Thank you so much for all the support I've had so far for this story! Here's the next chapter, forgive any mistakes I made :)

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Chapter Twenty Five # Lake-town #

After the initial meeting with Bard, Bilbo expected to find it very difficult to find shelter in Lake-town. He was unsurprised by the suspicious glares of the townsfolk as they were rowed to the town hall – in fact the glares were strangely familiar.

They were the same glares that the Shire gave to suspicious outsiders.

What he did not expect, however, was the tremendous welcome they received when it was discovered who they were and why they were heading to the Lonely Mountain. Despite the Master's reservations about offending Mirkwood, the people of Esgaroth rose in support the dwarves, cheering in the streets and rejoicing that someone had come to rid them of the dragon at last.

Bilbo had not seen Bard since the first meeting with the Master, where he had strongly protested against the dwarves' quest. The man's passionate warning about the beast destroying them all worried the hobbit, but the joyful and generous townsfolk did not seem to share their kinsman's fears. Though he felt a little like a child, Bilbo let himself believe in the cheerful optimism of the newly hopeful people.

After a marvellous feast on the first day that had seen Thorin, Fíli and Kíli in places of high honour, Thorin declared that they would rest a week in Lake-town under the hospitality of the people, before moving on to the mountain.

Unfortunately, for the first three days Bilbo was confined to the lovely bedroom he had been given in the house that had been leant to the dwarves with an awful cold. To his utter amazement, though, the dwarves cared for Bilbo as if he were an ailing child. Every hour or two, one of his companions would return to the house bringing hot food or warm drinks up and keeping him company for a while. While Bilbo protested to Kíli that the young dwarf should not miss out on the cheer and excitement of Lake-town for the sake of one ill, snivelling hobbit, he knew in his heart that his son would continue to return while the hobbit was bedridden.

It was not only Kíli that returned, though. Bofur, Dori, Ori and surprisingly Nori were regular visitors, but every dwarf came back at least once, including Thorin and Dwalin.

As ever, Bofur was the one to explain what was going on.

"You're all skin and bone. We dwarves may not know much about hobbits, but we do not that you're not supposed to be that skinny. You're part of the company though, so don't worry, we'll look after you."

On the fourth day, Bilbo was feeling well enough to venture outside, and joined Bofur and Nori in their exploration of the town. Though both he and Bofur did stop Nori from picking several people's pockets, Bilbo enjoyed himself immensely. There were food vendors everywhere and the people seemed to sing almost spontaneously every few hours. Bilbo had a suspicion that their arrival had something to do with the joy of the people, and it did make him feel a little guilty. They had not even seen the dragon yet, let alone killed it.

It was gone luncheon by the time he saw Kíli and Fíli, who were talking amicably with a group of people who appeared to have been a similar age to the brothers. Of course, this being a town of men, the young women and men had probably seen less than twenty or twenty five summers each.

"Who are you two idiots terrorizing now?" Bofur called out easily, and Kíli looked over his shoulder, quickly beckoning them over.

"This is my father!" he declared proudly, and Bilbo took in the interested glances of his son's companions.

"Kíli, what exactly have you been telling people about me now?" he asked cautiously, and Kíli laughed.

"Nothing but the truth, Bilbo, I promise!"

Bilbo just rolled his eyes, gazing over the canals. To his surprise, he saw Bard staring at them from across the water, and he offered the man a small smile. Bard just sighed, glancing at a young boy who appeared about sixteen years old towards the edge of the group. As Bilbo watched, the boy met the man's eyes and glanced to the floor. The next thing the hobbit new, Bard was crossing over a nearby bridge and the boy was jogging the girl next to him with his elbow.

"Bain, Sigrid…" Bard said as he drew closer, and Kíli and Fíli exchanged glances. "Where is Tilda?"

"I'm here, Da!" a smaller girl came out of the crowd and smiled angelically at her father.

"Do you need anything, Da?" the boy, Bain offered a sheepish smile at the man.

