The company stayed aboard the barge for the remainder of that day, and well into the night. If the air on the water had been cold in the daytime, it was most uncomfortable at night, and Sveilrun found herself pulling the rest of her clothing overtop of what she was already wearing. Sleeping on the barge was unsatisfying for the entire company; the dwarves got little sleep that night, and the skin-changer wasn't able to sleep at all. Bard slept on and off as well, needing his rest, and Sveilrun was left to the lonesome of the night. She laid on the floor of the barge, an arm tucked under her head as a pillow, and listened to the dwarves snoring around her. Staring up at the sky, she allowed to mind to wander as she read the stars. The act of reading stars, while difficult and sometimes brought her headaches, was oddly comforting as it reminded her of home. She wasn't skilled in star reading, it took many years to develop the skill and she only had a teacher for a few years. Different stars had different meanings, and during different seasons and moon fluctuations those meanings would change and develop. If certain stars rested too near or too far to where they were supposed to be everything would change and she would have to start over. This night, however, she was given a clear view of the night sky and an awake enough brain to study. This night, something seemed off. As she read and studied, her predictions only grew worse and worse, the next only adding to the gravity of the last. Every sign she found spoke of death and destruction quickly approaching, and as far as she could see there was no way to avoid what was to come. Even odder than the predictions of approaching death, was what she read from a single star on its own. She took in everything she could about this single star and the stars surrounding it, and came only to one conclusion; 'new life'.
Such opposing predictions were never found in the same sky, and it unnerved the woman greatly. Sveilrun sat up, not allowing her eyes to leave the sky as she looked for anything telling her she was wrong, as if the few inches of added height would make any difference.
"Wha's wrong?" a groggy voice whispered nearby. Looking down she found a barely awake Thorin looking up from his lying position with half shut eyes.
"Nothing," Sveilrun lied quickly, "Sorry for waking you."
She laid back down and rolled on her side so she didn't face the dwarf king. Her mind went through possible explanations for what she had seen; perhaps she was wrong? She had never been the best at star reading and has been wrong before, but every sign she read spoke of the same thing. Her mind was in a puzzled mess, and she knew it best not to speak of what she found until she was sure. If she were wrong she would only look like a fool, and the dwarves may not believe her prediction either way. So for now, she decided, she would wait and see what time would bring.
.
Sveilrun stayed at the back of the barge near the man as he steered through the water the next day. It was the least crowded place on the small, and fairly cramped vessel, as the dwarves had packed themselves in the front as far away from the man as they could get. The water on the lake was beginning to fill with small chunks of ice as a mist formed around them. The air at night was much cooler than it was during the day, but a chill still creeped over Sveilrun's skin. Dark bags clinged underneath the skin-changers eyes; she had not slept the entire night as her predictions would not give her any peace of mind. It also did not help that they were aboard a small barge with a stranger. Those things mixed together made it nearly impossible for her to get any sleep. Plus it did not help that with the coming of day an aching started deep in her bones once again, but it was thankfully not as bad as before as the sky was dark from fog and cloud, and tricked her mind into thinking it later in the day. Still, she was not in the best of comforts. Added as a lovely finishing touch, the injury on her shoulder throbbed painfully, leaving her in a near constant state of disadvantage.
"If I may ask," the man, or Bard as she earlier learned, inquired the skin-changer, "Why do you travel with the dwarves if they are visiting their kin?"
"I have kin of my own in the Withered Heath," Sveilrun replied, folding her arms across her chest, "Travelling as a group is safer."
"Aye, it is dangerous for women to travel alone in these lands," Bard nodded, "But I have not heard of any man villages residing in the Withered Heath."
"That's because there aren't any," Sveilrun stated, her brown eyes narrowing on the man, "And I meant it was safer for the dwarves; I do not need the protection of any man nor dwarf."
"No disrespect intended," Bard chuckled, "But you do not look like you could offer them much protection."
"No disrespect intended," Sveilrun retaliated trying to keep the venom from her tone, "But looks can be deceiving. I don't suggest falling prey to assumptions."
Sveilrun leaned forward slightly to catch Bard's attention, and when his dark eyes flickered to her's he was met with pupils that shined a brilliant, malicious yellow. "You're right," Sveilrun chuckled, "No man village lies on the Withered Heath - too many beasts roam those mountains."
