Chapter 10, everyone!

Happy New Year to you all!

As usual, a big 'thank you' to all readers, followers, favourites and reveiwers. Your support makes it twice as fun to write this!

I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do.

Enjoy!

Chapter 10: Day 2 – Bard

Bard was not the first to hear the news of Thorin Oakenshield's nephews' deaths.

It had started as whispers, fickle words trading bearer. Then, as the afternoon sun slowly faded, it spread across the whole camp to Dwarves, Men and Elves alike. The Dwarves were shouting in anger, their hammers hitting steel with a thunderous force. When night had truly fallen, the camp echoed with the deep voices of the Dwarves, a lament so beautifully harmonized that it left even the Elves slightly speechless.

Bard had not been personally informed about the princes' passing. He had heard it in passing by people gossiping. It had made him pause, but he could not recall the princes' faces. His expression had turned grim, but not really for the sake of the dead Dwarf princes. No, too many lied dead already for him to weep over, but he could sympathize with the living. He could not think of what he would have done should he have lost any of his children to the dragon's wrath or to the battle that took place not long after. Despite everything Thorin Oakenshield had done, the misery he had caused, Bard felt a pang of sympathy for him living to see his heirs pass away while he still lived, though for how much longer was uncertain.

It did not snow this evening, but the darkness still fell before the late hours. Bard had returned from another short meeting with Thranduil and Gandalf. Daín had not been present. Bard could figure out the reason to that by himself, though Gandalf kindly – if not a little bit patronizing – explained that he was with his kin at the moment. Bard understood that and his absent meant that the meeting turned short as there was no one there to trade insults with the Elvenking. Despite the Dwarves heartfelt lament, Bard felt in a higher spirit when he left the meeting. More food had arrived and herbs for healing with the Elves and there had been a report from the Eagles that more supplies would come in a day's time from the Iron Hills.

When Bard arrived at his part of camp, he found most of the inhabitants of Laketown sitting around a large fire they had built. It radiated heat and even though it brought up memories of their town being laid to ruins, it was welcoming all the same.

Bard spotted his children there. Tilda was sitting nestled next to Sigrid, resting her head on her sister's shoulder while Bain was sitting a couple of seats away, speaking in a low voice to some of the other young boys that had survived both Smaug's attack and the battle. It warmed Bard's heart to see them there alive and together, despite their faces being pale and eyes tired. Another part of his heart ached for those who could not say the same. Many families had been torn apart from the burning of Laketown and as the Dwarves' singing expressed, it was not only Men who had lost people they cared about.

When the people noticed Bard they fell silent for a moment until he had sat down next to his daughters. He greeted them all with a slight smile and after that the conversations started again, though they were quiet and hushed as if not to disturb the Dwarves' singing.

"Da!" Tilda greeted him and hugged him, tearing herself away from her sister's side.

Bard hugged her back, feeling a wave of calmness wash over him.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, stroking Tilda's hair, but directing the question to his eldest.

Sigrid nodded, her lips twisting in to a smile that took away some of the tiredness in her eyes.

"Yes, we have", she assured him. "Lotta made sure that we got our share."

Bard located the sturdy old woman sitting on the other side of the fire and nodded his thanks. The old lady nodded back. She had been a friend to Bard's late wife's parents and though they had not spoken often after Saga's death, she had always been within reach to keep an eye on his children should she deemed it necessary.

"Da, is it true that the Dwarf princes are dead?" asked Tilda sleepily and peered up at him.

The quiet conversations around the large fire nearly died out completely at Tilda's question and Bard felt many eyes rest upon him as they all waited for him to confirm what they thought they knew or deny it. Bard sighed and removed a couple of curls that were dangling in front of his youngest daughter's eyes.

"Yes", he said in a soft voice. "It is true. That's why they are singing now. They are grieving."

"It's sad", mumbled Tilda and closed her eyes.

She was right. The song they were singing in rich, deep voices that blended perfectly together with the night, spoke of a sadness that in Westron would be quite difficult to convey with such simplicity, but meaning, as the Dwarves' song. It truly was a sad thing to hear where the Men of Laketown were sitting and staring into the burning fire.

