Bilbo Baggins, as what used to be his usual custom in the mornings, was going on a walk. Most of the dwarves were sleeping off what was no doubt a rather unpleasant headache and so the hobbit found himself alone wandering the relatively deserted streets of Lake Town on a chill but sunny autumn morning.
Fili and Kili had offered to accompany him on his stroll but after taking one look at the large bruises under their eyes, Bilbo insisted that they go back to sleep and that, despite his rather recently spotty record of being assaulted, he would not be attacked in the street.
Though his assurances were firm to the dwarf brothers, Bilbo very secretly hoped that he was not being overconfident in this new place that had already proved be dubiously guarded by one shaggy looking man with a bow.
But, Bilbo thought as he took a deep breath of fresh air, it was hard to believe that anything bad could happen while the sun was still shining clear and there were no giant spiders or nasty goblins on their tails.
Placing one foot in front of the other, the hobbit started to make his way down the street. In the light of mid-morning it didn't seem as… well, scary, he supposed. Lake Town itself wasn't even that large from what he could tell. Bigger than Hobbiton of course, but as he was beginning to realize, not much in this world wasn't.
The wooden houses themselves were closely crammed together, their roofs looked to be the sort that might have been grand some time ago but many years and a turn of fortune had caused their sturdy beauty to fade. As he looked closer, Bilbo could see that most of the pillars had the patterns of different kinds of fish etched into them with a proud hand. Though many had started to fade as nature began to take back her wooden children, moss and other soft green things creeping up the houses.
The hobbit reached up to trace one of the fish, but as his fingers were about to make contact with the wood, Bilbo heard a shout ring through the streets. Glancing up quickly the hobbit tried to see just where exactly the commotion was coming from so he could run in the opposite direction. He was most certainly not about to get caught up in more unnecessary mischief so soon after last night.
There were a few moments of silence as Bilbo strained his ears until he heard the pounding of footsteps. The trouble was they… well, they didn't sound like they were coming from one of the alleys or side streets. They sounded like they were coming from above him, like someone was running on top of the closely packed roofs.
'Which is, of course,' he thought with a scoff, 'completely ridiculous. No one runs on top of their house unless their house is in the ground.'
Still… Bilbo was starting to feel like he should probably head back before he inevitably got pulled into some mess or another that in no way should even remotely be considered his business.
Turning on his heel, Bilbo was about to start making his way back when the soft padding of feet stopped. The hobbit scrunched his eyes shut.
'No. No,' he thought but Bilbo felt his Took curiosity begin to well inside him again, 'I am not looking up there because there is nothing to look at. Get a hold of yourself, you foolish hobbit!'
It took every ounce of his willpower to open his eyes again and start moving forward, to ignore the itch in his neck to turn just a little bit up. However Bilbo Baggins didn't have to look up, he didn't even have to move forward to see what sort of unsavory hooligan had taken to running across rooftops because just he was about to make his way back to his friends, a pair of boots flew into his vision followed closely by what he could only surmise was the rest of this person and not, in fact, a brown blur.
There was a flurry of leather and hair as the person fell into a tight roll onto the ground before standing up to face him.
"Bard?" Bilbo choked as he clutched his rapidly thumping heart. The green-eyed man looked down at him with a level of impassivity that the hobbit found to be just slightly inappropriate for someone who had just jumped off a roof.
"Oh, hello Mister Baggins," Bard looked down at him not with a smile, per say, but rather more of a not wholly displeased grimace.
"'Oh, hello Mister Baggins' is all you have to say?" the hobbit glared as he took a few deep breaths to calm himself.
"Do you have different customs in your land?" Bard asked curiously as he crossed his arms, "you can't really expect me to know how halflings greet each other—"
Bilbo cut in before the man could get any further, "I was referring to you jumping off of a roof."
Bard was silent for a moment until he gave the hobbit a short nod, "fair enough. I should be moving –" Though whatever he had been about to say was drown out as six of what appeared to be the town's guards came hurtling into sight at the end of the street.
"There he is! Get him, lads! And his accomplice too!" Bard let out a little sigh as Bilbo's glance moved rapidly between the bowman and the very angry looking guards with drawn swords running towards them.
"His a-accomplice?" the hobbit spluttered with indignation, "they think I'm with you!"
The man scowled as he narrowed his eyes towards to the guards, "I would not suggest staying long enough to argue."
"But I—" Bilbo hissed with nervous anger, "I haven't even done anything yet!"
Bard simply shrugged as he bent down slightly, "I am sorry for this."
The hobbit had started to back away slightly with narrowed eyes, "For what?" The man moved forward so swiftly that Bilbo didn't have the faintest idea what was going on until he felt his feet leave the ground.
