Author's Note: I had a lot of fun with this chapter mostly because Bard. He is one of my favorites, especially after I've seen the third movie. I hope that I've done his character justice as I'm a little nervous about his interactions with Laura, since she is so different in her way of approaching people and problems than Bilbo.

Also, disclaimer, Bard's house confuses me. I genuinely don't understand the layout so I did my best and took some liberties. I hope it still feels close to what little we could see in the movie.

I am so grateful for all of your favorites, follows, and reviews. I know I keep saying it, but it bears repeating: thank you all so much. I love hearing from all of you.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Laura.

Apparently, we weren't as in the clear as Bard said.

Bard had guided us through the streets, his eyes wide and watchful as he made sure we were all close behind, peeking around every corner and sweeping his gaze over our surroundings constantly.

That was when Bard's son Bain, who had the same grim mouth and coloring as his father but with a rounder face and the clumsiness of someone who was still not at ease with their own body, appeared and declared that their house was being watched. Bard's expression turned even more solemn, as he turned to look us over.

After a long moment, he shared his idea: We were going to get in through the water.

Through their outhouse.

Hell. No.

The dwarves, predictably, threw up a fuss, albeit a more contained fuss than usual in an attempt to remain unnoticed by the townspeople. Bard ignored them and instead turned his eyes to me, either in hope of help or support, I wasn't sure. I glared at him. I was without question on the dwarves' side of this argument.

Finally, Bard's patience hit its limit and let it spill that the city watch was overseen by the Master of Lake-town. It sounded like a mayor, maybe, but something in Bard's tone suggested this Master's title was a little more literal. Bard didn't know what would happen if the Master found out about us, but explained that anyone who entered or left Lake-town only did so by the Master's goodwill.

Perhaps, if we hadn't just escaped a very similar experience with the elves the dwarves would have argued more. But we all appeared to reach the same conclusion: we didn't have extra time to pay for a miscalculation.

So, into the water the dwarves went after Bard gave them directions on how to reach his house. I watched warily as the last dwarf, Bombur, slid into the water before turning to Bard.

"If I go in that water I won't be coming back out." I told Bard firmly. My shivering must have been worse than I thought, because Bard's eyes softened. I pressed on, assuring him, "Don't worry about me. I'll follow you and then go around the back."

Bard and I locked eyes for a long moment before he finally sighed and nodded.

Bain and Bard quickly weaved along the docks of Lake-town while I stayed as close as possible, avoiding walking into the open and sticking to the walls of buildings as often as possible. I was pleased to find that my hobbit-magic was as strong as ever and I was only spotted by one person. A woman, maybe a little older than my dad, with long dark hair who was bent over what looked like a little raised garden bed.

I couldn't say which of us was more surprised when our eyes met. But I didn't linger, Bard and Bain were already rounding the next corner, so I raised a hand in an awkward half-wave before turning to catch up with them.

I rounded the last corner to find Bain and Bard climbing a staircase that was wrapped around a building, and guessed that was where we would be staying. I waited, unsure, until I saw Bain come back out a moment later, this time at water level. He walked along the dock that surrounded the house and knocked on a small outbuilding.

Dwalin came out a few moments later, looking furious. Well, that explained the outbuilding's purpose.

One by one the dwarves reappeared and I waited until the last dwarf, Thorin, emerged before I moved quickly, hugging the walls of the house, and hurrying to fall into step behind Thorin as he entered. Thorin glanced over his shoulder at me as he began to climb. I offered a smile back.

At the top of the stairs was a girl, maybe seventeen or eighteen with the same dark eyes as Bard, who was watching anxiously as we all marched into the house. I could hear several of the dwarves speaking, voices raised, and it wasn't until I reached the top of the stairs that I saw Fili and Kili planted firmly in front of Bard, Fili demanding, "Where is Bilbo?"

"Here," I called out tiredly, swaying out of the way as the girl moved past me to join another much younger girl before moving deeper into the house.

The others looked over to me, many of them giving me a onceover before they seemed satisfied. The two girls had disappeared past a curtain that appeared to serve as a makeshift wall between the rest of the house and a sleeping area, complete with an armoire and large bed.

I moved closer to the cast iron stove, something that I had seen only in museums, in a desperate attempt to warm up as the dwarves milled around Bard's house restlessly. Bard and Bain stood near the front door, talking quietly with their heads bowed. A few minutes later the girls returned, their arms laden with heavy-looking clothes. Bard and Bain immediately moved to take their own share from each girl's arms, and together they dispersed clothes to the Company.

The older girl was the one to reach me first. She looked me over carefully, her brows furrowed in a way that struck an overwhelming resemblance to her father.

"I'm afraid these might be too big for you, Master Dwarf," she said hesitantly. "But perhaps we can find something a bit more suitable, if you would give me a moment."

Dwarf? We were all short compared to Gandalf or Bard but I was still several inches shorter than Ori who was the smallest of the dwarves. And that, in my eyes, was our only similarity. They had no curls, I had -thank God- no facial hair, not even after traveling for months. We were as different as the girl and I were.

I decided it wasn't worth correcting. I offered instead, "I appreciate it, thank you for your kindness." I paused, unsure, "I'm sorry I don't know your name."