Bard studied the dwarves carefully before addressing his son. "Only Tilda… Come on, lass."

Tilda nodded reluctantly, taking her father's hand.

"Be home before dark, the both of you." Bard informed his other two children.

Sigrid and Bain nodded and Bard walked away, casting a dark look at the dwarves over his shoulder as he left.

"What was that all about?" A boy next to Bain asked curiously.

Bain shuffled awkwardly. "You know my father doesn't think that the quest is particularly a good idea..."

Another boy snorted. "There wouldn't need to be a quest if Girion of Dale had managed to actually shoot the dragon. How many times did he miss?"

Bain opened his mouth to retort angrily, but Kíli beat him to it.

"Did you really just ask that question?" the young dwarf scoffed. "How many flying, fire-breathing targets have you hit exactly?"

"I'm not supposed to be an archer." The boy returned easily. Bilbo detected no malice in his tone, just a desire to irritate those around him.

Kíli just shrugged, before frowning at his brother. "Who was Girion of Dale?"

"My ancestor." Bain replied. "The last Lord of Dale. While most of his black arrows did miss, one did break off one of Smaug's scales. Had he had the opportunity to fire again, there's a chance that the dwarves of Erebor would still be living in the mountain."

"Oh…" Kíli looked thoughtful for a moment. "That's very interesting..."

"It's just a story." A tall girl answered gently. "Lord Girion did not hit the dragon with a black arrow…"

Bain held his tongue, though it looked as though he wanted to argue, and Bilbo decided that he liked the lad.

Bofur clapped a hand onto Bilbo's shoulders. "Well, good ladies and gentlemen, we'll take our leave of you now.

Fíli and Kíli snorted at the elaborate majesty Bofur put on as he swept his hat off in a flamboyant bow, and Bilbo nodded, waving at Kíli once as they walked away.

"This is an incredible town…" Bilbo remarked aloud as the trio walked over a wooden bridge. "I've never seen anything like it in my life."

"You haven't seen very much of the world, though, have you?" Nori raised his eyebrow.

"Have you ever seen a city built on a lake?" Bilbo retorted, well used to the teasing antics of the dwarves by now.

"Honestly, no." Nori admitted, "But still… You said the same thing about Rivendell."

"This has been an eye-opening trip." Bilbo said readily.

"Nori, for the love of peace - stop it!" Bofur rolled his eyes, snatching an apple from Nori's hand and depositing it back on a grocer's cart before anyone could notice. "You'll get us in trouble. Again."

As the Bofur and Nori bickered somewhat good-naturedly, Bilbo marvelled in the fact that the two dwarves were – for all intents and purposes – his friends. No longer was he part of a group of travelling companions, no… Now Bilbo was travelling with friends, and he was perfectly ready to admit that it felt nice.

Of course, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins would probably have a coronary if she could see him now, but she could not, and honestly Bilbo could not care less about his insufferable relations.

"You know what?" he said aloud, interrupting the pair. "I am very glad that I came after all…"

On the other side of Lake-town, Kíli swallowed and knocked on a door. When it opened, Bard frowned at him with surprise.

"What do you want?"

"I was wondering if I could ask you about something?" Kíli ventured a little nervously. "Today your son mentioned Lord Girion of Dale and I was just wondering if the story is true? Did he knock a scale off of the dragon?"

"You would be better off asking your kinsmen, dwarf." Bard's voice was hard, but not cruel. "No man has a lifespan so long and none now live that were in Dale that day. Most of them were killed instantly and there is no proof either way as to whether Girion managed to secure a significant hit."

"But do you believe it?" Kíli pressed as politely as he could.

Bard opened the door a little more with a frown. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because I've only heard the story from one perspective and I'd like to learn all I can before we go to the mountain." Kíli answered honestly. "I was not there when the dragon came, and I was not raised among the stories of my people. I know very little about what happened…"

Bard's confusion seemed to grow. "I still do not understand why you are asking me. Your uncle is your king, is he not? Were you not raised on the stories of the tragedy of these parts?"

