So, our heroes have made it to Lake Town. The end draws ever nearer my dear readers, I have been dropping some super duper subtle hints so if you don't get them, that's ok, sometimes i miss them too.

Of Mountains and Woodlands Chapter 10

Thorin was deeply uncomfortable in his barrel and he had been in there for what seemed like an eternity – the only comfort Thorin found was the knowledge that Maya was going steady by his side. His mood was as dark as a storm cloud, though. He was a brewing storm cramped up in that barrel, his bones hurt. His muscles straining in tension of not being stretched in too long a time and yet, the time ended and a different time came. He felt the rough drag of his barrel onto a more solid surface while small, frantic whispers circled about his small space. It was a relief to know he was going to be out soon but the frantic whispering made him dread the new situation he was about to be pulled out into. No sooner had these thoughts crossed his mind than his lid was pulled off and the soft glow of skin beneath Maya's chin was revealed to him. She glanced down at him, gesturing for him to get out with the swift movement of her hand,

"Come, get out quickly," she whispered. Thorin almost fell out of his barrel but he was on his feet quickly enough. He had just enough time to realise the rest of the company was not about before Maya gestured impatiently at him,

"Come, Thorin!"

He jogged low behind her, following her as she darted around a bush and crouched. He did the same and came to find the rest of the company there too. Bilbo had his knees up to his chest and his arms holding them there tightly, his eyes wide as he rocked back and forth. Thorin found his storm to be disappearing over the mountain to be replaced with a lighter more cautious breeze. The winds of change had come and gone,

"What in Durin's name is going on?" he whispered but Maya shushed him, peeping over the top only to drop down faster than a cannon ball. She turned to him,

"Elves,"

Thorin's eyes went into an expression of half bewilderment and half rage. How did they think to find them and come so far so quickly?

"So soon?"

"We're all just as confused as you are, I assure you," she gave him a look of warning so he knew not to rage at all. This was a potentially severe problem, if they were caught; they would never get out for Bilbo would probably be caught with them given the state he was in.

"How did they get here so soon?" Thorin mused, peeping through a little clearing in his bush to find three large horses standing towards each other, their riders perched gracefully upon their backs, armed and alert,

"Only three?"

"No, there are more…we saw them just before we saw you. The others ran while I stayed to get you out,"

"Where are the other riders?"

She looked at him, worry spreading over her face,

"That's where the problem lies: we don't know. They were once there," she pointed to the other riders, "but now, obviously, they're not,"

"We should run," he stated, bringing his kingly air to the surface but Maya was not so easily persuaded,

"Run where? We're still unsure of the way and we're not on the path – it's folly to try,"

"What then? Wait them out? They will stay there until they find out where we are. At the rate we're going, that won't take long. Not long, or we could be waiting here for days,"

"I'd rather that than give ourselves away so early on. We need a distraction of some kind…to lure them away and then we'll run."

"Do you have an idea in mind?" Thorin turned expectantly to her. When she didn't say anything, he was about to ask again but she slapped a hand over his mouth, her other hand on her own lips, the old sign for 'keep your mouth shut'. Thorin sat silently startled for a moment before the nature of what was occurring found its way to his wits. There was a rustling just behind their bush and the sound of hooves made its way too close to their hiding spot for any of their comfort. The hot breath of the giant stallion, upon which one of the riders sat, blew out in a small mist just above their heads. The horse was restless, whinnying relentlessly, unwilling to stand still, tall and proud. The elf riding him was equally as restless, shifting in his saddle, bored but as merciless looking as the rest. The elves of the forest were not to be compared to those of Rivendell. Thorin tensed, barely allowing himself to breathe, his hand sought out Maya's and he clasped it tight. The mighty horse leaned its head down and the between the two of them, Maya and Thorin discreetly parted from the stallion's prying nose. The elf above them called to the others in Elvish and for a split second Thorin was terrified he was calling them over, but instead, he abandoned post. He left them behind their bush in a state of panic and fright, much of the company shaking from fear.

"Ok," Maya broke the silence, "Distraction. No, I don't have one," she looked at him, pulling her hand from his grasp. It was an odd moment to feel such a thing but to have her hand pulled out of his hurt but a little and he found it hard not to scowl at her for doing such a thing. No hand, especially Maya's should have to be pulled from out his grasp unless he releases it first. However, of all the company that could have given voice to the situation at hand, Bombur's was the least expected,

"I do,"

All eyes shifted to his big form lying flat on the ground, surprise in each and every one of them. Beneath his great beard and many, many chins, Thorin saw the hint of a grin play across his round face,

"Someone's going ta have ta give me a lift op a tree, though,"

His small, beady eyes came to rest on Bilbo whose own eyes could not have possibly opened any wider, but obviously didn't receive the memo and did just that. His face paled and his jaw dropped in dismay as all eyes shifted once again towards the fearful hobbit.

