Chapter 36: Epilogue

Thirteen years later

It was getting dark, and he still wasn't home.

Freja ran her hands through her hair, trying not to worry. He'd been late before, certainly, and she knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself. She didn't need to worry, right? Since he'd become bargeman for Esgaroth, he'd had more time and he'd taken up some of his old hobbies. They included, to Freja's chagrin, a ridiculous amount of archery and swordsmanship. So he would be fine. He would.

But it didn't change the fact that the sun had gone down, and Bard still wasn't home.

'Sigrid!' Freja called down the stairs. 'Have you seen your father?'

She heard the thumping of footsteps coming up, and the girl's face appeared, framed by brown ringlets.

'He's not home yet?' she asked breathlessly, frowning.

Freja sighed and shook her head. 'I've seen neither hide nor hair of him since this morning. And he's usually back by sunset.'

'He might be talking to Ingvar and Ingrid again?' the girl suggested.

'Maybe, but they tend to leave the markets early in weather like this.'

'Stop worrying, Ma,' Sigrid said with a grin. 'Unless Alfrid's on the prowl, he'll be fine – oh, this might be him!'

The door opened, but it was Bain who stepped inside, not Bard. He hung up his coat after shaking it, sending snow flying across the room.

'Bain! I tell you every time to do that outside!' Sigrid scolded him, coming all the way up the stairs and standing with her hands on her hips in an exact imitation of Freja.

'It's just water! It'll dry!' he retorted, taking off his boots. 'You'd fret over a fried egg if you could, Sig.'

'Have you seen your father, sweet?' Freja asked him anxiously. Bain came over and planted a kiss on her cheek before tousling Sigrid's hair. The girl scowled and ducked away.

'No. But he'll be home soon, no doubt,' Bain said. 'You ought to stop worrying, Ma. It'll age you.'

'Watch your tongue, boy,' she scolded, smacking him lightly on the back of the head. He grinned exactly like Bard did, and she sighed. 'I'm worried because whenever your father is late home, it usually means something bad.'

Bain stilled, his smile fading. 'You don't think… he's angry or something?'

'No,' Sigrid said uncertainly. 'He's not angry nearly as much these days.'

'He might be,' Freja said calmly, suddenly feeling bad for putting her worries on the children. She went to the stove and took out two loaves of bread that had been baking. 'But that's alright. He'll look after himself, no doubt. We'll stop worrying and eat without him.'

'Ma, that smells divine,' Bain said, his worries forgotten as he put his face right next to the hot bread. Freja pushed him away.

'Wash your hands first, boy. Oh, and get your sister too!'

'Tilda! Supper!' Bain bellowed before heading down the stairs. Sigrid rolled her eyes and began setting the table.

'I saw Rolf at market again today,' she said casually. Freja looked up and narrowed her eyes.

'And?'

'And I said hello, Ma,' Sigrid replied defensively. 'That's all!'

'I think if that were all,' Freja said suspiciously, 'you wouldn't be telling me.'

Sigrid sighed as she laid out the knives and forks. 'Well, he gave me a posy of flowers too.'

Freja pursed her lips, trying not to smile. 'Show me?'

'I left them in mine and Tilda's room.'

'Hm. You ought to put them in some water.'

'Ma, is Da home yet?' Tilda asked, wandering out of her bedroom.

'Not yet, my sweet,' Freja replied, turning back to the fish that was frying. 'Where have you been all afternoon?'

'Reading,' Tilda replied. 'Did you know that Rolf gave Sigrid flowers today at market?'

'That's no concern of yours, Tilda!' Sigrid snapped.

'And they smell lovely…'

'Tilda, I swear –'

Just then, the door opened, and Bard stepped inside. Freja breathed a quiet sigh of relief, but then paused in her movements when she saw the strange look on his face. It certainly wasn't anger, but it wasn't exactly happy…

'Da!' Tilda cried, running over to hug him. 'Did you know that Sigrid got flowers from Rolf?'

'Uh, no,' Bard said, kissing her hair distractedly. Freja's consternation grew.

'You'd think someone had died by the way she goes on about it,' Sigrid said.

'But they were so pretty!' Tilda said, affecting a love-struck sigh. Sigrid launched herself after her sister, who immediately darted away across the room, giggling.

Bard didn't seem to hear the ruckus, and he hung up his coat with a heavy frown on his face. Freja bit her lip as she watched him, her consternation growing.

'Is everything alright?' she asked. 'Did you get the barrels?'

'Well, no,' he said slowly, coming over to stand on the other side of the kitchen bench. 'No, the barrels had been destroyed.'

'Destroyed? By the Elves?'

'Well… not exactly, I don't think.'

'It's not like you to be upset over lost cargo,' she said quietly. 'It'll be fine, Bard. It happens, they'll understand it wasn't your fault.'

'That's not the problem,' he replied. 'The problem is this.'

He drew a dirty drawstring pouch from his pocket and handed it to her. Freja opened it curiously and upended it onto the table. Tens of coins rolled out, and Tilda and Sigrid skidded to a halt to watch with their mouths open. Freja picked one up to inspect it more closely.

'This is of Dwarven make,' she said slowly, looking back up at Bard. 'Would you care to explain?'

He looked pained. 'Freja, love, the thing is… I may have smuggled some Dwarves into Esgaroth.'

'Dwarves?' Sigrid exclaimed. 'But why were you smuggling them? Are they criminals?'

'Well, one of them is a burglar, apparently,' Bard muttered.

'Can we meet them?' Tilda asked enthusiastically.

'I… ah, yes,' he said, shooting Freja another apologetic look.

'But why?' she asked him, utterly mystified. 'What is going on?'

'I did it mostly for the money,' he said, scooping the coins back into the purse.

Freja shot him a disbelieving look. 'And where are these Dwarves now?'

At that moment, Bain came up the stairs, looking as though he'd seen a ghost.

'Ma?' he panted. 'I promise you I'm not crazy, but there are… uh, there are Dwarves coming out of the privy.'

Freja's mouth fell open, as a soaking wet and shivering Dwarf emerged up the staircase. He was followed by a second, and then a third. Her eyes grew wider and wider as they kept coming and coming, until the room was cramped and there was a growing puddle on the floor. There were four

The last of them was smaller than the others – the runt of the litter – and he smiled at her apologetically. Freja shut her mouth and turned, blinking, to Bard.

'Sorry,' he muttered, and then he cleared his throat. 'Freja, this is Thorin and Company. Thorin and Company, my wife Freja, and my children.'

One of the Dwarves, whose beard was snowy white and braided, cleared his throat and bowed.

'At your service, Mistress,' he said. 'We're terribly sorry for the intrusion, and we apologise for our need for secrecy. We don't plan on staying long, though. We're off to reclaim the Mountain, you see.'

Bain's mouth fell open, and Bard winced.

'But what about the dragon?' Sigrid asked timidly.

The tallest and most finely dressed Dwarf – Thorin, Freja guessed – stepped forward. 'We're going to kill it,' he said grimly.

'Wow,' Tilda said, awestruck. 'Can I come?'

And there you have it! Thank you so much for reading – it's been a pleasure, and I hope you had as much fun as I did! If you're in the mood, go to my profile page to check out when new stories might be coming out. Otherwise, stay safe and healthy, and I'll see you round!

Sigebeorn