A/N Further dwarven shenanigan's ahead, as usual :P
The house was a mass of dripping, grumbling, grumpy dwarves while Bard's children rushed around trying to get them dry clothes and warm drinks. Seeing even the stout dwarves so affected by the cold water she whispered a silent thankyou to Gilraen for the protection her gift had given, even up to what it offered when she had to give it up.
She wove through the hoard, kneeling down next to Kili who'd sunk into the window seat, looking paler than the rest. "Alright, lemme see."
He shook his head. "It's fine, Lady Josephine. No need to make a fuss."
"Don't bother fighting me, I'll just win in the end." She reminded him as she tugged gently at the knot of Bojur's scarf that had managed to stay put during everything.
"I-I'm sure Oin can handle it-"
She looked up at him with a tired expression like she was waiting for him to be done talking so she could carry on. As she sat there, Bain passed by handing a stack of clothes off to Bifur and she snagged his sleeve as he came back.
"Yes, miss?"
He seemed totally overwhelmed by what was going on in his house and she felt a bit sorry for him. "My friend here is hurt, can you find us Kingsfoil?"
"What? The stuff we feed to the pigs?"
Bard, catching a snippet of their conversation, came over to find out what was going on. "What is it you need?"
"She wants Kingsfoil, Da."
Josephine could tell he was getting a little frustrated with all the demands but he nodded and gave Bain's shoulder a pat.
"Alright, run out and get some. I think I saw some growing outside of Marilla's home."
When Bain slipped off, Bard knelt down next to her and looked at the wound. "Was this from your trouble with the elves as well?"
Kili shook his head. "Worse. Orcs."
"I'll have Tilda put water on and find you some bandages."
The muted drone of the house began to disappear as mugs reached hands and hot tea was more important than complaining. Josephine laid Kili's leg out across her lap and tore the hole in his pant leg bigger so she could see what was going on. It looked a little more familiar than she'd hoped, already bluish at the edges.
Dammit, she really didn't have the skill to do anything, they needed Tauriel. Sure, maybe Legolas could help too so long as he showed up but she'd first have to convince him and then hope he had the same skill as Tauriel. Or, she could just hope and pray Tauriel would still show up.
Oin joined her, poking at the edges gingerly while Kili tried to hide his grimace. "We'll wrap it up nice and clean an' see what it looks like come morning. Don't you worry lad, 's not the first arrow wound I've dealt with."
From the other end of the room Bilbo spoke up and Josephine had to key back into what was going on with the story.
"You look like you've seen a ghost." Bilbo observed, joining Thorin at the window and blowing into his mug to cool it.
Balin was the next to join them. "He has. The last time we saw such a weapon…a city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came. The day that Smaug destroyed Dale."
The other dwarves shifted towards Balin as he told the story and Kili perked up, listening closely.
"Girion, the lord of the city rallied his bowmen to fire upon the beast, but a dragon's hide is tough, tougher than the strongest armor. Only a black arrow fired from a windlance could have pierced the dragon's hide, and few of those arrows were ever made. The store was running low when Girion made his last stand."
Thorin kept his gaze out the window, looking lost in thought. "Had the aim of men been true that day, much would have been different."
Having overheard it all just like the rest of them, Bard stepped forward. "You speak as if you were there."
"All dwarves know the tale." Thorin defended.
Tilda, having a personal stake in the story himself, joined in. "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."
Dwalin chuckled. "That's a fairy story, lass. Nothing more."
Josephine caught his eye. "Don't be so quick to discount fairy stories, Dwalin." She knew from experience. After all, Dwalin was a fairy story to her once too.
Bain appeared not long after that, while Bard disappeared to get their weapons. He handed her a fistfull of green leaves and stems, surprisingly hearty in the cold. She did what Aragorn had shown her, bathed the wound, packed it with a poultice, and wrapped it in clean bandages. It was all she could do, the magic portion was beyond her skill entirely.
Behind her, the dwarves argued with Bard, unsatisfied with the supply of weapons he was providing. Once the man left the house, they began to debate.
"Well then, if he says they're in the town armory we'll go to the town armory." Bofur suggested.
"Agreed. All of you, gather your things." Thorin commanded. "Josephine, get him up, we're leaving."
For all their loudness, the dwarves were remarkably good at sneaking around and they managed to stay hidden in the town until night fell. They located the armory, and a window on the second story they could climb in through. One by one, Thorin sent them up their dwarf made staircase of half the company and at the top, Bilbo was waiting to help her crawl into the dark staircase.