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The company watched in silence as Bilbo, with some help of course, hoisted Bombur up a tree not far, but far enough from them, after sneaking past the elves. It took a few moments to get it done for every time a leaf floated down to the ground or a twig snapped or the sound of puffing horses grew too near, they would stop dead and stand as still as statues, waiting for the threat to go. Once done, those that remained on the ground snuck back to the company.

Bofur collapsed just behind Maya, panting from the effort,

"Well, that was the most horrible experience. If this doesn't work, I'll kill 'im."

Maya raised her eye brows at him,

"You may not have too,"

She turned and looked on. The elves were still alert and waiting, talking amongst themselves. But suddenly there came an enormous roar from above them and all attention, swords, bows and arrows were drawn from their place and directed to wherever they thought the enormous noise came from. The elves were confused, each one looking in the slightest bit of fear in different directions.

"WHAT HO!" Maya's eyes widened in…shock? Horror? Bewilderment? She didn't know, but the sound of Bombur's suddenly gigantic voice booming through the eerie shadow of the forest was not what she expected. It was a strange sound, much like an echo, and she couldn't quite understand how he managed to make that happen. It had the desired effect on the elves however, a little disconcerted and confused: Where on earth was this voice coming from?

"What brings you so far into the depths of my forest, elves?"

Maya couldn't even see Bombur properly, he was a round shadow in the dark hood of the leaves if one looked closely enough, but somehow, she didn't think the elves were truly looking for the shape of a dwarf in a tree. Not one of them replied, still in shock.

"SPEAK!" Bombur roared,

Eventually one of the elves stepped forward; it was the one, who had so nearly caught them,

"Show yourself!"

"No, why should I? You are in my forest! And YOU are so far from where you belong, elf,"

"Are you the one they call Tom Bombadil?" The elf was calm and collected in face though his voice shook.

"What business is it of yours?"

"We have heard of your presence here in this forest though no one sought to believe it. We are looking for our captives. They are a danger to the forest, King Thranduil –"

"King? What King dwells in this forest without my knowledge? Nor leave? I did not dub him so! He is false!"

"So you are Tom Bombadil!" the elf who was once brave enough to challenge Bombur's faceless voice, took a step back, his fear beginning to become more apparent, "Creator of Middle-Earth…" he finished in barely a whisper.

"The same; now do as I bid you. Go back! These 'dwarves' you seek did not come this way – or any other way for that matter. Go back to your king and tell him should he send more of you back this way in search of such creatures, I will do…" a moment's hesitation made Maya hold her breath, "Very bad things to them,"

She almost laughed out loud, but Thorin's rough hand plunged onto her face, clamping on her mouth as her shoulders lurched forward, threatening to give voice. Thanks be to Tom Bombadil (Whoever that was, she heard rumours though – here, his name seemed appropriate) and of course Thorin for not allowing that to happen. She turned to Thorin, perplexed that he had mimicked her form of forced silenced though she was still grinning. Thorin's stoic face was traced with humour and his eyes danced more than his lips. The elves didn't move quickly enough for Bombur's liking and he roared louder than ever,

"GO!"

They were off like lightening, gone within seconds of their scolding. Everyone sat a few more moments in silence, waiting for any other threats that still might have been lurking. None rose to the challenge and Thorin thought it safe and was the first to rise. Upon telling Bofur, Bilbo, Oin and Gloin to go help Bombur down from his tree, he offered his hand to Maya who took it gratefully.

"Do you know of Tom Bombadil?" he asked her as his frown went back into place. Maya was reminded of Bombur's little stumble and began to laugh,

"No – yes, sort of, I've heard of him… he's supposed to be the Creator who lives in this forest. I've never seen him; then again, I've never lived here,"

She shrugged and then swung her arms about Bombur as he appeared.

"Bombur, where did you ever…" she was lost for words and shook her head, "I'm impressed,"

Bombur looked incredibly pleased with himself and he received all sorts of gestures of gratitude. Thorin even gave him a slap on the back. Bilbo nodded at him with a small smile, his eyes still bright from shock and Maya could see a little hint of guilt in his eyes…guilt of failure. His little stunt had almost got them killed without thought. But Maya smiled kindly at him and gave him a whole and warm, embracive hug,

"You did well, Bilbo. Don't worry about what happened, I don't believe that had anything to do with you,"

Bilbo weakened in her arms and she held him tighter, "You're alright Bilbo Baggins. All is well,"

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Thorin called for movement and on they went though no one was particularly sure of where they were going. Though they must have been close for they were found by men of Lake of Town soon after setting off. Bard was the name of their leader and he was a smart match for Thorin's temper and stoicism. He was sharp and even toned when he addressed them, enquiring as to why they were wondering through the forest and about Maya's dry-blooded face though as he gazed upon her, his face contorted into one of awe and wonder.