"You people really," the hobbit grunted, jostling from side to side as Bard swiftly made his way through the narrow streets with Bilbo tucked under his arm, "need to stop thinking you can just pick me up –" Bard jump down a set of steps causing the hobbit to yelp mid-stream, "and go –" they skidded around a corner, "gallivanting through the streets!"
Bard ducked into what appeared to be an old, run-down house filled with a multitude of aged, decaying objects. Putting Bilbo down on the floor, Bard quickly stood up and peered out the hole where there should have been a window, "we needed to leave quickly."
"Oh – oh we needed to leave quickly, did we?" Bilbo shot back with no small measure of sarcasm dripping from his words, "you know what, I'm actually fairly certain it was you who needed to leave quickly!"
Bard glared at him before turning back to watch the streets, "I said I was sorry."
The hobbit threw up his arms in frustration, his voice going steadily higher and higher. "Then everything's alright! I'm not running from the town guards and they don't want to arrest me, how silly I was being –" The bowman stuck out a hand to cover Bilbo's mouth and put a finger to his mouth, "a little discretion, if you would be so kind."
The hobbit put both his hands on the one covering his mouth and yanked the offending appendage down before whispering, "what did you even do?"
Bard was silent for a moment longer until he glanced down at Bilbo, "I was… doing my duty."
Feeling suddenly confused, the hobbit realized that perhaps this man was not the city guardian he had thought from last night. "And why would the guards not want you to do that?"
"They… we do not see eye-to-eye on what is best for the people of Lake Town. Most of guards are too deep in the pocket of the Master and the rest are too afraid to say speak up."
Bilbo's eyes widened slightly, "The… Master?" Bard nodded shortly before turning back to the street, "He's—" but there was suddenly another shout from the street,
"Fan out boys! He has to be down here! Anyone who brings me the Bowman will be handsomely rewarded!"
Bard muttered a string of curses, "we need to leave."
Bilbo started to nervously play with the sleeves of his jacket feeling altogether like this would not end will for him, "oh bugger. Oh bugger, bugger, bugger!" Shoving him towards the back of the room where another door was barely hanging off its hinges.
"Move, Mister Baggins, and be quick about it."
The hobbit made his way to the back as fast as he could, winding around piles of old things and trying not to choke on the dust that plumed out whenever he accidentally hit one of the stacks. Finally shoving the broken door aside Bilbo stumbled out onto the street followed by a coughing Bard. Looking around quickly, Bard let out a little sigh as he shook out his hair, "I think we lost—" But at that very moment, the old door seemed to decided that right then was a fitting occasion to fall to the ground, taking out several piles of musty objects.
Crash after crash echoed around the street, each new noise causing Bilbo to flinch. The clattering stopped and the silence rung in their ears as Bard and the hobbit shared a look of equal resignation.
"What was that?" They heard a shout come from the next street over, "it came from over there!" Answered another voice.
"I think we should, uh, go," Bilbo started to back away from the door.
Bard, despite his ever-present grim calmness, gulped a little as he nodded in agreement, "a wise suggestion." The bowman made to bend down, probably, much to Bilbo's annoyance, to pick him up again. "I am not a child, Bard. I can run."
The man shrugged but before he could reply, one of the town guards burst through an ally down the road from them, "I found them, I found them!"
Knowing Bard would be able to keep up with him about ten times over, Bilbo did not wait for the man as he started to sprint down the street. "Where do we go?" the hobbit panted as he pumped his legs as fast as they would go.
"Follow me," Bard grunted as he ran in front of the hobbit and took a sharp left into another ally. Before taking the turn himself, Bilbo made the mistake of looking over his shoulder to see there was no longer just one guard chasing them, but all six. And they were gaining on them. Fantastic.
They ran down the narrow path, over old cobblestone and dirt. Bilbo ran after Bard who took them through twisted back alleys and under wooden arches. There was no longer a comfortable distance between them and the guards, all of whom seemed to know the town just as well as Bard did. The people of Lake Town had started to filter into the streets now, making their escape that much harder.
The more they ran, the more people filled the streets with apparently nothing better to do than block their path. "Anyone who stops them," they heard a guard call out from behind them, "will get a cut of the gold!" Everyone seemed to stop at that instant and all the faces watched the man and the small hobbit sprint through the streets. Feeling a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, Bilbo couldn't help but remember the looks of greedy hunger they had on their faces when Thorin's identity slipped out.
