//------------------------------// // Chapter Ten: A Warm Welcome // Story: The Hobbit: Third-Age Generation // by PlymouthFury58 //------------------------------// Chapter Ten: A Warm Welcome The company followed the man back to his barge, loading up the empty barrels that brought the company, still skeptical about Balin's offer, mostly because of the folks who were offering it: dwarves, unearthly-looking ponies, and a little fellow, child-size but not a dwarf. That and he had his own problems on his own deck. "What makes you think I will help you?" he asked. He was strong-willed but no fool. "Those boots have seen better days," Balin responded. "And so has that coat." "Your bow could also use some much needed maintenance," Izzy added. "I just polished it five months ago," the bargeman said. "It's the only one I've got." "No doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed," Balin picked up. "How many bairns?" "A boy and two girls." "And your wife, I'd imagine she's a beauty." The man halted in his work, looking at his boots in remorse. "Aye," he sighed. "She was." Immediately the mood shifted downward with Balin's smile. "Awkward," Pipp whispered to Hitch. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" Balin stammered. "Oh, come on, come on, enough with the niceties," Dwalin impatiently interrupted. "What's your hurry?" the man asked. "What's it to you?" "I would like to know who you are and what you are doing in these lands." "We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills," Balin coerced. Technically he was not actually lying, at least not outright. "Simple merchants, you say? You must have been traveling light with so few ponies." "They are actually our companions." "My aunt Elisa was raised in the Iron Hills and I haven't seen her since I was a filly," Izzy added. "We'll need food, supplies, weapons," Thorin said at last. "Can you help us?" The man said nothing during a while, instead deeply analyzing the scraps the barrels had received during the log ride down the river. Hitch bit his lip in anticipation, while Sunny looked to Bilbo, sharing his worries. "I know where these barrels came from," the man said. "What of it?" Thorin said, trying to elude him from their adventure so far, to no avail. "I don't know what business you had with the elves, but I don't think it ended well. No one enters Laketown but by leave of the Master. All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He will see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil." So Thranduil is the Elvenking of Mirkwood, Sunny pondered to herself. No wonder Thorin refused the deal, or more snapped at him. "Then you can tell him that...cough…Thranduil imprisoned us on false charges," Zipp said from the back. "Such as?" the man humored. "We were simply lost and starving in the woods, and he believed we were trespassing." The man simply shrugged as he loaded the final barrel into his barge, before tossing the tie-off rope to Balin, who looked to Thorin who mouthed, "Offer him more." "I'll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen," Balin said immediately. "Aye," the man replied, not exactly listening. "But for that, you will need a smuggler." "For which we will pay double." The man looked to Balin with suspicion, unsure of the company's true intentions but could see that they at least meant to cross the lake and enter the town. Also, unbeknownst to the company, he was in some hot water with the Master of Laketown, and he had his three children to care for, so as the saying goes, "any port in a storm for me." He accepted Balin's offer. The company were seated as the passengers of the bargeman as he sailed his boat across the fogging lake. There were plenty of ice floating freely about the lake, appearing and disappearing out and through the chilling misty air. The ponies had the more unpleasantness of the journey, being that only the dwarves and Bilbo wore any amount of clothing, and Izzy seemed to be the only one suffering from seasickness. "I'm just not used to boat travel," she groaned. "Watch out!" Bofur yelped as a stone structure appeared out of the fog right before them, however the bargeman turned his rudder carefully and meticulously around all the structures jutting out the waters. "Woah," Sunny gasped. "What happened here?" "It's a mystery," the bargeman replied. "No one knows for sure." "What are you trying to do, drown us?" Thorin said. "I was born and bred on these waters Master Dwarf. If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here." "Oh I have had enough of this lippy lakeman," Dwalin growled. "I say we thrwo him over the side and be done with him." "Ohh, Bard, his name's Bard," Bilbo groaned. "How do