Has it really been this long? I'm so sorry, guys! I will try to be more on top of the story now that life is slightly calmer for me. Thanks for sticking with it!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit.


I raised my hands, wincing at the pain in my arm. The archer's aim darted from one to the next, and everyone fidgeted. Except Balin. "Excuse me," he said, taking a step forward. The man's aim skittered to him. Balin raised his hands. "You wouldn't happen to be from Laketown, would you?"

"What of it?" asked the bowman, lowering his weapon slightly. His eyes were dark and calculating, darting over each of us. Running hidden assessments.

"Well, that barge over there..." Balin pointed. "It wouldn't happen to be for hire, would it?"

The man slung the bow under his arm and returned the arrow to its quiver. Wordlessly, he turned back to his barge, and we followed. "Is this really a good idea?" Nedhar whispered, falling into step next to me.

I shrugged. "Like Dwalin said, there's no other way to get to the mountain. What do you think?"

Nedhar paused as the bowman reached his docked boat, dropping his bow and quiver into it and walking back to our barrels. "He seems fine, but I still don't trust him." He narrowed his eyes lazily. The man turned to us.

"Help me with these barrels," he half-commanded. I stepped forward, face reddening as the rest of the company either hung back or cut their eyes at the man. I tipped a barrel onto its side and began to follow the man back to his boat as Nedhar, Fili, Kili, and Ori stepped up to help us with the barrels. Nobody talked. The archer lined the barrels up on the wharf. Finally, he spoke as he nodded his thanks at the members who'd helped him and began to load his barge. "What makes you think I would help you?"

Balin looked at the man's clothes. "Those boots have seen better days," he said. I took in the cobbled-together footwear. "As has that coat. No doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed." I grimaced, thinking that an assumption too quickly made, but Balin forged ahead. "How many bairns?"

The bowman looked at Balin, shaking his head slightly as he rolled one of the last barrels into the barge. "Two girls and a boy."

Balin, seeing he'd hit his mark, smiled and continued. "And your wife, eh? I imagine she's a beauty." He cast a smile at the company. They nodded, smiling. "Shrewd," said Nedhar quietly, "and good guesses."

The archer set the barrel down, letting it rock for a moment as he gazed somewhere off on the horizon. "Aye. She was."

Balin's triumphant smile dropped as he realized the significance of the words. The archer turned back to us, a wistful expression on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry, I-I-I didn't-"

I turned at Dwalin's loud huff in time to see Thorin rolling his eyes. "Oh, come on, come on," said Dwalin, turning to us and shaking his head. "Enough with the niceties." I dug my nails into my palm. The archer lost the melancholy air as he turned to face Dwalin, replaced with a mood of contest.

"What's your hurry?" he asked. He seemed casual enough, but I could see the edges in how he moved.

"What's it to you?" Dwalin shot back.

The archer stepped towards us. Nedhar tensed. "I would like to know who you are and what you're doing in these lands." He stopped in front of Balin, looking at the old dwarf for an explanation, which Balin provided with a tilt of his head and wave of his hand.

"We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains, travelling to see our kin in the Iron Hills." He smiled, looking as innocent as a baby.

The archer wasn't buying it. "Simple merchants, you say?" He turned to me and Nedhar. "Travelling with young people? They don't look like your kin. They're certainly not dwarves." I bit my tongue to keep from correcting him. It wouldn't be proper to bring up my heritage.

"Apprentices," said Balin, nodding.

Thorin cut in, stepping up. "We need supplies. Food, weapons, shelter. Can you help us?" He crossed his arms, boldly meeting the bowman's eyes.

The man stepped into his barge, running his hand along the metal rim of one of the barrels. "I know where these barrels came from," he said quietly, brushing a chip in one of the barrels where an arrow had hit it. I gulped.

"What of it?" asked Thorin.

"I don't know what business you had with the elves, but I don't think it ended well." He glanced at us, and the uneasy looks on our faces probably gave away the truth of the statement. "Nobody enters Laketown but by the leave of the Master." He knelt down and began untying the line tethering his boat to the wharf. "All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He'd see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil." He shrugged apologetically. As the archer got into his boat and tossed Balin the rope, Thorin looked at Dwalin and gestured, wanting him to convince the bowman of our case.

The archer knelt and picked up his bow and arrows, walking to the front of the barge when Balin's next argument stopped him. "I'll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen."

The archer considered. "Aye. For that you'd need a smuggler." He knelt to stow his weapons in a locker, and when he looked up Balin was right next to him.

"And for that we'll pay. Double." The bowman stood. His dark eyes worked over it. Even though he wasn't looking at me, I folded my hands under my chin as if I was praying and made a begging face.


Kili sat against a barrel, rubbing the smooth rune stone in his pocket. Mist shrouded everything. Out of nowhere rose a huge rock. "Watch out!" called Bofur, his voice rippling out over the water. The archer paid no heed, pulling on the rudder barely in time to avoid a fatal collision. Did he even know what he was doing?

Thorin shared his thoughts. "What are you trying to do?" he snarled at the bowman. "Drown us?"

