16
The general noise about the table indicated a party in the Master's halls. Tables, piled high with more food than most of the population combined ate in a week, were surrounded by guests, all of whom were in varying states of inebriation. Amidst the men, a few elves sat, politely turning down any ale that was offered in their direction, choosing instead to dent the supplies of the wine that they had brought down from their home. The wood-panelled walls were lined with banners, depicting the coat of arms of both Esgaroth and Mirkwood.
At the far end of the table, facing the carved wooden doors, sat a lavishly dressed man, whose size caused more distinction between himself and the thin population than his clothes ever could. From his shoulders hung a fur cloak, the inside lined with blood-red velvet. His black jacket looked smart, the buttons made from gold, and from his neck a gold chain hung, a large key that served no practical purpose dangling from it. His clothes and wealth came from no produce of his own, but rather from the heavy taxation of the rest of the population, which was then used to purchase countless things from the elves that now sat around his table. These goods were then sold to the people of Esgaroth for at least twice their worth, and the gold had slowly built up for him and his family. He would put possibly fifty percent of his earnings to the prosperity of Esgaroth, and it was in this way that he had retained his title as Master of Esgaroth.
The Master, whose name was Daryun, stood up, a large glass of wine in his hand, and cleared his throat noisily.
"Well, I thank you all for coming," he began. "Though I thank you less for the excavation of my pantry that you have caused."
A few amused chuckles broke out around the table, as Daryun masked his own irritation with a joke.
"Nevertheless, I hope that you are all enjoying yourselves," he continued. "But how could we forget why we celebrate? We are here to honour the return of my son, and the new passage of trade that his return has brought us. Now I shall keep this short and to the point, because I think you all know how much I hate a long speech to interrupt a good party. These new trade routes, and the goods that they shall carry, shall swell the coffers of both our towns. Now, it is all very well and good for the elves to the north to be able to produce such finery under our own steam, but here, I'm pretty sure that the only thing that we locally produce is fish."
More laughter broke masking the noise of the door quietly slipping open, admitting two sentinels from the west bridge. Daryun met with the first sentinel's eyes, before turning back to his guests.
"However, thanks to this new agreement, the transportation of more raw goods from the great northern forest shall allow us to produce more of our own local goods than ever before. Previously, if you were anything other than a fisherman, then life in this town was very hard for you, but thanks to these new imports, we shall grow as a town, while at the same time adding enough to the Elvenking's treasury to keep him happy."
He tilted his glass towards the elves, who smiled thinly. The sentinel was looking increasingly impatient, tapping his fingers against his leg. Daryun noticed this, and after shooting an irritated look in his direction, lifted his glass once more.
"I hope that this new trade will mark the first night of many good ones for both our people, and that this will lead us into a bright and prosperous future."
Daryun finally drank, and a smattering of applause broke out. As Daryun set his glass down on the table, he smiled.
"Now if you'll excuse me a minute, there seems to be something very important going on at the west bridge, that my sentinels are so very desperate to tell us about."
Daryun left the table and walked over to the sentinel, the smile slowly turning into a snarl.
"What is it that was so important that you felt the need to interrupt my speech?" Daryun murmured.
"Sir, three dwarves and a Halfling came to the bridge."
"Well, send them on their way, if that is the case, or else kill them quietly and throw their bodies in the lake! Nothing excuses interrupting this party!"
"No, sir, you will want to meet them-"
"Will I?" Daryun snapped coldly. "Tell me, do you know who is here tonight?"
The sentinel shook his head. Daryun pointed to one of the elves seated around the table.
"That is Thindor, the Elvenking's nephew. Never before has he graced our table, and thanks to your antics, he probably thinks that I am a fool. Now you had better have a good reason for embarrassing me like that or I swear that you will find yourselves without a job. Speak very quickly."
"Sir, one of the dwarves claimed to be-"
Before he could finish, the doors of the hall burst open, causing them all to jump with fright. The elves leapt to their feet with reflexes only gifted to their kind as they recognised exactly who was entering.
"Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain!" Thorin announced as he entered, and the room fell absolutely silent. "At your service."
The Master watched as the Thindor's face contorted into a mask of rage, as he stared at Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, and Bilbo.
"What are you doing here?" Thindor snarled. "You're meant to be locked up!"
"It is true that the Elvenking has wrongfully waylaid us, but we are on a quest, and we will not be halted by any will save our own," Thorin explained cryptically.
"Yes, you see, when you all left chasing after that non-existent army of orcs in your forest, we found it very dull without your company," Kíli smirked, arms tucked behind his back. "So, unsatisfied with our hosts, we decided that we had clearly outstayed our welcome."
"Thank you, Kíli, that'll do," Thorin growled.
Thindor's face, if possible, grew angrier, and it took a calming hand on his shoulder by one of the elves in his company to stop him throwing himself at Kíli as he realised the implications of what had been said.
"Why are you here?" Daryun asked, trying to keep his tone neutral. He did not wish to antagonise the elves at his table, but equally, if the dwarves before him were, in fact, the remnants of the people of Erebor, then they could prove to be a useful ally in the future.
