Chapter 10:
Looking about himself warily, Bard lingered near the entrance to the mountain, doubting himself for the first time since he ventured from Laketown. He had left his son, Bain, looking after Tilda and Sigrid whilst he came to speak to the King under the Mountain.
Rubbing his chin, Bard peered into the cavern and sighed, wondering yet again why the Master had set him this task. He admitted that it was a job someone had to undertake, but why the Master couldn't have sent Alfrid was beyond Bard. He suspected that Alfrid was too busy scheming to come all the way to Erebor.
'I suppose I do know the dwarves better than anyone else' Bard thought to himself, finally deciding with a groan to walk into the mountain.
Bard walked cautiously through the darkness, all too aware that he had no idea where he was going. He had been born and raised in Laketown, and knew the waterways like the back of his hand, but beyond its borders he was a stranger.
Muttering to himself about the dark, Bard cursed himself for accepting this job. He had never been on the same side of the Lake as the mountain before, let alone at its doorstep. And now here he was, actually venturing inside. Trying to quell his rising panic at the insistent darkness that seemed to be pressing against him from every angle, Bard ignored the voice inside his head that urged him to get out of this tomb and back outside to the fresh air.
Squaring his shoulders, he set off further into the darkness of the mountain and strained his senses as much as possible, eager for some sign of life in the eerie darkness.
Calling out occasionally, Bard hurried through the gallery of Kings, unable to appreciate the splendour in the gloom and his own haste.
After a few minutes Bard began to notice distant sounds in the gloom and attempted to aim his path towards them, hoping it was the dwarves. He knew that Kili, Fili, Bofur and Oin would have reached the mountain in relative safety, so he just had to hope beyond hope that when they reached it they found the rest of their kin and the hobbit safe and sound, having just missed Smaug on his way out.
Quickening his pace to a jog as the sounds became discernable as shouts, Bard ran into a large cavern, lit brightly by the light of small torches that reflected off a huge mountain of gold coins and treasure.
His mouth falling open in shock, Bard couldn't help but stare around him in disbelief. He had heard tales as a child of the enormous wealth of the dwarves of Erebor but now he was really there, seeing it with his own eyes, he was filled with awe. He could barely believe his own eyes and it took an effort to force himself to blink and refocus on his task.
Advancing warily, Bard turned a corner and was shocked to behold the scene playing out in front of him.
Thorin was stood atop a hill of gold, clutching a bright, gleaming jewel with a greedy expression whilst the other dwarves stood beneath him, anxiously calling to their leader who seemed to be so lost in the jewel that he seemed not to notice their existence.
Frowning, Bard walked into the open, towards Thorin, wondering for the first time since he left what his reception would be. Bard had not considered the thought that Thorin would refuse to help him, but now he was there, stood before the King, he felt nervous about his request.
Almost as if he sensed the interloper, Thorin managed to tear his gaze away from the jewel and glare at Bard, his lip curling as if he were snarling.
"I thought you were on guard duty Gloin." Thorin snapped, holding the jewel close to his chest as if Bard was able to snatch it from him across the large distance between them.
"Aye and I am. No one will get past me; I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox."
"May I speak with you, Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain?" Bard asked, causing Gloin to jump with shock.
"When did you get here?" Gloin asked, exasperated.
Ignoring Gloin, Bard inclined his head and stepped forward, bowing awkwardly when he was level with Gloin.
Thorin sighed and nodded, sitting on the pile of gold as if it were a throne and looking at Bard, waiting for him to begin.
"Before you left Laketown to reclaim your throne, you said that if you were successful in winning back your homeland all would share in the wealth of the mountain. I am here because we are desperately in need of your help. The beasts attack burnt down many of our buildings and the people who own them do not have the money to rebuild. We must pay the tradesman for their services and materials and we simply do not have the funds." Bard trailed off, disheartened by Thorin's silence.
Looking around himself desperately, Bard's eyes fell on Kili and Tauriel and he gestured at them, his hope fading at the elf's blank expression.
"Uncle, I believe we owe the people of Laketown this, and more." Kili ventured, taking a step forward from Tauriel's side and bowing his head respectively.
"Oh do you?" Thorin said, amusement colouring his tone as he leant backwards, facing his nephew.
Blushing, Kili took a shaky breath.
"Well, if it weren't for Bard, Tauriel's efforts would have been for nought and Smaug would still be alive. He would have burnt Laketown to cinders and returned to do the same to you." Kili waited, but Thorin didn't say a word. He seemed to be deliberating so Kili tried once more in an attempt to swing Thorin's good will towards Bard.
"If it weren't for him I'd be dead. He helped us when everyone else turned us away. They would have been happy to take our money and let me die, but Bard didn't even ask for payment like others, he just helped me."
Thorin nodded and waved his hand at Kili to silence him, his mind clearly made up.
"Very well Bard, Kili is right. I do owe you a debt for saving my kin and firing the shot that killed the beast. All the money you shall need is yours to take, on one condition."
Bard's smile quickly faded and he looked at Thorin helplessly; dread filling him about this final condition. He inclined his head to show Thorin he was listening and waited.