The girl smiled back cautiously. It made her look much younger. "Sigrid."

"A pleasure to meet you," I told Sigrid sincerely, "I'm Bilbo Baggins."

Sigrid lit up in understanding, glancing over her shoulder to where Fili and Kili were being handed clothes by the younger girl. "I will return with something more fitting, Master Baggins."

She moved away before I could reply, handing off the rest of her load to Nori, Bofur, and Gloin as she passed before moving back to the bedspace with her sister, the curtain falling closed behind them. Once the dwarves were sure the girls were no longer present, they began to strip and pull on their new clothes. Bard's expression was one of incredulity. I averted my eyes to the stove. Naked dwarves were something I hadn't yet seen, nor would I ever if I had my way.

"Alright, Bilbo?" Kili asked at my shoulder a few minutes later.

I chanced a glance up at him, relieved to see that the dwarves were all at least covered if not fully dressed. Kili himself was dressed in woolen layers of blue while Fili, who was at his side, had on more muted shades of beige and green, a scarf looped haphazardly around his neck.

"Yes, thank you." I told him with a smile.

Fili moved closer, his shoulder pressing into mine on my other side. "Haven't they given you anything to wear?"

"Not yet," I said patiently, trying not to be annoyed. Fili was now between me and the stove and the loss of heat was noticeable. "Sigrid is looking for something else for me, since I'm so small."

"Sigrid?" Fili repeated with confusion. "Who's Sigrid?"

I sighed, this time not bothering to hide my displeasure. "Bard's daughter, the elder one."

"How'd you find that out?" Kili wanted to know.

I stared at him. "By saying hello."

Kili opened his mouth, no doubt to ask me another question, when the two girls reappeared with a smaller bundle in Sigrid's arms.

They made a beeline for me, which made Fili and Kili, in return, move away quickly, and I smiled at them when they came closer.

"Here you are, Master Baggins," Sigrid said lowly, offering the small bundle to me as her sister hovered behind her. "These were Bain's once, before his growth, I'm afraid we've given away most of the rest. I hope they'll do."

I glanced down at the clothes. They were worn and frayed, in the way that second-hand clothes often were, but they seemed closer to my size than I was expecting. "They'll do very nicely. Thank you."

Sigrid smiled, this time with more pleasure than politeness, and said, "I'm glad. You are welcome to change," Sigrid gestured to where the curtain was still closed by the bed. Yes, please. "If you'd like. Tilda and I will start dinner. It won't be much, I'm afraid, we weren't expecting company."

I held back a wince. I was certain that even if Sigrid knew we were coming, there wouldn't be much she could do to prepare.

The younger girl, Tilda, frowned and said, "But dwarves don't eat, do they? They're from the rock."

"Tilda," Sigrid chastised, looking exasperated. Fili and Kili, who were still hovering nearby, glanced over looking offended.

"Dinner would be wonderful," I replied with a laugh. I leaned in close to Tilda, conspiratorially, "Dwarves eat just as you do, if not more."

Tilda looked considering. "Really? Do you not bring luck, either?"

"Yes," Fili cut in, moving over to join us. "Bilbo has brought us much luck indeed."

Here we go again. Annoyed, I ignored Fili and thanked Sigrid and Tilda sincerely one more time before moving towards the curtain.

Once safely behind it, I stripped quickly, relieved to finally be rid of my damp chilly clothes. I moved to drop my coat, once a deep maroon now a faded brown, and then dipped my fingers into my waistcoat pocket and pulled out my ring.

I stared at it for much too long, my mind strangely blank, before I shook myself and began to pull on my new clothes. They were definitely children's clothes and even with that playing in my favor the pants were too long and the sleeves of the two shirts – which I pulled on both, grateful for the extra layers- fell well over my wrists. With a bit of a struggle thanks to my stiff fingers, I was able to roll up my sleeves into cuffs before pulling on the faded blue coat with a frankly hideous fringe. But it at least had an inner pocket, which became my ring's new home.

I slipped back into the main room after folding my wet clothes into a neat- and hopefully inconspicuous- pile in the corner, only to find Thorin and Dwalin in a heated discussion with Bard.

"You took our money," Thorin said crossly, stepping forward into Bard's space. "Where are the weapons?"

Bard held his ground. "Not tonight. There is a curfew under the Master's rule and I cannot say for certain how long they may watch the house. I will bring them to you tomorrow at first light."

Dwalin glowered impressively. "And what do we do until then? Sit here and twiddle our thumbs?"

"Eat," Bard suggested exasperatedly, "Sleep here tonight. Tomorrow I will gather your supplies and weapons and you can be on your way." And out of my hair, his tone implied.

"We cannot travel in darkness," Balin reminded them patiently. "We will have to wait for the sun either way."

Thorin and Dwalin's expressions didn't change but Thorin relented first, "In the morning. Do not disappoint."

Bard nodded in agreement, ending the conversation by moving away towards where Sigrid and Tilda were already preparing dinner.

I moved closer to Balin and asked quietly, "How long do we have?"

Balin sighed, looking worried. "Three days, and we must reach the door by sundown."