you know?" Bofur asked. "Uh, I asked him." Hearing this, Izzy hobbled over to Bard, still maintaining whatever balance she had left. "Hello, Bard," she smiled. "I'm Izzy Moonbow." She stuck out her hoof to him, though he was still confused about the ponies accompanying the dwarves and Bilbo. "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Moonbow," he replied, shaking hand to hoof. "I don't care what he calls himself," Dwalin said to Thorin, eying them. "I don't like him." "We do not have to like him, we simply have to pay him," Balin rebuffed to his brother. The dwarves had emptied out whatever coins were left in their pockets, as the ponies were dry on the cash of this world, and Balin was counting through to find the amount Bard had requested. "How do we know he won't betray us?" Dwalin whispered to Thorin. "We don't," he replied. "Try not to be hasty," Sunny mumbled. "What for?" Dwalin asked. "On judging Bard. He's helped us this far, right?" Dwalin turned away from Sunny's face, still skeptical about Bard's true intentions. "There's, um, just a problem: we're ten coins short," Balin worried. Thorin turned to Gloin, who was sat with his arms crossed. "Gloin. Come on. Give us what you have." "Don't look to me," he snapped. "I have been bled dry by this venture! And what have I seen for my investment? Naught but misery and grief and-" "Bless me! Look at that!" Pipp gasped. "Oh, lord!" Hitch stared wide-eyed. Gloin stopped talking when he realized the others had all stood and were looking at something in the far distance. It was not as far as it was before, and its magnificence was increased tenfold, especially after it appeared out of the fog like an ocean liner. "Bless me beard!" Gloin exclaimed. "Take it. Take all of it." The small pouch of coins he kept hidden throughout the entire journey provided just the right amount of coins Bard requested. Bilbo then cough and gestured to Bard as he approached the company. "The money, quick, give it to me." "We'll pay you when we get our provisions, but not before," Thorin stated. "If you value your freedom, you'll do as I say. There are guards ahead." The company had no choice but to follow Bard's word, by climbing back into their barrels, two at once for the ponies, same pairs as before, however Bilbo had to share with Hitch in an empty one that followed them without knowledge down the river. Bilbo watched through a hole in his barrel as Bard stopped his barge on a checkpoint dock just outside Laketown. "Just when I hoped to never see the inside of a barrel again," Pipp complained. "Shh!" Dwalin hissed. "What's he doing?" Bilbo watched as Bard chatted with what he assumed to be the guard. "He's talking to someone," he whispered. Then, to his shock and confusion, Bard pointed in the direction of their barge. "And he's... pointing right at us!" "It better not mean what I think it means," Hitch hissed. "Now they're shaking hands." "What?" Thorin gasped in anger. "The villain! He's selling us out!" Dwalin hissed angrily. Footsteps then approached the barge, while the company braced for the worst. Each lid was lifted off the barrels, and was proceeded to be filled to the brim with freshly caught fish. "Forget the claustrophobia, this is worse," Pipp moaned, before Bard roughly kicked it, rightly she silenced herself. "Quiet! We're approaching the toll gate." The company could only sit in awkward silence, filling their nostrils with the scent of nothing but fish, as they felt the barge slow to a halt beside what they assumed to be the tollbooth. Only the pegasi could hear what was happening from beyond the deafening layers of fish. "Halt!" a voice called. "Goods inspection. Papers, please. Oh, it's you, Bard." "Morning, Percy," Bard greeted. "Anything to declare?" "Nothing, but that I am cold and tired, and ready for home." "You and me both." It was evident to the sisters that Bard and Percy, he called to the gatekeeper, were old friends. "Here we are, all in order." "Not so fast," a new voice called. Instead of friendly he sounded slimy, and like an adversary to Bard. "Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm. Only, they're not empty, are they, Bard?" Some heavy steps were accompanied behind this new voice, assumingly this slimy voice carried some power within this town. "If I recall correctly," the voice continued. "You're licensed as a bargeman, not a fisherman." "That's none of your business," Bard declared. "Wrong. It's the Master's business, which makes it my business." "Oh come on, Alfrid, have a heart. People need to eat!" "These fish are illegal." The voice, Alfrid Bard called him, must have been holding a fish because a splash was heard just off the side of the barge. "Empty the