"My, my;" he grinned with finely shaped jaw, stubble being the cause of the shadow on his face. His hair was long and greasy, tied in an untidy mess behind his head. Thorin's face darkened even more and he took an unkind side step between her and Bard. But Bard's eyes were glowing with amusement,

"Don't fret, Master Dwarf. I do not intend to have any strange ways with your lady," he stepped around him, "A nymph,"

He gasped, his eye brows rising in mischievous intrigue. Oin cut in, his quick temper never missing a beat,

"Her name is Maya, Daughter of Maein and Lady of the Wild Wood! She deserves more respect from the likes of you, boy. So does our King, Thorin Oakenshield. Last king under the mountain,"

Oin raised his chin in his typical proud dwarf manner, and Thorin did much the same. Though more pride came from having Maya labelled as 'his' lady than being defended as a king. He had never thought of calling her that before…in fact, he never knew what to make of her, but the words caused some primal instinct to kick in and he had taken his step and grasped her wrist...not her hand, quite tightly. Bard's surprise grew even more at the news and he took a step back to make space to bow,

"So the rumours are true, my Lady," he turned back to Thorin, "As they are of you. King Oakenshield, have you finally come back to reclaim your mountain?"

"I have," Thorin puffed out his chest, "We will defeat the dragon Smaug and we will reign as a proud race again,"

Bard nodded his approval,

"I believe it so but the road is long and treacherous and the Lonely Mountain even more so. Come, friends, let us go back to Lake Town and we can treat you with better clothes and full your empty bellies with food and drink and above all, rest you. I'm sure you've already endured more than your fair share of hardship. The forest must not have been to pleasant either,"

"It gave us some trouble," Thorin agreed, his demeanour relaxed as Bard went on about what the people of Lake Town could do to help and thus he let go of Maya's wrist. He hadn't meant to let go of her altogether but when he tried to reclaim her hand, she was no longer by his side. He glanced behind him to find she had fallen in behind most of the company, taking a place between Bilbo and Bifur. She had developed a strong relationship with the Hobbit, friendly though it was, he still got jealous and he hated to admit it so instead he gave his scowl back to the horizon that lay before them.

They entered the gates of Lake Town just as the last glimmer of the sun lit up the enormous lake for which the town was named; twinkling upon its surface as the water acted as a canvas for such displays of beauty. There was a jetty that jutted out into the water with a little fishing boat docked on the side, bobbing gently with waves created by the soft breeze. Thorin felt the need to go sit just there, stare at nothing and pretend that there was no quest, no dragon, no gold, no key for him to get into a door he can't see, no door at all and above all – and the thought made him feel like a coward – he could pretend that he was not the rightful king and that this damned task was not his but someone else's. It was a terrible feeling knowing that deep down in his core, he wished this burden belonged to someone other than himself. He never spoke about his true feelings about anything, really, to anyone. He was Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, last King under the Mountain and what a rigid dwarf was he. His temper was a constant threat and his scowls were infamous but he was a strong king to be, one that was elevated high up into the role of saviour where he was almost made immortal: that was who he was forced to become and to an extent he believed it but to another extent, it was something his shoulders could not always hold and at night when no one could see, he would close his eyes and pretend. Just pretend.

On another note, Bard had remained true to his word. He introduced them to the master of the town; a big man with grey hair, greyer eyes and a grey beard to boot. His clothes were not of royal station but more of a humble man who had been chosen by love rather than right. He had welcomed them and offered them places at his table at which they dined. He promised them fresh clothes for the morning as well as sharpened weapons and ponies for whenever they wished to leave. Thorin accepted all his offers with the gratitude he'd been waiting to give someone who showed them such good will. It wasn't long ago the Elves of Rivendell had shown such courtesy, three weeks maybe…but they didn't count. He spoke in depth with the Town Master about his plans and his travels as the elderly man sat and listened with his hand under his chin and his grey, thoughtful eyes focused on him while the rest of the company indulged in the raucous merry making they had been deprived of for so long. Every now and then Thorin and the Town Master would share a laugh and he would glance over at Maya only to find she was not smiling. In its place, a little contempt frown – sometimes he would catch her looking suspiciously at the elderly man. At last her troubles grew too much,

"If you'll excuse me, Town Master, Thorin…everyone," as the whole table suddenly grew quiet in her sudden rise from her seat, the Town Master looked relatively surprised at her abrupt address, "I am grateful for the food, I thank you, but if you'll allow me, I think the last fortnight has finally caught up with me. With that, I bid you good night,"

She left without another word and without looking back. She was lying, Thorin knew, she wasn't tired, she was hiding something that was difficult to hide in such an intimate place.

"I wonder what that was about. That was quite a tone," the Town Master turned back to Thorin who nodded his head while still staring at the door, through which Maya had left,

"I apologise. I do not know what could have brought such grimace upon her brow," he answered.