Thorin said something in dwarvish to Dwalin, and Balin turned his head to listen, too. I joined Nori at the table, which took up much of the room, who gave me a onceover as I settled in.

"Alright, Burglar?" Nori asked, watching my face closely.

"As well as can be," I replied tiredly. I was still freezing despite the warmth of the house and the thickness of my new clothes. I wasn't sure if I was imagining it but I thought my nose was beginning to clog, too. That was just what I needed, a cold on top of everything else.

An hour or so later, dinner was served. Night had completely fallen and the lamps were lit inside the house and, I could see through the windows, out along the docks as well. Most of us gathered around the table, while others, like Thorin and Dwalin and Bard and Bain ate off to the side.

It was the most awkward dinner I'd had in Middle Earth, knocking our first nights in Rivendell and Beorn's out of first and second place respectively. No one spoke and the dwarves were tense and quiet, more so than I'd ever seen. The food was good- a stew with more vegetables than meat and a slice of bread- but the tension among us all was palpable. The dwarves, to my surprise, didn't even bother to speak in dwarvish to circumvent Bard and his family's presence, and with Durin's Day looming we were all anxious. Bard and his family were somber as well, eating quickly before gathering as many blankets as they could for us to sleep with before slipping away into the bedspace with an absent call of 'good night.'

After we finished and carefully stacked our dishes on the table, this time without song, we retired to sleep.

Bard was generous with how little he had. Any spare blankets were offered- some of which I saw had been taken even from the beds- though at only seven meant many of the dwarves split up to share with their family members. Beneath the window was Thorin, Fili, and Kili, the blanket hardly covering them all. Dori and Ori were curled up underneath the table together while Nori was in a corner wrapped in an overlarge coat that I was sure belonged to Bain. Balin and Dwalin were a few feet from Thorin and his nephews, propped up against the wall with Balin's head resting against Dwalin's shoulder. Oin and Gloin seemed content in the corner opposite Nori's, a blanket easily shared between them. Bifur, Bombur, and Bofur, meanwhile, were near the backdoor with Bombur in the middle as a makeshift pillow, a blanket draped over his brother and cousin each.

I was relieved to find that the spot I was coveting, directly in front of the stove, was still open. I settled down in front of it, wrapping the smallest and incidentally rattiest blanket around my shoulders. I rolled onto my side, allowing my back to face the stove and soak up its heat and let out a stuttered sigh.

I slipped into sleep before I could even finish counting backwards to ten.

It was the strangest sleep that I'd had so far.

Even with my nightmares accompanying me, I'd always sunk deep into sleep, never stirring. But this time it was different, my sleep felt hazy and too hot. I remembered, vaguely, drifting every so often into that foggy space between waking and sleeping. Sometimes, in those brief periods I could swear I heard the others talking, but I was never able to bring myself to focus on what was being said before slipping back into the fire and darkness. Twice I thought I felt hands on me, pushing at my shoulders and brushing against my forehead but I didn't have the strength to push them away. Those were the worst of it, because those were the times that I thought I could finally push myself to waking only to fall back through shadow and fire into sleep again.

Suddenly, I was heaving out a gasp, and I vaguely clocked that I was sitting up, though I didn't remember moving. Panicked, I tried to figure out what had happened. Where was I? Why did I feel so heavy?

I swayed a bit, an arm shooting out as a brace against the floor. I was desperate to get my bearings and to control my breathing. Had I really been only sleeping? This felt more like I'd run a marathon, my sides ached and air wasn't coming in fast enough.

I came back to myself slowly, staring down into my lap. I frowned. There were blankets. A lot of blankets, some pooled in my lap, others slipping mostly off me onto the floor. I frowned, confused.

I squinted, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, and peered around. All the dwarves were accounted for, each of them in the same place I had seen them before falling asleep but with a few differences. Thorin was still propped up against the wall underneath the window, with Fili and Kili on each side curled against him. No blanket. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur were also in the same place with no blanket. I narrowed my eyes, sensing a trend and if I'd bothered to count, I had a feeling that every blanket was wrapped around me.

What?

I pushed myself to my feet, tripping over the blankets. It was remarkably warmer in Bard's house than it had been when I first went to sleep, which was a relief. I would have to thank Bard, or maybe it had been one of the children, for stoking the fire in the night. I rolled my shoulders, feeling my shirt stick to my skin uncomfortably in the same way my t-shirt would after walking into a building with AC on a hot day. At least my nose hadn't worsened in the night.

Desperate for some kind of break from the heat, I crept towards the backdoor, pushed it open, and eased it shut behind me. The burst of cold when I stepped out onto the dock was both a shock and a blessing. I stared up into the sky, where the stars gleamed brightly. The moon was a backwards-C, even brighter than the stars.

It was the cold, which turned from welcoming to biting the longer I stood there, that made me return to the house, resigned to the fact that there wasn't much chance of me getting anymore sleep that night. I trudged back up the staircase, through the door, and sat down at the table- mindful not to kick Dori or Ori- determined to stare into space until someone else woke up. I occupied myself by alternately listening to the dwarves' snores, coming up with a way to bathe that didn't include dipping into the lake, refusing to think about how exhausting it would be to make the final- and probably mostly inclined- leg of our journey, or what could still be waiting in the mountain.

