It was the loud bang of a door being thrown open that awoke Sveilrun from her deep slumber. Her eyes snapped open and her heart began to thunder against her chest from the sudden surprise. Three things immediately caught her attention; one, Kili was gone from the bed, two, the room was filled with darkness, and three, she wasn't feeling so tired anymore. Not hearing the usual clamoring of the dwarves, a sudden concern grew in her chest. Standing from her chair, she practically sprinted to where the bang came from to find Bain and Bard, and as she had feared, the dwarves were nowhere in sight.
"Da! I tried to stop them-" Bain was trying to explain to his father.
"How long have they been gone!?" Sveilrun snarled before Bard could get a word in.
The young lad seemed surprised by the woman's sudden appearance, and stuttered, "I-I'm not sure, maybe half an hour?"
Growling in frustration, Sveilrun pushed past Bard and out of the house. She quickly rushed down the steps, but paused at the bottom to let her ears wander for any sound that may give away where the dwarves are. It was rather easy as the dwarves aren't all that skilled in the arts of stealth. Within moments she picked up on the loud clattering of metal against metal followed by a shout from one of the town's guardsmen. Deciding on a path to take, she began rushing down the dock, the cold evening air prickling her skin. Sveilrun could hear the struggle of the dwarves against the guardsmen, and a protective rage began to boil in her stomach. But not just a protective anger, an anger towards the dwarves as well that made her see red. Before she could properly contemplate her decision, she shifted mid-stride. The giant form of the wolf came easily to her, fueled by her strong emotions, and she shifted almost instantly, her dress falling to shreds without a scrap left that could be worn. The long strides of the wolf carried her faster, but the gasps of surprise and shrieks of fear from the townsfolk proved to be distracting. Deciding on a faster route, the wolf leapt up onto the top of one of the buildings, shingles giving way under foot as she began to bound from building to building. The wolf's gleaming eyes landed on the crowd that was corralling the dwarves towards the largest house in the town. She could already feel the lethargy in her bones begin to return, and an ache settled in her legs.
A deep and thunderous rage filled her chest and helped fuel her movements; how dare the dwarves leave her behind. If it were not for the insufferable bond to the dwarf king pulling her to defend them, and the fact that she cared for the two dwarf princes, she would be half tempted to leave them to deal with whatever consequences they faced.
Slowing, Sveilrun took the advantage of evening darkness and stalked among the shadows where she couldn't be seen. The more animalistic part of her that she had been forced to hold back the last few days was rearing at the forefront of her mind, clawing to be let loose, and made the words the townspeople spoke difficult to decipher. It was when the man she recognized as Alfrid, the man who had disrespected her and Bard at the gate to enter Laketown, said with a greasy sneer, "This is a bunch of mercenaries if there was, sire."
That was the moment Sveilrun lost control. A roaring howl released from the wolf's chest, bringing a shocked silence to the people of Laketown which was quickly followed by gasps of fear as the wolf was spotted. She watched as the people backed away as best they could, practically tasting their fear in the air, and had to reprimand her baser instincts that wanted to hunt. Luckily her sights were set on the greasy, black-haired rat; he had disrespected her, and now he was doing the same to her dwarves. More specifically Thorin, who held a title far above Alfrid's.
Leaping down from the roof and landing with a loud 'thump', feeling quite grateful that her aching limbs didn't buckle underneath her, she began to slowly stalk forward with her head held low. The entire crowd parted for her, encouraged to move further away by her flashing teeth and low growls. Two guards that thought themselves valiant rushed forward with spears in hand, trying to push the wolf back against the building with threat of being stabbed by a spear, and failing. The wolf's ears were pressed back and its lips were pulled back in a furious snarl, and when one of the guards took a jab forward with his spear, the wolf easily snatched the weapon between its jaws and snapped it into splintered bits. Sveilrun dropped what remained of the spear before growling and snarling loudly at those who opposed her, breaking their courage to cowardice within moments. No one was foolish enough to take another swipe at the great wolf, and she easily stalked through the parted crowd, but kept her steady yellow eyes fixed on everyone she passed. When she came to approach the dwarves her anger flared once again, especially when she sensed the fear radiating off some of them, but calmed slightly when her eyes met Thorin's. Remembering her original anger, she stalked yet further forward to face the Master of Laketown and his sniveling servant.
Both the Master and his servant were paled faced, looking just a moments away from bolting, and stuttered out various commands to both the guards and the townspeople to 'kill the beast'. Sveilrun's anger flowed freely as the wolf raised its head high and yelled with a thunderous tone, "Hold your tongue!"
A silence fell over the crowd, and was only broken by the Master stuttering meekly, "I-It can talk!"