"I suppose I'm earning my Burglar title today, now aren't I." He joked in a whisper.
"I think today, we all are." She smirked, following the next dwarf up the steps where there were racks upon racks of weapons.
Thorin came next and set them to work, stacking swords and axes in Kili's arms as Bofur and Nori collected them. He'd take them downstairs and unlock the door to pass them to the rest of the company who waited outside.
Thorin caught him right before he went down, checking on him as he grunted under the weight. But like he'd been doing with the rest of him, Kili lied with a straight face and carried on, all the way to the second step of the staircase where his knee gave out under him and he fell. The clamor was deafening and Josephine waited near the window as the others took up arms, earning nothing but swords at their throats.
The guards dragged them from the armory towards the Master's house and dumped them in a half circle in the square at his door. The townspeople gathered around them and Josephine wondered wryly, when these kinds of things had become normal enough for her that her adrenalin didn't even kick in.
The Master burst through the door, pulling on his coat. "What is the meaning of this?!"
"We caught 'em stealing weapons, Sire." Braga informed him proudly.
"Ah. Enemies of the state, ehm?"
Beside him, Alfrid smeared. "A desperate bunch of mercenaries if ever there was, Sire."
This time it was Dwalin's turn to run the gambit and he stepped forward. "Hold your tongue! You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal. This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!"
Not missing a beat, Thorin raised his head and stepped forward. "We are the Dwarves of Erebor, and we have come to reclaim our homeland."
Whispers ran through the crowd behind them and Thorin stepped even closer to the steps to the Master's house.
"I remember this town in the great days of old, fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forgotten outpost, no forsaken town on a lake. This was the center of all trade in the North! I would see those days return, I would re-light the great forges of the Dwarves, and send riches and wealth flowing once more from the Halls of Erebor."
"Death!" Bard yelled, pushing through the throng of townspeople. "That is what you will bring upon us! Dragon-fire and ruin! If you waken that beast, you will destroy us all!"
Josephine stayed back. It was best to let them have at it since she didn't trust Thorin to follow his word once the dragon sickness took hold, and while Bard was right about Smaug, it still had to be done.
"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!" Thorin's voice rose to a roar and enticed the crowd to excitement.
"All of you, listen to me, you must listen!" Bard begged. "Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm...and for what purpose? The blind ambition of a Mountain King so driven by greed he could not see beyond his own desire?"
The Master finally found fit to intervene and added his snide, two cents. "Now, now...we must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame...Let us not forget it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor who failed to kill the beast."
"It is true, Sire, we all know the story. Arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing its mark." Alfrid added.
Josephine leaned over to mumble in Bilbo's ear. "If he so much as looks at me sideways I'll punch him in the face."
"So long as I'm there to see it." He smirked.
Bard glared at Thorin, almost begging him. "You have no right, no right to enter that mountain!"
"I have the only right!" Thorin yelled, turning his back on Bard and addressing 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? What say you?"
With three welcomes from the Master, they were brought into his house, old and ornate and stuffed with tapestries and books. If not for the layer of grime and consistent smell of piss, it would've been a nice place to stay, but as it was, she wished she was bunking with Bard and his kids instead of having to play nice with the Master.
The night was late, or the morning was early depending on how they looked at it. There was talk of a feast the next day and days of celebration while the company rested and got outfitted for the journey. It sounded like they'd spend the fortnight in Lake-town that the company did in the book, instead of leaving the next morning. Another long wait for catastrophe to come was how Josephine felt about it, and more time that she had to stave off the effects of Kili's wound while she waited for Legolas and Tauriel to show up.
Two worn looking servants prepared a room for the company to sleep hurriedly while the Master talked up Thorin who nodded very seriously along with the man's tirades.
"I think I liked the dungeons better." She muttered to Dwalin.
"Aye. Ye stick close. I don't like the look of either of them."
He watched Alfrid and the Master, neither of which had gotten over to introduce themselves yet. She would've preferred it if they didn't. "Got any knives?"
Dwalin grunted and leaned over, plucking something out of Fili's hair and handing it to her hilt first. "The lad nicked it from the armory before anyone saw." He said quietly. "If they step out of line…won't look good to get caught guttin' one of them."
"So what, just scare them a bit?"
He scoffed. "Nah. I mean if they do something to deserve guttin', don't get caught."
Chuckling, she slipped the knife into her boot. "Noted."
"An' that's only if one of us doesn't get to 'em first. He is a right grimy lookin' bastard, isn't he?"
Josephine smirked and nudged him with her elbow. "Which one?"