I was saved, truly, from lingering too long on the last bit by a flash of movement in my periphery. Startled, I turned to look, noting that it didn't seem to be any of the dwarves that my eyes skimmed over on their way.

It was the younger girl. Tilda.

She was standing at the curtain, which she had pulled halfway open, and was staring back at me.

We both stood for a long moment, frozen, until Tilda moved closer, wrapping her little robe tightly around herself to join me next to the table.

"Good morning," I said quietly, trying in equal parts not to wake the dwarves or wince at my raspy voice.

Tilda smiled and whispered, "Good morning, Master Dwarf."

Master Dwarf. I smiled crookedly. Thinking on it a little more, I couldn't blame either Sigrid or Tilda for the incorrect title. Gandalf had been very clear in the first few days of our journey that hobbits were a rare sight past Bree. That it was rarer still for any of them to go as far as Rivendell and there had been none in his memory that had crossed the mountains once they'd settled in the Shire. This was a good thing, he assured me. It meant any confusion I had about the world wouldn't be too out of place.

I leaned in conspiratorially. Adorably, Tilda did the same, eyes wide.

"Can I tell you a secret?" I asked. Tilda nodded eagerly. "I'm not a dwarf. I'm a hobbit."

Tilda leaned back in surprise and repeated slowly in the way one would when learning a new word. I'd done it myself countless times since arriving here. "A hobbit?"

"That's right," I said encouragingly, "We hardly ever leave home, so I understand the mistake."

Tilda examined me closely, as if to determine whether I was teasing her. Her eyes lingered on my face – or maybe, Bilbo's ears, which I remembered suddenly were pointed like the elves' ears had been – and my too-large hairy feet, dangling beneath the table. "You're the only one?"

"Yes," I confirmed, and she looked pleased at getting it right, "The others are dwarves."

Tilda nodded solemnly, then offered, "Would you like some tea? We have honey for your throat, too. Da always says it helps."

My throat? Well, I guess my voice was a little hoarse.

"That would be lovely," I agreed and Tilda moved to the stove.

There was still quiet even after a few minutes. I turned to look and Tilda was still there, back to me, unmoving in front of the stove. I slipped off the bench to join her.

"I'm not allowed to use the stove," Tilda told me in a miserable whisper, hands wringing the front of her robe and looking put out at the realization.

I stared at the stove. It was larger than me, black and intimidating. Bilbo's fireplace was one thing and that had already been lit. Disappointment washed over me now, too. I probably shouldn't be trusted with it either.

I blinked, an idea occurring to me. I turned to Tilda and said lowly, "Why don't we work together? You can tell me what to do, then we're not breaking any rules, are we?"

Tilda looked surprised, then beamed back, bright as the sun. "Brilliant!"

It probably took us many times longer than anyone in the house would have been able to finish, and by the time the fire had been started – I hated flint and steel, I decided quickly – and the tea had been steeped and poured, I could see outside the window a stripe of purple was now along the horizon.

We were elated by our accomplishment, though, and settled together back at the table. I watched, amused, as Tilda added a very large spoonful of honey to both our mugs, and propped an arm to rest my chin in my hand. My smile widened after Tilda took her first tentative sip and still grimaced.

Tilda set her mug down quickly and asked in a low whisper, "Where are hobbits from, Master Baggins?"

It was an easy thing, talking about the Shire. It was storybook, all green hills, round doors, and picturesque roads and paths. Tilda listened intently, with wide eyes. When I had finished she offered, in turn, about Lake-town, including that their family was once from Dale before the dragon came. Tilda had only just started to explain Bard's work- we had apparently met him out on one of his usual tasks – when the man himself appeared and tied back the curtain, Bain and Sigrid just behind.

"Good morning, Da," Tilda said cheerfully when she noticed them, not bothering to keep her voice down. I watched as several of the dwarves began to shift and groan.

"Good morning, my darling," Bard replied softly, dropping a kiss onto Tilda's head. "How are you feeling Master Baggins?"

I blinked, a little thrown by the question. "Fine, thank you."

"We were all quite concerned," Bard told me as behind him Dwalin and Balin were beginning to wake up. "Your fever was terribly high."

Fever? Wait.

Well, I suppose that explained the blankets. The strange sleep, the grogginess, the sudden change in warmth of the house that probably hadn't changed at all.

"I, uh," I stumbled over my words. "My apologies. I hope I wasn't too much trouble."

"You weren't," Bain mumbled from where he was looming over the stove next to Sigrid, his hand being slapped away from whatever it was Sigrid was doing.

Oh, boy, I thought. But I wasn't able to get much further as Bofur shouted, "Bilbo, you're awake!"

And that really set everything off. The rest of the dwarves were up now, scrambling to their feet and darting their eyes around as if to pinpoint the source of the disturbance. I shifted off the bench, Tilda following my example dutifully, to pull it back and allow Dori and Ori to escape.

"Bilbo!" Kili called, looking pleased and already rushing towards me, "Bilbo, you're up!"

"Good morning, Kili," I said, unable to keep a smile off my face.

"You were so still," Kili exclaimed, wrapping his hands around my shoulders and peering into my eyes as if looking for something. "And you slept for so long!"

