began piling back into their barrels, first a few of them helping Bofur, then Fili and Sylven helped Kili climb into his.
"This is mad," Kili muttered as Sylven swung a leg over the barrel beside him, balancing on the edge before dropping in. "Never pay the ferryman till you reach your destination, everyone knows that."
"I don't think there's a choice," she reminded him, squeezing back down.
Bard eased them in towards the outer docks of the town, the barge making a loud thunk as it bumped the wood of the dock. He leapt out lightly, tying them in before calling out a greeting, heading out of what little sight Sylven had of him.
"Can anyone see anything?" Thorin's voice came from a distance.
"I can," Bilbo answered.
"What's he doing?" Dwalin said a little loudly.
"He's talking to someone. He's pointing right at us! N-now now they're shaking hands!"
"What?" Sylven felt Thorin's rage even from where she sat.
"That filthy thief! He's selling us out," Dwalin sounded vaguely justified.
Metal clanked above their heads, gears rolling and grinding.
Sylven looked to the white sky, and then a rain of fish smashed down upon them, ramming into the empty spaces of the barrels and pelting them with freezing slimy flesh. By the time the downpour was done, they were all completely submerged in ice preserved fish. Sylven gaged, squirming as she tried to catch a breath between the dead things that didn't reek of lake catch as they shoved off again.
"Quiet!" Bard warned them. "We're approaching the toll gate."