barrels over the side," Alfrid ordered. "You heard him," a soldierly sounding voice said. "Into the canal. Come on, get a move on." To their horror, the sound of tipping wood and dumping fish was heard, more so was the fact they could not distinguish whose barrels were being dumped. "Folk in this town are struggling," Bard spoke up. "Times are hard. Food is scarce." "That's not my problem," Alfrid said. "And when the people hear the Master is dumping fish back in the lake, when the rioting starts, will it be your problem then?" The dumping sounded to increase, and with the silence between the men outside the barrels they must have reached an impasse. "Stop," Alfrid furiously hissed. The soldiers obeyed his command, for they reset the barrels back onto the barge, the sisters hoping upon hope that none of their own were exposed. "Ever the people's champion, eh, Bard? Protector of the common folk? You might have their favor now, bargeman, but it won't last." Alfrid definitely had some grievances with Bard, mostly stemming from how his rebellious actions did not see eye to eye with the authorities of Laketown. "Raise the gate!" Percy shouted. "The Master has his eye on you; you'd do well to remember," Alfrid called to Bard. "We know where you live." "It's a small town, Alfrid," Bard said, undaunted. "Everyone knows where everyone lives." The noise of the voices died down as Bard steered his barge through the canals of Laketown: remnants of the city of Dale, the buildings were nothing but planks of wood put together standing atop the lake surface on nothing but stiff-enough stilts. A far cry from the great market sprawling haven it used to be such an age ago. Eventually, the calm saying motion of the lakes waters ceased as Bard finally came to a stop. He then proceeded to dump the barrels, until Dwalin rebuffed him, allowing the dwarves to clamber out. Bilbo got out before Hitch, who had to spit out a fish before swallowing. Sunny had to remove a fish that got stuck on Izzy's horn. "Ugh!" Pipp groaned. "Just when I thought my mane couldn't get more greasy." "Never mind about the fish already," Zipp huffed, right before stumbling out a little violently. "Are you sure you're alright?" "Of course...cough…I am." Once the others were pulled free, Bard slipped a coin to a nearby fisherman. "You didn't see them, they were never hear," he said. "The fish you can have for free." "Free fish," Hitch mumbled. "The perfect bribe." "Follow me." Bard then led the company through the backstreets of Laketown, to where Sunny assumed to be his own house. It was difficult to concentrate with all the potential eavesdroppers and spies watching from wherever, not to mention the smell of cold fish and tar was sickening to the nose. Of course it did not stop some handful of townsfolk from simply gazing up and catching a glimpse of the strange dwarves and ponies. Unfortunately, a voice rang out in the market. "'ALT! OI!" Bard looked to one of the guards pointing right at him, and in full view of the company. "Come on," Thorin hissed. "Move." "IN THE NAME OF THE MASTER OF LAKETOWN I SAY 'ALT!" The company ran through some stands right before they realized the guards had cornered them. The guards rushed right forward to the company, right before they became out of their league: some got clobbered by Dwalin and Nori, Fili and Zipp tripped up some with a stretched rope, some tripped over the fallen Bombur, and some got a swing from Balin's newfound wooden club. Pipp in the meanwhile had kept Sunny and the others right behind her and Anvil as they hid behind some lobster cages, which seemed to dilute the guards from their positions. The other townsfolk in the area had stopped in their tracks at the ruckus, but had to continue once the captain of the guards appeared. "What's goin' on 'ere?" he said. Balin kept a good grip on the oar he found as Thorin readied his stiff stick. "Stay where you are. Nobody leaves," they heard the captain say again. "He kind of sounds like you, Hitch," Sunny silently remarked. "Oh, shut up," he hissed as she and Izzy giggled. As he round a corer, closing in on their position, Bard appeared. "Hello, Braga," he said, both distracting and genuine. "Sorry." "You," Braga hissed. "What're you up to, Bard?" "Me? Nothing. I'm looking for nothing." Hitch saw one of the downed guards stirring on the ground, and right above was a woman marketer who quickly covered him up behind some plants, unfortunately as she dropped a glass vase with a plant onto his head. Braga must have heard the crash, because he came right around to inspect, only to miss the hidden guard completely. "Hey, Braga," Bard said, coming up to him holding some small and light-colored overalls. "You're