I stared back at him and asked hesitantly, "For how long, Kili?"

"Long enough," Oin declared, elbowing Kili forcefully out of the way, causing him to yelp. "How are you feeling, Master Baggins?"

"Fine," I replied as Oin pressed a hand to my forehead and clucked over me. "A bit tired. Really, how long did I sleep?"

Oin snorted, using the fingertips of one hand to guide my head by my chin in different directions while the other pressed gently on different parts of my throat. "All through the day and night, lad. When we couldn't wake you yesterday morning, we knew something was wrong. Couldn't even get you to open your eyes much less move."

That long? I hadn't felt great when I went to bed but I hadn't felt sick, exactly. It didn't feel anything like when I had gotten sick back home – I still wasn't sure if I had symptoms at all or if they were imaginary other than maybe the chills, I was willing to admit. Something about this sleep felt different in a way I couldn't put my finger on. Maybe it was different for hobbits?

Or maybe Thorin was right. Maybe it really was just another aspect of my ring's impact.

"Sorry," I said once Oin released my face and stepped back. I pushed the thought firmly to the back of my mind.

Oin waved a hand impatiently, "Wouldn't have been a problem, of course, if I had my supplies. But as it was, we simply had to let the fever run its course for better or for worse."

"We're glad it was for the better," Kili said at my shoulder as the others gathered around the table. "We were worried."

"You wouldn't have had to worry if you had let me bring him to Hilda," Bard said blandly, which made Thorin scowl and Dwalin and Dori to turn to him glaring.

Sigrid, admirably, cut through us all and began setting out breakfast. It was porridge, some in bowls, some on plates and one – mine – in a mug. It was miles better than what the elves had given us, hot and just shy of bland. We all ate breakfast together, quiet and awkward just like it was at dinner. There had clearly been no headway in friendship but at least everyone was civil.

I offered to help Sigrid with the dishes and found Ori and Bofur volunteering along with me. Because it was all oversized for me, I was given the task of drying and handing off everything for either Sigrid or Tilda to put away.

Bard and Bain were already gone by the time we had finished, down to the docks for work according to Tilda.

The rest of the morning was spent mostly in silence. Bofur, to no surprise, was the most friendly to the girls, and kept them entertained with both songs and jokes. I was, thankfully, granted the use of the family's washbasin and hot water, using it to wash my hair and face as best as I could. And then later that afternoon, after a lunch of bread and cheese, Sigrid and Tilda pulled on their coats and told us they were going to the market.

"I'm afraid there's not much left," Sigrid explained apologetically as she buttoned up Tilda's coat.

"We very much appreciate it," I said empathetically, and several of the dwarves echoed with their own thanks.

"Please don't leave," Sigrid requested at the door. "Da is only trying to help. Really."

I smiled at her as she opened the door. "I know. Don't worry, I'll look after them."

Sigrid smiled back and with a wave from Tilda, the front door firmly closed behind them.

After several seconds of silence, Gloin, who had positioned himself at the window, said, "They're gone!"

The dwarves erupted. Everyone was talking at once, gathering around Bard's table from where they had all been idling around the house throughout the morning.

"Nori," Thorin said gravely, "What did you find yesterday?"

"The armory isn't too far from here," Nori replied, "Only two guards at the front and none inside. Should be easy enough to slip around the back, there's a window we can use."

Excuse me?

"What are you all talking about?" I demanded, elbowing my way in between Bifur and Dwalin.

"Weapons, Master Baggins," Thorin said impatiently, though he at least met my eyes as he spoke.

I stared at them all. "What about the ones Bard was getting for us?"

"That lake-man," Dwalin growled above my head, "Was playing us for fools. As if fishing nets and hooks would be able to bring down a dragon."

"The weapons of this town," Thorin explained with a sigh, "True forged weapons. Iron. Steel. They are all locked away upon orders of the Master. We need them if we are to stand a chance against Smaug."

I didn't need a mirror to know I went pale. Thorin's grim retelling of the loss of Erebor from back in the dungeons was overwhelmingly now at the forefront of my mind. But Thorin had also said that we wouldn't need to fight. That they only needed the Arkenstone to call for the other dwarven kingdoms. Surely Nori was more than capable?

"We'll be in and out right quick," Nori said as if that was the greatest concern, or even a concern I'd considered at all, "And back to you in no time."

Back to me? Did that mean-

"I'm not coming?" I asked, a little dumbfounded and more than a little hurt.

"You are recovering," Oin declared lowering his ear-horn, as if that settled it.

Fili came to stand next to me, a hand settling heavy on my shoulder, "Aye, we can't have our burglar expend himself just yet."

"Precisely lad," Oin said firmly, ear-horn back up again.

Fili pressed on, "But Bilbo has keen eyes." The others murmured around us in agreement, "We can keep watch together. I'll look after him."

The murmured agreements were louder this time and I held tight to my gratitude and relief, unwilling to let it slip just yet.

Thorin still looked troubled, which didn't bode well for me, so I said quickly, "Offer accepted, thank you, Fili."

Perhaps realizing it wasn't boding well for him now, Thorin agreed, "Very well, Master Baggins."

