A/N: AND because I screwed up the chapters and had to go back and fix them, I'm giving you guys two chapters in one shot! Well...technically it's three chapters but these last chapters are actually in order...
But thank you for all the lovely reviews. I've had to repost several chapters. My apologies dear readers.
Chapter Summary: The Master of Laketown makes an appearance.
"Well?" the dark haired man's voice held a bite to it as he narrowed his gaze at Lyla, "What have you to say then halfling?"
Lyla narrowed her eyes in return, meeting the challenging gaze that the man had thrown at her, "I am half of nothing." She muttered, "And as it is, I come on this quest by request of an old friend and in the aid of new ones."
And then she sneezed.
"And what is this quest you speak of. We've not had dealings with dwarves in quite some time," The man remarked, his gaze still narrowed, though curiousity shone in his brown eyes.
"You're a man from Laketown if I'm not mistaken," Balin interjected coming to stand at the head of the group as someone pulled her gently deeper into the folds of the company's collective embrace.
"What of it?" The man remarked contemptuously.
"Perhaps we can come to an accord of some kind?" Balin suggesting, playing the peacekeeping delegate role with perfection. His calm demeanor and kind eyes gave him an air of trust.
One that the man with his hair pulled back and eyes narrowed, didn't seem to approve of. He gazed at the white-haired dwarf cautiously.
"I do not know of any 'accord' that can be reached with a group of travel wearied dwarves who've got naught but a penny to their name."
"I believe what my companion means to suggest, is that we may have a similar interest, man of Laketown," Thorin's voice carried the air of authority and majesty Lyla had come to find inherent in his character, as he stepped forward next to Balin, while the rest of the company rallied behind him, shielding the hobbit from the arrow in the man's bow. "I am Thorin some of Thrain son of Thror, rightful king under the mountain."
"And what if," the man retorted, his voice dripping with contempt as realization dawned in his demeanor, "what if, Master Thorin, we are not aligned in a common cause? What if I simply choose to strike your company down now?"
Legolas, to Lyla's utter surprise, was suddenly in front of the company, his own bow drawn aiming at the bowman before him, eyes narrowed in contempt.
"Then you would die before your stroke fell."
Why was he protecting them?
"We come to reclaim our homeland," Thorin remarked unruffled by the growing tension between himself, Legolas and the dark-haired man, "Surely the people of Laketown could benefit from this quest as well?"
The dark haired man deflated at Thorin's declaration, a deep frown upon his features as he lowered his bow. "If you awaken that beast, you will destroy us all," He murmured, his eyes betraying the worry he must have felt. "Your coming, I fear, brings more harm than good to my people."
Lyla's heart hitched at the sight and she wondered, as she did in Thranduil's halls, if Thorin considered the possible repercussions his actions could cause. How many lives might this endeavor cost?
A shiver wracked her body and Bofur pulled her closer, rubbing his hand on her shoulder affectionately.
"I have a duty and a right to my home," Thorin remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly, a frown tugging at his mouth, "You cannot expect me to sit idly by and ignore the plight of my people. We deserve our homeland. The reign of the beast must end."
"And if you fail, what then?" The man asked, bitterness seeping into his voice as he stepped closer, "What happens if the dragon awakens and you are defeated? What happens if it wrath is inflicted upon the innocent of Laketown? Would you really send the guiltless to the slaughter?"
Lyla's worry spiked when Thorin didn't answer.
But the bowman was the only one who seemed to hold a wariness for the dwarves and their quest to reclaim Erebor.
"That's enough if you please!" A high nasally voice commanded as a tall, plump man with graying hair an and beady bird eyes stepped from the bushes to stand near the man with the bow, "Why do you harass guests of Laketown with your fanciful questions and superstitious attitude?"
'Fanciful questions?'
None of those questions had sounded fanciful to Lyla's ears. They were all rather logical if anyone were to ask her.
"What are you doing here Egarion?" The bowman sighed in frustration, "Can you not trust me to do my patrols without feeling the need to interfere?"
The fat Egarion scoffed and wiped his obviously sweaty hand on the lapels of his jacket, "Hardly. You've already proved your uselessness tonight by harassing these travelers! Travelers that have brought the most fortunate news!"
Then Lyla's ears picked up the excited murmur that swept through the trees as at least a dozen men stepped forward, their eyes alight and smiles gracing their features. Her eyes widened at the sheer number of people who had surrounded them without their knowledge. And each man was armed with fine weapons, whether they be a bow or a sword, suggesting, to the weary hobbit, that the inhabitants of Laketown were a suspicious bunch who would were not afraid to fight.
"It's the sign!" One man, a short balding fellow with a scruffy grey beard whispered, "The Master had said that we should be aware of the sign! And here, the Dwarves of Erebor return!"
A low echoing of 'hurrahs' floated about as a few of the group slowly advanced towards the now surprised dwarves.
The dark-haired fellow, Lyla noted, appeared rather displeased by the declaration.
"That's hardly important right now," He snapped at the group of men, "They cannot be allowed to simply march on the mountain. It could spell disaster for Laketown!"
