Dudes, I forgot it was Monday. Isn't that terrible? I mean, how do you forget it's MONDAY?

"Watch out!" Bofur shouted, covering his head. The boat is guided between two tall formations that turn out to be ruins, and some of the dwarves chuckle at Bofur. He uncovered his head and glared at them all. "Don't laugh at me," he muttered.

Thorin glowered at Bard. "What are you trying to do?" he asked him. "Drown us?"

Bard didn't even look at him. "I was born and bred on these waters, Master Dwarf. If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here."

Dwalin let out an annoyed sigh through his nose as Thorin returns to the company's end of the barge. "I've had enough of this lippy Lakeman. I say we thrown him over the side and be done with it."

Bilbo seethed visibly beside Cheyanne, and in an angry tone he says, "Oh, Bard, his name is Bard!"

"How do you know?' Bofur queried.

Bilbo gave him a look. "Uh, I asked him," he responded plainly.

"I don't care what he calls himself," said Dwalin. "I don't like him."

"Goodness me," Balin sighed, counting out coin. "We don't have to like him, we just have to pay him."

"We need the things he gives us, y'all," Cheyanne told them. "We don't have a choice." She studied the deck of the barge and leaned against the side. "He's going to try to stop us from getting to Erebor." There was no reason to put it off any longer; she figured she may as well tell them all what happened, at least up until the end of Desolation of Smaug.

The dwarves all started to mutter to one another and Thorin looked at her. "What are you saying?" he asked.

Cheyanne prepared herself for an explanation. "There's a prophecy about your return, Thorin," she said slowly. "Bard knows what it is, and it does come true. Pretty much exactly, actually."

"Prophecy?" asked Bilbo in confusion. He glanced at Thorin, who had his eyebrows knitted together. "What prophecy?"

Cheyanne begins to recite the prophecy of Durin's Folk from memory: "The lord of silver fountains, the king of carven stone, the king beneath the mountain shall come into his own, and the bells shall ring in gladness at the mountain king's return, but all shall fail in sadness-"

"-and the lake will shine and burn," Thorin finished, cutting her off. He lifted his eyes and met hers. "I've heard this prophecy many times. Apparently, it is well known."

"It's certainly got lovely rhymes, doesn't it?" she questioned to lighten the mood that had settled over the company. No one chuckled or replied. She cleared her throat and bowed her head. "In seriousness, though. The prophecy is very true, and each part is going to come into play as early as two nights from now."

"Does that mean we're going to wake up the dragon?" Bilbo asked worriedly.

Cheyanne lowered her gaze again. "We already have," she said quietly.

A stunned silence followed her words. Thorin stepped closer to her and took her chin in his fingers, raising her head so that she was looking at him.

"You're not lying? Smaug is already awake?" he demanded. She nodded, and Thorin closed his eyes, releasing her chin.

"Well, that's it, then," said Balin. "This journey has all been for naught. We may as well ask Bard to turn around."

"Wait a minute," Cheyanne said quickly. She stood. "Don't count it all as a failure just yet. We get into the mountain, but, unfortunately-"

Bilbo cleared his throat and quickly tilted his head down the barge. Bard approached them and held out his hand. "The money, now," he said.

"We won't be paying you a thing until we get out provisions," Dwalin said sternly.

"If you want to see your provisions at all, you will give me the coin now," insisted the boatman. "There are guards up ahead."

Balin exchanged a look with Thorin, who nodded. The older dwarf handed Bard the coin he'd slid into a purse, and Bard took it before gesturing to the barrels. "Everyone needs to get in a barrel, and quickly." He then turned and walked off, leaving the company to do as he said.

"Do it," Cheyanne told them when they all looked at her. The dwarves and Bilbo each hurried into a barrel, and Cheyanne slid into the last empty one just as the barge approached a lone building where a man was standing on a deck. "I'd suck in as much fresh air as you can in about thirty seconds," Cheyanne advised to the others as Bard climbed off of the barge and started to speak with the man.

"Why, what's happening?" Dwalin demanded from another barrel.

"He's talking to someone," responded Bilbo. "And… He's pointing right at us!" There was a pause. "Now they're shaking hands."

"He's sold us out!" Dwalin cursed.

"Take in some air now," Cheyanne said before doing just that.