"Of course I can talk," Sveilrun snarled, pacing back and forth furiously before the steps of the mansion, "You do not know to whom you speak so disgracefully! I am far older than any within this town and have saved more of your ancestor's lives than even you can count. If I had known you'd all turn to such a wretched state I would have left them to burn."
Circling behind the dwarves where she could stand behind Thorin, Sveilrun continued in a tone made up of deep growls, "You are a fool to assume these dwarves to be common criminals! These dwarves belong to the line of Durin, this is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror! Try holding your idiocy for once and show some respect!"
The extreme exhaustion of pushing herself too hard too soon was beginning to show. Sveilrun's limbs began to tremble with the sheer effort of just having to stand, and looking down at the dwarf king before her, she knew that he and the rest of the dwarves had noticed. The aching in her back leg eventually became too much, and the wolf sat down to rest it, but kept her head raised high in pride. Briefly nodding his thanks to Sveilrun, Thorin stepped forward and announced proudly, "We are the dwarves of Erebor."
At this the crowd gathered around them all began to whisper and crane their heads up to try and get a closer look at the dwarves; the dwarves of Erebor and their story were well known in Laketown.
"We have come to reclaim our homeland," Thorin explained, "I remember this town and the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake! This was the centre of all trade in the North."
Thorin spoke with a sense of pride that appealed to the townspeople, and the crowd was filled with nods and murmurs of agreement.
"I would see those days return," Thorin continued with a tone that was clearly built from years of leadership, "I would relight the great forges and the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!"
The crowd only grew more and more excited, and cheered and clapped in agreement. The Master and his servant, however, looked speculative, not quick to join his people. But the joy and enthusiasm of the townspeople was quickly squandered when a single man strode through the crowd and shouted out over the cheers, "Death! That is what you will bring upon us. Dragon-fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all."
The crowd fell into a hushed silence as Bard broke through the crowd to stand before the dwarves and the Master. Thorin scowled and retaliated with, "You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this; if we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!"
The crowd once again became excited near instantly, clapping and cheering to express their delight, but once again they were interrupted.
"Why should we take you at your word, eh?" Alfrid claimed, obviously not trusting the dwarves or the wolf, "We don't know nothing about you, or your big beast. Who here can vouch for your character?"
It was Bilbo who raised his hand. Stepping forward, the halfling said, "Me. I'll vouch for him. Now, I have traveled far with these dwarves through great danger, and if Thorin Oakenshield gives his word, then he will keep it."
Once again, the crowd cheered and called out their approval, and once again they were interrupted by Bard, "All of you! Listen to me! You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale!?"
Silence fell around them, and a form of guilt appeared on many of the townspeople's faces, "Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm!?"
A scattering of people shouted out a series of 'no's in reply.
"And for what purpose?" Bard continued, "The blind ambition of a mountain-king too driven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!"
Upon hearing their king being insulted, some of the dwarves moved forward as if to attack the bargeman, but were held back by the more sensible of the lot. Thorin and Bard glared heavily at each other as the crowd's shouts of either approval or disagreement grew louder. It was the Master of Laketown that silenced the crowd next.
"Now, now, we must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame," even the voice of the Master made Sveilrun's skin crawl with disgust, she had never met a man who appeared so gluttonous as him. Pointing a meaty finger towards Bard, the Master continued louder than before, "Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!"
This proclaim brought another wave of clamor among the townspeople. Bard looked away in shame, and Thorin looked at him in a mixture of shock and anger, but Sveilrun was distracted by the name Girion. She had heard the name earlier but it hadn't registered in her memory at that point. Even now she couldn't remember all that she knew of the name, but decided to ponder on it later when she had a moment.
"It's true, sire," Alfrid spoke again, making the wolf's ears twitch back from the irritation his voice brought her, "We all know the story: arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing its mark."
The crowd instantly turned on the grim bargeman, yelling insults and other words of anger. Bard looked around at the townspeople, a hint of betrayal showing in his eyes, before striding forward to speak to Thorin. "You have no right, no right to enter that mountain!"
"I have the only right," Thorin hissed back before turning to face the master, "I speak to the Master of the men of the Lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?"
A silence fell over the town in anticipation, and Thorin asked, "What say you?"
The Master took a moment to think before a long, disturbing grin spread across his face and he pointed a meaty finger at the dwarf king, replying, "I say unto you . . . welcome! Welcome and thrice welcome, King under the Mountain!"
The crowd erupted in loud hollers and cheers for the dwarves. Thorin walked forward onto the front steps of the Master's manor, facing the people of laketown to watch as they spoke with tones of joy and hugged each other in excitement. Sveilrun watched the people they would now have to consider allies in their quest become overcome by their happiness, but the feeling did not pass on to her, for she was still filled with a deep anger and sense of betrayal. The dwarves had left her while she slept and were idiotic enough to get caught - she would not forgive them easily.
