A/N: Apologies, dear readers, for the lengthy breaks between updates. Gives us more time to edit, though, and ultimately results in better chapters. Thanks, one and all, to you who've been so consistently reading and reviewing. Couldn't do it without your encouragement and kind reviews. You guys are all ridiculously awesome. And now for another installment in the saga of Billa Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield!

dearreader: Sorry for missing your question in one of your earlier reviews. Actually, we didn't know Evangeline Lily had said that her hair gave her a headache, but I suppose it makes sense. Fun coincidence. :D

Thirty Five

Thorin exchanged a meaningful look with Balin. They'd been riding in the poor man's livelihood, and most of those barrels- when they were retrieved- would probably be unfit for anything but burning. But it couldn't have been helped.

"We'll pay you well, bargeman. Half up front, half when we have the rest of our supplies." Bard and Balin quickly reached an agreement on what would be fair, and the dwarves wearily retrieved the required amount from their seams (Gloin grumbling rather loudly to himself), and presented the coins to Bard before boarding the barge.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Dwalin rumbled in Thorin's ear. "Trustin' a LakeMan with the lion's share o' our money."

Thorin was standing in the bow. "Or we could wait here to be caught by the Elves- or worse. Do you think we're in any shape to defend ourselves?"

"All the same, I don't like the looks of 'im."

Ori helped Billa sit against the side, huddling beside her. "Don't worry. We'll be warm and dry soon, I think." She smiled reassuringly at the shivering halfling, but she was inwardly troubled.

The dwarves were not a happy lot, and referred to their companion almost exclusively as "bargeman" or "hey, you." Balin sat near the helm, speaking quietly with the man, whose name was Bard. He was uncomfortable with the situation, to be sure, but he glanced worriedly and often at Kili and Billa.

"Hardly more than children," he murmured, his brow creased with mingled anxiety and concern. "'Misfortune' hardly seems a fair descriptor."

"They're hardier than they look," said Balin in an undertone. "But sometimes I wonder if it was wise to bring them."

The air grew chill and damp as they moved further out into LongLake. Soon, chunks of ice were floating by them, and it became clear that the weather had not been kindly to the men of Laketown. A sudden, icy breeze tore the clinging mist asunder. For a moment, the shape of a single, jagged peak could be seen on the horizon, looming solemnly over the land.

Kili was shuddering like a leaf in an autumn gale, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as his brother held his hand and whispered encouragement. They'd be safe soon, Fili said. They would get to Laketown, then he could rest properly. The opiates had, at least, eased much of the pain, but the young dwarf was still in a bad way, his system struggling to overcome the strain of shock and blood loss.

Thorin looked on, tight-lipped, and the only thing that momentarily relaxed the concerned frown on his face was the sight of the LonelyMountain, lurking darkly behind the mist like the great beast that dwelt beneath it. They were nearly there. Nearly home. The thought roused his sinking spirits. Home.

He paced across the deck, ducking under the pivoting spar, and caught sight of Billa huddling beside Ori. His frown returned. She wasn't well- that much was immediately clear. He moved quickly over to her, bending down to speak more privately, his hands clasped behind him.

"Nearly there, Billa."

"She's freezing, Thorin. I can't warm her up." Ori's doleful brown eyes were frightened. Thorin exhaled heavily, hesitating, glancing at the others. They were mostly occupied gazing at the Mountain, looks of wonder and reverence on their exhausted faces. Propriety be damned, Thorin decided, and sat on her other side, pressing her tiny, shivering body into his own. Dwarves were hardier than hobbits, thicker-skinned, warmer. Warm enough to forestall hypothermia. That, at least, he had to offer. As often as he'd needed her in the past, right now, she needed him.

Billa was shivering violently, but having a dwarf on either side seemed to help. "I-I-I'm al-al-r-right, really. Jus-ju-just a li-lit-li-li... a bit cold." The halfling clenched her teeth against the shivering and chattering, but that only brought about another fit of sneezing. There wasn't enough time between the sneezes for her to breathe properly, so by the time she'd finished, she was red-faced and gasping.

Something clattered on the deck, and a moment later, Bard nudged his bow out of the way and dropped his heavy longcoat over the three of them.

"We've still a ways to go." The Lake man's voice was gruff, but his expression was strained and anxious as he glanced from Thorin, Ori, and Billa to Fili and Kili. "When we get closer, you should all move below. We won't get into the city at all if they think I'm breaking code."