That was how, a few hours later, I found myself tucked into a stack of crates keeping lookout, in what was actually the perfect position to watch the guards at the door to the armory and the docks that led up to it. Fili was only a few feet behind me, hidden further in the shadows behind an even larger crate. It was agreed that Fili would be the runner if we saw anything, and I was, they all admitted, the best choice to keep look out as I was the least likely to be noticed. The others disappeared quickly around a building that looked much more solidly built than the rest.

I kept watch, Lake-town lively and loud around us. The dwarves had done their best to stick to the shadows of the buildings and I knew it was Nori they'd have to thank for that. When the last of them disappeared behind the armory, the guards were none the wiser. They shuffled their feet every so often, speaking together at times and yawning at others.

Fili broke our silence and whispered behind me, "Bilbo?"

I shifted, leaning back into the shadows against the crate Fili was behind. It gave me enough of an angle to see the two guards still, but I was unable to see much of the docks anymore.

"Yes, Fili?" I whispered back.

There was a pause and then Fili said softly, "You know we didn't mean anything by it, don't you?"

I tilted my head, thinking. Fili must've been referring to their first plan to leave me behind. It'd stung, certainly, but I understood it. Thorin had been kind, graceful even, when I let it spill in the dungeons that I hadn't had any idea that I was meant to be a literal burglar let alone what was waiting for us in the mountain. I knew Thorin meant what he had said when he'd apologized and I knew even then he wouldn't hold me to whatever was in the contract Gandalf had me sign. But I also thought there was an understanding, too, that we were in this together.

My heart felt heavy as I continued to dwell and I knew Fili deserved an answer. And I was honest when I said, "Yes, I know."

I did know. The dwarves had all proven to be good friends to me. That they trusted me. And I trusted them.

"Good," Fili said lowly, "Uncle spoke for all of us, Bilbo. You are a member of the Company. We all hold that to be true."

"Thank you, Fili," I answered, thankfully steady, after a moment of fighting back tears, "That means a lot to me. I feel the same."

We didn't speak again after that. Fili, though, wasn't able to keep quiet as we settled back into our watch. Sometimes it was only a soft hum, sometimes it was full-on singing, but every so often Fili would pick back up again. A few of the songs I recognized from Thorin, though I didn't hear the one about Erebor. Instead, I got to hear my favorite, the one about a mirrormere and a crown of stars.

It was during a lull between songs, when the sun was beginning to set in earnest and the others weren't back yet, that I saw them. Four guards rounding the corner, moving swiftly towards the armory, probably to return their own weapons after their shift.

"Fili, run," I hissed out desperately, shuffling back to try desperately to reach around his crate.

Fili was already moving, on his feet and vaulting over the crates. As he landed Fili said over his shoulder, "Stay, Bilbo!"

A few moments later, I saw a familiar flash of gold from the shadow of the armory, as the guards were only two buildings away. My heart was racing. There was no way they'd all be able to flee unseen.

Far sooner than I'd like, the guards joined the two at the door and as one they all turned towards the armory, startled. I winced. I didn't have to hear to know what had probably happened. Three of the guards went in through the door while the other three disappeared around the same corner that the others had.

The townspeople were starting to stop and gather now, eyes fixed on the armory. They were rewarded a moment later when a half-dozen dwarves came around the corner, spears and swords fencing them in, while the rest were given the same treatment as they exited the armory.

There were more guards rounding the corner, weapons already drawn and soon the dwarves were completely surrounded. One of the guards, maybe the captain, was shouting, "Bring them to the Master!"

Oh my God.

The crowd of them, dwarves and guards, were moving, marching away down the docks. The townspeople followed. I scrambled around my crates and slipped between them, trying to keep up. I felt smaller than I ever had, perhaps because I was so clearly now the odd one in the crowd, instead of Gandalf. But my size, and perhaps Bain's clothes, gave me an edge and not one person looked my way. All eyes were on the dwarves.

It was a struggle to keep up with the crowd and the longer we walked the more I realized that the Master must live on the very opposite side of Lake-town. By the time we reached the Master's home, easily the largest and grandest in town as it towered over the other buildings, night had begun to fall in earnest, the sun gone. The gathering around me had grown larger, louder, and the town was now lit with torches carried by the crowd and by the lanterns outside of the buildings.

The crowd stopped completely, falling silent, and I took the opportunity to push through, desperately trying to reach the dwarves. The men around me barely noticed as I pushed past their legs and when I finally reached the front, I found the townspeople had formed a half-circle around the dwarves, giving them plenty of space.

At the door of the house stood who could only be the Master. He was large, taller than Gandalf, but not as old. There was a shine to him that made me think of grease, even with the well-tailored bright clothes, the jewelry on his fingers, at his throat. His eyes were bright, calculating in a way that I hadn't yet seen in Middle Earth, but had seen a few times at work, when a customer would try to get their meal comped despite an empty plate. I understood why Bard had cautioned us about him.

Thorin was talking, now. He was stern, certainly, his back ramrod straight, his voice, while low, carried over the crowd around us. But Thorin looked regal too, even in the secondhand clothes from Bard, shoulders set confidently. Thorin spoke of what Lake-town – Esgaroth – used to be. What it could be again, once the mountain had been reclaimed. The townspeople seemed almost hypnotized, all eyes on Thorin.