Letting her eyes warm back to a light brown, Sveilrun huffed and left the man in a stunned silence to sit on the other side of the barge with the dwarves. Thorin stood a few steps away from the dwarves next to the rows of empty barrels. As she walked past he asked in a humoured tone, "Making friends?"
"Oh yes, by the end of the trip we ought to be braiding eachothers hair and conversing about suitable mates," Sveilrun responded, sarcasm practically dripping from her tongue as her lips quirked into a smirk, "I don't know how I don't have more friends - I'm such a lovely person."
"In between threatening elf princes and killing orcs?" the dwarf king asked, his lips forming a similar, but less sarcastic, smirk.
"What can I say, loveliness only lasts for so long," she quipped, glad that their encounter the day before didn't leave lasting awkwardness, "It would take someone special to see any loveliness in the likes of me."
"Then I must be a rare person indeed," Thorin muttered under his breath, loud enough for the skin-changer to hear but not anyone else, "To be intended for someone so lovely."
His hand lightly brushed hers at their side, most definitely not an accident as his fingers gently and slowly nudged in between hers. His blue eyes examined hers for a moment, a hint of a smirk still playing on his lips as he waited to see her reaction. His thumb traced over the back of her hand, a feather light touch that made a shiver crawl up her arm. Sveilrun's heart instantly leapt into her throat, and she quickly tore her eyes away from his before she could do anything she'd regret or show any sign of her hidden emotion.
Pulling her hand away from his she muttered a silent, "Don't be ridiculous, I am intended for no one," before briskly putting space between her and the dwarf king. She could feel Thorin's gaze on her back, practically burning through her, as she walked away. Albeit was a difficult task to get away from him as they were stuck on a barge, but she managed to find a spot slumped on the floor next to Ori against the barrels where Thorin's eyes could not follow. Her heart continued to pound painfully against her chest, but not the kind of beat she would get from running for too long or missing a step, it was a constricting feeling in her chest she was not familiar with. Even when the men, and on occasion the women, in her village made their interests in her clear, she did not experience this level of emotion that it made her heart constrict and her face burn. She could not tell if it were an enjoyable feeling, as so far it only gave her deep anxiety, but it made her wonder if she would have moved away so quickly if not for her strong headset to stay away from the dwarf.
But an even larger matter overpowered her unfamiliar reaction; did Thorin know they were intended ones? His words would make it seem that way, but how could he possibly know? She hadn't told him, and although she did tell him a brief summary of what intended ones are she made it clear that hers was most likely dead. This new revolution only strengthened Sveilrun's will to not allow herself to become distracted by the dwarf king. The moment her job was done she would be gone and she would not look back at the line of Durin again.
Sveilrun sighed to herself, running a hand through her hair which was already beginning to knot terribly. Her eyes glanced around herself and eventually landed on Ori, who sat scribbling something in a notebook. She couldn't think of how the notebook possibly made it through the river rapids, but decided not to ponder on it. Glancing over his shoulder, she was met with a beautifully drawn picture of the river the dwarves almost had the pleasure of drowning in. The drawing displayed the wild rapids of the river, an array of barrels filled with disgruntled dwarves being dragged down by the currents, and in the far background a wolf ran along the bank of the river, a snarl set on its face. Even though the drawing was only in the beginning stages, it already showed a vast amount of movement that many are incapable of showing in their works.
"You are able to draw from memory alone?" Sveilrun found herself asking.
Ori jumped slightly in surprise, but when his eyes met the skin-changer's a friendly smile lit up his features, and he answered with a simple, "Sometimes."
"It is very good," Sveilrun complimented, making the young dwarf's eyes light up.
"Thank you," Ori replied earnestly and held out his notebook to the woman, "Would you like to look?"
Sveilrun wordlessly took the leather bound book and opened it to the first page. The book was filled with drawings and sketches of everything that the company had experienced throughout their journey with written entrances in between. There were various portraits of all of the dwarves in the company making different expressions; some most likely knowing Ori was drawing them and purposely posing themselves to look more serious, but others not and wearing expressions of ease. There were also drawings of various sceneries; rolling green hills, tall mountains, a home she recognized as Beorn's, and one of her own home.
"These are lovely," Sveilrun murmurs as she continues to flip through the pages, "My mother used to do something similar - had a big book filled with family portraits."
"It's a good way to pass the time," Ori says, "Was your mother a good artist?"
"She was amazing," Sveilrun replied, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, "She could make paintings that looked as if they were alive."
"She sounds nice," Ori responds.
