As an unexpected bonus from my self-conscious breakdown, Bofur had asked me to take time off from my usual duties and accompany him and a small party of dwarves to Dale the following day. I happily agreed and was completely surprised to hear that we would be part of an escort issuing the first of many instalments of gold to the city. Bofur explained that it had been Bilbo's wish to give Dale the vast majority of his share from the contractual agreement he had signed with Thorin.
"It took a while to iron out the details." Bofur explained as we headed towards Erebor's entrance hall the next morning. "Dain technically could have decided to ignore the terms of that contract altogether. And in reality it would not be logistical for Dale to actually receive one-fourteenth of the entire hoard of Erebor. The economies of these two kingdoms would all but collapse if we just handed over that kind of wealth. It's the same reason the lads and I aren't rolling in one fourteenth of the treasure - though, to be fair, our contracts never officially promised us such a large payment. We figured Bilbo would need extra convincing. So we will be arranging a kind of working agreement with the city, with a large donation upfront strictly to help their restoration efforts."
I listened idly as he chatted, nodding in vague understanding. One fourteenth of that treasure would have filled the streets of Dale, and as Bofur made me aware, such an amount would render the currency essentially useless. It would definitely be more than one dwarf could spend, likely within a thousand thousand lifetimes - though perhaps dwarves were extremely frivolous with their wealth; I did recall seeing an entire floor of gold...
"They decided to send me along as a figurehead I suppose," he continued happily, "since Bard already knows me well enough, and he'd remember I was undoubtedly the most amiable and charming of the company."
I smiled, though I knew some part of it was true. Bofur would have a hard time getting on anyone's bad side, and Bard would likely be more cordial while corresponding with those he knew - though of the dwarves that had been regulars in his home before Smaug attacked, only Bofur and Óin remained, and Bofur was the obvious choice when it came to matters of public communications - being much more personable, not to mention of much better hearing.
The caravan was already loaded by the time we arrived. Two sleek rams were harnessed to the front and two burly dwarves wearing armour were holding onto their halters, waiting for the remainder of the group to arrive.
Three more dwarves eventually approached, one of which was carrying a large bundle over his shoulder. He dropped it to the ground in front of him and I heard a loud clanging of metal, he nudged the canvas open with his boot to reveal a small array of weapons.
"What are those for?" I asked quietly as the others stepped forward and hefted a few up to appraise them.
"Our job is to deliver, but also to guard - in the unlikely event we're accosted on the road." Bofur said, picking up an axe for himself and a small sword which he handed to me. "A bit extreme since we can literally see our destination, but orders are orders..."
One of the others said something in Khuzdul, looking at me in with a rather extreme glower.
I looked at Bofur, my eyebrows raised in question.
"He worries that you'll steal the treasure before we get there." he said simply with an apologetic grin.
"What would I do? Shove a few handfuls down the front of my dress and run off towards the hillsides?" I retorted sarcastically.
Bofur smiled and addressed the glowering dwarf. "Don't worry about her. She can be trusted. I'll even take her down myself if she tries any funny business."
The dwarf huffed in indignation as Bofur winked at me, and then signalled the caravan driver to begin. Before we had even exited the mountain, however, a messenger hurried up from one of the lower passages waving a scroll. He stopped, had a hurried word with the driver, and once he got the response he desired he hurried away again, leaving the scroll. I looked at Bofur questioningly.
"Seems one of the partially excavated aquifers has collapsed." He explained. "Took a store of blasting powder and tools with it. The scroll is asking Bard to send boats down the River Running and then up to the Iron Hills to procure more in short order."
"Why can't we just make more here?" I asked.
"Oh, we likely could." Bofur agreed. "If I had to guess, this is Dain's way of reminding Bard that this gold here comes with strings attached. He will expect Dale to be quite cooperative."
I frowned, unsure why such actions would even be necessary. To lighten the mood, Bofur nudged me gently. "I know what you're thinking; poor me, I'll be without bath water for a whole score of days."
His mimicry was so awful that I couldn't help but smile and roll my eyes.