"What are you-" Dwalin's voice is cut off as dead fish are poured into the barrels. Cheyanne heard the dwarves gag and splutter in surprise, and she rolls her eyes, meeting the gaze of one of the dead fish beside her. She wrinkled her nose and looked away.

"Mahal," someone groaned, and the group of barrels shook as Bard kicked them.

"Quiet," he hissed. "We're approaching the toll gate."

"Halt!" someone called. "Goods inspection. Papers, please." There's a pause. "Oh, it's you, Bard."

"Morning, Percy," Bard said as the boat halted, and the barrels rocked with the motion.

"Anything to declare?" Percy asked him.

"Nothing but that I am cold and tired, and ready for home," replied the boatman.

"You and me both." There's an even longer moment of silence, and Cheyanne swallows against bile she felt rising in her throat. "Here we are," Percy said at last. "All in order."

"Not so fast." Cheyanne flinched at Alfrid's voice. The ugly "town deputy" was one of the worst people she'd ever had the displeasure to view on screen. His actor did a very good job of making people hate him. "Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm," he said, reading off of Bard's papers. "Only, they're not empty, are they, Bard? If I recall correctly, you're licensed as a bargeman, not a fisherman."

"That's none of your business," Bard told him.

"Wrong. It's the Master's business, which makes it my business."

"Oh come on, Alfrid, have a heart. People need to eat!"

"These fish are illegal!" Alfrid exclaimed, and there's a splash. "Empty the barrels over the side."

Cheyanne's barrel twisted abruptly, and she bit her lip to keep from yelping in surprise as it began to tilt. "Folk in this town are struggling," Bard started as the fish above her began to thin out, falling from the barrel into the canal. "Times are hard. Food is scarce."

"That's not my problem," Alfrid answered.

"And when the people hear the Master is dumping fish back into the lake?" demanded Bard. "When the rioting starts? Will it be your problem then?"

There is a silence, and the layer of fish above Cheyanne is about to disappear completely when Alfrid said, "Stop." Her barrel returned to its original position, and Cheyanne closed her eyes in relief. "Ever the people's champion, eh, Bard?" Alfrid asked coldly. "Protector of the common folk? You might have their favor now, bargeman, but it won't last."

"Raise the gate!" Percy shouted after a moment.

The boat began to move again. "The Master has his eye on you," Alfrid warned Bard. "You'd do well to remember. We know where you live."

"It's a small town, Alfrid," Bard responded. "Everyone knows where everyone lives."

The barge moved along at a slow and steady pace. After what seemed like ages, it finally came to a halt, and Cheyanne's barrel is knocked over. She crawled out of the fish, gasping for fresh air. The boatman continued on to the other barrels, and soon everyone was free of the fish and gasping on the deck of the barge.

Dwalin brushed away Bard's hand, which he reached out to help the dwarf to his feet. "Get your hands off of me," he growled low in his throat, climbing up.

Thorin approached Cheyanne and held out his hand. She gave him a grateful smile and took it. Thorin pulls her to her feet, and she noticed the dock keeper watching them in shock. Bard went over to him and handed him a gold coin.

"You didn't see them, they were never here," he said quietly. "The fish you can have for nothing."

Bard led the company away from the barge. They walked along, and Cheyanne noticed a woman see them pass, and her eyes go wide. As they crossed over a bridge, Bard's son, Bain, ran up to them.

"Da! Our house, it's being watching!" he said to his father.

Bard glanced at Thorin and grinned when a plan comes to mind. He pulled the dwarf aside, and Bilbo approached Cheyanne, looking concerned. "What is he hatching?" the hobbit asked her.

Cheyanne chose not to reply.

Bain helped her out of the toilet beneath Bard's home, and she hurried up the stairs after Bilbo into the shack on the docks. Bard's oldest daughter, Sigrid, gazed at them in shock as the company filed one member at a time into the house. "Da," she said at last, "why are their dwarves coming out of our toilet?"

"Will they bring us luck?" Tilda, the younger girl, questioned, eyes bright.

Bard came out of a room, blankets and changes of clothing in his hands. He passed them out to the company members and then turned to make a fire in the iron stove. "They may not be the best fit," he said over his shoulder, but they'll keep you warm."

Cheyanne huddled beneath the same blanket as Bilbo, the two of them sharing one another's body heat. Tilda approached them with two mugs of steaming something, and Bilbo took one. "Thank you very much."

