I do apologize for the gap in updates! (a laugh track plays in the background because I've gone months without updating some of my other fics) I've been engaging in the traditional human pastime known as "socializing" a lot lately, and I'll be out tomorrow as well. But I've made sure to work on this as much as possible! As always, thank you so much for the kind words in your reviews. I can't tell you how encouraging it is that other people like this fic as much as I do. Enjoy! P.S.: God bless people who put transcripts online tho.

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns Tolkien, you own you!

"Was that Aniel who jumped?"

"Aniel? Where is she?"

"Present!" you gasp, spitting out a mouthful of water. "Made it!"

You notice Bilbo clinging to a barrel like a drowning cat. You work with the tide to reach him and pull him onto your back. "This might make the ride a little easier for you," you say cheerfully. He half-laughs and locks his legs around your waist.

The raging rapids eventually calm. You paddle to shore and unload Bilbo before heaving yourself onto the rocks. "Could've been worse," you murmur, exhausted.

Bilbo shoots you a look. "I almost drowned."

"And almost is the key word there."

The Dwarves spill out of their barrels like very unusual cargo. You immediately go to tend to Kili. "I'm fine," he insists petulantly as you tear off a length of your tunic.

"No, you're not. But you will be, I promise. He will be," you add to a very upset Fili. "Haven't you learned to trust me?"

"I must," Fili replies with an attempt at humor that falls flat. "Before I was just betting money. Now the wager is something vastly more important."

"I promise." You place a hand on his shoulder for emphasis. He nods once, looking only slightly comforted.

An arrow sings through the air. You whip around to see it embed in a branch held by Dwalin. Kili grabs a rock and receives the same treatment.

"Do it again and you're dead."

Your heart flutters at the sight of Bard. You stand up a little too eagerly and are met with the threatening end of an arrow. You don't take it personally.

Balin steps forward, hands raised. "Excuse me, but you're from Lake-town, if I'm not mistaken. That barge over there - it wouldn't be available for hire, by any chance?"

Bard eyes him suspiciously. "What makes you think I would help you?"

You've heard this conversation a million times before, and you'd rather have one of your own. You and Bilbo are near the back of the group; you sit on a rock so as to be closer to his level. "I'm sorry for being short with you in Mirkwood," you say quietly. "About the ring, I mean."

"It's alright, but how did you know I had it? I told no one."

"You got it in the goblin caves."

"How did you - ah, yes, that's right. You knew I would find it."

"Yeah. That's why I couldn't completely bypass that entire bit, much as I wanted to - it was imperative that you find that ring."

"Yes, I see what you mean. It's come in quite handy, hasn't it?"

"It'll be even more handy later. I won't tell anyone you have it. That's your business."

Bilbo smiles slightly. "Thank you, Aniel."

You plaster on your own smile, but it doesn't last. If only Bilbo knew the true nature of what he carries in his pocket. If only he knew why you had to make sure he found it. Your heart bursts with emotion for the hobbit.

Bilbo notices the change in your expression. "Are you alright?" he asks.

"Yeah," you lie, clearing your throat. "I was just thinking about how fond I am of you, and how lucky I am to have met you."

"Lucky? That's a bit of an overstatement..."

"It's not. You're so kind and honest and brave and loyal and just good. The world would benefit from more people like you. You can't even fathom how important you are, Bilbo Baggins."

"Goodness!" His cheeks redden slightly at the flurry of complements. "It's an honor to know you think so highly of me! I shall try to live up to your esteem."

"Oh Bilbo, you do live up to it. Just remember that when the going gets tough."

Thorin calls for the two of you to get on the barge. You and Bilbo scurry aboard. Once the land recedes, you try to get into a more elvish character to meet and possibly flirt heavily with Bard.

He raises his eyebrows as you sweep up to the helm. "You are from the Woodland Realm," he murmurs almost more to himself.

"Ah, yes and no. I'm Aniel. I'm very glad to meet you, Bard, and I appreciate you smuggling us into Lake Town."

"Are you also visiting kin in the Iron Hills?"

You laugh, even though you're sure it was meant as sarcasm more than a joke. "It's almost like you don't believe them!"

"It's not every day I get such a request as this, so you'll forgive my slow trust."

"What if I were to tell you that I'm traveling with them to the Iron Hills to talk to the lord of the land about opening up trade with Mirkwood? Would you believe them then?"

"I'm...not sure. Though it is a more plausible story and would account for a lady elf amongst a band of Dwarves."

"Good, then we'll go with something like that. I'll explain the real reason to you later."

"Then you are not a diplomat?"

You smile widely at him. "Do I act like one?"

"You certainly are much more friendly than the elves I've dealt with in the past."

"Good. I'm sure I'll need all the charm I can muster to deal with what we're sailing into."

The Lonely Mountain looms into view through the thick, chilly fog. It's an awe-inspiring sight that hushes the quibble about money. You stare up at it, mind full of events to come.

Bard approaches the Dwarves. "The money, quick. Give it to me."

"We will pay you when we get our provisions, but not before," Thorin says.