Thorin nodded appreciatively, wrapping the coat more fully around Billa. "If it's all the same to you," he said, getting up, "we'll move down now. We're... ill-equipped for this weather." Without bothering to ask, as he was more than a little sure she wouldn't be reasonable about it, he scooped Billa up in his arms, still wrapped in the coat, and moved toward the trap door Bard kicked open for him.

"Fili, Dwalin, bring Kili," he ordered over his shoulder. "The rest of you, move below as you wish." The roof of the hold was low, even by dwarf standards, and Thorin found himself in danger of hitting his head as he moved to a small, flat bench overlain with a blanket, setting the shivering halfling down and resuming his place beside her. He ignored the searching glances of several of the others as they appeared at the bottom of the narrow steps. It was none of their concern how he chose to protect the Company's burglar. He tucked the coat around her again and drew her against his chest.

"Hold on, Billa. We'll be there soon."

The hold of the barge was little more than a crawl-space, really. If one didn't know better, one might think that the trap door was intentionally concealed beneath that pile of rope and canvas. The space was damp and, if possible, even colder than the deck above, though the air was stale and old, smelling of wet tar and soggy bread. The walls were slick with damp, green mold, and tiny icicles dotted the sturdy beams above their heads.

Billa made several incoherent grunting sounds as Thorin settled her against his chest. She was trying to speak, but by then her sinuses were so thoroughly clogged that even if she had managed to find the words, they'd have been near-incomprehensible. At length, wheezing quietly and attempting to wedge herself inside Thorin's coat while he was still wearing it, the halfling let her eyes close. Though she still shivered sporadically, she seemed to be in the process of falling asleep.

Fili wiped the persperation from his brother's skin after he'd been settled on a bench. The move had not been easy for poor Kili- but at least now he seemed to be unconscious. It wasn't a peaceful unconsciousness, but at least he wasn't moaning and twitching in pain anymore. Sitting back with an exhausted sigh, he shuddered and tried not to let the burning in his throat turn into real tears. Small. Soft. Warm. Someone sat beside him, and Fili shot a surprised look into large, anxious brown eyes. Ori. She was twisting her knitted arm-warmers around her wrists.

"They'll be alright," he offered with a brave smile, covering one of her hands with his. "We all will. You'll see." He had nothing at all to substantiate the claim, but it was infinitely better than just letting her sit and look frightened.

Ori nodded a little, tugging fretfully on one of her ribbon-wound braids. She'd braided ribbons into her hair for no other reason than there was nothing better to do in the Elvenking's dungeons. She couldn't help but wonder if anyone had noticed- or would notice. But something in Fili's voice and manner was reassuring, even if she sensed he doubted his own claims.

"I hope so," she said, smiling faintly. "I'd be sad if we lost either of them. They've always been so kind to me. Well, not to say you haven't," she corrected herself quickly, "because you've been wonderful. Just I... oh, I don't know." Her cheeks began to feel very warm, and she knew she was blushing. Again.

Fili politely averted his eyes, pretending not to notice her blush and trying very hard not to smile. It seemed somehow rude to be so cheered by her embarrassment. Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he sighed, feeling a little less like the world was falling apart.

"It's frightening," he admitted, his words almost a whisper in his effort not to be overheard, "the idea that either of them might... not be with us anymore. Honestly, I think Uncle will forbid it." He chuckled weakly, and shook his head. "But... I guess... I get the feeling they've both lived through worse. They have no excuse. They have to... we're too close." The blond glanced at her, feeling anxiety clawing at his chest, and at the same time, a smile tugged at his lips. Perhaps his sense of humor was broken, but laughter was fighting to escape along with the desperate pleas to the Valar to save his brother.

Thorin leaned against the wall, feeling strangely... drowsy. It seemed the harrowing escape in the barrels coupled with the horror of believing- even for a minute- that his nephew was dead was an exhausting combination.

This felt very nice, he admitted to himself. Being with her. Being beside her. Not just because it had been something he'd longed for for some time- holding his burglar to himself, protecting her with his own arms- but also because, well, she didn't seem to mind. Quite the opposite, in fact. He wondered faintly if, after she was well again, she would be upset with him. Pretend it hadn't happened. Make as little of it as he would ordinarily have made of it himself. In some small, but insistent corner of his heart, he very much hoped not.

Ori blushed even redder than she had before. It was a curse to have to display her emotions so obviously- like being an open book. But Fili's hand was very warm, and his grip firm. Calm. Reassuring. In spite of her embarrassment, which she knew would pass, she was comforted.