They soon started to talk again in voices that sounded as soft as the sparkling flames of the fire. Bard spoke with his eldest as his youngest seemed to be drifting off to sleep. Once or twice, the calm atmosphere was disturbed by some standing up and getting more wood to fuel the fire. Just when Bard decided that it was perhaps best to get his children in bed and to sleep, one of the men asked him what would happen next. Suddenly all the attention was on him, reminding the bowman that he was their leader now.

"I would like to rebuild Dale", Bard told them, poking around the fire with a thin stick. "It would be the greatest marketplace in the North, just as it was in my ancestors' days."

"Aye", hummed many of his companions. "That would be a sight to behold."

"But what of Laketown?" asked an old woman with ashen eyes.

Bard smiled a crooked smile and sighed softly. He raised his chin proudly and as the flames flickered, casting warm shadows upon his face, it could easily been seen that he came from a noble line.

"Laketown would once again become the center of all trade in the East", he assured the crowd and he spoke in a strong voice while his eyes burned with dreams. "Our people would live in peace and prosper. The Dwarves would be our trading partners and the Elves our buyers. Even Gondor would want to have our goods. We would once again be put on the map and all in Middle Earth would know us."

Silence fell amongst the Men at Bard's words. Many were looking completely captured by the vision he painted. His son was one of them and Bain's eyes shone admiringly and proudly as they rested upon his father. Others had faraway looks in their eyes. Then there were some whose faces looked hardened by battle, age and hardship and not dared to believe in a dream like that.

"It sounds good and all that", said one of the former Master of Laketown's counselors, though his tone was most unhappy. "But how will you manage that, hm? Our supplies are nothing but scraps given to us by those with power and though all the talk of an alliance, I see none formed."

"Help will come, Alfrid", said Bard, locking eyes with the man in a defiant staring contest. "Tomorrow, more food and supplies will come from the Iron Hills. We are not on our own."

Once again the people broke out into muttering and many faces broke out into relieved smiles. Alfrid did not look convinced.

"What of the gold that was promised us?" he wondered, looking around the fire to try and gain some support. "We cannot rebuild our homes without being able to pay for what we need. The Elves did not help when Dale fell all those years ago and neither did the Dwarves. Instead, it was Laketown that aided the Men of Dale. Who says that the Elves and Dwarves goodwill will last this time?"

He paused and let his words sink in. Bard noticed that doubt clouded the vision of some of the gathered. Alfrid seemed to notice it as well. He nodded importantly and continued in an oily voice:

"What will we do then, Bard? Without an alliance to ensure our safety and without gold to pay, we will be nothing. From what I can see, you do not seem to have the situation under control…."

"That's a lie!" shouted Bain and his voice was like a crack of a whip through the calm night. He got to his feet. "My father has done more for our people than anybody else. He slayed the dragon, led us through the wild and through battle. Now, he does his best, arguing with leaders of fairer and tougher folk just so that we shall have a place to stay during the winter, a chance to survive."

Bard felt his heart swell with affection for his son who, despite all the hardship that had happened to them, believed Bard to be able to fix everything. He sent his son a small smile and gestured for him to sit down. With a bit of a sheepish smile of his own, Bain did as his father asked.

"Yes", said Alfrid with a sneer. "Attending meetings…. Tell me, what of the King under the Mountain? He promised us the gold and he started all this. What does he say?"

"The King under the Mountain is ill and wounded", said Bard sharply. "On top of that, he has just lost his heirs, his pride and joy. He is in no state of enduring meetings and councils."

"Why do they not just end his misery and let that fellow from the Iron Hills become King of it all?" wondered Alfrid.

He was met with a lot of stares, but no one disagreed. The Dwarves' song had ended, almost as if they had heard the words Alfrid spoke. The night was again silent. Bard blinked and looked sharply at Alfrid, a biting retort on the tip of his tongue and by the looks of it, he was not alone. The hunched, dark-haired man looked around at his companions, amazement spreading across his face.

"Oh, don't say you have not thought of it as well?"

Bard reprimanded him for speaking such words when they were in a camp surrounded by Dwarves and at more or less at their mercy. Yet the Dragonslayer could not deny the truth of the other man's words. There was a part in the darker and more bitter parts of his mind that had wondered how it would be if Thorin Oakenshield would come to meet the same fate as his nephews.

So, that was Bard. Any thoughts?

Next, we'll be entering the third and last day...

Thanks for reading! :)