The bowman's air was aloof. "I was born and bred on these waters, master dwarf." His next words took on a meaningful tone. "If I wanted to drown you, I'd not do it here." With that he lapsed back into silence, concentrated solely on navigation.

Dwalin growled. "Oh, I've had enough of this lippy lake-man. I say we throw him over the side and be done with it." A murmur of assent traveled through the group.

Bilbo coughed and sighed. "Oh, Bard, his name's Bard."

"How d'you know?" asked Dwalin.

Bilbo titled his head. "Uh, I asked him." As if that was the most obvious answer.

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

Having heard many conversations of this sort before, Kili tuned out and glanced around. Edolie sat at the edge of the boat, wounded arm cradled in her lap as she trailed her fingers in the lake. "Never seen a lake before?" asked Kili, smiling.

"Not this big." Edolie's face was calm, yet her eyes smiled at the corners, betraying her ecstasy. "I love water, even though my father taught me it should also be respected."

"Respecting something doesn't mean you can't love it." Kili sat next to her, thinking of the parents and sister she'd lost to a malevolent river, yet she retained a love of lakes and rivers. After his father had died in a mine accident, Kili had avoided all mines and quarries.

The obvious silence pervaded his thoughts and he glanced around to see what had arrested everyone's attention. In a moment he was on his feet, staring as Edolie rose next to him.

The Lonely Mountain.


A solitary peak rose, imposing, over its cousins in the Misty Mountain range, cloaked in mist. Nedhar, although not standing, regarded the mountain with awe. "Bless my beard," said Gloin. He pulled a coin pouch out of his pocket and shook it at Balin. "Take it. Take it all."

Bilbo cleared his throat in warning as Bard strode towards them, urgency thick in his demeanor. "Give me the money. Quick." He stretched out his hand.

Thorin shook his head. "We'll pay you when we get our provisions, not before."

Bard lowered his voice a notch. "If you value your freedom, you'll do as I say." He gestured through the quickly clearing mist to a pier with people walking back and forth. "There are guards ahead." Balin, not questioning, swept the money into his hands and handed it to Bard. "Into the barrels," Bard ordered.


"What's he doing?" Kili heard Dwalin ask as he shifted in his barrel, leg throbbing in protest. The boat was now still and Bard had walked onto the pier.

"He's talking to someone," whispered Bilbo. "He's...pointing right at us!" After a pause, Bilbo added, "they're shaking hands!"

"What?" asked Thorin, panic rising in a manner Kili had heard only a few times before.

"He's selling us out," Dwalin said through his teeth. The sounds of footsteps approaching quieted everyone and Kili clutched his knees tighter as something wet and slimy hit him on the head, then another, then another. It was fish! Fish, pouring in and covering him head to toe. He pinched his nose as the barge began to move again.

"Quiet!" Bard ordered. "We're approaching the toll gate."

"Halt!" came another voice. "Goods inspection!" The sound of footsteps. "Oh, it's just you, Bard."

"Morning Percy."

"Anything to report?"

"Nothing, but I am cold and tired and ready to be home."

A dry chuckle. "You and me both. Here's your papers, all in order."

"Not so fast." Kili could hear Bard sigh at the sound of the new voice. "'Consignment of empty barrels...from the Woodland Realm!" A pause and when the voice spoke again, it was closer and quieter. "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," said Bard calmly.

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

Bard let out a sigh. "Oh come on, Alfrid, have a heart. People need to eat!"

Alfrid huffed. "These fish," he said, enunciating every word, "are illegal." His voice went up to a command. "Dump these fish over the side!" In a moment Kili could feel his barrel tilting to the side, some fish slopping off the top and splashing into the lake. He spread his arms, bracing them against the side of the barrel in an attempt to keep steady.

"Folk in this town are struggling," said Bard. "Times are hard. Food is scarce."

"Not my problem," said Alfrid with a yawn.

The sound of Bard's footsteps crossing to Alfrid. "And when people hear the Master has been dumping fish back into the lake?" His voice, which was almost panicked before, was calm and sure. "And when the rioting starts? What then? Will it be your problem?"

More and more fish splashed into the water, and Kili was truly afraid of either discovery or falling into the lake when Alfrid growled. "Stop," he ordered, and the barrels were set upright. The sound of multiple people walking away from the barge, and Bard resuming his position at the rudder. "Ever the people's champion, eh Bard?" sneered Alfrid. "Protector of the common folk. You may have their favor now, bargeman, but it won't last." Up ahead Kili could hear a gate. They began moving. "The Master has his eye on you, Bard," called Alfrid. "You'd to well to remember that we know where you live."

"It's a small town, Alfrid," said Bard, sounding almost bored. "Everyone knows where everyone lives."


This was definitely a slower chapter because I'm trying to fix the pacing of this story (if you go back and read it accelerates WAY too quickly). I hope you enjoy, and please please PLEASE review! I haven't been getting any, and I'd like to get your input on this story! Anything you'd like to see me try? Something you'd like to see? Mistakes you've noticed? Please let me know!