"I will give you all the gold you need, but only you. You are to be the one who receives and distributes the money as it is needed. You are not to give this gold to any but those in need of it and you are to oversee that they use it for the benefit of Laketown and its residents. I do not want any of the gold I give you to past through the hands of the Master of the Men of the Lake, for I do not trust him. He is corrupt, and any money that goes through him will stay with him. Do I make myself clear bargeman?"
Bard could not believe what he had heard but he felt a profound respect for the dwarf King. He had used the Master to get what he wanted, but did not lose sight of his nature and clearly had the good of the people at the forefront of his mind. Bard smiled, the tension in his body released with a breath.
"Of course, your Grace." Bowing, Bard followed Gloin who was beckoning to him. Gloin filled up two sacks with gold and grudgingly handed them over to Bard, who hitched them over his shoulder without a problem, glad of the night's rest he had taken on his way to Erebor.
Following Gloin once more, Bard turned to thank Thorin and was greeted by the sight of Thorin once again stroking the mysteriously beautiful jewel, muttering to himself on his throne of gold as he turned it over and over in his hand.
Bard couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable this sight seemed to make Bilbo, who was stood leaning against a nearby column, gazing at Thorin with evident concern.
Bard opened his mouth to address the hobbit but was interrupted as an old raven soared in to the cavern and perched on a golden goblet that stood on top of a large chest of treasure to the right of the King.
Thorin didn't even seem to notice the raven. He was so absorbed in gazing lovingly at the strange jewel he had to be called out of his thoughts by Dwalin.
Raising an eyebrow at the bird, Thorin leant back and sat up fully, obviously curious as to the birds activities.
"O Thorin, son of Thrain, I am Roäc, son of Carc, and I have grave news for you, King under the Mountain." The old bird stopped before hopping forward and perching on the edge of the chest. His voice had been a sort of rasping croak but he had spoken in the common tongue so Bard could understand him, he needed only to take a few steps towards them to be able to hear him fully.
"The beast, Smaug, is dead, what news could you possibly bring that is so grave as to dampen my spirits, Roäc, son of Carc." Thorin looked back at the jewel and started playing with it again, essentially ignoring the raven.
"I have come to warn you of a vast army that is approaching to wage war on you, good King." The raven croaked, flapping his wings loudly in an attempt to gain back Thorin's attention. He barely stirred, the only sign that he'd even heard the birds message was a mild 'hmm' sound he made.
"A powerful necromancer of terrible ability is sending a large army of orcs led by Azog the defiler." The raven croaked.
Bard looked to Dwalin, who was stood frozen at the bottom of the heap of gold. Feeling a wrench in his stomach, Bard could not help but feel despair grip his heart as he thought of an army of orcs sweeping through his home to get to Erebor.
Thorin, on the other hand, could not seem to care less as he turned the jewel over in his hand, nodding absent-mindedly as if in response to the bird's news.
'Damn that stone.' Bard thought angrily, unable to believe that Thorin was genuinely so lost in the jewel that he didn't care about this news.
"Thank you very much, we'll ready ourselves immediately." Thorin said, finally looking at the raven and nodding seriously.
Evidently relieved, Roäc took off, flying over Bard's head and out of the cavern.
"Well then, we'd better send word to the others, especially Dain. Now you have the Arkenstone he must come." Balin said, striding towards his King.
"No." Thorin said simply, returning his attention back to the Arkenstone.
"But Thorin…" Balin spluttered, unable to believe what he'd heard. "How are we to fight an orc army without men? The Iron Hills are the closest to us, and Dain always has ready warriors. He would come if called, you know it."
"There is no orc army. The raven is a fool. Leave me." Thorin sounded almost empty to Bard, as if his fascination with the gem had grown so large that he was devoid of all other feeling.
Around him the dwarves muttered to each other, but did as their King had ordered and left the chamber.
Turning and striding to follow them, Bard grabbed Dwalin's arm on the way out.
"Should I arm the Men of the Lake or no?" He said angrily, glaring at the dwarf in anger and confusion.
For once Dwalin did not look at the bargeman unkindly; instead he just sighed and looked to his older brother.
Balin frowned and then nodded quickly, glancing back in the direction they'd just came from.
"Aye, I think it would be best. Better to be safe than sorry. I knew Roäc's father, he was a wise creature. Roäc would not have come unless he had been sure."
Bard nodded and hurried into the gloom, back the way he had entered the mountain. He felt ill, as if he had just been to the sickbed of a friend and had come back tainted. He hoped that the money Thorin had gifted them would be enough to help rebuild Laketown and muster the army, but somehow he doubted they would be prepared in time. From what he knew of orc's, they marched fast and considering Bain had told him Tauriel had saved them from orcs whilst he had been locked up he suspected the army could not be all that far away.
Bard felt like he was in the eye of the storm, he thought after the dragon was killed it was all over but now he saw more blood on the horizon and the calm he had revelled in this morning now felt eerie, as if it wasn't over he was just waiting for the next calamity.
Shaking off his anxieties, Bard focused on getting back home as quickly as possible. It would take some effort to convince the Master Thorin had truly put him in charge, and that he wasn't just stealing the money. The mood of the people was strange and confused and Bard had no way of knowing how he and his news would be received.