Oh, I thought as I took a few more steps forward to stand next to Balin, we weren't bothering with secrecy at all anymore.

"Good lad," Balin murmured to me, hand gentle on my back for just a moment before it was gone again. Balin didn't look at me, though. His eyes were fixed on Thorin.

Thorin was speaking of the people of Dale now. Not as they were that day but as they were when Dale was jewel of the North. A great city of wealth and trade. A friend of Erebor.

"I would see those days return!" Thorin told the crowd, "I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!"

The townspeople erupted into cheers around us. But that wasn't what had caught my attention. It was the Master, still standing at the top of the steps leading into the fine house. It was his face, first with a look of surprise, then one of calculation, then it settled on an expression that made me shiver. Hunger.

"Death," a sudden shout came over the cheering. Silence fell again. I turned, Balin doing the same, to look back into the crowd. The townspeople parted, and Bard was striding forward, looking grim. Balin and I parted too, letting Bard pass to stand before Thorin.

"That is what you will bring upon us," Bard declared solemnly, his back to us now. Thorin met his eyes squarely, undaunted. "Dragon fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, you will destroy us all."

Thorin turned away, dismissing Bard in a way that echoed how he dismissed me in the Misty Mountains. I shivered again as Thorin looked instead to the crowd.

"You can listen to this naysayer," Thorin said calmly, raising his voice to ensure they could all hear, "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 townspeople cheered again, louder than before. There was an eagerness now, a hopefulness. Thorin had said that Dale and Erebor had been close allies, before the fall, but he had also said that had been centuries ago. It hadn't faded it seemed. If anything, now with the dwarves here, it felt like very little had changed.

Thorin was masterful, in a way I hadn't expected. He had always been the leader of the Company, there was no question. They deferred to Thorin, always, even when Gandalf's advice had been sage. I'd understood it better after the dungeons, after everything Thorin had done for his people in the years that followed Erebor's fall. But Lake-town, too, looked enthralled. Hanging off Thorin's words in stark contrast to their response to Bard's, despite him being one of them. Even when Bard brought up Dale, the crowd hushed, but their eyes still lingered on Thorin.

And that was when the Master saw an advantageous opening. His voice was reedy in a way that, despite their high emotions, neither Bard or Thorin had reached. The Master, in a way that could have been sincere if it hadn't been for the undercurrent of smugness, spoke of a Girion, pointedly mentioning he was Bard's ancestor, who failed to bring down Smaug and was the reason Dale had been lost.

The crowd murmured around us, eyes accusing and on Bard. As if he stood in Girion's stead. The tide seemed to be turning again. They couldn't seriously blame Girion for failing, could they? He had tried, it sounded like. Tried, and died to defend Dale.

I could see Bard step forward as the crowd spoke urgently among themselves, leaning down to speak to Thorin. Thorin's face changed then. The passion that had been stoking steadily as he spoke to Lake-town was still there, but something shifted. There was something darker now, something more than just pride and stubbornness.

Thorin said something quietly back and Bard's shoulders went rigid. Thorin turned away, calling up to the Master, undeterred and confident, "I speak to the Master of the men of the lake: will you not help us? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?"

Bard shook his head, turning towards us. I don't know which of us was more surprised when our eyes met. I swallowed as Bard stopped mid-step. There was defeat in his eyes, maybe sadness, too. The lines of his face had deepened, making him look so much older. Guilt was making its home in my chest, heavy and sickening. Finally, Bard shook his head, brushed past me, and disappeared into the crowd.

The Master still hadn't answered after I turned back, though his eyes gleamed. Thorin urged him, "What say you?"

"I say unto you," the Master said, pausing dramatically. Good lord. "Welcome! Welcome! And thrice welcome, King under the Mountain!"

I didn't feel welcome. The expression on Bard's face was still with me, and it soured whatever relief I might have felt that this had turned in our favor. It didn't feel that way. It didn't feel that way, at all.

The Master was true to his word. He was even more ostentatious, announcing grandly that we would be given the finest accommodations. And a feast fit for old friends. Something about it, perhaps because of who was offering it, felt false. More performative than sincere. I wondered if this was a mistake, giving the Master this opportunity.

Thorin was gracious about it, though guarded still like he had been with Elrond and Beorn. The others, except maybe Dwalin, had no such reservations. They thanked the Master for his generosity, for his hospitality. The Master smiled, but like before it felt hollow. He promised us supplies, and a send off fit for the King under the Mountain – which was a fascinating and impressive title, even I could admit– before leaving us. There was another man with him, dressed in such dark clothes he made me think of a shadow, who I only noticed as they left.

A great deal of the tension that had been growing in my shoulders since the dwarves had been caught went with them. The relief I felt at their departure felt disproportionate. I wondered if Gandalf would've agreed with me, if he'd been here.

But there was still guilt, heavy and hot, settle deep in my chest. I couldn't shake it off. Bard helped us, for gold sure, but he was kind, even if his gruffness rivaled Thorin, and generous when he had very little to share. And what had we done to thank him? It felt almost like a betrayal. I felt like a liar.

