Chapter 19: The Weapons of Lake-town
Dwalin is the first the be sent up, Bombur and Gloin pushing him up into the toilet. He sends a threat to Bain, clambering out. They send Bilbo up next who looks just about ready to curl up in a ball. The hands are still on Gailien's arms, as the pair slowly move closer to the hole, watching as the next few Dwarves are pushed out of the water.
It is her turn next, situating herself underneath it, Bain's head just poking into sight. Thorin's hands trail down her arms as he lowers himself. Bofur comes to her other side, kneeling down so his chin just breaks the water surface. Though Bofur's hands just clasp in the water, ready the catch her foot, Thorin takes his time, letting his fingers trail along the side of her leg before wrapping around them, interlocking his own fingers in front so the back of her leg can balance against his shoulder.
She places her own on their shoulders, stepping into the ready hands. Together, they lift her higher out of the water. Letting the hand on Bofur go, she reaches up to grab the side of the wooden toilet to steady herself. She glances down, (an unnecessary movement since all she needs to do is bring her other hand up) meeting Thorin's eyes who stare up at her, his chin resting against her outer thigh. Forcing her thoughts away, she quickly lifts the hand from his shoulder, letting it rise to the edge of the wood by her neck.
With a mix of her own strength, the Dwarves assisting her and Bain's assistance, she heaves herself out of the toilet and onto Bard's floor. She grins at the young boy. "Thank you." He nods shyly, waiting for the next Dwarf.
Gailien wanders up through the house into the main area where the Dwarves huddle around a fire. There are two people that Gailien doesn't recognise. Two girls, one older than Bain and the other much younger. Bard's two girls. Gailien barely reaches the height of the youngest.
The older walks over to Gailien holding out a thick blanket. "Oh," Gailien says. "Thank you." She takes the material. It is nowhere as near as soft as Elven blankets, but it is thick, and no doubt made for warmth. Unfolding it, she wraps it around her shoulders as the next Dwarves start piling into the room behind her.
Gailien glances around, trying to find the source of warmth and almost cries as she sees a fire lit. Scampering over, she joins Bilbo in standing in front of it. "I thought my bones were beginning to freeze," she muses to the Hobbit.
"Who would ever choose to live in this place?" Bilbo questions lowly, being sure that their host doesn't hear his insult.
"People who don't have the choice," Gailien points out, rubbing her hands together. As the rest of the Dwarves finally arrive, Gailien leaves the fire to join the brothers who stand near the large seating area. "Not frozen yet?" she teases, giving Kili a subtle visual check.
"I think my feet are," Fili replies.
"Are my lips blue?" Kili asks, looking between them with seriousness. "They feel blue." Though his skin is pale, his lips are in fact, not blue. Gailien chuckles softly.
"Do you want another blanket, dilthen er?" she asks, half teasing, half-serious. "There's a fire, come sit closer." The brothers follow her advice, moving closer to the hearth. As though to test her boundaries, she extends her arm, letting her hands rest against Kili's back. He did not want her to baby him, but surely he would not see her offer of comfort as that? She rubs his back softly, watching for any negative emotion to glimmer in his eyes but there is only a placid relaxation as he watches the fire.
"They may not be the best fit, but they'll keep you warm," Bard says as his daughters begin handing out some clothes. Tilda, the youngest, hands Gailien some clothes. Gailien takes them with thanks, about to go back to her thoughts but notices the shy gaze the girl has as Fili and Kili have not yet noticed her. She nudges the brothers with her foot, gesturing to the girl with her eyes.
The brothers give Tilda a gentle smile and thanks as she did, allowing the youngest to continue on to the others.
Thorin has sauntered up to the window, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He looks out, taking notice of the ballista on the tall tower. "The Dwarvish Wind-Lance," he whispers to himself.
Bilbo joins Thorin at the window, taking note of the solemn expression on Thorin's face. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"He has," Balin says, also joining the pair. "The last time we saw such a weapon the city was on fire. It was a day the dragon came. The day that Smaug destroyed Dale." Wanting to see it for herself, Gailien leaves the brothers by the fire, grazing across the room until the joins the smaller group. There on the tall tower is a large wind-lance, fit for large arrows that are meant for more than simple soldiers. "Girion, the lord of the city, rallied his bowmen to fire upon the beast. But a dragon's hide is tough, tougher than the strongest armour. Only a Black Arrow fired from a wind-lance could have pierced the dragon's hide, and few of those arrows were ever made. The store was running low when Girion made his last stand."
"If the aim of men had been true that day, much would've been different," Thorin states.
"You speak as if you were there," Bard notes.
"All Dwarves know the tale," Thorin answers without missing a beat.
Bard's son comes from behind his father. "Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon. He loosened his scale under the left-wing, one more shot and he would've killed the beast."
A weakness? Gailien frowns, looking back out to the wind-lance. If Smaug is to awaken, then there only chance would be to source these Black Arrows. Dwalin however, doesn't believe such rumour. "That's a fairy story, lad. Nothing more."
Gailien hasn't been able to see much since Mirkwood; something that she finds happens when the future is so yet unclear and undecided that there is no vision to show her. It is frustrating not being able to see much but once the company start making decisions, she should be able to follow their paths.