"Truth is," he continued, "the mountain is operating so vastly far under capacity that every one of its underground aquifers could dry up and we'd still have enough water to last us the better part of a year without even leaving the mountain."
His explanations were cut short as the driver was ordered to begin again and we dutifully fell in step behind it.
As we followed the trundling cart into the valley, I made a point of looking out over the landscape where the fighting had been thickest. The dwarves had done well in cleaning the field of debris, once living and otherwise. I noticed the scrub grass that once had been all that could cling to life in the desolation was now all but gone, churned beneath blood stained earth and snow.
I thought I should have felt more frightened, that unbidden memories would resurface and play on those fears, further confirming to these dwarves that I had no place amongst them. In truth, the level of calm I felt was unsettling. There was sadness, yes, but it was the deep sadness of mourning for such monumental loss, as opposed to the acute pain of anguish I had felt a few weeks previous. I realized that all throughout the battle, despite the hordes of hell descending upon us, I was not afraid of death. I was afraid of losing that which meant most to me, of dying before saying one last goodbye to the one who gave me new reason to live. Now, with him here beside me, there was no fear.
I took a deep breath of the cool mountain air, and when I let it out, it was with a smile.
Another of the dwarves cast a look my way and then spoke an offhand comment from beneath his helmet. More Khuzdul.
"Great, what does he have to say to me now?"
"He says he remembers seeing you on the battlefield." Bofur translated. "That he was surprised you survived."
I glowered daggers at the dwarf, who was looking back to see my reaction. Bofur leaned in once more to rescue me from myself.
"He meant it as a compliment." He whispered sweetly. My jaw dropped and the anger melted away. I smiled sheepishly and the dwarf nodded to me before turning his attention back ahead, for we were approaching the causeway to Dale.
We were greeted by a host of men. Contrary to the relative rabble that had been forced to fight unprepared in the battle, these men were decked out in the finest gear, and carried themselves like they knew how to use it. It would seem that Bard had been building up more than just walls since we were in Dale last. As we passed through the city gate, I spun slowly to see several archers crouched beneath the parapets as well, some still surveying the very path we had just walked down, while most looked inward to the city.
In the courtyard just beyond, Bard waited with a large throng of assistants, many whom I recognized. Our caravan halted, and got to its purpose. Bofur exchanged a few pleasantries with Bard and idly chatted with some of the other humans as two of the other dwarves hefted down three sizable chests.
At Bard's beckoning, two of the chests were carried between the dwarves into a nearby guardhouse. It took several more humans to handle the last chest, and I followed along behind simply trying to stay out of the way. Once inside, the thick wooden door was shut and locked. The driver of the caravan then approached and pulled out a key, with which he unlocked one of the chests and opened the lid.
Bard stepped forward, looking grim, as usual, despite the fact that he was now literally peering down at a chest near overflowing with shining gold coins.
I leaned close to Bofur's ear with a smirk and whispered, "Which one do you reckon was stuck to my bottom?"
He quickly hushed me, nudging me with his elbow as he did so, but did not attempt to hide his grin.
"As promised." One of the dwarves said, looking equally as grim as Bard while he handed over the key. "Our King keeps his word, and for that your returning loyalty is expected."
"He shall have it." Bard replied curtly, closing the lid on the chest and relocking it.
The dwarves nodded, and after a quick word with Bard about Dain's request (which Bard seemed none too pleased about), they passed over the scroll and hastened to leave. I lingered behind with Bofur as he commented on Dale's progress and asked of their future endeavours. All too soon he had shaken Bard's hand and turned to me, ready to depart. I frowned slightly. I had hoped to stay longer, perhaps visit Sigrid and explore the city to see their progress.
"I could arrange to come pick you up later today?" Bofur offered, noting my reluctance to leave. I smiled and was about to agree when Bard turned to us.
"If you don't object, I can escort her back before nightfall." he stated, looking from me to Bofur. "My daughters would not let me hear the end of it if I did not invite you to share a meal with them while you are here."
I looked to Bofur. "Is that alright?" I asked hopefully.