"If you value your freedom, you'll do as I say. There are guards ahead."

You smirk and wave at the Dwarves as they hide in the barrels. You're very happy your alibi spares you the same fate of being buried in fish; you wince gleefully at the slapping sounds of the scaled creatures being poured in.

"They won't thank you for that," you giggle as Bard takes the rudder once more.

"I get the feeling they won't thank me for any of this," Bard returns wryly.

"Probably not, but I'm thankful already. I appreciate the risk you're taking, and I'll do my best to make it lighter on you."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Oh, you'll see." For this time you do have a plan, and you can't wait to assume the role of elven dignitary.

The toll man, Percy, calls as the barge glides up to the gate, "Halt! Goods inspection! Papers, please! Oh, it's you, Bard."

"Morning, Percy."

"Anything to declare?"

"Nothing, but that I am cold and tired and ready for home."

"You and me both. There we are. All in order."

But the exchange couldn't go smoothly, of course. That little weasel, Alfrid - you wrinkle your nose - steps out of the shadows. "Not so fast."

You can almost hear Bard roll his eyes.

Alfrid snatches the papers out of Percy's hands. "Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm. Only they're not empty, are they, Bard? And you're not alone."

All eyes fall on you. You smile blandly, more than ready to begin your act. "I've come on behalf of King Thranduil of Mirkwood," you say lightly. "He is interested to see how our realm's most valuable trade partner's town is doing. These fish are a gift from him."

Alfrid immediately cleans up his act in the presence of someone "important". "Of course, milady. The Master always welcomes those from the Woodland Realm. If you'll come with me, I'll take you to your lodgings."

"Thank you, but Bard has already kindly offered me a place to stay. The Master certainly is lucky to have this most excellent bargeman in his service."

Alfrid, clearly displeased, bows. "As the lady wishes."

Percy opens the gates, and the barge sails through.

Bard guides the barge through the water-streets of Lake Town. Without looking at you, he says, "You lied through your teeth."

"Of course I did!"

He cannot suppress a smile.

Bard sells off the fish and leads the company through the many twists and turns of the wooden city. A teenage boy suddenly skids up to him. Taking little notice of the odd group, Bain near-whispers, "Da, our house, it's being watched!"

You know what's coming next and grin again. A quick dip in the water will do wonders for the fish smell. You consider making a joke about this, but since Dwalin already looks on the verge of murder, you abstain.

Bard's house is on the upper levels of the town. You suppose only years of living in Lake Town allowed anyone to travel anywhere; you couldn't make your way back to the front gate if your life depended on it. Bard shuts the door tightly and locks it once everyone is inside.

Sigrid, who is even more lovely in person, embraces Bard. "Father, there you are! I was worried, I - who's this?" She looks at you in surprise. You wave.

"In a moment." Bard pats Tilda's head and nods to Bain. "Get them in."

You lean over the banister next to Sigrid to watch the lovely sight of the company emerging from the loo. Dwalin growls, "If you speak of this to anyone, I'll rip your arms off!"

You chuckle.

"Da, why are there Dwarves climbing out of our toilet?" Sigrid is becoming increasigly confused.

"Will they bring us luck?" asks Tilda hopefully.

Bard distributes blankets and dry clothes to the very unhappy company. Sigrid starts a kettle of tea. You try to help her even though you've never made tea in your life.

"Oh, you don't have to," she protests.

"I want to, really!"

"But you're a guest - a lady guest - "

"How long have you known Da?" Tilda asks. "Are you an elf? Are you from the forest?"

"Since earlier today, yes, and no, in that order."

"Da says the elves make the Master rich. Do you have loads of gold at home?"

"Tilda!" Sigrid exclaims, her cheeks coloring. "Stop bothering the lady!"

"No, it's okay! It's been a long time since I've seen another girl." You sit on the bench to be closer to Tilda's level. "I actually don't have loads of gold at home. Don't really have a home, either. I've got fifteen coins to my name, all of which I've won from bets, and the clothes on my back."

"Why are you with so many Dwarves?"

"They're my friends. We're on a quest."

Tilda's eyes light up. "A quest?"

You glance around. Balin is telling the story of Girion and the black arrow. You still have some time before you may be called on to defuse things. "It's a secret quest, so I can't tell you much about it. But your Da is helping us. He's a very good man, your Da. I'm glad to have met him."

Tilda giggles and runs away like you've just bestowed upon her a very juicy secret. Sigrid heaves a sigh and retrieves cups from the cabinet for the tea. "You'll be in for it now."

You grab several more. "What do you mean?"

"She tries to set Father up with any woman that looks at him long enough. It's her favorite game, to find him a new wife. She craves a mother, I suppose. I'm not much of one, though I've done what I could - but I shouldn't trouble you with that," she finishes guiltily.

"Don't be sorry." You take the steaming kettle from her. "I know you've done the best you could, and it's been enough."

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"Are you a sorceress?"

"Not quite. And as for Tilda's game - it would be an honor to catch your father's eye, but I think he and I both have bigger things to worry about at the moment."

