Sorry for the wait, I'm going on holiday for seven days so I leave you with this...
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Laketown
Laketown was what it was; a town on a murky, cold lake. The houses were built on stilts, all piled on top of and next to each other, bridged and walkways connecting them and small canals held boats full of produce and wood. As the boat drifted up to the gates, Farren shrank back against Bard, eyeing the barrels full of grumbling dwarves in front of them. She stayed back on the barge as he stepped on to a small wooden walkway where a rather squat, ginger man stood with narrowed eyes.
She could not hear their hushed conversation but it must have resulted in some kind of positive agreement for the two shook hands, Bard returning to the barge with a smirk. Her nose suddenly burned with the scent of rotting fish and she looked up, seeing a massive net full of dead mackerel, unfortunately dripping blood and water onto her pale face. Spluttering slightly from the smell and taste of the blood, she hastily wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her already blood red surcoat and watched as the fish were dumped on top of the fourteen barrels. Trying not to laugh at the moans of displeasure issuing from within the guts and scales and tails, she directed the barge forwards towards the gates of the town, with Bard behind her, muttering instructions of what she was to say if they were stopped,
"But we look nothing alike," Farren said quietly, desperately in answer to what Bard had said. She was to 'pose as his niece travelling from Bree and will be staying with him for a week'. Farren was confused as to how this would possibly work but when she found herself shaking hands with the gate keeper who believed her every word; she trusted Bard.
"Right, all is good and in order," the gatekeeper muttered, handing Bard several pieces of paper with fresh red stamps on them, "I hope to see you about Miss Blodwyn," she shivered under his gaze and managed a polite smile, nodding in recognition. She turned to leave, Bard's hand splayed between her shoulders and he reached out for the papers…
"Not so fast," a sudden hiss startled Farren and she reached for her sword, her hand grasping thin air and she remember that it was hidden beneath her tattered and ripped cloak aboard the barge, a move made to make her seem more innocent.
A man stood between Bard and Farren, clutching the papers with a sneer. He was short and spindly, adorning the colour black and had bottomless, beetle-like eyes that ignored Farren completely. His hair was greasy, straight and flopped in his face when he turned to look over at Bard's barge,
"Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm," the man said, "Only they're not empty, are they Bard?"
He threw the papers into the wind, watching them flutter down on the water's surface and the ink writing turning to blue spots. Walking forward as menacingly as he could for a man of his size, her beckoned several soldiers from out of the shadows,
"If I recall correctly, you are a licensed bargeman," the man reached over and snatched a fish from one of the barrels, "Not a fisherman,"
And only Farren noticed Bombur's widened eyes peering out, and she inched her way to stand in front of the barrel so no one would see him wriggling around, trying to re-conceal himself,
"That's none of your business," Bard replied snappily,
"Wrong!" the man sang, "It's the Master's business, which makes it my business," Farren had no idea what this man was on about. A Master? Then surely he must have slaves but the way the man talked about his Master, as if he were talking about a king,
"Oh come on Alfrid!" Bard stressed, "Have a heart, these people need to eat!"
"These fish are illegal!" Alfrid interjected with a hiss and turned towards his soldiers, "Empty the barrels over the side," his men obeyed and one started towards Farren, a greedy look in his eyes as he reached out for the barrel. She did not budge, staring the soldier down with hard eyes,
"Folk in this town are struggling, times are hard," Bard tried to stop the soldiers from touching the dwarf filled barrels, "Food is scarce,"
"That's not my problem," Alfrid scowled, now finally spotting Farren and her stare off with the burly soldier,
"And when the people hear that Master is dumping fish back into the lake, when the rioting starts, will it be your problem then?" Bard was getting desperate, clutching the money sack in her pocket and watching Farren being shunted away from Bombur's barrel,
"Stop," came a small sigh and Farren stopped struggling with the soldier, peering over at Alfrid, "Ever the people's champion, eh, Bard," he looked almost defeated but his eyes showed a disgusting sort of menace that Farren's stomach churned at, "Protector of the common folk?" Alfrid sidled up to Bard with a wicked smile, "You might have their favour now, bargeman, but it won't last,"
He turned to walk away, side stepping into Farren with those disgusting eyes again,
"And who may you be?" he asked with a sneer, "Another illegal immigrant that Bard is helping?" smoothing her hair over her pointed ears, Farren swallowed,
"I'm his niece, sir, travelling to visit from Bree," she replied politely and they held each other's hard gazes for a moment, deciding whether or not to let her past. Nodding lightly, Alfrid left with a growl and Farren's shoulders relaxed, a breath puffing out that she didn't know she was holding,
"Nice acting," Bard muttered into her ear as he helped her board his barge and she grinned, looking down to her feet embarrassedly.