When the dwarves gathered around the table to eat, I couldn't bring myself to join them. Instead, as soon as I was sure they were distracted by the feast, I slipped outside into the night.

The docks were quiet. The townspeople had long since dispersed and with them went most of the light. There were still a few lanterns at the corners of buildings, a few lights in the windows, but most were already out. The moon and the stars were what kept me from accidently stumbling over the edge of a dock.

I walked and walked, not keeping track of the time, before come to a stop at the edge of town. There were no more buildings, but docks at the end of the walkway that jutted out into the lake, surprisingly empty of boats. The moon and stars made the dark calm water sparkle, acting almost as a mirror.

I turned to glance over my shoulder, back where I had come. Lake-town was a dark contrast against the night sky, but there was an even bigger shadow that loomed over it all.

Erebor.

It hadn't been my imagination, on the lake. If anything, it felt stronger now, the magic of it, as its silhouette cut through the stars. I stared at it for a long time, long enough for the chill of the night air to settle into my bones. I shook myself, realizing I couldn't stay out here, it'd be too risky to get sick again. I took a step, and then another, towards town, only to freeze at the sound of a splash behind me.

I glanced back over my shoulder, eyes narrowed. That wasn't the sound of the waves hitting the docks. It sounded more like something falling into the water. I waited for a few breathes but upon hearing nothing else I turned back.

Only for a second splash to come. Then another. Then another. Five, six, seven. Loud, almost rhythmic. Like the barrels dropping into the river.

Wary, I moved out onto the nearest dock. What was that? The splashing still hadn't stopped. I dug hastily through my memories, searching for what Gandalf had told me about the world. Were there lake monsters here?

I don't know what confidence possessed me, but I kept moving out to the end of the dock. Once I had reached the very end, the splashing stopped. I froze. Tentatively, I got on my hands and knees, figuring it would be the safest position to be in if the dock suddenly broke apart. Or if there really was a lake monster. When I leaned over the edge I saw it.

A blob of white.

At first, I thought it was foam from the water but then I realized that it was under the water and it had a definite shape.

Like a man. A man looking up at me.

And then it talked. Well, sort of. "Good evening."

I scrambled backwards away from the edge, falling onto my back. I took a few deep breathes and then froze as a thought occurred to me. Wait. I'd heard something like that before. A sound that wasn't a sound, not really, but more like an echo. An echo in my head.

Oh hell no.

I rolled onto my front and pushed myself to my knees before inching my way back towards the edge of the dock. I remember vaguely being grateful that no one was around to see me move so awkwardly.

"My apologies," the thing said, not sounding very apologetic at all. "I did not mean to startle you."

I stared at the white foam – or, was it a person? Man? Well, it was at least better than a blinding light at the bottom of a cave.

"You're one of them aren't you," I said warily, after a few moments of silence as we, presumedly, stared at each other. "The Valar."

"Ulmo," the foam said. Ulmo. Was that its name? Well, it was better than white blob or foam. I'd run with it.

"I have not much time," Ulmo told me. "I am here only to guide you."

"Guide me," I repeated flatly. Hadn't they done enough already? I was here because of them.

"You have already changed the weaving of the world and set into motion," Ulmo continued as if I hadn't spoken, "Events that even we cannot foretell."

Something cold and creeping made its way up my spine. It felt like fear, almost. But sharper, more cutting. I decided to focus on my breathing.

"You must be very cautious, little one," Ulmo said as the waves splashed against the docks. "You have already entangled yourself with great evil. It has left its mark on you, though you cannot see it. And now you walk headlong into another."

Alright, the ring. That much was obvious. But another evil? I paused thinking, until it hit me, like a bolt of lightning. The dragon. It was really alive, then.

"What do you mean?" I asked desperately, hoping for at least a little clarification if not outright confirmation, as if I didn't already have it. Thorin and Bard both had seemed convinced that the dragon was still in Erebor.

"We have done all we can," Ulmo replied patiently. "It is up to you to see this through. One way or another, you must set the board. In doing so you will not only protect Bilbo Baggins but perhaps even others, both those here now and those who have yet to come."

"But how? I'm not, I'm," I said helplessly, feeling tears beginning to form. Set the board?

"You have changed this world, Laura Aldine," Ulmo said, surprisingly gentle. "Whether it is for good or ill, that is your burden to bear."

Burden. Burden. Again.

"But I don't want it," I insisted, anger suddenly running hot through my veins. I didn't know if I was talking about being here, the ring, my task. Maybe all the above. "You gave it to me."

And then Ulmo was gone.

I swore loudly down into the dark water. Then, I cried. I cried, cursing myself, Gandalf, Middle Earth, and the Valar. I didn't want this. I hadn't wanted it before, I certainly didn't want this now. I only wanted it to be over. To go home.

I'd changed things, Ulmo said. For good or for ill. It is up to you to see this through. Like always, it seemed it didn't matter what I wanted. It wasn't my choice.

But, if my actions really were as impactful as Ulmo said, I had to try. Resolve flooded me. I would make it for good if I had to die trying.

And if a dragon was really in my way, then that was almost a certainty. I only hoped Bilbo would understand.