And at the moment, Bard's worry is the Dwarves' rejection of his weapons. But he seems pensive, so he must have moved past the snub and come to realize just who he's hosting. You quickly follow him out when he exits. "Bard, wait!"

Bard pauses only briefly. "My lady. Excuse me, there is an errand I must run."

"I know." You run to catch up to him. "You heard Thorin's name and now you're going to check it against the tapestry."

This effectively halts Bard. He stares at you in shock. "How did you know?"

"Are you ready for that explanation I promised?"

Bard leads you to a tiny nook in a less populated part of the town to ensure the conversation will remain private. You're not quite sure how to start that conversation, so you get right down to it: "I have the elvish gift of foresight and that's Thorin son of Thrain."

"Thorin son of Thrain," Bard repeats wonderingly. "The Lord of Silver Fountains..."

"The King of Carven Stone. The King Beneath the Mountain shall come into his own. And the bells shall ring in gladness at the Mountain-King's return. But all shall fail in sadness, and the lake will shine and burn," you finish.

"Then the prophecy has come true? He intends to enter the mountain? Does he not know what slumbers there?!"

You nod slowly, gazing at Bard, wondering how best to delve into the topic of utter destruction and ruin. You know that Bard is an honest man, true and pure and uncomplicated in a way that only Bilbo could rival. You decide he deserves the truth. "Would you like it?" you ask. "The truth, I mean. I'll tell you everything if that's what you want."

"Yes. Tell me everything."

"If you say so. The truth is this: I've seen everything that's going to happen on this quest - or what would've happened had I not joined to change a few things. I knew we would meet you, and I was excited, because I know what a good man you are. You're hardworking, loyal, and kind, and that's why you'll soon be lord of Lake Town."

"Me?" Bard blinks, then shakes his head. "That's not possible. You must be wrong."

"I'm never wrong! But here's a bit more truth: Smaug is going to destroy Lake Town when he wakes."

"When he wakes?!"

"What, you thought thirteen Dwarves and a hobbit could be that quiet? Yes, Smaug will be woken, and he will come to Lake Town, and you will kill him with the black arrow that's conveniently hanging in the rafters in your kitchen."

"How did you - "

"Foresight, remember?"

"If entering the mountain is what wakes Smaug, then we must stop him!"

Bard rises with purpose, but you grab a handful of his shirt. "Don't bother. They've probably left by now."

"Left?" He glares at you. "You were meant to stall me!"

"No, that's not it! Just sit down and listen. They're going to the armory, they'll get caught anyway. Please, listen."

Bard unwillingly sits back down.

"I'm telling you all of this because maybe you can get some people to evacuate and lessen the death toll."

His expression goes from one of resentment to one of bewilderment. "That's it? You told me all this to save lives?"

"Uh, yeah? What, you thought I was in it for myself? What good or bad would it do me for people to die? You people really need to work out your trust issues. I haven't told anyone anything without them getting all suspicious about my motives."

"I apologize if I offended you, but in this age, it is wise to be wary of uncalled for kindness. I will do what I can to evacuate the town, but I fear they will not believe me. Perhaps if you come with me - "

You shake your head. "Can't. It was just a heads-up. Whether they choose to believe you or not isn't something I can help you with.

"Then why tell me?!"

"I thought you should know what's coming so you could be better prepared. I just wanted to help you as much as I could. You deserve it."

Bard's irritation cools in the face of your softness. "It must be hard," he murmurs, "knowing things before they happen and having to deal with stubborn, ignorant mortals."

"It is," you sigh. "At first it was fun, but as things have progressed..."

"At least you use your knowledge for the greater good. There are many in this world who would abuse such a power."

"Yeah, but you're not one of them. That's why I told you. Anyone can see that you're a good man, Bard, and soon you'll be a great one."

The night has fallen around you, and with it, snow. You look at the sky, surprised at how quickly the time has passed. "We should go," you say, standing up. "There's a meeting in the town square you'll want to be privvy to."

You urge Bard to hurry; damned if you're going to miss Thorin's majestic speech to the people of Lake Town. You arrive just in time for him to step forward at Dwalin's introduction. You slip into place beside Bilbo.

"I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake. This was the center of all trade in the North! I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the Dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the Halls of Erebor!"

You sigh dreamily. It's times like this when Thorin's inner king shines through for the world to admire. You know he'll be a great king one day very soon.

"Death!" Bard exclaims, shattering the moment as he pushes through the crowd. "That is what you will bring upon us! Dragon fire and ruin! When you waken that beast, it will destroy us all!"

Thorin remains uncharacteristically calm in the face of Bard's accusations. "You can listen to this naysayer but I promise you this: if we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!"

"All of you! Listen to me! You must listen!" Bard is desperate now. You wonder if you made a mistake telling him of Smaug before this moment. "Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?! And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a Mountain King so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!"

But it's too late. The Master's desire for gold causes him to side with Thorin. The people of Lake Town cheer, lost in fantasies of prosperity. Thorin, too, is full of a sort of inner light. It's both beautiful and tragic, for you know that the darkness only grows from here.