To Lyla's surprise, no one seemed to pay the man any mind anymore. Instead, the men swarmed the dwarves with praises and exclamations of excitement and reverence, pushing the bowman behind them, much to the man's consternation.
"Come!" the balding man stated, standing near Thorin, "We must take you to The Master of Laketown. He will give you a most hearty welcome I can assure you! Plenty of ale and warm food to settle your bellies!"
A murmur of agreement passed amongst the dwarves as Thorin nodded his head, clapping the bald man on the shoulder.
"We cannot do this Bromwen!" the bowman thundered, pushing through the crowd of men and pulling the bald man away from Thorin, "This whole venture spells disaster. We have to proceed with caution! The Master is a fool on this matter!"
The bald man, Bromwen scoffed and pulled his arm from the bowman's grasp, "Your position was given to you out of pity Bard the Bowman. By the very man you just insulted," he sneered, face contorting into an ugly twist mass of lumps and purple veins, "Do not think that you are truly respected amongst the ranks."
A dark chuckle cascaded through the company as the men rallied around Bromwen, clearly favoring his opinion over Bard's. Bard, in turn, growled and lunged towards Bromwen a frustrated fury marring his features.
Only to be held back by a few of the guards surrounding the group. Bard struggled to get his arms free, kicking his feet outwards, a low growl of frustration leaving his lips.
"This is madness!" He huffed, straining his muscles as he twisted, trying to escape the guards' grips.
Lyla winced as they, in turn, jerked Bard backwards and thrust him to the ground a cacophony of laughter echoing up through the group as the men then stepped past him leading the dwarves and Lyla into the forest.
Indeed the rest of the men did not respect this Bard fellow.
Her attention turned back towards Thorin and the man, Bromwen at the head of the new group travelling through the woods towards Laketown. She felt a strange pang run through her.
She gazed back at Bard as Bofur ushered her gently along, though she had the urge to return to the fallen man who had been cast aside by the others.
A few resounding sneezes escape her even as her mind contemplated things.
Something felt…off.
The man, Bard, looked flustered and worried as he hoisted himself to his feet.
But beneath that, Lyla saw something else. Something that set her heart tumbling downwards.
But her muddled mind simply couldn't figure out what that feeling was.
The niggling feeling that Lyla felt in the woods increased tenfold as the company stood before the Master of Laketown. Something was definitely wrong.
In the dim light of the night sky, Lyla gazed around at the people gathered into the square of the center of the town that sat atop the lake, near the tributary where the forest river and the mouth of the lake met together. Threadbare clothing, thin, dirty faces, and tired gazes greeted her. And from what she could see of the houses in the faint light, the wooden edifices mirrored the inhabitants quite well. Thin, dilapidated walls stood, caked in grime. By all account, it appeared that these were hard working people, who received far less than what they obviously needed.
The man who stood atop the staircase of the central home, a lavish thing with stone pillars and intricately carved wooden placards, however, was nothing like what she had expected.
Fat, lavishly clothed in a brightly colored coat trimmed in rich furs, his blonde hair was scraggly and greasy, plastered to his overly round head. A thin mustached, rotting smile was painted on his face as he stretched out his arms in greeting.
But what made Lyla shudder were the eyes. The Master's eyes were small, beady, little things. The color of dull grey stone, that shone with a hard, miserly quality, making him appear shrewd and calculating.
He certainly stood in stark contrast to the rest of the inhabitants of Laketown.
Not like Bard (and she spied the bedraggled bowman shadowing the few people who stood further back, his hair creating a small shield from prying eyes and a spectacular frown on his face). No Bard blended in with the rest of the town. He looked as though he belonged.
The Master however?
Certainly not.
"Welcome dwarves of Erebor!" The Master of Laketown exclaimed raising his round arms, palms facing upwards, as he bent his head in a mock display of ceremony.
Lyla cringed. Even the man's voice sounded greasy.
The bloated man stepped forward and extended his jeweled hand towards Thorin in greeting.
"Surely your presence in our fair city is a sign that spectacular things are to befall us!"
A low cheer rose up from the crowd.
Thorin took the proffered hand hesitantly, his face contorted into a smooth mask, though Lyla could see that his eyes were suspicious and hesitating.
"Indeed. Thank you for the warm reception. My company and I are in your debt Master of Laketown."
The Master pulled Thorin upward, to stand near him on the stairs and, smiled jovially.
"Think nothing of it my good sir! Every comfort shall be give to you and your companions to aid in your journey."
The man's eyes swept over the company, eyes analyzing each dwarf in turn. When he got to Lyla, however, his eyes narrowed and his gaze turned thoughtful, calculating.
Lyla wanted to shrink from the gaze, to disappear into Bofur's grasp. She felt so…
Exposed.
A dark foreboding filled her as she gazed back hesitantly, as a familiar low hissing noise made her wince.
But as quickly as the gaze had landed on her, with a derisive snort, The Master's studious gaze disappeared and the smile returned to The Master's lips as he turned his attention back to Thorin.
The hissing disappeared.
