Chapter Four: Reflections

"Miss Baggins, why are not at Bard's house still?" Balin queried, having found her in the crowd after the cheering and jostling had died down. The dwarves were obviously not going to be arrested and hanged as insurrectionists now. Instead, they were going to be given the finest food and beds Esgaroth had to offer, by the orders of the Master of Laketown himself.

Bluebell stared down the older dwarf, frustrated that not one of the dwarves had included her in their plans to raid the armory. She would have tried to stop them of course, but that didn't mean their betrayal hurt any less. Instead she felt like there was a wedge being steadily driven in between her and the rest of the company. "I was awoken in the middle of the night to find that the rest of the company had vanished into thin air, only to see a mob driving them through the streets. Are you so surprised I found my way here? I told you I would follow you, even when you try your hardest to leave me behind."

"Thorin thought it would be best you stay where you were safe," Balin responded, his voice mildly uneasy.

Bluebell crossed her arms over her chest. "Thorin also apparently thought that it would be safe enough to bring along an injured dwarf on your little adventure."

Balin opened his mouth to try to respond before giving up. Finally he said, "Why don't we join the others. They'll be glad to see you're still safe."

Bluebell scoffed lightly before following Balin to the others, ready to see what the finest beds Laketown had to offer would feel like beneath her still-battered bones. She could wait until tomorrow, or later that morning as it were, to harangue the dwarves for abandoning her in the middle of the night to stage a burglary.

Bluebell couldn't manage to fall asleep for the little that was left of the night. The short of it was that she didn't trust their host. The long of it was that despite being surrounded by her beloved dwarves, she felt alone and out of place. They had enthusiastically greeted her, telling her the great news, but at the same time talking to them was like talking to stone. They wouldn't entertain any thoughts of what would happen to Laketown if they failed, and they laughed of her concerns of the Master's motives in offering hospitality. She was the only one to feel uneasy in their new lodgings, a stark change from when they stayed with Bard.

Bard, he probably hated her by extension now. She wasn't sure she blamed him if he did. After all, hadn't it been her in her naivete to agree to do her best to get the dwarves back their home, not thinking of the consequences if they failed.

She was alright with dying herself, it wasn't like she had anyone to truly miss her now. But Laketown, it was filled with families, people to grieve anyone who succumbed to dragon flame. These broken people had lost enough to the dragon. Their history, their culture. They lived in shadow, a shadow she saw reflected in the eyes of every citizen.

If not for the dragon, Bard's wife wouldn't have lived in a place so damp. Would she have survived? Perhaps she would never gotten sick. Perhaps Sigrid and Bard wouldn't have such haunted looks in their eyes.

Bluebell hated Smaug. There was no doubt that everyone would be better off with him dead. But, did the dwarves have the right to try to kill him? Most of Laketown seemed to think so. Was Bard wrong? If reclaiming the mountain was only about reclaiming riches, Bluebell would agree with Bard, but she had pledged herself to this quest for a reason. The dwarves deserved a home, and after seeing Laketown, a dilapidated town barely making it in the shadow of the mountain, Bluebell knew that the people of Laketown deserved a real home again.

The dwarves hadn't started to stir when she snuck silently out of the lodgings, the sun just starting to filter through the haze of the morning fog. She shivered, pulling her Sigrid's shawl close about her shoulders. Her own clothes were still drying by Bard's fire. It struck her that collecting their belongings to be a good excuse to see Bard before they left. At the very least she could thank him one more time for his home. If she was exceptionally brave perhaps she could share her thoughts. She tried not to linger on just why his opinion mattered so much for her. He was just a friend, no, an acquaintance. Any feelings of admiration he might have felt for her the night before were no doubt crushed when he found out their true purpose. Still, though, she wanted to see him just one more time, explain herself.

She found his house mostly out of pure luck. Hobbits were good at directions sure, but she had only seen the front of his house once, in almost full darkness. As she stood on the narrow wooden walk in front of his house (uncomfortably close to the water), she wondered if coming there was really the best decision. She rocked nervously back and forth on her feet, sure footed as always despite the slippery mildewed planks beneath her.

Before she could turn to leave though, Bard's door creaked open.

"Bluebell." Bard's voice sounded guarded as he called her name softly.

Bluebell clutched her shawl tightly. "Hello, Bard. Good morning."

I'm back! Sorry, this chapter is rather short. I should have another update ready in a few days. I'm out of school for the summer, so my updates should be regular, especially since I have the rest of the story plotted out.