He smiled. "Sure thing. I'll be off then to catch up to the caravan." Without warning he tiptoed up, reached around my neck and pulled me into a quick kiss. I gave him a quizzical look afterwards but he simply winked and departed. Apparently the rules of courtship did not apply when there were no other dwarves watching.
I turned to Bard, slightly embarrassed, but he did not make so much as a face. In fact, my look seemed to make him feel self conscious as he raised his eyebrows and asked "Is something wrong?" I recovered myself and shook my head, then bade him to lead on.
We walked up the main thoroughfare towards the centre of the city which had been cleared of much of the debris since I had last raced its course. It was evident, even through the age old carnage, that Dale had once been a wondrous place. The shattered and crumbling tiles were colourful and decorative and the structural remains hinted at grandeur, yet I doubted Dale would ever fully emanate its ancient splendour.
We spoke idle bits of information, mostly about repairs to our respective cities - not that he didn't likely know more of Erebor than I did at this point. It was a small kindness on his part though, to let me talk in my own tongue to my own kind - it was the sort of interaction I had been sorely lacking. During a brief silence, I noticed he was carrying the scroll sent by the dwarves, which brought another thought to mind.
"Have any books survived?" I asked, still secretly nursing the hurt from being thought too simple to know how to read.
"Books?" Bard repeated incredulously as he directed me down a sidelong street. A few townsfolk greeted him as they allowed us to pass by.
"You mentioned you had done a few supply runs to Laketown - well, what's left of Laketown." I added with small sympathetic smile. "I just wondered if any books were recovered… or if any had been found within Dale?"
Bard studied me for a moment. "Truthfully we had not thought to look. Our efforts were on recovering only what would help the people survive through the winter. If anything... well, the need for fires is growing." He added forebodingly.
I must have looked crestfallen, simply letting out a small 'oh' in reply. Here I was worrying about what others thought of me and wanting entertainment for my leisure time, while the people here were in danger of freezing to death if they didn't get the tools and supplies they needed in time.
Still, he must have pitied me, since he put on his best optimistic grimace (anything more would have looked forced).
"There may yet be hope." He said. "I can ask the women creating the inventory if any have survived within Dale. Otherwise, we have plans to enter Laketown once more before the week is up."
As we approached Dale's central district, Bard's children came running to meet us, and while I thought maybe they were excited to see me I soon realized something was amiss. Tilda led the way, and when she reached her father she exclaimed dramatically "Da! Our ceiling collapsed!" before hugging him.
Bard quickly took stock of his other children, asking the older siblings if they were hurt. Both assured him no one was harmed.
"It was a near miss though," Bain explained as we made our way towards the building. "Sigrid had just put on the kettle, hoping you'd be back soon."
"If I hadn't gone to the Great Hall to ask for sugar..." Sigrid added, trailing off at the thought as we came into the central square. People from nearby had rushed to help clear away the rubble, but it was evident that there would be no dinners prepared in Bard's kitchen anytime soon. Instead, Bard invited me to the Great Hall itself, where many of Laketown's former residents still gathered for light meals throughout the day.
"Why is it that every time I try to entertain, my roof collapses?" Bard grumbled as we crossed the square.
"At least this one hasn't burnt down yet..." I ventured, earning a small wry smile from the man; I was beginning to get a handle on his somewhat grim sense of humour.
"Not recently, at least." He amended, and with that we climbed the steps up and into the hall. The space had been greatly rejuvenated since my last visit, and the mood was improved vastly now that the city was no longer under siege. Many tables lined the outside of the room, filled with people coming for quick meals between tasks. Fires roared in hearths and cooking pits all around, blazing merrily away. Many of the holes in the walls had been patched to look better than new, and the ceiling was almost fully repaired as well.
"The dwarves have been a great help here. They repaired many of the buildings around the town centre, including my new home. I don't know how they could do such miraculous work on one building, and yet on the next their work falls apart within a fortnight." He mused, running a hand over one of the patched sections where the stones seemed to fit together perfectly.