No one immediately did anything to stop them and the hobbit foolishly allowed himself to hope perhaps the people of Lake Town wouldn't try to hinder them until he saw an old man stick out his foot right in his path. The hobbit was running fast enough that he could do little but try to protect his face as he fell to the hard, stone ground. Bard ran for a few more moments but seemed to realize that he was currently short one small, hobbit-shaped figure at his side.
Skidding to a halt, the bowman saw Bilbo laying on the ground and started to run back, "No! Bard go!" The guards were just about on top of them now and the hobbit would just have to hope that once he explained to the guards it was all a misunderstanding, they would let him go. Bard ignored him as he started to lift the hobbit onto his feet but was almost instantly tackled by one of the guards.
Another placed a gauntleted hand on Bilbo's collar and yanked him up, holding a small sword to his neck. The bowman and one of the guard's grappled with each other for several confused moments until Bard placed a well-aimed fist to the man's head, knocking him out cold.
Wiping blood from his nose, Bard spun around only to see that Bilbo currently had a very sharp and very deadly piece of steel to his throat. "Surrender, bowman, or I'll cut your little friend."
Bard's face steeled as he automatically went for his bow, "release him, Otho, and maybe I'll consider letting you go unharmed."
The guard let out a grunting laugh, "I don't think you understand how this works. See, you move an inch and I will kill this little man. Not even you can draw your bow that fast." Bard's eyes narrowed as he glanced from Bilbo to the guard before slowly lowering his hand down to his side.
"Go get him, lads," Otho sneered, "I think the Master would very much like a visit from our favorite vigilante."
The remaining guards lunged forward and began hitting Bard until the man fell to his knees, taking blow after blow to his body. One of the guards pulled away his longbow as another hit him in the face. Bard spat out the blood filling his mouth onto the guards face as he shot his assailant a bloody smirk, "that the best—" but before he could finish another guard placed a hard fist into his stomach.
"Get a move on!" Otho shouted at his men, "there'll be time for that later."
Keeping his grip tight on Bilbo's collar, the guard practically dragged him through the streets as his companions pulled Bard along. They wound their way through several unfamiliar roads, the crowd behind them growing steadily. Soon they had a procession of what seemed to Bilbo to be about half the town gathered behind them.
They reached the town square, though it was really rather more of a circle. In the center there was a building placed on a mound of dirt to raise it about all the others around it. It looked far more grand to Bilbo than any of the others he had seen in the town but it was almost… too extravagant, like the owner decided he must have every expensive and fashionable piece of architecture available and so put them all together in one garish mesh of affluence.
The crowd formed a ring around them as the guards threw Bilbo and Bard into the center, "Master!" Otho shouted out and the group of people seemed to grow uneasily quiet, "I've brought you a gift!"
As the silence stretched, the hobbit shuffled as close as he could get to Bard and shook him lightly, "Are you alright?" The bowman coughed and spit out another glob of blood but nodded, "I've had worse. You?" Bilbo forced his face into a strained smile, "I'm fine."
Bard sat up but not without difficulty. Clutching his stomach, the bowman winced as he pushed upward and the hobbit's hands started to flutter nervously, "Maybe you should just stay down," Bilbo urged his companion with a hushed whisper.
Looking over at the hobbit from the side of his eyes, Bard let out another bloody cough, "I will not let him see on my knees."
Bilbo considered the bowman for a moment, seeing the fierce determination in his eyes and knowing that there was a violent, vibration of hatred buzzing with agitation right beneath the surface the man's skin.
"I…" Bilbo began but hesitated almost immediately. He knew Bard should stay down and not provoke these men further. He might be a novice healer, but even he could tell that the man would need to be thoroughly bandaged and rest for at least a few days. But as he looked at those green eyes, eyes hardened by some tragedy, eyes that were both familiar and foreign to him.
They were a different color, set in a different face, but Bilbo Baggins had grown to know that look, the look of bitter anger twisted around some old, festering wound. He knew that look well because he saw it in Thorin every day and as soon as the hobbit realized they were the same, he knew what Bard needed now was not reasonable or rational, what he needed was to face this person, this 'Master' with a strength he didn't have. Strength Bilbo would have to give him.
Standing up on slightly shaky legs, Bilbo hooked his arms underneath one of Bard's and gave a great heave, pulling up the bowman to his knees and then to his feet. The man slowly stood but leaned heavily against Bilbo the entire time, his hand eventually resting on the hobbit's shoulder.
Bard's eyes were permanently fixed on the rich, wooden door that stood still on the face of the great building in front of them, but as the minutes passed where nothing happened save for the thickening atmosphere of anticipation, his hand gripped Bilbo tighter and tighter. Whatever was about to happen, Bilbo thought now feeling utterly resigned, was most definitely not going to be good.