"No, I was not." Kíli answered bluntly. "I was raised by the company burglar, Bilbo Baggins in the peace of the Shire. Until just under a year ago, dragons and gold and lost kingdoms were as foreign to me as flying. It was only by chance – and the will of a wizard - that I was reunited with my family at all. Before I left home I had no idea what happened here. Besides, I was told that you were the best bowman in all of Lake-town. While some of the company have sufficient skill with a bow, they know little about types of bows and arrows and I've only ever used them for hunting before."

Bard was quiet for a moment, and then he stepped back. "Come in. What is your name?"

"Kíli Baggins." The young dwarf replied, wiping his boots before stepping into the warm home. "Thank you."

"Come, sit down." Bard gestured to the dining room table with a sigh. "You've met my daughter, Tilda?"

Kíli smiled and nodded at the young girl, who offered him a shy smile and a nod before returning to her book.

"Tilda, will you go and read in your room, please?" Bard asked quietly, and she looked up before nodded and scampering up the stairs. "So…what do you want to know?"

"Bain mentioned something about black arrows? What are they?"

Bard sighed, pulling a quiver up from a nearby shelf and placing it on the table, pulling out one arrow as black as coal. "This is the last one… It was forged by King Thror himself, as a gift to the Lord of Dale. This was Girion's final arrow, the one he never got a chance to shoot…It was passed down to me by my father."

Kíli took that in for a moment, before wondering aloud. "Is that the only type of arrow that could kill a dragon?"

Bard laughed, raising his eyebrows as if surprised at Kíli's question. "No… though I'm not convinced any arrow will rid us from the menace that lives in the mountain. The archer matters more than the arrow, though both are important for success."

"Aye, that is something that I do know." Kíli agreed with a smile.

"You're an archer?" Bard asked with what appeared to be begrudging interest.

"I am…I'm the best in the Shire, though that doesn't mean much to most, I suppose." The young dwarf smiled sheepishly, and Bard looked almost convinced.

"So, it is your intention to slay the dragon and become a hero, receiving all your fortune and glory…" Bard guessed, sitting back in his chair. "And you have come to me to see if I believe it possible…"

Kíli recoiled, offended. "No! I most certainly have not!"

Bard blinked, surprised by the look of anger on Kíli's face. "Oh? So you do not want to slay the dragon?"

"I did not say that." Kíli replied hotly, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Bilbo reminding him not to lose his temper. "I don't want Smaug to hurt anyone else and I really don't care who kills him as long as he dies! It matters little to me whether or not I am the one to kill him, but I am the only archer in the company. The only one to carry a bow, in any case. I merely wanted to know if I stand half a chance with the arrows I have."

Bard was silent for a moment. "Do you have them with you?"

Kíli nodded silently, pulling four arrows out of the bag he carried and placing them on the table.

Bard picked them up and studied them. "Are these all you have?"

"I lost many in Mirkwood. I didn't shoot anyone, I just couldn't find many…" Kíli admitted, watching as the bargeman inspected the arrows.

Eventually Bard nodded slowly. "These are good arrows… Where did you get them?"

"I made them." Kíli's face glowed with pride when Bard offered him an impressed smile.

"And you never received any formal training?"

"Not much," Kíli admitted with a smile.

"As good as they are, you'd be better off with a set of stronger arrows if you want to try and defeat the dragon. Here…" Bard stood up and moved over to a nearby chest, pulling out a quiver full of dark brown arrows. "These arrows belonged to a dwarf I once knew, a wandering merchant by the name of Vidar. He gifted them to me in return for saving his life, and though they are far too short for my own bow you will be hard pressed to find stronger arrows this side of the Misty Mountains. I will give them to you under one condition."

Kíli tore his eyes from the beautiful arrows to frown at Bard. "Really? What may that condition be?"

"That you try as hard as you can to keep my people from harm's way." Bard's dark eyes bored into Kíli's and the young dwarf nodded.