"Bain, once we're finished here find one of the stonemasons and inspect all the work they've done. We can't have walls falling in on people while they sleep."
Bain seemed to be getting more responsibilities, I realized, as he accepted the task readily but made little of it. It stood to reason that Bard needed every working body he had at the moment, which returned my thoughts to the dwarves.
It struck me as odd that such an oversight would be made by the dwarves Dain had sent to help, especially after seeing what wonders they had worked within the mountain since their arrival. Still, maybe they had saved their best architects for Erebor and sent regular soldiers out to help rebuild Dale. I would ask Bofur about it upon my return.
Bard's children and I settled in at one of the emptier tables, and while Bard went to get food I asked about the other tasks there was to attend to in Dale. Bain was turning into a jack of all trades it seemed, and was also being trained in swordplay and archery. Sigrid was doing much the same work as I was, it seemed, but also took time to assist her father in administrative matters (Bard's handwriting left something to be desired, apparently). I noted that at some point she had taken possession of the scroll Dain had sent, which she now toyed with idly. Tilda had appointed herself den mother to several of the orphans of the battle, and had them assisting in tending the growing herds and flocks of farm animals that continued to be rounded up from the countryside.
Bard joined us with a tray laden with meats, cheeses and several pieces of dense, flat looking bread that seemed remotely familiar.
"Is that cram...?" I asked, reaching out to tear off a section.
"I'm sorry I couldn't find better. The bakers can't keep up with the demand for fresh loaves."
"No, it's alright." I assured him, nibbling on a corner of the dense bread. It barely had any flavour to speak of, but it brought back memories of travelling the lakes and rivers with my father long ago. I must have been lost in thought, staring pensively without taking a second bite.
"Is today's batch really that bad?" Bard asked humorously, and Tilda seemed to reconsider a chunk she had sitting before her, sliding it a bit further away from her on the table.
I shook my head and busied myself with finishing my piece, careful to ration it sparingly between bites of cheese and meat - not a hard task as it packed more calories than any other food I could think of, and nostalgia notwithstanding the taste, or lack thereof, still left much to be desired. As we ate, I pressed the family for more details about life beyond the walls of Erebor.
News of the death of Smaug had spread across Middle Earth, and Dale was quickly becoming a hub for all manner of folk. Not all of Dale's original inhabitants had settled on the Long Lake after the city's ruin, and so there were many descendants, often distantly related to the older Laketowners, who now ventured to the city. Others were fortune seekers hoping to gain some piece of the fabled treasure hoard, or thrill seekers looking to explore the Desolation of Smaug. There had even been a party of self proclaimed dragon hunters (who no one had ever heard of) who showed up claiming to have been on a quest to kill the beast, only to find Bard had beaten them to it. They had lingered for a few days imposing upon the hospitality of the townsfolk until Bard had asked them how they were planning to repay the kindness, after which they made excuses and set off for Laketown's ruins where they were, to this day, trying to figure out a way to float the dragon carcass off the bottom of the lake.
There was also the matter of finding and renovating homes for refugees from the nearby countryside. The surviving orcs, as well as a good number of wargs (including Azog's elusive white warg) had fled to the southeast towards the Rhún, and while Eagles and patrols from both Erebor and the Iron hills had given chase, several farms and homesteads had been laid to waste between the River Running and the River Redwater, all the way down to the Sea of Rhún. Survivors of these attacks had no choice but to make the pilgrimage to Dale or face starvation over the winter, but the influx of people was straining the city's already fragile infrastructure.
Bard explained that the dwarves had called off pursuit when the scattered orcish remnants had finally turned due south and fled into the realm of Gondor in desperation."The Rohirrim will finish them off." he assured us.
"Is it true that they let their horses sleep in their homes and feed them from their tables?" Tilda asked innocently.
"The Rohirrim are a very noble and honourable people." Bard stated admonishingly. "During Girion's reign, he and Fréaláf Hildeson, the tenth king of Rohan, were on good terms. And where do you think the Master of Laketown got the horses you are now so enthralled with?" His daughter sheepishly looked away.
