~Ten~

~Lake-town~

A man armed with a bow stood towering above them on the rocks.

He shot an arrow towards Ori, who had his back turned, where he was sitting at the bank of the river, pouring the water out of his boots.

Dwalin leapt in with a log, the arrow striking the exact centre of the wood.

Dahlia held up a rock to lob at the man, only he shot that out of her hands as well.

He notched a third arrow, ready. "Do it again, and you're dead."

They stared back, blank and startled - clearly this guy was no one to mess with.

"Excuse me, but you're from Lake-town if I'm not mistaken." Balin approached with caution, arms even raised in surrender. "That barge over there - it wouldn't be for hire by any chance, would it?"

The barge clearly belonged to the man, who began loading the barrels onto it. The Dwarves followed him.

"I would like to know who you are, and what you are doing in these lands."

"We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains, journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills," Balin quickly came up with a story, and a pretty good one too.

"And why do you think I would help you?"

"That coat has seen better days, as have those boots. And no doubt you've got some hungry mouths to feed at home."

At this, the man sighed. "Aye."

"How many?"

"A boy and two girls."

"And your wife? I'll bet she's just a beauty."

Balin's praise backfired, for the man replied, "Yes, she was."

Balin's face fell and he sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"We need food, supplies, weapons," Thorin stepped-in. "Can you help us?"

"I know where these barrels came from. I don't know what business you had with the Elves, but it didn't end well, whatever it was. And no on enters Lake-town but by leave of the Master."

"Offer him more," Thorin urged Balin in a whisper.

Balin sighed. "I'll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen."

"Oh, aye," agreed the man. "But for that you would need a smuggler."

Balin walked right up to him. "For which we would pay double."

"And where are you getting all this wealth from, hmm? And why are you in need of weapons, simple merchants?"

"Thank you, Balin, I will take it from here," Dahlia stepped in, coming to stand next to Balin. "I am Lady Dahlia, daughter of Lord Dain of the Iron Hills. Will you tell us your name?"

"I am Bard of Lake-town."

"Nice to meet you, Bard of Lake-town. I am travelling home with this band of merchants, only we are being hunted by a pack of Orcs. We could really use some help getting across the lake, and would really appreciate your help. So, what do you say? Care to help out some simple folk?"

Bard only sighed in response.


Fish. That was Bard's grand master plan.

He had agreed - albeit reluctantly - to smuggle the Dwarves, who, as far as he knew, were Lady Dahlia and some merchant folk, into the town.

He put their barrels to good use, getting each Dwarf, and the Hobbit, to hide inside, while he covered them with fish, which he would then bring into town for the food supply. It was simple enough.

Their destination was Lake-town, or Esgaroth. As the name suggested, the town was built on the lake, suspended by docks weaving throughout and beneath the buildings.

Sneaking through the town afterwards - now smelling like fish - was more tricky, especially when a young boy ran up to Bard saying, "Da! Our house, it's being watched."

"How will we get in now?" asked Fili.

"I have an idea," said Bard. "But you're not going to like it."

"Can't be worse than the fish," muttered Gloin.

"Well..."

"You speak of this to anyone, and I'll rip your arms off!" growled Dwalin to the boy, Bard's son Bain, as, one-by-one, the Dwarves of Erebor and Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, climbed into the house from the lake via the toilet.

"Da, why are there Dwarves climbing out of our toilet?" called a young woman's voice.

"Will they bring us luck?" asked a little girl. These must be Bard's daughters.

"We seem to be running out of luck ourselves," huffed Dahlia, now freezing and dripping wet once again.

"Here, they're much too big, but they'll keep you warm." Once everyone was inside the house, Bard passed around dry clothes and blankets.

"Da says you're a Dwarf princess," said his youngest daughter, Tilda, coming over to Dahlia. "Is that true."

"Dwarf Lady of the Iron Hills," corrected Dahlia. "But close enough."

"Are you going to marry a prince?" An excited light shone in the little girl's eyes.

Dahlia couldn't help but chuckle. "Maybe someday."

"A Dwarvish Windlance," Thorin breathed suddenly.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," remarked Bilbo.

"He has," said Balin. "The last time we saw such a weapon, a city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came, the day Smaug destroyed Dale. Now a dragon's hide is tough, tougher than even the strongest armour. Only a Black Arrow, fired from a Windlance, could pierce it. And few of those arrows were ever made. Girion, Lord of Dale, stood against Smaug with such an arrow and such a weapon. That day, Girion made his last stand."

"Had the aim of Men been true that day, much would have been different," huffed Thorin.

"You speak as though you were there." Bard had overheard his comment.

"All Dwarves know the tale," Thorin quickly covered.

"Then you would know that Girion hit the beast, loosened a scale under the left wing," stepped in Bain defensively. "One more shot and he would have killed the beast."

Dwalin scoffed. "That's a fairy story, Boy."

The Dwarves gathered in a huddle.

"We are now into the last days of autumn. Durin's Day falls the morn before next," said Balin.

"And if we miss it? If we fail to find the hidden door before then?" said Kili.

"Then this quest has been for nothing," grumbled Fili.

Thorin broke away from the huddle and turned to Bard. "You took our money - where are the weapons?"

"Wait here." Bard headed out of the house and returned moments later with a long sack, which he deposited on the table. The Dwarves gathered around, rubbing their hands together in anticipation - that is, until they saw what the sack contained.

"What the-?"

"What is this?"

"We paid you for weapons," cried Gloin. "Iron-forged swords and axes!"

"This is as good as you'll find here," said Bard. "In defense of your life, it will do better than nothing."

"This is ridiculous." Dwalin tossed the hook-thing he had in his hands back onto the pile.

"It's a joke!" Bofur agreed, and everyone followed suit, throwing down their 'weapons'.

"You won't find any better outside the city armory," Bard insisted, clearly growing frustrated. "And everything in there is held under lock and key and is heavily guarded."

"Thorin," cried Balin. "Why don't we just take his offer and go? I've made do with less and so have you. I say we leave now."

"You are not going anywhere," snapped Bard.

"What did you say?" hissed Dwalin.

"There are spies watching this house and probably every dock in town. You must wait until nightfall."

Yay, Bard's here! I love Luke Evans, he's great! :)

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! :)