Time slipped by, slowly it seemed, if only because Bilbo had taken to counting every single heartbeat in his chest. The crowd had grown until it appeared that the entirety of Lake Town was gathered around them. It was their faces that confused the hobbit. It seemed to him if Bard was a common criminal they would be… well, happy to see him captured. But as his eyes scanned the people closest to him, he saw no glee, no righteous satisfaction. Instead he saw some mixture of dread and something of a slow horror. As if they knew what was about to happen but couldn't quite accept the fact that it was occurring now.
The door at the top of the steps leading the building burst open and through it came a man. Not a great man, as Bilbo had been expecting, but a… sick man. He was not covered in boils or coughing wildly. It was not that type of sickness, but as the hobbit looked at the horribly blotched face framed by stringy red hair that seemed more grease than anything with beady blue eyes almost clouded by a greedy thirst for more, more, more; Bilbo knew the man was ill in his desires.
"Well, well, well," the Master began in a revoltingly saccharine tone, "if it isn't Bard the Bowman come calling to visit my most humble door so early in the morning."
Everything about the man beside Bilbo seemed to tense, his fingers digging sharply in the hobbit's shoulder. Though the Master was clearly expecting some response, Bard simply remained silent, though his face was so cold Bilbo thought in that moment it could have turned even boiling water to frigid ice.
"Nothing to say for yourself?" the Master continued as he made his way down the steps as quickly as his massive girth would allow, "that is very unusual for you…"
Bard's eyes narrowed even further, never leaving the other man's face. As soon as the Master was close enough, Bard tilted his head back and spit a great glob of blood onto the luridly patterned shoe in front of him.
The Master's face grew red and furious as he started to splutter with anger while a small man clothed all in shabby black robes scurried forward and dropped to his knees to clean his lord.
"Get off" hissed the Master as he kicked his servant in the face, "Otho. Teach our friend some respect."
The captain of the guard started walking towards them with a viciously delighted smile on his face, " it would be my pleasure, sir."
Bilbo's brain sluggishly tried to catch up with what was going on. Glancing nervously at Bard, the hobbit knew the man couldn't take many more hits like he had if the damage wasn't going to be permanent. Making a split-second decision, Bilbo turned himself so that he was fully facing the guard and spread out his hands in defiance.
"You can't! Whatever Bard did, it isn't worth killing him over! I won't let you do it."
Otho's face darkened at the prospect of being impeded by a halfling of all things, "you won't let me, half-man?"
The captain of the guard stopped when he was barely two feet from where Bilbo and Bard were standing, "I – no, no I will not stand by while you brutes beat a man unable to defend himself!"
Otho was silent for a moment before he let out a roaring laugh, "and just what are you going to do? Bite my ankle?" There was a chorus of snide laughter from the rest of the guards as Bilbo bitterly regretted leaving Sting back in the room of the inn.
"I may be small, but at least I am not a coward," Bilbo shot back feeling both furious and intensely nervous.
Otho immediately stopped laughing as his angry eyes fixed on Bilbo, "what did you say?"
The hobbit let out a manic laugh as he planted his feet and ignored the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Thorin telling him to shut up, "I called you a coward, or are you an imbecile as well? I just want to be accurate –"
Bilbo felt a gloved fist hit his face, right beside his mouth. The pain was… intense and throbbing, but as he brought his hand up, he couldn't feel any loose teeth, which was, in a way, a mercy. The impact had forced his head to snap to the side as he stumbled back into Bard who thankfully had found some strength in him to brace them against a fall.
Wiping the blood away from his split lip, Bilbo glared up at Otho who was smirking down at him. "You would let this child do your fighting for you now?" the Master taunted as he watched the scene unfold, "I knew you had no honor, bowman, but I've never known you to back down from a fight."
Bard let out another cough as he turned his furious gaze from Otho to the Master, "And what would you know of honor?"
The red-haired man smiled back at Bard though it was really more of a twisted smirk, "Only that it is the one thing that has kept me from having your stain wiped from this town. After all, my sister would have lamented your death for reasons that, I must admit, escape me."
There was a flurry of movement as Bard lunged forward and Bilbo stumbled back. Reaching down to the small knife strapped to his leg, the bowman pulled it out in a flash and brought it to the Master's neck.
"Do not speak of her!" The Master tried to step back, his beady eyes flashing with fear, but the vice grip of Bard's other hand on his neck made it impossible.
"O-Otho!" the portly man spluttered as he tried to claw at Bard's arm. The guard stepped forward but was stopped as Bard pressed the knife into the Master's throat harder, "Don't. Move."