The company was shown to a home owned by the Master for them to say in while residing in Laketown with enough beds for them all. The company remained still and silent upon entering the home, a sense of guilt overcoming some of them for what they had done to Sveilrun. At the time of leaving it had seemed a good idea to leave the woman to rest and return to her after, but now they regretted that decision. As the guards who showed them to the house left, and the giant wolf slowly stepped into the main room, they could see the cold anger that filled her golden eyes and the limp that protruded her walk. The dwarves all looked to each other for something to say, but none stepped forward. They knew that Sveilrun's anger was difficult to match, and after witnessing the great wolf stalk among the crowd as if in a hunt, they did not want to unintentionally push her further. It was Balin who eventually stepped forward.
Clearing his throat, Balin said with a sympathetic tone, "Sveilrun, you know, we really didn't wish to upset you- we just-"
"I'm tired," The deep rumbling voice of the wolf interrupted the elder dwarf, but spoke with a soft clarity that left them all speechless. Without another word on the matter, the wolf stalked towards the nearest room, barely fitting through the door and having to duck down her head so as to not hit the roof. Once she had entered the room and managed to click the door shut, did the dwarves look to each other once again, not knowing how to handle the situation.
The moment Sveilrun entered one of the many rooms in the house, she shifted back to human form and collapsed upon the bed waiting for her, pulling its blankets securely around herself. She was exhausted and upset, and the lethargy that weighed her down was heavier than a stack of bricks. But despite this exhaustion, she couldn't find peace nor sleep, for her mind was riddled with emotions she rarely felt and barely understood. Knowing that rest would not come to her easily like it had before, she rose from the bed with shaking limbs. A large bowl of water and a wash cloth were sitting on a table in the corner of the room, and with much difficulty Sveilrun managed to clean herself a bit and wash out some of her hair. Feeling slightly cleaner than she had before, she looked to a small dresser against the wall and pulled out some clothing. All of the clothes were meant for men, and were much too large for her, but something was better than nothing and she slipped on a grey tunic and trousers along with a dark red cloak that was hung on a hook on the wall.
Sveilrun needed to leave at that moment. The entire town seemed for too constricting to the woman, and leaving the house, which was beginning to feel just as oppressive, seemed like a good way to relieve some of the pressure. Plus she had a few things she wanted to do. Sveilrun had left the wolf's harness in Bard's house and wanted to retrieve it, along with that she wanted to see if the sky was clear enough for star reading. The reading she had seen the day before still bothered her, and she was hoping that she had merely misread what she saw, but this time she felt certain she was correct. The woman dearly wished she was wrong. She already knew, however, that the sky had been full of clouds earlier and that she may not get a good view. Despite that, she still felt the need to leave the house.
Not wanting to deal with the dwarves at the moment, Sveilrun leaned close to the door and listened into the main room. Finding that all of the dwarves had wandered off to find beds of their own to make up for some much needed rest, the main room sounding devoid of anything except a crackling fire in the hearth, the woman quietly clicked open the door and slipped through. As she had hoped, the main room appeared to be empty and she made her way to the door as quick as she could in her state, her bare feet padding silently on the wooden floors.
Once outside Sveilrun was glad she had grabbed the red cloak, for it had grown even cooler as the night wore on, and wrapped the material tighter around herself. She wasn't exactly sure where Bard's house laid within the town, when she had left earlier she didn't pay attention to the many turns she had to take, but she figured out a general direction and headed out. No townspeople were out at this time, all of the excitement had passed with their need for sleep, and the town sat silent beneath the cloaked sky. Sveilrun took a deep breath and thought to herself, 'At least Bard's house will be easy enough to find'.
.
Nearly an hour later, Sveilrun found herself beyond lost, and severely confused. She wasn't sure where she had gone wrong, but somehow she managed to not only lose the direction she thought the bargeman's house laid, but she also lost the house she was supposed to take lodgings in. Now the woman found herself confused, upset, and more exhausted than ever.
Sighing, Sveilrun rubbed her hands over her eyes, trying to wake herself, and walked another few paces. Unfortunately the exhaustion, both mental and physical, became overwhelming. With barely a thought of it, the skin-changer slumped down on the dock walkway. The old, rotten boards of the dock seemed to bite into her skin even through her clothing, and was terribly uncomfortable, but the sense of relief that it brought overpowered any form of discomfort. Groaning again, she let her legs hang from the edge of the dock, her toes nearly touching the water, and took in her surroundings. All of the ratty, old buildings looked the same to Sveilrun.