"I have come to ask the good people of Esgaroth for aid. My companions and I are weary, for we have travelled far, and spending weeks in the dungeons of the Elvenking has not aided us." At this, Thorin shot a glare towards Thindor, who now simply looked sceptical.
"You were trespassers in my king's land, and you refused to tell us why you were there, what were we supposed to think?"
"Why were you in Mirkwood?" Daryun asked, his tone lacking the hostility of Thindor's.
"I will not speak freely of our quest in front of our enemies."
"You will, if you desire our help."
Thorin shot a glare in Thindor's direction, and took a deep breath. "Very well. We are on a quest to reclaim Erebor from Smaug."
A moment of silence fell, in which Thindor had nothing to say, and the Master's eyebrows shot up.
"...With four of you?"
"No, there are more of us," Fíli said calmly. "We are simply the advance party. One of our companions is injured on the riverside, and we have come to ask for your aid. If, however, we are not welcome, then we shall return to them, and attempt to cross the wilds."
"However, as you undoubtedly know, the wilds are not kind to those injured," Kíli continued, allowing his arms to fall to his sides. "Without your aid, you would essentially be condemning him to death. While that would not stop us from reclaiming our homeland, it should be noted that this companion is a dear friend of ours. If he were to die, then his blood would be on your hands. The line of Durin has a long memory, and my brother and I are young..."
They allowed the silence to settle, and for the implications of their words to sink in, before Thindor broke the silence.
"You would seek to reclaim Erebor with fourteen of you?" Thindor burst out laughing. "I am sorry, but that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard-"
"ENOUGH!" Thorin commanded with all the authority of his line. "You say that we have no chance of reclaiming our homeland, but you said exactly the same thing about escaping from your king's dungeons, and we succeeded in that. We are not basing the success of this quest on force of arms, but on stealth. And while we are in such a revealing mood, we would like to inform you that this quest has the blessing of the wizard, Gandalf, and if you seek to halt us, or drag us back to your fortress, then you shall invoke his wrath."
Thindor raised his eyebrows, before looking towards the Master.
"Very well," he said coldly. "Help him, if you so wish. We will not hinder you. But mark my words, Thorin Oakenshield. If you seek to take Erebor from Smaug, then destroy him, quickly and quietly. Otherwise, he will come and destroy the very people to whom you came begging for help, and who were unwise enough to oblige." He turned and addressed the room in general. "The only gold that you shall see in return for your help of the dwarves will be dragon-fire as it lights up the skies. The only warmth that you shall feel from Erebor this winter will be when you stand by and watch your homes burn. You think that Mithrandir's wrath scares me, Oakenshield? His wrath will be nothing to Smaug's ire when he seeks revenge. If you continue on your foolhardy quest, then you will destroy yourself, your companions, and everyone who ever aided you!"
Thindor strode to the door, but as he opened it, he looked to the Master.
"Some reward."
The door fell shut after his companions with a loud bang, as everyone watched him leave.
"Well," Fíli muttered. "He's optimistic."
"I hope that this is to your liking," Daryun said, as he opened the door to the house. "Fourteen, you said?"
"Yes, that is correct," Thorin followed Daryun into what could only be described as a mansion amongst the small cottages that surrounded it.
"It is fully furnished," Daryun explained. "It was originally set up to house the constituency from Mirkwood, but given as how they've left, I assume that there is no problem with you staying here?"
Thorin's face slowly hardened, but before he could say anything, Bilbo interrupted.
"No, this is wonderful," Bilbo assured Daryun.
Thorin schooled his features into a tight smile that refused to reach his eyes.
"So when do you think that your nephews will return with the remainder of your company?" Daryun asked, his smile as genuine as Thorin's.
"By dawn, I expect," Thorin responded, no longer bothering to keep up the act. "As much as anything else, they will not want to spend another night sleeping on the ground. They will return as soon as they can."
Daryun was nodding before Thorin had finished speaking. "Good." He exhaled, the forced smile no longer masking the fact that something was pressing on his mind. "That's... good."
"Is there a problem?" Bilbo asked, knowing that Thorin would probably have the same level of tact in this situation as the average orc.
"Listen... I shall be honest with you," Daryun began. "I know how you reacted to Prince Thindor's parting words... you treated it as though it was nothing..."
"We have experienced that response from many people," Thorin replied coldly. "The elf's words were nothing new."
"Yes, you understand that it is all very well for you to go marching to your own deaths, but what you understand is that if you invoke the wrath of Smaug, we are also very likely to suffer."
"We do not know for certain if Smaug is even there," Thorin said.
"Yes, but what if he is?" Daryun pointed out. "What if Smaug is still there, and you disturb him? For sixty years we have lived in peace. We have forged lives for ourselves. We have made a home here!"
"And we have lost ours!"
"What makes your home any better than ours?" Daryun growled. "It is all very well for you to gamble with your own lives, but you cannot gamble with ours! Fourteen of you cannot take down Smaug once he is awake!"