Bard then turned his gaze towards the windows, noting the darkening of the sky.
"Speaking of horses, it's time we rode for Erebor. I've had enough of surly dwarves to last me a lifetime - I'd rather not evoke the ire of your friends by keeping you out too late." He flashed me what was almost a smile, and then waited for me to say my goodbyes to Bain, Sigrid and Tilda before we made ready to leave. Bard had called for two horses to be made ready, and while we waited he explained that several from Laketown had escaped during the dragon's attack on the city, swimming to shore only to be wrangled in the days thereafter. They hoped to purchase more the following spring, giving his people enough time to fully restore the stables.
Mounted, we made much better time through the city. At the gates, Bard had a quick word with the city watch, and then we set out at a quick pace. The ride was uneventful, and the early winter winds being channelled down the valley forced us to bundle further into our clothing and keep conversation to a functional minimum. I began to shiver, despite clutching the reigns of my horse with one hand while keeping my cloak pulled tight about me with the other, and as we neared the mountain's entrance the winds only got worse, swirling and eddying about against the stones.
When we dismounted at the gates, we were met by a guard just as miserable as I was to be out in the elements. Apparently, no one had informed him of my imminent return, and he was sceptical to even allow a human entrance into the mountain without direct leave of the king. With numbing fingertips and near frostbitten cheeks, I hadn't the patience to deal with him.
"Oh, by all means, call Dain." I snapped. "I'm sure he would have a thing or two to say about one of his loyal guards so valiantly protecting the kingdom by allowing a lone woman to freeze to death outside the door - especially a friend of his daughter's. So please, do call him. I'm sure he has nothing better to do."
The guard scowled so heavily it was visible beneath his metal helm, nevertheless he signalled to his comrade who began to slowly open the gates.
I turned and hastily said my goodbyes to Bard, thanking him for the opportunity to get out and assuring him that I would be interested in venturing to Laketown sometime soon. He promised he would keep an eye out for reading material, but before I could retreat into the warmth of the mountain he asked that I wait a moment more. He busied himself with his saddle bags for a moment, and I could hear the dwarven guard huff from somewhere within. Finally Bard returned with a package.
"This isn't much, and the content leaves much to be desired..." He explained as I unwrapped the package to find a solitary, well worn book.
"The Procurement of Salt in the Rhûn Region, Volume Three?" I ventured curiously, reading the small imprinted title on the front. I carefully flipped it open, many of the pages were waterlogged, worn or missing altogether, but still it was enough.
"The only thing I could think of on such short notice was to have someone check the kindling piles in the great hall..." He stated by means of an apology, but I was quite touched, and so to save him from belittling his act of kindness further I gave him a quick hug.
"Thank you!" I said happily.
The dwarf down the hall groaned and began muttering again.
"I should go... Goodnight Bard." With that, I clutched the book carefully under one arm and entered into the warm glow of the mountain.
I took a few detours before returning to my quarters and, after finally breaking down and shyly asking a few more importantly dressed dwarves, I was directed to the door of a small antechamber and told to wait outside while the dwarf entered and asked Méra if she wished to be disturbed by my presence.
I brooded for a few moments at the dwarf's snooty attitude then suddenly a tangle of red hair burst out of the door in a flurry. She grabbed my upper arm and led me a few quick paces down the hall away from the room.
"Great timing," she huffed, "Mum almost had me pinned, she wanted to style my hair. Thank goodness you rescued me!"
"You're welcome." I offered tentatively before getting to business. "I'm glad I found you. Here. Will this cover the materials you'll need?" I pulled out the pouch of coins and handed it to her.
She loosened the tie and began to spill coins into her other hand, I noticed all were gold.
"Oi! This is far more than I'll be needing, you know." She dumped them back into the purse and then fished out three singular coins before handing me back the pouch with the rest.
"Oh, that's it?" I asked, feeling quite a few coins remaining. Bofur had been generous indeed.
Méra nodded happily. "Do yah know what I smell?" She asked with a wicked grin. I shook my head, confused as I did not smell anything unusual at that moment.
"I smell a makeover!"