She had always despised such cramped, dirty man villages. They were always filled with filth, which she thankfully couldn't smell, but she could practically taste the air around them. It was stale, foul, and spoke of death. In her younger days, before her village was destroyed, she lived in a large log house far from the disturbance man villages held. Of course her village was close enough, but skin-changers spaced themselves out across the mountain, never fearing attack because of their individual strength. Looking back on it all, Sveilrun saw the arrogance of her extinct people that lead to their fall; to think that no one could or would ever defeat them in battle. Sheer strength can mean nothing if numbers are against you, she had learned that on more than one occasion, but at a time she had thought herself to be invincible. It is that same arrogance she saw in the dwarves. They knew they could die, and have faced death on numerous occasions, and yet they still pushed themselves to face a dragon that would easily kill them all.
Memories of the past, of death and destruction only amplified by the town's history, her exhaustion - both mental and physical - that seemed have been clinging to her for days, her fear for the dwarves mixed with a burning rage, her hatred of humans, and finally the nagging bond that tied her fate to the dwarf king; it all became too much for Sveilrun. A wet drop landed on Sveilrun's hand, and she was surprised to find her eyes burning with tears. Not tears of physical pain, but tears brought about by emotions.
"You've got to be joking," Sveilrun sniffled silently, her head bowing down as she tried to wipe away any stray tears, growling to herself, "Pull yourself together."
The skin-changer's tears didn't cease, and the floodgate of emotions she had been holding back seemed to crack and bend in protest. She felt her stomach clench as she tried and failed to smother her tears, causing a slight hiccup to leave her lips and only make everything worse. Sveilrun scrubbed furiously at her eyes, hoping to erase any tears before they could even fall, but it didn't help anything.
"Are you… crying?" a hesitant yet deep voice asked, shocking Sveilrun. She must truly be beyond tired if she didn't even hear him approaching, her sudden sense of smell should have been a rather obvious indicator.
"What could you possibly want now?" Sveilrun mumbled, not looking over at Thorin and keeping her gaze on the murky lake water.
"I just thought you could use the company," He replied, stepping closer to her and slowly sitting on the edge of the dock next to her.
"How is it you always find me when I'm miserable?" Sveilrun laughed half-heartedly, the end catching with the slightest sob.
"Maybe because it's the only time you're alone," Thorin replied with the hint of a joking tone, "Why are you crying?"
"I don't know!" Sveilrun snapped, sniffing at the end, "Ignore it and it will go away."
"I don't think it works that way," Thorin muttered.
"Well what would you suggest because I don't know how to make it stop," Sveilrun growled, wiping at her eyes again, "It's making my eyes burn."
The two of them sat in uncomfortable silence for the moment, the only sound coming from Sveilrun's occasional sniffle. Thorin was the next to speak, in a low hesitant voice, "I'm sorry."
"What?" Sveilrun asked with obvious disbelief that someone as stubborn as Thorin would apologize with no prompting.
"I said I'm sorry. We shouldn't have left you alone," Thorin grumbled, "I apologize for making you upset."
"Did Balin tell you to apologize?" Sveilrun asked knowingly.
"He . . . may have asked me to," Thorin admitted, "No one else was willing to without a shield."
The skin-changer huffed in slight amusement, wiping her tear stained cheeks again and leaning on her hand, "Wouldn't need one, I'm too tired to fight right now."
Thorin looked over at the skin-changer, trying to catch her eye, and upon seeing that her eyes were still red rimmed and spilling over with tears, he sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Sveilrun stiffened in surprise, but didn't pull away and muttered a frustrated, "What are you doing?"
"Helping," he replied gruffly, pulling the woman closer so their knees touched.
Sveilrun sighed, too exhausted to argue with the stubborn dwarf king, and leaned against his shoulder. Her head sunk into the juncture of shoulder that connected to his neck, trying to hide her embarrassing expression.
"Don't think this means anything," Sveilrun protested weakly, sniffling against his shoulder.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Thorin chuckled, Sveilrun feeling the slight vibrations of his laugh against her cheek. The arm wrapped around her shoulders lowered until his hand rested on her waist, and his other hand came to rest on the back of her neck, lightly brushing against her dark hair. Sveilrun would never admit it, but she was extremely comfortable clinging to the dwarf king's shoulder. He was warm, much warmer than her, his shirt was soft, and the scent that surrounded her was addicting. Adding in the hand that was playing with her hair lightly, she felt fantastic, any thoughts of anger or distress disappearing. All of her grogginess and exhaustion weighed on her eyes, forcing them shut, and soon she fell into a blissful, unconscious state.
Her final thought before falling into a slumber rang through her head, "the dwarves better have shields nearby once I wake up."
It is unfortunate for the dwarf king and skin changer that their entire ordeal with one another on the dock had been witnessed by a single, dark haired dwarf prince. It is even more unfortunate that he immediately left to inform his older brother what he had seen, and rather loudly at that, with all of the other dwarves listening. Because while some would snicker at the thought, others were not so pleased.