"That is a promise I will make with or without your arrows. Surely there must be something else I can pay you with? After all, I'm a stranger who you don't particularly like…"

"I never said I did not like you personally, only the quest you are so stubbornly following." Bard offered Kíli a small smile before sighing. "I do not believe that you will be able to defeat Smaug. I mean you no offense, Master Baggins but you are one dwarf – not even of age if I am correct, and he is a dragon mighty enough to defeat two great cities of the past. I would ask for nothing more from you when I feel in my heart I am sending you to your death."

Chills shivered down Kíli's spine and he swallowed. "Thank you…I think."

Silence descended upon the pair for a long moment, but eventually Bard sighed.

"You'll want to practise with those. They'll feel different from your usual arrows and that will affect your aim."

Kíli nodded mutely, running his fingers over the arrows carefully before holding them in his hand to weigh them. Afterwards he nodded again. "I think I'll be able to adapt."

Bard smiled thoughtfully. "You seem very confident in that."

Kíli beamed cheekily. "There are very few things this far from home I am assured in, but my archery abilities are something I am confident about."

"Show me." Bard demanded, standing up and showing Kíli to a window. The man pointed at a tall post about two hundred yards in the distance that stuck up in the middle of the smooth lake, a round circular disk on top of it. "That's a target over there. So far, I'm the only person to ever have hit it, with the exception of some elves I know."

"Alright…" Kíli nodded slowly, nocking one of the arrows and adjusting his grip ever so slightly on the arrow, taking aim slowly.

Kíli inhaled deeply and felt his body relax at the glorious peace that always accompanied the finding of a target.

He let go of the arrow and it shot through the air, hitting top of the circular target heading the post. Not noticing Bard's impressed look he grimaced.

"Hmm, you're right. My aim and grip were a little off."

"Try again." Bard urged, and Kíli was quick to obey, nocking another arrow.

Once again he aimed, breathed and fired, this time hitting the centre of the target. He smiled in satisfaction, turning to look at Bard.

"Better?"

Bard just stared at the target and put a hand on Kíli's shoulder. "I think that you may have a fraction of a chance."

Kíli could not help the smile that spread across his face at that.

The rest of their week of rest passed as a blur, and Kíli could not help but dread leaving Lake-town, even though he had rested the least of any of them. Fíli and Dwalin had insisted on extra training sessions for the youngest member of the company, but Kíli did not mind too much. It reminded him of their first routine, the one where his brother and friend would train him every evening.

They spent the last evening in Lake-town at a local inn, and Fíli was not sure if it was a good thing or not. He had never seen his brother drunk before, and though Bilbo and Kíli had declared that he was an honest drunk, Fíli had not expected his evening to end the way it did.

When an unsurprisingly sober Thorin declared that they had to leave about an hour after midnight and the dwarves all staggered home under various intoxication levels, Kíli was definitely one of the worse for the ware. Living in the Shire, Kíli had only ever drunk one or two pints at once, meaning that the seven pints he had drunk with the others had rendered him stumbling like toddler.

"Right, off to bed, all of you." Thorin ordered, but shock filled his features as Kíli flung himself into his arms.

"I…I love you, Uncle Thorin!" Kíli slurred, a dopey grin on his face.

Fíli's eyes widened as Thorin staggered to hold his swaying nephew. "Kíli-"

"No, I, I mean it!" Kíli beamed. "I love you lots… lots and lots!"

Fíli glanced at Bilbo, who had managed to keep himself sober, who just shrugged with a little smile.

"When he's drunk, he will tell you precisely what he thinks of you. It's not always a good thing – if he hates you he will tell you straight." Bilbo warned, and Fíli glanced back at his brother and uncle. To his surprise, Thorin was returning Kíli's embrace wholeheartedly.

"I love you, too, Kíli." Thorin murmured, stroking Kíli's hair. "Now, go and sleep, we have a long day of travel tomorrow."

"Will do…" Kíli hiccupped, staggering away into Fíli's prepared arms.

"Alright, little brother," Fíli laughed, steering Kíli through the others. "Let's get you to bed."