wife would look lovely in this." "What d'know of my wife?" Braga asked sternly. "One knows her as well as any man in this town," Bard simply replied. Ignoring the implications, Hitch watched as Braga angrily snagged away the overalls as he made his way away at the front of some marching guards. Bard then motioned for the company to continue following him. Presently, a young boy came running up to Bard; it was his son Bain. "Da! Our house, it's being watched," he said. "Now what?" Pipp whispered. Bard looked back to the company, and formed a simple plan: the company would hide in the waters right under his house, and come up from their toilet when called from. The ponies, mainly Zipp, Hitch, and Pipp refused to follow, and instead waited under the dock right by the stairs. As they waited, freezing their flanks off in the misting waters, Bain came down giving the signal for Dwalin to emerge out first. "If you speak of this to anyone, I'll rip your arms off," he angrily hissed. Hitch had some trouble catching a grip of the dock, and once he did emerge he had to lean back and spit out a live fish from his mouth. Once up, he helped up the pegasi sisters, though he felt like Zipp was looking more pale than before. "Da?" called Bard's oldest daughter, Sigrid. "Why are there dwarves and ponies coming out of our toilet?" "Will they bring us luck?" Bard's youngest child, Tilda beamed. Unfortunately, that never came to form. Once the company were all cramped inside Bard's house, Sigrid began handing out blankets, though Zipp still denied that her body temperature was indeed dropping, however just under being drastic. "Thanks," Sunny shivered. Thorin had gone to a nearby window, and was staring in shock at the sight of which was mounted onto a nearby building. "A dwarvish wind-lance," he said in awe. Bilbo was drinking from a hot mug as he came up beside Thorin, too staring at the weapon. "You look like you've seen a ghost." "He has," Balin said, coming up behind them. "What do you mean?" Sunny asked. "The last time we saw such a weapon, a city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came." The ponies and humans sat in anticipation, listening intently to Balin's story; Sunny could imagine once again the fires of Dale, it had never once left her mind. It was the very same atmosphere from when he told the tale of the battle of Moria. "The day that Smaug destroyed Dale," he explained. "Girion, the Lord of the city, rallied his bowman to fire upon the beast. But a dragon's hide is tough, tougher than the strongest armor. Only a black arrow, fired from a wind-lance, could have pierced the dragon's hide, and few of those arrows were ever made. His store was running low when Girion made his last stand." "Brave man," Zipp said, but to herself. "Had the aim of men been true that day, much would have been different." Thorin said at last. "You speak as if you were there," Bard noted. "All dwarves know the tale." "Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon," Bain put in. "He loosened a scale under the left wing. One more shot and he would have killed the beast." "Ha ha ha!" Dwalin laughed. "That's a fairy story, lad. Nothing more." "I've always believed that fairy tales had some true story behind them," Sunny perked up. "Maybe, but I've never personally believed it." "In this case, she's right," Balin shrugged. "What do you mean?" Sunny asked. "The last rack of black-arrows held only three, but only two were found damaged and blunt." Bard suddenly became lost in thought, until Thorin snapped him out. "You took our money. Now where are the weapons?" "Wait here." As Bard left for downstairs, Thorin, Balin, Fili, and Kili whispered amongst each other. "Tomorrow begins the last days of autumn," Thorin whispered. "Durin's Day falls morn after next," Balin added. "We must reach the mountain before then." "And if we do not? If we fail to find the hidden door before that time?" Kili said. "Then this quest has been for nothing," Fili bluntly replied. Though quietly they talked, Sunny heard enough to stride across the room; downtrodden, clutching her blanket tightly around her still shivering body. Pipp had been sipping some warm water, and lightly placed it on the nearby table before sitting herself beside her still shivering friend. "Something on your mind?" she asked. "It's just that...ugh, I don't know," Sunny stuttered. "Homesick?" "Maybe I'm just worried about this quest." "Why? I mean, we're so close-" "And yet with little time!" Pipp stared in shock. "Woah. Was it something I said?" Sunny seemed to have caught her words right in her throat, stuck on what to think or most appropriate to respond with. "No, it..." Just then Bard returned carrying