"She was," the skin-changer hummed in agreement and chuckled to herself, "She used to sneak my brothers sweets whenever they got in trouble with my father, she was never able to stay mad at them for long - if at all."
"My mum did the same," Ori grinned, "How many brother's did you have?"
"Two; Ronan and Favian," Sveilrun replied, "The two of them could get away with nearly anything when it came to my mother. Even when they brought a beaver home to keep as a pet she didn't have it in her to get mad at them, they had the beaver for two days before my father even noticed."
"What happened to the beaver?" Ori asked, a large humoured grin spread on his face.
"Well my father nearly killed it for ruining his favorite chair, but Favian 'took it back to it's natural home' which ended up being a cave," Sveilrun laughed silently, "He really didn't know enough about beavers to try and keep one as a pet, but his heart was in the right place; he had such a weakness for animals, cried for a week after killing his first rabbit."
Ori leaned closer by an inch and whispered with a barely concealed laugh, "Nori did something similar except it was a bear cub and my mum found it before he could even make it home. The cub's mum wasn't too happy."
Ori and Sveilrun continued like that for a while, swapping childhood stories of mischief done by siblings or themselves. It didn't take long for Fili and Kili to join them, but seeing as all of their stories were directed to annoy the other brother, Ori and Sveilrun quickly switched topics. After that they told old stories, myths, and legends, but seeing as the dwarfs all knew most of the same ones, Sveilrun did most of the talking. She told them of different fables and superstitions the wolf skin-changers used to have. She also explained moon festivals into further detail; that they were a celebration of both life and death and many skin-changers used them to find their intended ones - which led to a whole other, rather uncomfortable, conversation. The skin-changer quickly changed to other aspects of the moon festivals; like the giant bonfires, costumes made to look like wild beasts, and the music that was made by everyone in the village. She tried to describe the great drums and cellos that played for hours into the night, and the high, haunting voices of women that would accompany them, but it was difficult as she had not heard the music herself in many years and it was not something that could be impersonated by one person alone.
"Watch out!" Bofur suddenly yelled, snapping the small group from their conversation. Giant stone formations appeared out of the layers of mist and fog that Sveilrun hadn't realized gathered, but they weren't any problem as Bard easily poled the barge between the many rock formations.
"What are you trying to do, drown us?" Thorin snarled angrily at the man.
"I was born and bred on these waters, Master Dwarf," Bard replied with a grim faced scowl, "If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here."
"Oh I have enough of this lippy lakeman," Dwalin grumbled, "I say we throw him over the side and be done with him."
"Ohh, Bard," Bilbo huffed angrily, his arms crossed over his chest, "His name's Bard."
"How do you know?" Bofur asked,
"Uh, I asked him," Bilbo retorted.
"I don't care what he calls himself, I don't like him." Dwalin muttered towards Thorin, who walked closer to the group of dwarves, and to where the skin-changer could see him, making it momentarily impossible to pretend he doesn't exist, and watched the woman curiously.
"We do not have to like him, we simply have to pay him," Balin said, piles of coins in small stacks set in front of him as he counted them out, "Come on now, lads, turn out your pockets."
At once the dwarves begin to pull whatever coin they had on them and hand them to Balin, who counted it all out as he received it. Sveilrun felt guilt pinch at her chest, she never carried coin with her because she never had need of it before now. Usually she would find or make anything she needed, and whenever the time arose that she would have to buy something she would try to barter with vegetables from her garden or fresh venison.
"There's, um, just a problem: we're ten coins short." Balin said grimly after counting through the coin again.
"Gloin," Thorin grumbled, "Come on. Give us what you have."
"Don't look to me," Gloin immediately denied, "I have been bled dry by this venture! And what have I seen for my investment? Naught but misery and grief and-"
Gloin stopped talking once he realized that none of the dwarvies were paying attention to him any more, and were instead staring out into the distance. Sveilrun, not being able to see from the floor with all of the dwarves now standing around her, quickly rised to her feet in curiosity. The fog had begun to thin around them, and in the distance they could see the towering shadow of the Lonely Mountain. Even Sveilrun could not help but feel at awe by the mountains sight, which was only furthered by the stunned excitement of the dwarves.
"Bless my beard," Gloin whispered and immediately pulled out a small satchel filled with coin, handing it to Balin, "Take it. Take all of it."
The dwarves were not able to enjoy the sight for long, as Bard quickly approached the company at their end of the barge and said, "The money, quick, give it to me."