"Then we shall do it while he is asleep," Thorin said. "You see, Smaug will be disturbed sooner or later. Rumours of Erebor's wealth fall short of the truth, and the rumours that it now lies unguarded will draw every thief, plunderer, king and army who ever hears of it to this point like moths to a flame. If Smaug is indeed there, then he will be disturbed, by us or by others, and all that you get to decide is who you help, and who you leave to fight Smaug on their own. And if Smaug is not there, then your choice is simple – aid those who own that gold by right, or aid those who simply seek to swell their own coffers. But soon, it will become known whether Smaug lies there or not, and if you help us now, then I can assure you that, should our quest prove successful, we will reward you, and you will forever have the gratitude and friendship of Erebor."
"And if it doesn't?"
Thorin did not smile, but his gaze softened slightly. "I assure you, Master Daryun, that I will do everything in my power to prevent Smaug from harming you."
Daryun looked away from Thorin, the unspoken words lingering between them.
Will your power be enough?
The sky had lightened from an inky black to the deep blue that precedes dawn when Bilbo woke. For a brief moment, he wondered where he was, upon realising that he was in a bed, and the thought that he was back in Bag End fleetingly passed through his mind. But memories of the previous night caught up with him a moment later, and he recalled the large house that Daryun had showed them after Fíli and Kíli had left to go and retrieve the rest of the company in a boat lent to them by a large man who had seemed unbelievably reluctant to aid them in any way. He remembered the dark mutterings of the man, Bard, who had made no effort to hide his reaction to Thindor's words.
It suddenly occurred to Bilbo that Thorin had said that Fíli and Kíli should have returned. Crossing the bedroom, which was surprisingly large, although that may have been due to the fact that it was designed for the big folk as opposed to hobbits and dwarves, he pulled back the curtains and opened the doors onto the balcony.
His first thought was that it was quiet. This could have had something to do with the fact that for the first time in months, he was not sharing a house with several loud dwarves whose idea of relaxing differed from any civilised folk, and usually involved beer, shouting, and 'relaxing' in a house where someone else would need to clean up. It could also have had something to do with the fact that it was the crack of dawn, and the two occupants of this very large house were not the only ones who had had an exciting evening beforehand. A cool wind blew at Bilbo's face as he stepped outside, and for a brief moment, Bilbo smiled.
The wind picked up, and Bilbo heard a noise that broke through the tranquillity of the area.
"...Dwalin, if you complain about your leg one more time, there will be blood."
"Bofur, you would never be able to beat him in a fight."
"I don't care, every time I fell asleep last night, he'd wake me up with his groaning."
"At least you got to sleep last night, some of us were rowing a boat up a river."
"I'm sure it could have been worse," came Balin's measured voice.
"The river was flowing the other way! Rowing is hard enough as it is with only one hand!"
"Look on the bright side, Kíli," Fíli said calmly.
"What bright side?"
"We're back now. As soon as we figure out where this boat goes and where we're staying, we can relax."
Bilbo couldn't help but grin as a boat came into view, carrying the company. They were rowing through the town between the houses, which were set on stilts and connected by wooden paths that allowed the citizens of Lake-Town to walk from one place to another, rather than swim or sail.
Before the dwarves noticed him, Bilbo slipped back inside, shutting the balcony door against the wind, and hurried down the stairs. He stepped outside in time to hear the end of Kíli's response.
"...Yes, staying with our esteemed leader," Kíli muttered sarcastically. "Always a bright side-"
"Bilbo!" Balin exclaimed, finally noticing the hobbit standing in the doorway.
"Hello," Bilbo said. "It's good to see you all. I take it you survived the trip?"
"Yes, ah, Bilbo?" Fíli asked. "You wouldn't by any chance know where the man who lent us this boat lives?"
It did not escape Bilbo's attention that the company were getting out of the boat. "Bard? Yes, why?"
"Bilbo, are we staying here?" Bofur asked, before Fíli could answer.
"Yes," Bilbo called over his shoulder, before turning back to Fíli and Kíli, the former of whom had already disembarked.
"Listen, would you mind taking the boat back to Bard? It's just that... we really don't know where he is, and..." he paused momentarily to catch the rope that Kíli had just thrown him, "...we actually cannot row any more-"
"Yes, well, actually-" Bilbo stuttered angrily as Fíli pressed the rope into his hands and Kíli joined them on the wooden pavement.
"We've been rowing all night," Kíli interrupted. "And when you see him, could you please tell him, that we are very grateful for his help."
Somehow, Fíli and Kíli had both managed to pass Bilbo and make it to the door, through which all members of the company had now disappeared. Bilbo spluttered indignantly as Fíli and Kíli both gave him what they evidently believed to be winning smiles.
"Well, actually, I do mind! I was enjoying a good night's sleep before-"
But Fíli and Kíli had long gone, and Bilbo was left standing there, clutching a rope that was tied to a rowing boat.
"Hello, Bilbo, it's nice to see you too," he muttered to himself.
A/N: So, yeah, we have now got the entire company to Lake-Town, which took far more hassle than it should have. (Damn you, Dwalin...) Now, you remember all those little scenes that I wrote earlier that seem to have been spliced from a different story that you had absolutely no idea what on earth I was banging on about? Yeah, well, I'm going to revisit some of them in the next few chapters in a way that may or may not work.