Unfortunately, Kíli's clumsiness brought him straight into a collision with Dwalin, who gave him a mild warning. "Watch it, laddie!"

Kíli nodded vigorously. "You scare me."

Dwalin blinked and Bilbo, Bofur and Fíli laughed.

"But I'm glad you're my friend. Are you my friend? I'd like to think so. Fee?"

"Bed." Fíli insisted, leading his brother away from the bemused warrior. If he had looked a little closer, Fíli may have recognised the twang of sorrow in Dwalin's eyes.

Later Kíli would wonder if it was the alcohol that had brought on the sudden onslaught of remembrance, but when he slept that night his dreams were the crystal clear memories of another time.

Kíli laughed brightly, swinging his sword through the air and keeping the looming warrior at bay.

"Roar!" Dwalin yelled, his hands raised like claws, a smile on his face. "I'm gonna get you, laddie!"

Squealing in excitement, Kíli ducked between the warrior's legs, taking the crazed game of chase into the kitchen. Amad and Uncle Thorin had taken Fee to the healers' about his sore arm, but Uncle Thorin had promised that Fíli would be fine, so Kíli had allowed himself to be easily distracted by his favourite babysitter – Mister Dwalin.

Unfortunately, Mister Dwalin always won chase. He scooped Kíli high up into the air, tickling him mercilessly until the toddler could no longer breathe for giggling. Then he slowly lowered the boy to the floor in front of the fireplace, where Kíli proclaimed he had been defeated, flamboyantly flinging his arms to the side.

"Kíli!" Dwalin suddenly yelled, frightening Kíli, who screamed loudly before he knew something was wrong.

All of a sudden, his arm felt very hot and he turned to the right to see his pyjama sleeve on fire. His screams intensified as Dwalin ripped the burning material away from him, throwing it back into the fireplace. The toddler sobbed as the warrior cursed, flicking his bright red hands.

"Kíli? Are you alright lad?" Dwalin asked, breathing heavily.

Slowly, Kíli nodded, slipping across to the warrior and leaning into Dwalin's legs. "Are your hands hurting badly?"

Dwalin forced a pained smile to cross his face. "No, lad. I just need to leave 'em in some cold water for a while."

Kíli was less than satisfied with this when he saw Dwalin's blistering hands later, but the gentle warrior did not appear to be hurt when he lifted Kíli into his lap.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, Kíli."

"You didn't." the child yawned, making himself comfortable. "It scared me that you were scared, but you could never scare me, Mister Dwalin!"

You could never scare me, Mister Dwalin!

You could never scare me, Mister Dwalin!

You scare me.

Kíli woke with a start, panting as the early morning sun poked through the curtains. Once again, the remnants of an attachment lingered in Kíli's heart. This time it was Dwalin his old self had trusted so inexplicably. Dwalin had apparently been far more important to him as a child than he could have possibly imagined.

As he dragged his slightly hung-over self to breakfast that day, he made a decidedly sober promise that he would make an effort to speak with the warrior before they reached the mountain. He would apologise for his embarrassing actions the previous night and maybe, just maybe start a proper conversation.

That morning was the first time that Kíli noticed the white scars of a long dead fire marring Dwalin's old, calloused hands.

So, I hope you enjoyed that little Lake-town filler! I was so confused as to whether it's Laketown (what I thought) or Lake-town, but Lake-town is what's in my copy of the book so that's what I went with. I hope Bard's in character, obviously his role is slightly different here but I'm trying. I think Bard's kids called him 'Da' but I'm not sure, please correct me if I'm wrong! I half wanted to do more Lake-town but writer's block struck, so here's what you've got :P

Kíli's conversation with Bard... I hope you liked it, I think I do but I run hot and cold as to whether I do or not. I hope it's self explanatory why Kili went to see Bard though.

I hope you enjoyed that little catch up with the Kíli and Dwalin thing, a few people asked for an update so there ya go!

Anyway, thanks for reading, leave a review if you can!