"We'll pay you when we get our provisions, but not before." Thorin stated.
"If you value your freedom, you'll do as I say," Bard said with a grave tone, "There are guards ahead."
Through the heavy fog ahead of the barge
, the rooftops of Laketown could be seen, but just barely.
"Quick, into the barrels," Bard commanded.
The dwarves all stood still, hesitant to trust the stranger, but at Thorin's nod they all complied and began climbing back into the barrels. Sveilrun counted out how many barrels they had versus how many members of the company there are and finds that they're one barrel short.
"There's not enough barrels," the skin-changer pointed out to the bargeman.
"I know, for what I have planned you would not fit anyways," Bard quickly explained as he returned to the back of the barge to steer, "You look human, so if any of the guards ask you are my distant kin traveling from Bree. Just- don't do that eye thing and don't talk. I'll do all of the talking."
Sveilrun rolled her eyes at the bargeman, but didn't complain, and leaned against the side of the barge as they approached a dock outside of the city. Bard stopped at the dock and hopped off, making a signal at the skin-changer to stay where she was. She complied, but stepped closer to the barrels to look at the dwarves huddled within. They all looked rather comical, curled up in the large barrels, and she chuckled low in her throat. Which earned her a few irritated glares in return, mostly from Dwalin. A ways from the company, Bard spoke to a man on the dock.
"Shh, what's he doing?" Dwalin hissed to Sveilrun.
"Talking to someone," Sveilrun replied, her ears listening into Bard and the man's conversation, "Now he's pointing at the barrels."
Sveilrun can see Thorin's anxious stare from the corner of her eye but didn't look down, "Now they're shaking hands."
"What?" Thorin hissed at the skin-changer, "Can't you hear them, Sveilrun?"
"That villain! He's selling us out," Dwalin declared angrily.
Having heard every word of Bard and the man's conversation, a long smile spread on Sveilrun's face, and she said with an eerily cheerful voice, "Don't worry so much - everything is fine."
The skin-changer wore a joyous grin as she watched the fourteen barrels become filled with dead fish. Best of all, because she stood the remainder of the barge ride as far from Thorin as she could get, she couldn't even smell the horrible stench of the dead fish. The dwarves grumbled, gagged, coughed, and made other various sounds of their disgust, but were not allowed to move from the barrels. Sveilrun hadn't felt happier through their travels then in that one moment.
"Quiet!" Bard hissed, and kicked the barrel closest to him when one of the dwarves made too much noise, "We're approaching the toll gate."
Now that the barge was much closer to the city of Laketown, Sveilrun could get a much better view of everything and made a quick decision on her thoughts of the town; it was horrid. All of the buildings were old and in serious need of repair, some even leaning over, and even from just the gate she could tell that the people of Laketown were in similar conditions as their buildings. As they approached the toll gate, an old grey haired gatekeeper met them.
"Halt!" the gatekeeper called, and exited the small office he was stationed in, "Goods inspection. Papers, please. Oh, it's you, Bard."
"Morning, Percy," Bard greeted, and walked forward to hand over some papers.
"Anything to declare?" the gatekeeper, Percy, asked.
"Nothing, but that I am cold and tired, and ready for home," Bard replied
"Who's the lass?" the gatekeeper asked, gesturing to the woman standing at the back of the barge.
"This is Ida, the daughter of my mother's brother. She's travelling from Bree, and like me, needs rest," Bard introduced briefly.
"Well I suppose everything is in order," the gatekeeper said, holding the papers out after stamping them.
"Not so fast," a man wearing all black formal clothing stepped forward and snatched the paper from the gatekeepers hands. He read over the paper and looked over the load with beady black eyes, "Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm. Only, they're not empty, are they, Bard?"
The man carelessly tossed the stamped paper over his shoulder and stepped forward, showing a few men dressed as the town guard behind him. Stepping onto Bard's barge, the man picks up one of the dead fish from the barrel and sneers, "If I recall correctly, you're licensed as a bargeman, not a fisherman."
"That's none of your business," Bard replied calmly.
"Wrong," the man taunted, "It's the Master's business, which makes it my business."
"Oh come on, Alfrid, have a heart. People need to eat!" Bard exclaimed.
"These fish are illegal," the man, Alfrid, stated loudly and threw the fish in his hand into the water. Turning to the guards he commanded, "Empty the barrels over the side."