"Your uncle has led us well. I trust him. And," she fidgeted a little, the sides of her worn and scuffed leather boots scraping together out of habit, "I trust you." She sneaked a nervous glance at his bemused, blue-grey eyes. "You did a good job, I think, leading us in the forest when Thorin was asleep. Maybe someday I'll... write a poem about it. Not that my poetry's much good," she added quietly, looking down at their entwined hands. Fili barely had time for more than a self-conscious chuckle before something fist-shaped hit the back of his neck hard enough to make stars pop in front of his eyes. A moment later, he was on his back on the floor, though he hadn't the faintest idea how he'd gotten there, and Nori was kneeling on his chest.

"I warned you," he growled. "I warned you about touchin' my sister." Ori jumped up, startled, horror written all over her face.

"Nori! What are you doing?" She grabbed her brother's arm, trying with all her (very limited) might to pull him off of Fili. She didn't succeed. "He was only trying to help, Nori. He didn't do anything wrong!"

Thorin stiffened and sat up, opening his eyes sleepily. "What's the meaning of this? What happened?" Based on the current position of the row's participants, he could fairly well guess what had happened.

While Ori was trying to pull her brother off of Fili, Nori was digging his knee into Fili's ribs. The blond blinked, trying to clear his head while his lungs labored against a great weight. But he wasn't completely helpless. Now that Nori was distracted, Fili reached up, grabbed the older dwarf's shirt-front, and heaved him to the side. Nori growled a curse, but as Fili tried to roll to his feet, he bashed his own head against the side of the bench he'd just been sitting on, and sat down with a grunt of pain.

By now, Billa was awake, and slipping unsteadily off of Thorin. She landed on the floor with a bump and a yelp that turned into a storm of sneezes. The halfling's eyes and nose ran terribly as she sneezed and sneezed, trying desperately to breathe.

Ori shot a rather furious look at her brother, kneeling next to Fili. "Are you alright?" She inspected his head, her dainty fingers separating his golden mane to see if he'd split his scalp open. To her relief, there was little more than an angry, reddening bump. She patted it, because that was really all she could think to do, looking guilty.

"I'm sorry, Fili. I didn't... I mean, he wasn't..." It was her fault, what had happened. She'd known her brother might react this way.

"Shoulda seen it coming," Fili whispered with a self-deprecating shrug. His gaze landed on Nori, who was anchored to the bench with Gloin holding his arms and Bofur sitting on him, looking smug.

"Give 'er a kiss fer us, lad," urged the hatted dwarf with a mischievous grin. "We can 'old 'im." Fili could feel the heat rising in his face and prayed it wasn't visible. Shooting a side-long look at Ori, he shook his head.

"Ignore them," he muttered, as Gloin chuckled.

Ori shrank into a little ball on the floor, flushing with embarrassment at the thought. Not that she would've minded overly much if Fili had... well. It just... made her feel strange, all melty and warm inside. She withdrew her hands into her arm warmers and lowered her head to her knees, tucking into herself like some sort of dwarven turtle. If anyone asked, she'd say she was cold.

Thorin glowered at Nori, quickly retrieving Billa from the floor.

Balin pressed a handkerchief into her hand. "Here ya are, Lass."

"Are you hurt, Billa?" Before she could answer, there was a shout from the deck.

"Everyone below. Now! We're approaching the gate." Bard's hushed voice was just audible below deck, and one by one, the remaining dwarves dropped into the hold, and the trap door banged shut after them.

Billa buried her face in Balin's handkerchief and gasped for air as her sneezes subsided. Leaning limply against Thorin, the halfling closed her eyes. Her coloring went from flushed to pallid in the space a few heartbeats. She looked absolutely miserable.

"I hate b-b-be-bein' sick," she mumbled thickly, starting to shiver again.

Thorin swaddled Billa in Bard's coat once more. It was an old, worn thing, and smelled like sweat, wet leather and damp wool, but it was warm, and for the moment, that made it priceless.

"Hold on, Billa," Thorin rumbled in what he fancied was a soothing tone. "I'll have you inside by a fire in a moment." If all goes well. There was some amount of discussion up on deck, Bard's voice and an unfamiliar, strongly accented male voice. The dwarves listened, barely daring to breathe, for a few tense minutes. Then heavy footsteps approached above them, accompanied by very distinct words.

"Sorry, Bard, but I hafta check the hold. Master's orders. No exceptions." The dwarves in the hold were still as statues, eyes fixed on the boards above, straining their ears. Bard laughed, but it was a harsh, humorless sound.