"Perhaps you ought to find out, King Thorin," the Town Master smiled, but with a strange glint in his eye that Thorin felt cold towards. But he had the right of it either way; he was going to find out. He excused himself from the table and with a purposeful stride in step; he departed as firmly as the prior.

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Maya sat upon the edge of the jetty, her legs hanging off the edge as her bare feet only just managed to skim the surface of the water, disturbing the calm cold with her little toes. She didn't like it there in Lake Town; she didn't like Bard and his grin and she didn't like the Town Master and his glinting, grey eyes. The more she thought, the more agitated she got until her feet got the better of her and she raised them high and let them plummet down to the surface of the water, creating as big a splash as any.

"Are you angry?"

Thorin's voice was unmistakable and she responded without looking at him,

"No, I am not angry,"

"Then why the sudden bolt and your scowl throughout the evening?"

She heard his heavy, steel-tipped boots make their way towards her sitting form and she felt his knees against her back as he stood over her.

"I don't like it here,"

"Why's that?"

"I don't like the people,"

"Why's that?"

"Are you so blind? Or are you merely accepting it because you don't have a choice," she glanced up at him, meeting his steel eyes as he gazed down at her, "I sincerely hope it's the latter,"

"Explain,"

She stood up and faced him then, her anger boiling in her veins,

"They mock you, Thorin. They mock each and every word you say by smiling and being so falsely grateful for your return. In a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure they've benefitted from your downfall - and now that you've come back, they doubt the moves you make, the plans you share and yet they urge you on because the sooner you're gone, the sooner they won't have to worry about having to bow to someone they don't care about. We are 15 companions, aiming to take on a dragon that cannot possibly be taken down by such a small force. We know it, they know it and so they eat and drink and dine with us, laugh with us and then go back to their beds and laugh at us. They do not believe in this quest, they don't believe in you!"

She finished with a solid poke to his chest, his expression was impassive and yet his eyes were alight with humour.

"What?" she took a step back, suspicious towards his unaffected expression.

"I know,"

"You know what?"

"I know they mock me," he smiled at her,

"What?"

"You heard, but they don't matter to me. They're offering us food, shelter, ponies…that's all I wanted from them. Nothing more,"

"And you tolerate them,"

"Someone with a head on their shoulders has too," he raised his eyebrows, teasing her, "I thought that might have been you…alas,"

Maya dropped her eyes, her heart and body relaxing, relieved to know that her King was not as naïve as she worried he might be. He rested his hands on either side of her arms,

"What do you believe, Maya?"

She looked back up at him, his face sterner and more solemn. She thought for a moment, looking straight into his eyes,

"If I thought you an arrogant king, I would have abandoned you long ago,"

"No you wouldn't have," he dropped his hands, thinned his lips and raised his eyebrow once more, unimpressed with the answer,

"No, I wouldn't have," she smiled at him and she thought she heard his breath catch, "I would have given you a hard talking too, however. Thorin, I believe in this quest just as completely as the rest our company…and what an odd group we are," she grinned at the thought. They really were quite the group of out casts. Obviously that was how Thorin thought she had meant it and it was his turn to drop his eyes and shoulders and confidence. She let him do so for a moment before circling him and then suddenly throwing her arms about his neck from behind him,

"Strong, wonderful, brave and lead by the most kingly king there ever was. A brave, strong, wonderful, quick-tempered, confident, way in over his head dwarf who I am proud to follow and will follow to whatever end,"

"Will you stay with me after the end?"

The question caught her off guard and she was lost for words…'end'. There was an end. 'At the end' was a phrase she had not yet thought of and oh how strange it was to believe that an adventure such as this also had an end. What was even more thought provoking was the fact that there would be more story after theend. Life didn't just stop after the reclaiming of Erebor (should that be the true 'end'), of course it was to go on and she had no idea what she was going to do after it all. She didn't know what she wanted and Thorin was still waiting.

"When the time comes, Thorin," she whispered, "When the time comes and the end is near, then you can ask me again,"

He didn't respond to that, but he kept her close, not allowing her to remove her arms from his shoulders. She didn't want to remove her arms from them, for she often got the feeling that it meant more to him than just the affection; like he needed someone or something to keep his shoulders straight up, so that he didn't crumble. Thorin was thoroughly in her heart by then, so much so that she didn't mind carrying his weight when he didn't know that he had given it to her. Her turquoise eyes took in the dark shadowed mass of the lake as she felt Thorin's chest rise and fall beneath her touch. Sometimes a lock of his hair would be blown into her face by the soft breeze and the touch of them both made her cheeks tingle and her mouth widen in its half-moon shape. Her scar, now cleaned and fresh though still angry and open, crinkled once more up to her eye. They were partners them two, in the end.

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