Turning back to the red face that was now leaking sweat profusely, Bard brought his mouth to the Master's ear, "If you ever mention her again, I will –"
The red-haired man let out a strained laugh over Bard's voice as he tried to wiggle away, "What? Mention Liana? I'm not the one responsible for her death, I believe –" The Master choked as the knife was pushed even harder into his neck, "the blame for that lies exclusively with you."
Bard let out an angry hiss as he tightened his grip, "you did nothing to help us! You wouldn't even look at her!"
The Master laughed again, "As I shouldn't have! Liana –" the knife dug in again, "m-my sister was the one who chose to bed a common criminal. It is not my fault your past caught up with you and she suffered for it!"
Bard's eyes grew wild as he coughed again, "I – I stopped! She made me stop!"
The Master seemed to sense the bowman was losing his ground and pounced, "And so much good it did her, I'm sure she appreciated your efforts as your colleagues cut her to pieces!"
"You didn't… you didn't help us," Bard countered, his voice shaking with a gnawing sadness.
"Helped you? And what? Gotten dismembered myself? My sister made her choice, as did you."
The bowman's hand started to fall from the Master's neck, "I did – I did what I could to save her—"
The Master let out a bitter laugh as he started to slowly inch away from Bard, "and what did you do to save your child?"
Bard's grip seemed to loosen as his eyes widened. Otho took the opening to lunge forward and tackle the bowman to the ground. The guard knocked the knife out of Bard's hand as he rained blow after blow down on him.
"Stop!" Bilbo shouted, wincing as he opened his mouth, but nothing happened. "I said stop!"
The hobbit rushed forward and grabbed the back of the guard's collar and yanked as hard as he could. Otho fell back on top of Bilbo and twisted, his angry fist raised to hit the hobbit until the Master bade his dog to stop.
"Enough."
The Master walked over to where Bard was curled on the ground, blood and tears leaking from him as his arms shielded his face from the hands that were no longer beating him.
Toeing him with disgust etched into every line on his face, the Master sneered down, "I allow you to be in Lake Town, Bard. I allow you to fight the criminals and patrol in your deluded attempts at redemption. I allow you to live," The Master rubbed his bruised neck, "But steal from me again, touch me again, and I will have Otho cut every limb from your body so you can feel how my sister felt as she died. Her memory will not protect you anymore, bowman."
"Otho," the Master turned his twisted face to the guard, "relieve our friend of his hand. Perhaps that will remind him who holds the power in this town."
The guard smirked back and turned away from Bilbo and he unsheathed his short sword. The hobbit glanced wide-eyed between the blade and Bard's shaking body. He couldn't let this happen! It wasn't – it wasn't fair!
The hobbit scrambled up and sprinted so he was between Otho and Bard, "No! You can't just go – go cutting off hands!"
The Master let out a laugh as he watched, "I can do anything I want, half-man. I own this town. And Bard here would do well to remember that." Bilbo could see the hatred set deep in those small blue eyes.
This was personal, that much was obvious, which meant the hobbit would probably do well not to get in the middle of it. But as he looked down at Bard, at the man who had saved him last night, he knew there was good in him. Whatever the man's past was, whatever was between himself and the Master of Lake Town, Bard the Bowman was worth saving, and Bilbo could not just stand there and do nothing.
"I won't – I won't let you do it." The hobbit had hoped his voice would have rung across the square with the assured confidence of the fearless heroes he had read about many years ago, but there was no denying the nervous shake that his words were laced with.
The Master looked at him of a moment but scoffed as he turned around to go back into his house, "take his hand as well, Otho."
The guard looked at Bilbo with a vicious pleasure, "not so brave now, are you?"
The hobbit eyed the steel as dread filled his veins, cold and cloying. Taking a few deep breaths, Bilbo tried to calm himself, to think like a brave fighter, to think like Thorin when suddenly he heard the most welcome voice in the world burst out of the crowd.
"What is going on here?"
Bilbo's face snapped to the cluster of people when he saw Thorin Oakenshield push his way through the mass of bodies followed closely by his nephews and the rest of the company. The crowd started to part and make room for the company. Soon enough Thorin stood in the middle of the open space, his arms crossed and chin raised, looking every bit the dwarven prince he was.
The Master spun around and his eyes widened as he saw the group of dwarves. "W—Who are you and what are you doing here?" the red-haired man tried to sound authoritative but his voice slightly stuttered.
Thorin glared at the man and for a few moments, sizing him up and apparently not impressed by what he saw.
"We are the dwarves of Erebor and we have come to reclaim our homeland."