"You took our money," Thorin begins, walking closer to Bard. "Where are the weapons?"
"Wait here."
Bard leaves them, his children going back to tending the house. Gailien crosses her arms, leaning against the wall as Thorin returns to his spot across from her. "We still have nearly three weeks," she says. "That is plenty of time to reach the mountain but there is no use going too early. We should stay here for a while – eat, sleep, heal."
"We can't risk missing Durin's Day," Thorin argues.
"And we'll travel faster if we are at full health," she adds to her own point. "I'm not saying we should leave at last minute, but we shouldn't pass up the opportunity to recover. We haven't had that since Beorn's which was over a month ago."
"I say we leave today," Balin protests. "We risk everything staying here longer. We can recovery once we reach the mountain." Gailien doesn't say it for aloud, but she isn't sure that the one she knows needs the most recovery will be able to reach the mountain.
"Let's just…see what happens," Thorin decides. Bard returns which a wet sheet and he pours its contents onto the table in the middle of the room. Out of it come a handful of measly looking weapons. And they barely even earn that title. But they are better than nothing. Thorin picks up a harpoon looking weapon. "What is this?"
"Pike hook," Bard answers. "Made from an old harpoon."
"And this?" Kili asks, holding a large hammer type tool.
"A crow bill, we call it. Fashioned from a smithy's hammer. It's heavy in hand, I grant. But in defence of your life, these will serve you better than none."
The Dwarves become outraged by the lack of proper weaponry. Gailien holds back her own opinion, hating the idea of insulting their host. These people don't look like they have much to give in the first place.
"We paid for weapons," Gloin glowers. "Iron forged, swords and axes!"
"It's a joke!" Bofur cries.
The Dwarves begin to toss the weapons back onto the table in protest. "You won't find better outside the city armoury. All iron forged weapons are held there under lock and key." Thorin and Dwalin share a knowing glance and even Gailien's chin moves closer to her shoulder in thought.
"Thorin, why not take what's on offer and go," Balin argues. "I've made do with less, so have you. I say we leave now."
"You're not going anywhere," Bard counters.
"What did you say?" Dwalin growls.
"There are spies watching this house and probably every dock and wharf in the town. We must wait till nightfall."
Reluctantly, the Dwarves leave the table, finding spots around the lower level of the house to continue drying and warming themselves. Kili sits back down, barely holding back his pained expression. Not being able to let him sit there in pain, Gailien marches over to him, sitting by his side. Her hands reach out, intending to inspect the wound for infection when Kili's hand slaps her away.
"Kili," she chides. "Someone needs to look at it. Let me."
"I told you before, I'm fine."
Gailien doesn't know what she should be feeling – guilt, anger, concern. She can't do anything if he won't let her. Huffily, she stands back up and marches away, brushing against Fili. Instead, she joins Dwalin and Thorin as they discuss something in a corner together. They quieten as she arrives.
"Let me guess," she says quietly, walking between them both to lean against the wall, "making a plan to get to the armoury."
Dwalin glares at her. "You're not going to tell that new buddy of yours are ya? Since you seem to be always speaking in his defence."
"Only because you continue to insult him," she shoots back. "He's helped us, and you treat him the same as you would Thranduil." Dwalin grumbles something incomprehensible as Thorin allows her to bite at the warrior Dwarf. "Personally, I don't think we should leave until nightfall to do so, but I know that you won't listen so I'm left with no other choice but to help you lot not get caught."
"You sound like we're a burden," Thorin says, a mirthful hint playing in his tone. Gailien rolls her eyes.
"More like a bunch of children some days," she fixes. "But unfortunately, a bunch of children that I care a lot about."
"Could've fooled me," Dwalin retorts, though he speaks with a lighter tone to show that he jests. Gailien smirks, jutting her elbow into his side. "I say we go now that he's gone."
"I agree," Thorin states, his elbow resting on a crossed arm and his chin between his fingers. "But how are we going to get into the armoury?"
"These buildings don't exactly look like they have the best security," Gailien notes. "Obviously we don't go through the front door, but I don't doubt that there will be another way in."
"Little miss observant, are we?" Thorin teases.
"Only because you're Lord Oblivious," she counters. "You have terrible eyesight. I'm surprised you haven't run into a tree yet. Actually, it makes sense why you mistook me for one of those trolls so long ago."
Thorin nods in faux thought. "Indeed, it is an uncanny resemblance."
Gailien opens her mouth to continue their banter but Dwalin hisses at them. "Oh, stop with whatever this is! We had a point we were discussing." Gailien snorts under her breathe but does bring herself back into a solemn state of mind. "How are we going to get past his spawns?"
"They're children," Thorin shrugs. "We walk out, what can they do?"
"Warn Bard," she points out. "But I suppose we'll be gone by that time anyway. But we're going to have to find the armoury as well. We'll need to be more cautious than we were getting here."
"I'm not getting back in that forsaken water," Dwalin protests.
"No," Thorin agrees. "But we need to travel in smaller groups. Spread out until we find it, then we can figure out how to get in."
"Nightfall is coming," Gailien notes. "We should leave soon unless we want to be looking for it in the dark."