Cheyanne took the other and sipped at it. Black coffee. She swallowed a longer sip and looked towards where Thorin was gazing out a window. Leaving Bilbo with the blanket, she stood and joined him, following his gaze to the crossbow like figure on the bell tower in the distance.

"A Dwarvish Wind-Lance," Thorin said under his breath.

Bilbo spoke up from behind them. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"He has," Balin responded. "The last time we saw such a weapon, a city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came."

Thorin turned away from the window, expression sad. Cheyanne studied him as Balin went on: "The day that Smaug destroyed Dale. Girion, the Lord of the city, rallied his bowman to fire upon the beast. But a dragon's hide is tough, tougher than the strongest armor. Only a black arrow, fired from a wind-lance, could have pierced the dragon's hide, and few of those arrows were ever made."

"Had the aim of man been true that day," Thorin said, looking up, "much would have been different."

Bard, who had been listening to this, approached Thorin. "You speak as if you were there."

"All dwarves know the tale," Thorin replied dismissively.

"Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon. He loosened a scale under the left wing. One more shot, and he would have killed the beast!" Bain said from behind his father.

Dwalin chuckled. "That's a fairy story lad. Nothing more."

Thorin looked up at Bard. "You took our money. Where are our weapons?"

"Wait here," responded the boatman. He disappeared, and Cheyanne gazed around at the dwarves.

"You're not going to like what he comes back with," she told them softly so the children wouldn't overhear. "Just be ready for disappointment."

The dwarves all nod. Thorin pulled Fili, Kili and Balin aside to speak with them. Cheyanne listened into their conversation.

"Tomorrow begins the last days of autumn," Thorin said to them.

"Durin's Day falls morn after next. We must reach the mountain before then," Balin added.

"And if we do not?" asked Kili. "If we fail to find the hidden door before that time?"

"Then this quest has been for nothing," Fili answered him. "But Cheyanne said we make it, so I'm going to trust her."

"Aye," Balin agreed with a firm nod. "Miss Baggins is reliable, as she has proven. We can trust her."

Cheyanne grinned when she heard this, but what was said next dropped a stone into her stomach: "And if she is correct about the dragon already being awake, what then?" Kili questioned.

"Then we continue on as planned," Thorin answered firmly. "Master Baggins knew the stakes, and he chose to come all the same. Whatever happens will happen."

Cheyanne closed her eyes and backed away from them, shaking. Bilbo. He was going to be okay. There was no reason to worry about him. What she needed to be worrying about was Thorin's mental state. As they were getting closer to Erebor, it was already beginning to deteriorate, and she could tell.

She wondered if anyone else noticed how jittery he was. Just watching him showed that he was twitching. He continuously crossed and uncrossed his arms, like he wasn't sure what way he wanted to be standing. He kept glancing out the window, like he was looking for the Lonely Mountain in the distance.

Cheyanne was worried for him. Thorin didn't realize it himself, but the gold was calling out to him, tugging at his mind so that it was in his thoughts at all time. Singing lamentations like the angels, asking him to come and get the treasure. That was the dragon sickness that was laced in the mountains of gold and other wealth. Like poison in a cup of tea.

Bard returned, cutting her thoughts short, and lay a blanket wrapped bundle down on the table. He unwrapped it as the dwarves crowded around to see what he'd brought. Cheyanne heard grunts of disgust, and she saw Thorin pick up one of the DIY weapons.

"What is this?" he asked, looking up at Bard.

"Pike-hook. Made from an old harpoon," the boatman replied. Thorin put the pike-hook back down, and Kili picked up something that looked like a hammer.

"And this?"

"A crowbill, we call it," Bard explained, "fashioned from a smithy's hammer. It's heavy in hand, I grant, but in defense of your life, these will serve you better than none."

Thorin and Dwalin exchange a look, and Gloin gestured to the pile of DIY weapons. "We paid you for weapons!" he exclaimed. "Iron-forged swords and axes."

"This is a joke!" said Bofur, throwing the weapon he'd picked up down in disgust. The other dwarves followed his lead, and Bard rolled his eyes.

"You won't find better outside the city armory." Cheyanne noticed Balin glance at Thorin, who was gazing at Bard with interest. "All iron-forged weapons are held there under lock and key."