There was a hushed silence for a few seconds as the Master stared back at Thorin with a gaping mouth and the whispers of the crowd started to build. Looking around the square, Thorin seemed to notice there was someone else between the guard and the man curled on the ground.
Apparently Fili noticed at near the exact same time as their uncle as he all but shouted, "Master Baggins?"
The hobbit poked his head around the hulking guard's form, "uh… yes, hello," he tried to smile but the bruise on his mouth had started to swell and made it all too difficult.
Fili and Kili ran forward and drew their swords as they placed themselves in front of their companion and glared at Otho who looked nothing but bewildered at the developing situation.
Fili glanced over his shoulder, "are you alright, Master –" bright blue eyes fixed on his bleeding mouth. Fili's eyes narrowed, his words halting as he turned back to Otho who was starting to back away slowly, "Where are you going friend? You haven't been introduced to my swords yet."
The blond dwarf started forward, letting the tips of his twin blades scrape across the stone ground as he grinned up at the guard and Kili moved to stand right in front of the hobbit, "it would be very rude to leave before proper introductions have been made."
"Fili," Thorin spoke with a dangerous sort of calm in his voice, "stay your blade."
Turning to his uncle, Fili lifted one of his swords to point inches from the guards face, "But uncle! He hurt Master Baggins, I can't just let him –"
"Come now, come now," the Master seemed to finally find his voice, "no need for that! I'm sure we can reach some sort of understanding."
Thorin ignored everyone as he made his way forward until he was right in front of the hobbit. "Are you injured, Bilbo?"
Shaking his head, Bilbo took the hand offered to him and stood up shakily, "N-no, not really. Bard is much worse off."
Thorin reached up and gently turned the hobbit's chin so he could examine it closer. The dwarf let out a small sigh as he examined Bilbo's cheek, "what did I say about getting into trouble?"
The hobbit couldn't help but let out a chuckle, "that I should try my utmost to avoid it. Though to be fair, this one wasn't my fault either."
Thorin smiled though it was the exasperated, strained sort, "There will be some bruising, but I think you will be fine." Eyes suddenly turning hard as stone, Thorin looked over to where the Master was still standing, "You. What is the meaning of this?"
"I – I…" the Master spluttered as his eyes shifted from the swords in Fili's hands to the great elvish blade strapped to Thorin's back, "I'm sure it was all a misunderstanding! Our quarrel is with Bard, not your friend here!"
Thorin's eyes narrowed as he glared back, "Then would you care to explain why he has been assaulted by what appears to be the head of your guard?"
"He – he refused to let us dispense justice!"
Fili let out a snort, "and your sort of justice is beating a man in the street, is it?"
The Master flushed even more red than he already was and took a short step forward, "You see here, this is my town, how it is run is no business of some wandering pack of dwarves!"
Fili let out a small growl as he pointed his other sword towards the balding man but Thorin spoke up first, "You ordered one of your guards to attack a member of my company, I think you'll find that you have made it my business."
The Master was visibly shaking now, whether it was rage or nerves, Bilbo had no idea. "Your friend was aiding a known criminal, his punishment was well within my right to give. I might ask just to whom I am speaking to that he think he has the authority to undermine my judgment?"
"I am Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thrór, King under the Mountain. I have no authority here, but there was a time when the people of this town counted themselves among the allies of Erebor. If you would like to do so again, I suggest you call off your man." Thorin stood tall, his shoulders back and face set in an imperious frown. If there was ever a time Bilbo had seen what must have been many years of royal training, it was now.
The hobbit turned to look at the red-haired man and could almost see the gears turning inside that glistening head. Bilbo could tell having a forgotten would-be king order him around grated against the Master's nerves and yet there was also obvious opportunity in this situation. Having no doubt heard the rumors of the dragon's supposed absence from the Lonely Mountain, there was now a great deal of wealth sitting perhaps completely unprotected.
From looking at the man's house, Bilbo knew the cool touch of gold was something the Master's fingers knew well and craved to feel more of. But he was also a fearful man, a cautious man, a cunning man. And a man like that never did the dirty work when there were others around to do it for him. Yes, Bilbo could see plain as day the Master knew a potentially profitable opportunity when it was staring him in the face.
The Master took a deep breath before plastering a giant, sickly sweet smile on his face as he gave Thorin a little bow.
"Of course, Master Oakenshield, nothing would delight me more than reviving that old, noble friendship. Otho," he gestured at the guard, "put away your sword."
Otho glanced between the Master and where Bilbo and Bard were being protected by a glaring Kili, "But – but we need to –"
Cutting him off abruptly, the Master shot in with an angry hiss, "we need to do nothing. Put away your sword immediately or I will replace you with someone better equipped to follow orders."