The guards quickly comply and step onto the barge and towards the barrels. Knowing she can't let the dwarves be caught, Sveilrun stepped forward to stand in between the guards and the barrels, a nasty glare directed at Alfrid. Trying to keep her temper she asks with a voice filled with barely veiled anger, "Do you really think that's smart?"
"And who are you?" Alfrid sneered, stepping forward to try and look down on the woman, but found that difficult as she was taller and held a much fiercer glare.
"Just a traveller, but even I can see the poor state your people are in," Sveilrun spoke, "If you dump the little food they have back into the river than you'll have riots on your hands. So I'll ask again, do you really think that's smart?"
Alfrid's eyes narrowed angrily on the woman, but eventually called off the guards and Sveilrun was able to breath a sigh of relief. Giving the woman another sneer of blatant disgust, the greasy man stepped off of the barge.
"Raise the gate!" the gatekeeper called.
The large portcullis that blocked the channel was raised, and Bard quickly poled the barge through. As they passed through, Alfrid shouted at the two, "The Master has his eye on you; you'd do well to remember. We know where you live."
"It's a small town, Alfrid; everyone knows where everyone lives," Bard replied evenly.
As Bard poled the barge through the main channel through Laketown, Sveilrun was able to observe the poor town. Her first thought of the town was even more correct than she thought. The town truly was horrid; every building was shabby and old, the people wore clothes that resembled rags, the water was polluted, and everything would probably stink terribly if the skin-changer had the use of that sense.
"What happened to saying nothing?" Bard muttered underneath his breath to the skin-changer.
"That changed the moment you called me Ida, and completely disappeared when that filth tried to dump the dwarves," Sveilrun muttered back, her nose crinkling in disgust, "Outright disrespect like that would have been met with a swift death in my village. If he speaks that way to me again I will end his sad family line for good."
Bard remained silent, but gave the skin-changer a reproachful gaze that spoke of his disagreement with her attitude (even if he wasn't that fond of Alfrid). They remained silent for only a moment before Sveilrun spoke again, "You couldn't think of a name better than 'Ida'?"
"I didn't exactly have that much time to think of one," Bard muttered angrily.
"You could have called me by my actual name," Sveilrun grumbled, "Now I'm stuck as 'Ida' until our departure."
"Your true name doesn't exactly sound like someone of my family," Bard explains, "And Ida is a fine name, my grandmother's name was Ida so stop complaining."
"Why would you name me after your dead grandmother?" Sveilrun nearly shouted, but lowered her voice at the last second.
"It was all I could think of, and I never said she was dead," Bard hissed under his breath.
"Your kind have unnaturally short lifespans," Sveilrun scoffed, "If she is alive than your grandmother is truly a superior of your kind."
Bard grumbled under her breath before admitting, "She's not."
"Obviously," Sveilrun muttered before moving to the other end of the barge, feeling done with his presence.
Eventually Bard stopped and docked the barge. Looking around himself, he quickly knocked down the closest barrel, and out fell one of the dwarves coughing with disgust but relieved to be free of the fish-filled barrel. Bard continued knocking over the barrels, but when he reached Dwalin's the large tattooed dwarf pulled himself up and growled, "Get your hands off me."
The rest of the dwarves and the hobbit pull themselves out of the barrels without the assistance of Bard. They're all covered in the grease and slime of cold fish oil, and wore expressions of disgust. A nearby dock keeper looks extremely startled at the dwarves sudden and strange appearance, but it only takes the slip of a coin and the promise of free fish for the man to keep his mouth shut.
Sveilrun ended up standing in the centre of the long dock near Thorin, and her sense of smell momentarily returned with his closeness. The skin-changer nearly gaged at the sudden, and extremely awful smell invading her nose. Not only from the slime covered dwarves, but from the very town itself.
"Smell something?" Thorin asked with a raised brow at Sveilrun's expression of disgust.
"Of course not," the skin-changer quickly denied with a hushed tone, "You know I can't smell anything."
"Follow me," Bard commanded as he strides past the company to walk ahead of them, effectively ending Sveilrun and Thorin's short conversation.
The docks they hurried down are empty, but Sveilrun can hear the bustle of what she assumes to be a market nearby, and keeps a close watch for any preying eyes. Some people are within eyesight, but none of them look up from what they're doing and stay within the shadows of the buildings. It is as they are making there way down one of the docks that a young boy runs up to Bard.
"Da!" the boy called, "Our house, it's being watched."
Bard paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face before speaking, "I have a plan."