"Come now, Deno. What could I have down there? You know as well as I do the only cargo I ever haul in the hold is fish, and it's the wrong season for that. I've already lost today's shipment, don't let's delay any more. I want to be home by my own hearth before tonight's ice sets in."

Billa shuddered, eyes watering as she all but smothered herself with the handkerchief, trying not to sneeze.

"I know, I know," said Deno, sounding apologetic. "Don't worry. It won't take but a moment. There've been some... incidents these past few weeks what have put the Master on edge. They're watching me, he said. Might come down on me own family, ya know, if I let anything slide." The door creaked open, and yellow lantern-light started to creep into the dim crawl-space below. A shadow stretched across the wall as Bard leaned down and clasped Deno's hand, pressing a goodly sum of money into his palm, wrapped in a bit of canvas to stop the coins making noise.

"They've sick and injured," the bargeman murmured, barely loud enough for those closest to the trap door to hear. "I've promised them aid... without it, they may die."

Deno hesitated, leaning down to peer into the crawlspace. The dwarves saw his blunt-featured face staring at them, illumined harshly in the light of his lamp.

"Dwarves?!" The whisper was awash with astonishment. "But I... Dwarves, Bard? Here?" It sounded almost as though he considered them something sprung from legend, more fairy-story than fact. How brief was the memory of Men. Thorin stood up slowly, moving into the shifting golden arc of the lantern.

"We have returned," he said simply.

Deno looked even more baffled. "But you're... but the... oh my." He sighed, turning back to Bard. "The Master'd kill me if he knew I'd allowed a group of dwarves smuggled into Laketown. But I... well, what am I to do?"

"What's going on there?" said an oily voice, from the deck. "What have you found, Deno?"

"Oh. Alfrid." Deno sounded terribly conflicted. He glanced back at the expectant, pleading faces of the dwarves. A weighty beat of silence.

"Uh, it's nothin'," he said at last, turning away. "Empty. Just thought I saw a... er... a rat."

"A rat?" Alfrid's greasy skepticism made Fili shiver. He had an arm around Ori's shoulders now, shielding her from sight, his eyes fixed on the opening above them.

"You'll have to take care of that, Bard," sneered Alfrid. "There's a fine for bringing pests into the city. Some'ow, I don't think rats are the only pests on board." There was a threatening note to his voice now, and the dwarves held their breath.

Billa wheezed frantically behind Thorin, still sitting on the bench where he'd left her. Balin was supporting her as she lost the fight, letting loose a minor explosion of sneezing. She suppressed it violently, face scrunched and weeping, the very damp handkerchief clamped over her nose and mouth- so the noise she made was like a loud, strangled squeak. There was silence on deck for a long moment.

"What was that?" asked Alfrid, his voice low and malicious. Deno seemed a bit at a loss. He hemmed and hawed for a moment, searching for words, then produced a very fake sounding cough.

"That was... that was me, Alfrid. Sorry. It's the blasted cold. Comin' down with somethin', I shouldn't wonder."

Alfrid scoffed. "Whadda you take me for? A simpleton like the common folk? A fool like you, Deno? I wanna know what you're protectin'. Guards, search the 'old."

Thorin turned back to the others with a look of dismay. "We'll never get anywhere trying to fight them," he said quickly, as the clanking of armor and weapons approached the entrance to the crawlspace. "I'll get us out of this when we've had a chance to explain ourselves." Dwalin glowered unhappily but saw that Thorin was right. Fighting would be no use. The first guard dropped through the trap door, and let out a cry of alarm.

"Dwarves, sir!" he called. "A whole gaggle of 'em."

"Dwarves?" Alfrid sounded incredulous and, for once, completely surprised. "Bring 'em up!" As the Company was herded up on deck, tight groups forming around Ori, Kili, and Billa, the guards watched them. One, the younger of the two and the one who had jumped into the hold, seemed rather awed by them, while the older glared at them suspiciously. Alfrid had a nasty smile on his sallow face, and was poking Bard in the chest with one long finger.

"You're in 'ot water now, aren't you? The great bowman, smugglin' dwarves into Laketown. Wait 'til the Master 'ears about this."

Bard ignored Alfrid, but looked at Balin with a sorrowful shrug. They were all in for it now. "Sorry, friends."