"Come my friends! It will take some time but we shall have a house prepared for you. And while we wait, let us feast and make merry!"
A grumbled of approval met Lyla's ears as the dwarves followed after Thorin and the Master into the ornately constructed building.
Lyla's stomach churned and her head pounded in protest.
She sneezed yet again and huddled down into the warmth of Bofur's guiding arm around her shoulder.
"It's alright lass," he murmured into her ear, "Ye'll be restin' up soon enough. Let's get some food in yer belly, aye?"
Lyla cringed at the thought of food (something she never thought a hobbit would do).
She'd much rather be in a warm bed.
Yes. A warm bed sounded most pleasant.
She wasn't particularly hungry.
Nor was she particularly eager to enjoy the company of The Master of Laketown.
Lyla was surprised to find herself separated from the main body of dwarves as they sat at the large banquet table laden with food.
The Master had insisted that the 'heroes of Erebor' be given the highest seats of honor. That is to say, a seat next to him.
This invitation did NOT, in fact, include Lyla, much to the consternation of many of the company members.
"Oi! The hobbit's a member of this company. What's this about havin' te separate us?" Gloin remarked heatedly, the veins in his hands pulsing beneath the skin as he clenched his fingers into a tight fist.
"The hobbit's a member of this company, and you'd do kindly to afford the burglar a place of 'honor' amongst friends," Bofur exclaimed his eyes narrowed.
Dwalin in particular had a difficult time with separation.
"The hobbit is part of the company if ye please. No reason why we should be separating us! Why do ye think we deserve to be shown such disrespect? Are we not your 'honored guests?'" He exclaimed heatedly leaning forward to glare at the spluttering head of Laketown..
The dwarf's temper had The Master scrambling to placate the nervous attitudes he'd kicked up.
"I meant no offense of course! Forgive me." He garbled as his sausage fingers twittered nervously, "It will not happen again."
Dwalin made to protest, but Thorin's hand on his arm stilled the warrior dwarf. He turned and shot Lyla an apologetic look and worried look.
But Lyla understood. She knew that they couldn't afford to make enemies in Laketown. They were in desperate need of supplies.
No. They had to comply with the demands of The Master.
At least for now. Though that didn't stop him and the rest of her dwarves from gazing at their hobbit frequently, their eyes alight with concern and contemplation.
Lyla suspected that this seating arrangment was done chiefly for political purposes, as the round man didn't hesitate to demand Thorin's undivided attention. A fact that the dwarf seemed very keen to avoid as he dodged questions or changed the subject.
Lyla felt a bit of pity for him.
Perhaps it had been a small mercy that she was seated further away?
And as it was, SHE wasn't in bad company.
A man sat on one side of her, completely ignoring the small creature sitting next to him. But on the other side she had Legolas.
And though the elf hardly spoke a word, his somewhat familiar presence brought her a sense of comfort and peace.
It was a peace she clung to, as her head pounded and her joints ached, longing for the blessed reprieve that sleep could provide.
The reprieve she had to suffer through dinner to get to.
An immensely long, boring and tedious dinner that left her feeling far more drained than she would have liked.
It was a peace that she clung to as she caught snatches of The Master's conversation with Thorin as they sat at the head of the table.
"Your coming here has brought to pass many old prophecies!" The Master exclaimed exuberantly, "Truly it shall be a delight for the dwarves to return to Erebor."
Thorin snorted quietly, "Yes it indeed it will, though some in your town seem to feel…otherwise."
Thorins' voice had gone soft. Predatorily soft
The Master waved off Thorin's hesitancy.
"Don't you worry about Master Bard, my good dwarf. The man," Lyla spied him fiddling with his fork, "the man certainly has a flair for the dramatics. I can assure you that the town welcomes and reveres your company coming here."
Lyla's stomach did a strange flip-flop again as she sneezed.
So, The Master didn't like Bard either.
Her eyes flicked around, searching for the bowman, who had escaped this tedious dinner.
Even with her muddled mind, Lyla's curiosity was running rampant considering the reason WHY this Bard character was so…rejected by his own people, the master of the town included. What could he have done to cause such disrespect?
Or perhaps there was another reason?
Her gaze travelled back towards Thorin and That Master.
She jumped when her gaze locked with the greasy man's own gaze. His lips were pursed into a thin line, eyes narrowed as he stared at her.
She felt Legolas' hand on her shoulder as she winced as the pounding in her head increased and the low sinister hissing noise returned.
"Are you alright?" He murmured quietly, his voice like rich chimes echoing in the wind.
Lyla broke the gaze with The Master and turned to face her elf companion with a smile. She noted his blue eyes darting between herself and The Master, a small frown playing on his lips as his gaze hardened.
"Yes," Lyla remarked tiredly, "I'm fine."
Legolas raised an eyebrow and gave a small smile, "You're a terrible liar, little hobbit. A terrible liar and a beacon for acquiring all manner of unwanted attention."
Liar indeed!
She sneezed again and returned to her dinner pushing the contents around on her plate, her stomach churning with unease.
Yes indeed. If Legolas suspected something to be wrong then…
something was definitely wrong.