Thorin looked at Dwalin, raising an eyebrow. Dwalin shrugged one shoulder in silent agreement. Balin stepped forward. "Thorin," he said gently.

Cheyanne looked sideways at Bard. The man's eyes had gone wide, and she saw him mouth the name.

"Why not take what's been offered and go?" Balin asked the dwarf. "I've made do with less; so have you. I say we leave. Now."

Hearing this brought back Bard's attention. He shook his head. "You're not going anywhere."

Dwalin glared at him. "What did you say?"

"There's spies watching this house and probably every dock and wharf in the town," Bard told him. "You must wait until nightfall."

The dwarves mutter under their breaths and settle down to wait in annoyance. Cheyanne heard a grunt of pain and looked at Kili. The young dwarf lowered himself onto a couch with a wince and reached down to look at his leg, but not before glancing around to make sure no one was watching.

She walked over to him and joined him on the couch. The dwarf glanced in her direction and quickly sat up, acting like he hadn't touched the bandage. Cheyanne decided to keep his sense of manliness up as high as she could and gave him a grin. "So, Tauriel?"

Kili immediately turned red. He looked away with a small smile. "What about her?"

"She's pretty," Cheyanne told him.

Kili let out a breath. "Yes," he agreed, "she is." He allowed his eyes to turn back to her. "Do you-"

Cheyanne immediately held up her hands. "That's not my place, Kili." He nodded after a moment in understanding, and she smirked, an idea coming to her head. "But, if it were to happen, what would you like to be called?" Kili lifted an eyebrow, and then his eyes brightened.

Laughing, he looked down at the floor. "I don't know," he said after a moment. "Maybe… Hmm."

"Kiliel?" Cheyanne queried, tilting her head.

Kili laughed again. "Sounds nice," he mused. "Kiliel." The name seemed to taste good to him, because he said it again, softer this time; "Kiliel." The dwarf leaned back against the couch, a dreamy look on his face.

Cheyanne bowed her head and rose. Her work was done. She started to walk away, but Kili grabbed her wrist before she could and pulled her to a halt. "What is it?" she asked, glancing towards him.

"I wanted to thank you," he responded. "Back on the river, you saved me from an even worse wound."

Cheyanne let out a breath and shook her head. "Didn't do much," she commented, glancing down at his leg. It wasn't yet ugly, but she could tell it was hurting him just from looking at it. Kili flinched when he saw where she was looking, and he adjusted himself so his leg was turned away from her, dropping her arm at the same time.

"Thank you, either way," he said quickly, clearly saying that he wanted her to walk away now.

Cheyanne dipped her head and did as he was suggesting. She leaned against the wall next to the window, crossing her arms. Bilbo approached her, face pale. She frowned in concern. "What's wrong?"

"I-I don't know," he said quietly, looking over his shoulder towards Thorin. The dwarf was gazing at them curiously, head tilted, and Bilbo's throat visibly clenched. "I… I keep looking at him and he's watching me. I don't know why he's doing it, but it's scaring me."

Cheyanne released a breath, understanding exactly how Bilbo felt. Thorin looking at you the way he did was terrifying. She met Bilbo's gaze and gave him an encouraging grin. "He's just making sure you don't cut and run," she teased half-heartedly, hoping Bilbo didn't notice how weak the attempt was. "We're so close; it only makes sense that you'd get scared and try to sneak away."

Bilbo shook his head. "Why doesn't he trust me?" he asked her.

"He does," Cheyanne insisted. "It just may seem like he doesn't because really… This is it. If Thorin doesn't manage to get back Erebor, there's nothing left for him to do."

And, y'know, the Orcs would take over the place and the fiery vagina of doom and darkness would come in and be like, "Yo! This is my crib now, bitches!" Then he and Smaug would have an evil party.

But, Bilbo didn't need to know that, because it wasn't going to happen.

She rested her hands on his shoulders. "Bilbo, everything is going to be fine," she told him calmly. "Trust me; I know."

Did she really? Did she know that everything was going to end out fine? In a way, it didn't. Lake-town was destroyed, and so was Thorin's sanity. All because of that friggin' mountain.

So much fuss over a pile of rock and dirt.

And what lay inside its caverns.

Stuff's starting to get heavy, ain't it?