something under his arm. He then placed it on the table, unwrapping to reveal an assortment of weaponry, all of them light, small, and homemade. The dwarves all looked to them with disgust. "What is this," Thorin spat. "Pike-hook," Bard explained. "Made from an old harpoon." "And this?" Kili asked, sharing the mood of the dwarves. "A crowbill, we call it, fashioned from a smithy's hammer. It's heavy in hand, I grant, but in defense of your life, these will serve you better than none." "And this?" Hitch said, not expecting a response. "It's just a sharpened stick." "We paid you for weapons," Gloin snapped. "Iron-forged swords and axes!" "It's a joke!" Bofur added, throwing his weapon right back onto the table, the others following suit. "You guys set your standards...cough…way to high," Zipp coughed lowering herself onto the nearby windowsill bed, checking under her bandage and finding the bleeding was controlled. "You won't find better outside the city armory," Bard spoke up. "All iron-forged weapons are held there under lock and key." "Thorin," Balin said to Thorin. Bard stopped himself at the name, as if it meant something familiar on his mind. "Why not take what's been offered and go? I've made do with less; so have you. I say we leave now." "You're not going anywhere," Bard declared. "What did you say!?" Dwalin spat. "There's spies watching this house and probably every dock and wharf in the town. You must wait till nightfall." "Reasonable enough," Hitch shrugged. Bard had stepped away from the company, lost in thought about the name "Thorin" and staring towards the mountain, until something clicked in his memory; something about a family line under the mountains. "Da?" Bain said to Bard, confused and anxious. "Don't let them leave," he said to his son, before hastily departing. Hitch watched as he did, puzzled greatly before turning his attention to the sight right outside the window. "The Lonely Mountain," he marveled. "So close at last." "It's quite the sight, isn't it?" Bain said, coming up beside him. "And you live under it?" "Well, in sight of it actually." "I'm Hitch Trailblazer," Hitch greeted himself finally. "Bain," Bain replied, shaking his hoof. "Those are my sisters Sigrid and Tilda, and Bard is our father. What exactly brings you all here this distance?" "Well, uh, it's our leader, Thorin Oakenshield, or son of Thrain, son of Thror if you prefer." Hitch noticed a change in mood passing over Bain's face, like he was reminiscing something that was just eluding him. "Something on your mind?" he asked. To his surprise, he heard Bain muttering some kind of song under his breath. "The King beneath the mountains, The King of carven stone, The lord of silver fountains Shall come into his own! "His crown shall be upholden, His harp shall be restrung, ]His halls shall echo golden To songs of yore re-sung. "The woods shall wave on mountains And grass beneath the sun; His wealth shall flow in fountains And the rivers golden run. "The streams shall run in gladness, The lakes shall shine and burn, All sorrow fail and sadness At the Mountain-king's return!" "I'm not familiar with that song," Hitch shrugged. "It's an old one of our making," Bain explained. "The people of Laketown are descended from our forefathers of Dale, and we haven't forgotten the legend of the Mountain King's return. The prophecy of Durin's folk we call it." "Really? Thorin never mentioned that." "I don't think he would have. Perhaps he didn't know." "Maybe...hey, what's going on?" While they had been talking about the sight of the Lonely Mountain, the company had done their own discussing, meaning they had decided to raid the armory under the cloak of darkness. However, Sunny and Izzy were staying behind, and Bilbo was waiting up for the others. "You're not coming?" Hitch asked to the others. "Izzy and I are the only ones who haven't been knighted remember?" she mused. "Very funny." "I'm serious here, Hitch!" "So what?" "So, I'm not going to stick my neck out for some fool-hardy stubborn dwarves! Izzy either!" "They're a funny bunch, although slightly moronic," Izzy nodded. "Never mind the knighting, they need our help." "You can go ahead and get arrested, but leave us behind," Sunny finalized. Hitch felt more betrayed than confused. Back home, it was always Sunny who would stick out her mane for the more fool-hardy missions, and yet every time she would stick beside those she considered to be friends. Hitch left feeling defeated, more tragically than all those times before. "See you at the mountain, then," he sighed. Hitch followed Bilbo to where the others were waiting, past all the back-docks and the guards, until they reached the others as they hid behind what Hitch