The head guard reluctantly sheathed his steel before backing away to stand next to the Master. He kept his angry eyes on Bilbo the entire time but seemed to think losing his position wasn't worth exacting his punishment on the hobbit.
"See?" The Master clapped his hands together with another smile, "all friends here! Why don't we talk somewhere more… private, Master Oakenshield. My house is right here, very convenient."
Thorin glanced back at his company and nodded, though it seemed to Bilbo to be somewhat reluctant, "yes, I suppose we should."
The portly man's grin widened further to reveal almost mossy green teeth, "of course your… company is welcome." The Master turned and started up the stairs to his door and opened it with a flourish.
Thorin jerked his head to indicate that the company should follow and they filed into the house one by one. Soon enough it was just Thorin and Bilbo in empty space left by the still muttering crowd.
"Coming?" Thorin looked at the hobbit with concern, eyeing the now blooming bruise.
Bilbo shook his head gently as he glanced down at Bard, "I, uh – I don't think me being there would help negotiations any. Plus, Bard needs someone to look at his wounds…"
The dwarf nodded slowly, "Are you sure you will be alright? I can delay the meeting for a time…"
Bilbo clapped a hand on his friend's arm, "of course, Thorin. Go do you prince business; glare at some innocents, mock some subordinates, scowl majestically…"
Though the dwarf glared at him, Thorin seemed to be put at least somewhat at ease at Bilbo's teasing, "if you're sure…"
"I am. Run along my prince and don't be late for dinner!" Thorin rolled his eyes before making his way to the door and entering into the Master's lair.
The hobbit knelt down beside Bard, "Uh… Bard? You aren't unconscious are you?"
The man groaned from underneath his arms, "if that I were," he let out a rather wet sounding cough before removing his arms from his face.
Bilbo couldn't help the small gasp that escaped his lips as he saw Bard's face. Well, calling it a face at this juncture was a bit generous. It seemed as if every part of flesh was covered in the blood that had leaked from his nose and mouth. One eye was swollen like a great purple plum and his lips were split in several places.
"That bad, huh?" The hobbit forced himself to look back up at the only visible green eye.
"It's, uh… no, it's fine! Totally and completely fine! Just a little… bloody?"
Bard let out a small laugh that turned into a coughing fit, "you are a terrible liar."
The hobbit glared down at Bard, "Fine. You look completely awful. Let's go back to the inn, I have some supplies there at least."
"You needn't bother, Mister Baggins, I'll be fine."
Bilbo closed his eyes a prayed for a just a sliver of the patience he needed to deal with the stubborn sort of folk he apparently was determined to associate with. "You are not fine and I am not wasting time listening to you try and convince me otherwise. You are coming with me and that's that."
They spent a good ten minutes just getting Bard into a standing position as the crowd dissipated. It was lucky, the hobbit thought with relief, that the inn wasn't actually that far from the town square and so they had only to limp down several streets until they reached the familiar building.
Bilbo sat Bard down in front of the fire and went to fetch some fresh water and his supplies. It seemed so long ago that he was the one being stitched up even though it had only been the previous night.
Setting the bowl of water down next to Bard, the hobbit dipped the cloth and started to wipe away the blood that coated the bowman's face. Once most of the red had been wiped away he supposed it didn't look… well it still looked bad, there was no arguing that, but it didn't look as bad. It was a shame he had none of Beorn's balm left, but thankfully Oin kept a stash of some dwarvish variety.
Bilbo started to rub it into Bard's forehead where there was a large cut running horizontally across his brow when he felt his curiosity start nag at the back of his mind, "Why do they… why does the Master hate you so much? …Are you really a criminal?"
Bard closed his good eye with a sigh, "I… was, many years ago. Until I met his sister and… well then I wasn't I suppose."
Bilbo saw an intense sadness creep into the man's face. A deep and sharp sort of sadness, the kind that left cuts and wounds that never seemed to close all the way no matter how much time passed, no matter how many scabs he pretended to cover the seeping gashes with.
"And what do you do now?" Bilbo asked quietly as he continued his work.
"I protect the town. Patrols, helping people with their problems. I… try to make their lives better, safer. As best I can."
The hobbit's brows furrowed in question, "that certainly doesn't sound illegal… why were the guards after you today?"
"They came after me because I grew careless." Bard coughed as his face fell into a bitter smile, "the Master is a rotting sore that pollutes this town. He taxes the goods coming in, the goods going out, he finds every way he can to sap these people of their hard-earned wealth and puts his thugs in power to keep them complacent and afraid."