They were marched off the barge and across a series of decks and ramshackle bridges in the shadows of tall, slapdash houses, all separated by a broad, filthy channel. The townsfolk stared in wonder as the group passed, the children leaning out of windows to get a better look, or pointing, tugging insistently at their mothers' aprons or their fathers' sleeves.

Thorin held his head high, a very ill-looking Billa bundled up in his arms. As much as he disliked being a spectacle, he'd carry himself like the royalty he was. Alfrid was bringing up the rear, smirking at Bard and barking at the guards now and then to "'urry it up." When they reached a surprisingly grand courtyard before a large, well-maintained structure with heavy double doors, they drew to a halt. Alfrid slipped inside, and a moment later, returned with a slouching, orange-haired man in fine, pompous clothes. The Master.

"Well, what's all this?" he cried in a plummy voice, looking rather bewildered.

Dwalin stepped forward, sweeping a guard's spear aside contemptuously to reach the front of the group. "We are the Dwarves of Erebor," he said in a great voice, his expression hard. "We are led by Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain." There was an unmistakable note of pride in the warrior's rough voice.

Fili, stooped under the unconscious weight of his injured brother, glanced at his uncle and felt the same pride and admiration that the others did. Thorin was every inch a king, even burdened with a violently shivering hobbit-lass. Billa looked small and frail in his arms, and Fili felt a stab of worry for the poor thing. Had her time in the river really done so much harm? The Master looked startled, overwhelmed, as though it had never occured to him that those silly legends about the Mountain King returning might actually be true.

"Really?" he said, glancing from Dwalin to Thorin and then to Alfrid beside him. "Caught sneaking in on a barge, you said? Hmmm. This doesn't portend well." A few curious townsfolk had begun to drift in behind the dwarves now, hoping to see something interesting.

"Thorin, is it?" The Master nodded to himself. "Then why, Thorin, must a king sneak about like a... spy? Hmm?"

"We are not spies," said Thorin wearily. "We met with ill fortune at the hands of Thranduil and were told your town wouldn't take kindly to those fallen afoul of the Elvenking. Empty-handed and low as we seem, we are in earnest. We seek to reclaim Erebor, and with your aid, I believe it can be done." The Master looked very concerned at the mention of Thranduil. He'd grown wealthy trading with the Woodland Realm, and wasn't about to jeopordize his primary source of income. "Why should I? What would I stand to gain?"

Dwalin let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Is the memory of Men so short?" he asked scathingly. "If we reclaim Erebor, we shall have a dragon's hoard at our disposal. Wealth will flow through this land again. This was once a land of craftsmen and artisans, proud of their trades and rightly so. Have the men of Esgaroth forgotten?"

The townspeople murmured among themselves, and soon all eyes were on the Master. He shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Alfrid. Running a beefy hand over his thin, shockingly orange hair, the man frowned, trying to look thoughtful rather than uncertain. Thorin adjusted his grip on the halfling. As light as she seemed in his arms, he couldn't hold her weight indefinitely. They needed a warm fire and blankets, soon. He'd assessed fairly well now what sort of man the Master was, so getting him to see things his way wouldn't be too difficult.

"All will share in the wealth of the Mountain," he said so the enthused crowd could hear. "For your service to us, you will be handsomely rewarded. Your city- which I see even now falls into ruin- will be rebuilt to rival Dale of old itself. You stand to gain much, Master of the LakeMen."

Ori saw that Fili was struggling to support Kili and moved to the dark-haired dwarf's other side. "I can take a little of his weight," she offered timidly, inserting herself under Kili's limp arm. He wasn't very heavy, tall as he was, but all the same, he was dead weight, still unconscious, his head hanging to one side.

Fili accepted Ori's help gratefully, and adjusted his brother's arm around his own shoulders and tightened his grip on Kili's waist. His arm was getting very sore, but he refused to loosen his grip even one jot, lest the injured dwarf slip from his grasp. At least his baby brother was still unconscious. Otherwise this would be unbearable for him.

"Thanks, Ori," he whispered. "Don't know what I'd do without you."

The Master licked his lips, envisioning wall-to-wall piles of coins and jewels filling his halls- no, filling the halls of the palace he'd build for himself. As speculative as this venture was, greed won out over his common sense. Besides, the townsfolk might very well riot at this point if he refused them.

"You make an excellent offer," he said, rubbing his hands together like a landed fly. "And I accept it. Welcome, King Under the Mountain. Welcome, and thrice welcome!" Cheers erupted from the assembled throng, and even Alfrid was grinning, momentarily distracted from the irksome fact that Bard would go unpunished.