assumed to be the armory. "Where's Sunny and Izzy?" Pipp asked. "They're staying behind," Hitch replied. "Hey, you alright?" "Yeah, I'll...I'll be fine." "Shh!" Dwalin hissed. "Keep it down." "As soon as we have the weapons, we make straight for the mountain," Thorin whispered. "Go, go, go!" Some dwarves pulled up a makeshift pyramid of themselves as Nori rushed up and into the nearest window. "Next." Bilbo and Zipp followed suit, before Thorin, Kili, and a couple other dwarves clambered up and into the armory, taking whatever weapons they could carry. However, while Zipp volunteered to carry off the weapons, Thorin could see she was struggling to stand even with the excess weight. "You all right?" he asked. "I can manage," she replied. "Let's just get out of here." No sooner had she spoke, that she stepped her injured hoof onto the nearest stair, lost her balance, and tumbled straight down clattering metal to wood as the stolen weapons crashed to the bottom floor. The dwarves and Pipp outside had barely time to react before the speared-ends of guard spears filled up their views. The guards quickly cornered the dwarves, ponies, and Bilbo inside, even with them taking up spears, though they had to stand down as the guard captain held his sword right to Zipp's throat. The entire town was in a ruckus of an uproar, what with the guards bringing forth an entire company of thieves right through the town's heartland towards the largest house of the entire place. The townsfolk were yelling pitchforks and torches ablazing, coupled with the manhandling of the company. "Get off of me!" Dwalin growled. "Don't touch me, there!" Pipp snapped. Presently, a middle-aged portly-looking man with an uneven mustache and dressed in a large coat exited from the giant doors followed by a slumped-looking man, dressed fully in black and standing a few steps under the first man. It was the Master of Laketown and Alfrid respectively. "What is the meaning of this?" the Master declared. "We caught 'em stealing weapons, sire," the guard captain, Braga, replied. "Ah. Enemies of the state, then." "This is a bunch of mercenaries if ever there was, sire," Alfrid stated. "Hold your tongue," Dwalin snapped. "You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal; this is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!" As Dwalin announced Thorin's presence he stepped forward before the crowd as they murmured to each other in excited amazement. "We are the dwarves of Erebor," Thorin declared. "Why did you bring their baggage ponies with them, eh?" Alfrid said to the guards. "Did...did he just call us 'baggage ponies?!'" Pipp spat. "They are our companions," Thorin continued. "So is the hobbit." Bilbo smiled meekly as Hitch followed suit, though Zipp rolled her eyes, greatly familiar with this kind of talk. Pipp meanwhile looked to Thorin with wide eyes in awe. "We have come to reclaim our homeland. I remember this town and the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake! This was the center of all trade in the North." Thorin's voice carried a bountiful of earnestness, and it carried a song-like ostinato that moved the crowd like he was a song-bird. So even the voices of Middle-Earth carried a sort of magical charm to them, Pipp amazed. "I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!" The crowd was riled something great in anticipation, to even when the Master could no longer hope to quell them, until a grim voice rang out through the crowd as Bard stepped forward followed by Sunny and Izzy. "Death! That is what you will bring upon us," he shouted. "Dragon-fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all." "Bard? Seriously?" Pipp gasped. "Leave him alone," Sunny sighed coming over to her. "He's a got a family to look after, and it's easier to believe in the dragon than old legends in these parts anyway." The crowd silenced in thought, while the Master and Alfrid suddenly thought of something. "You can listen to this naysayer," Thorin continued. "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 Master and Alfrid were smiling to themselves at the events unfolding, while the dwarves and humans were cheering for Thorin. Even the ponies found wonder with his words, except Sunny. Suddenly, Alfrid spoke up, silencing the crowd. "Why should we take it with your word, eh? We know nothing about you. Who here can vouch for your character?" The crowd said nothing, and neither among the company stepped one foot forward, not even any of the ponies were sure if what to say. "Me," Bilbo said from the back of the company. "I'll vouch for him." Thorin turned to look upon their hobbit, amazed at his tenacity and courage. Pipp also marveled at his turn. "I have traveled...far...with, these dwarves and ponies through great danger, and if...Thorin Oakenshield…gives his word..." Try as he might, and he tried the best he could, Bilbo just was not adept at speaking before large crowds and folks of power. He could to Thorin, because he knew the dwarf-king long before their time in Laketown, and Thorin was staring at Bilbo in anticipation. "...then he will keep it," Bilbo finished at last, much to merriment of the crowd. "All of you! Listen to me! You must listen!" Bard cried over the crowd. "Have you forgotten what happened to Dale?! Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?!" The crowd had silenced to his voice, taking in his words intently with the reminiscing of the destruction, following his every syllable. Sunny could only occupy herself with the thought of the dragon-fire of Dale, still unsure of how and why she saw it all unfold. "And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a mountain-king so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!" Bard and Thorin were now staring daggers towards one another, with the ponies and humans caught between whom to follow. The Master, however, was an opportunist; Alfrid as well, and any chance to win the people over the embarrassment of Bard was always a golden cake to be sure. "Now, now, we must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame," the Master declared, like he was not trying to be subtle. "Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!" The Master was clearly pointing his remarks right to Bard, with the crowd clambering behind his words. Thorin and the ponies looked up to Bard in shock. It was an obvious wonder why he never mentioned it to them before, but it was still a surprise to be sure. "It's true, sire," Alfrid pipped up. "We all know the story: arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing its mark." The crowd riled up behind their words of hatred, fully domineering their minds over Bard's while the ponies and Bilbo watched on in befuddlement. Such a division and fight for power over the people, though one with more cynical sense than the other. Even if the legends were to come true, the company would still have to deal with the unwanted prospect of the Great and Terrible Smaug. As much as she wanted to stick close to her friends and possible, Sunny found herself siding the most with Bard. "You have no right, no right to enter that mountain," Bard spoke severely to Thorin. "I have the only right," Thorin replied. He had made his position quite clear turning back to face 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?" The Master never once lost his gaze over Thorin as he took some moments to ponder to himself over the possibilities: either lose the people to the cynicism of his greatest adversary, or win the people with the prospect of gold to be won from under the fabled Mountain kingdom of Erebor. "What say you?" "I say unto you..." he said at last, shaking his finger to Thorin. "Welcome! Welcome and thrice welcome, King under the Mountain!" Now that the Master had finalized his decision to back behind the company, and with the prospect of the old legends finally coming true, the people of Laketown cheered and cried with joy at the welcome of Thorin and his company. Thorin welcomed his praise, and stood on the very steps beside the Master, while Bard stared on at the scene before him in silent disbelief. Sunny then approached him. "Bard," she said. "Please, you must understand." "Understand what, that you were promised a share of the treasure?" he hissed. When Sunny did not reply, he simply stormed off behind the gathered crowd. "Sunny, come on!" Izzy called to her. "You're missing a party!" The Master's servants had all quickly gathered up a large enough table for all nineteen of the company, and whipped up a sizable feast for the evening. Though the old tales never told of either the unearthly-looking ponies or Bilbo, they were nonetheless treated as privileged as Thorin and the dwarves. While the dwarves sloppily ate through the meat like they were vacuum cleaners, the ponies ate up the freshly prepared vegetables, some with more grace than others, Bilbo was quite almost the only one among them who even carried still his table manners from far back in Bag End. "This would be the most depressing feast if it weren't for the delicious food," Gloin spoke through a pound of turkey meat. "Yeah, how about a song?" Kili suggested with a smile. "Hey Pipp!" Izzy called. "Why don't you sing?" "Me? Heh, I don't know guys," she humored. "Oh, come one! Please!" "Sure," Zipp said. "Why not?" "Perhaps, perhaps not," Pipp smiled with laughter. "Lady Pipp," Thorin spoke up from his drink. "It