"When I can, I take back some of what he has stolen and give it to the people. Today I got caught."
Bilbo's hand stilled as looked at Bard in surprise, "so you are a thief!"
The bowman glared, "I am, but so is he. Why should the people suffer while the Master does nothing but leech them so he can eat too much, drink too much, and fuck too many pretty whores? He couldn't even love his own sister, why should he love the people of this town?"
"… But you loved her, didn't you?" the hobbit added quietly, fervently hoping he wasn't pushing the topic too much.
"I love her still. More than anything. She… She would have wanted this town to thrive, not wither under her brother's greed."
Bilbo felt his heart clench slightly but didn't question the man further. He had known Bard barely a day, albeit a very violent and terrifying day, but not nearly long enough to pry into his life.
There were a several minutes of silence as the hobbit continued with his work until, to his surprise, he heard Bard speak up again.
"She saved me. Saved my life when I least deserved it, when I was a violent drunk who thought strength was power and power was everything." Bilbo finished wrapping the wound on the man's head before moving down to his arms and neck.
"She was… kind," Bard's face broke into a sad smile, "she loved this town and she loved me for some reason. When I… changed, there were many very powerful, very bad people who were less than pleased. They thought she had made me weak, made me soft."
Bilbo looked up at Bard's eyes now, at how they stood in such stark contrast on his face, one half swollen and purple, the other tired but open and clear. He had known loss and pain, he had known what it meant to have your heart ripped clean from your chest just when you hoped that maybe, just once, life was going to be fine. Bilbo had seen that look in Thorin and he saw it here in Bard as the man told him of tragedy; and it broke his heart.
It broke his heart to see good men brought to their knees, to see them claw at that elusive idea of wholeness with every aching fiber of their beings and come up short again and again.
"And I suppose she did make me soft. But when I looked at her, when I saw her pregnant with my child, smiling just for me, I wanted nothing but to be weak."
Bard turned his head so he was facing Bilbo, "have you ever been in love, Mister Baggins?"
The hobbit looked up slightly shocked, "I, uh… I'm not sure, I… don't think I have."
Bard gave him an almost infinitesimal smile, the cuts on his lips splitting again, "Sometimes it's quiet, Mister Baggins. It builds and builds until one day they smile at you and you realize that going one day without seeing that would be unbearable. You realize that they are the beginning and the end of your happiness."
Bilbo looked into Bard's eye and for the first time saw warmth there. It was small and flickering, but it was there. And that, he supposed, was love. It was the ability to make a man smile even when his wife had died. It may be small and strained, a barely kept up charade, but those memories, those good memories kept a man with nothing left going, trying for something.
"They killed her, the men I used to call my friends."
Bilbo squeezed the bowman's shoulder, "I… I am sorry, for what its worth."
Bard nodded with a bitter smile, " it was my fault she died. I live with that everyday and so I try to be how she would have wanted. Helping the town out as I can."
The hobbit hesitated for a moment trying to find the right words, "I… I think she would be happy to see you now. I mean you saved my life, so perhaps I'm a bit bias," Bard gave him a small smile, "but I saw in the crowd today no one really wanted you hurt. Even if they don't say anything, can't say anything, I think you are making a difference."
"I… hope so, Mister Baggins. Though I won't lie and say it doesn't feel like fighting a losing battle most of the time."
Bilbo smiled up at Bard as he finished wrapping the man's chest with bandage, "I think the most worthwhile things often do." The hobbit stepped back to examine his work, "Well I did the best I could, I'd suggest getting your chest examined by someone who actually knows what they're doing; nasty things can come of ignored injuries."
Bard nodded as he stood up with a groan, "I will. Thank you, Mister Baggins you have been more than kind."
The hobbit waved him off before placing his hands in the bowl trying to wipe the blood off, "You helped me last night, I'm just repaying the favor."
The bowman looked at him intensely as he slowly slipped his leather coat back on, "It was my fault you were involved in the first place, I will not forget your generosity. Should you ever need my help, all you need to do is ask."
Bilbo smiled at the bowman, "I appreciate that, Bard. Do you need help getting home?" the hobbit asked as he eyed the man limping towards the door with some suspicion.
"Thank you, but no. I'll go home and rest awhile. If I do not see you before you leave," Bard turned around to face Bilbo as he reached the door, "good luck on your journey and stay safe."
Bilbo smiled once again and waved to the bowman's retreating back. He had a feeling they would not be in Lake Town long enough to have an excuse to help Bard reclaim it from the Master's greedy grasp, but he hoped with all his heart that the man was successful, for his sake and the town's.