would such a pleasure to hear you sing, if you do not mind it." "Well, if Thorin gave his blessing...oh, all right then. What do you all want to hear?" "Something of your own composition," Dori suggested. "Perhaps with some dancing from you as well," Ori said. "As long as it's not as slow as the funeral march from Rivendell," Oin said between sips of wine. "Maybe some *hic* some...rejuvenation *hic*," Bofur said, heavily drunk on the wine. "Hey, how about that song you sang the night we met," Hitch said, before backtracking. "I mean, when we crashed that, um...party of yours." Pipp looked to Hitch with such a beautiful smile that he could not help himself but become dazed at her sight. "Alright," she said, clinking her glass with a spoon. "Excuse me, excuse me everyone. A song has been requested from me, and I shall deliver for your enjoyment." She leapt into the air, wings spread and glimmering, and began one of her more well-known songs from back home in Zephyr Heights; assisted by the glamour of Anvil: "Pipp: Glowin' up kind of love Dip and slide through the cut Glowin' up kind of love We say 'Hi,' you say 'What?' "Ooh-hoo ooh Ooh-hoo ooh Oh "Used to care what they'd say Let 'em into my brain But I found a new way Ooh-hoo Every time I fall down I pick it up like rebound Gotta get through somehow "We don't fly like we used to We take what we've been through And we can feel brand new Ooh-hoo-hoo I know I am a fighter I feel the fire I'm shining brighter Ooh-hoo-hoo "We got the light We're coming in stronger We're in it together If you want it it's all inside your mind We got the light Won't wait any longer We'll get it together If you want it then you can paint the sky" To Pipp's merriment, and to the others, Hitch joined in alongside her. Bilbo could only smile at their duet. "Pipp and Hitch: Glowin' up kind of love Dip and slide through the cut Glowin' up kind of love We say 'Hi,' you say 'What?' "Glowin' up kind of love Dip and slide through the cut Glowin' up kind of love We say 'Hi,' you say 'What?' "Pipp: Everywhere that I've been Yeah, they I'm say different But I'm good in my skin Ooh-hoo, hey If it doesn't feel right Break it in with tie dye And don't you stop 'til sunrise "Pipp and Hitch: We don't fly like we used to We take what we've been through And we can feel brand new Pipp: Ooh-hoo-hoo Hitch: I know I am a fighter Pipp: I feel the fire Hitch: I'm shining brighter Pipp: Ooh-hoo-hoo "Pipp and Hitch: We got the light We're coming in stronger We're in it together If you want it it's all inside your mind We got the light Won't wait any longer We'll get it together If you want it then you can paint the sky (hey)" While elven music carried a sense of calm elegance, and hobbit music carried the sense of home, dwarven music was usually more rowdy and like a party, and they were one of the few races of Middle-Earth that could follow along with the tones of whatever song floated their boat, and even join in should they wish too. And at the chorus, so they did. "Pipp and Hitch: Glowin' up kind of love Dip and slide through the cut Glowin' up kind of love We say, 'Hi', You say, 'What?' Glowin' up kind of love (oh) Dip and slide through the cut (oh) Glowin' up kind of love We say, 'Hi,' You say, What? We got the kind of love We got the kind of love (Hitch: Ooh-hoo ooh) Ooh-hoo-hoo "We got the light (ooh-hoo ooh) We got the kind of (ooh-hoo ooh) We got the kind of love (ooh, ooh, ooh) We got the light "Glowin' up kind of love Dip and slide through the cut Glowin' up kind of love We say, 'Hi,' you say, 'What?' "Glowin' up kind of love; (Hitch: ooh-hoo ooh) (Dwarves: we got the kind of) Dip and slide through the cut; (ooh-hoo ooh) (we got the kind of love) Chorus: Glowin' up kind of love We say, 'Hi!' "All in the dining hall: We got the light!" The hall erupted in applause, cheer, and appraisal shouts from the dwarves, while Bilbo and Thorin politely applauded in less of a ruckus than the others. The Master raised his wine glass in a toast, followed by Alfrid and the other men. Izzy of course applauded the loudest, this time Bifur and Bombur could not help themselves but share in her joy. Between the duet singers right in the hall's center, another scene played out, one where they could not hold it back anymore, and became embraced in yet another kiss of passion, not since they escape from Mirkwood. The hall went silent yet again, nothing was spoken above the pair, and apart from keeping her coughs silent Zipp shedded a few tears of joy. Suddenly, Thorin wholeheartedly clapped and smiled, followed by Bilbo, then the remainder of the company cheering and clapping again. Anvil had never or since been more proud of its mistress. The very next morning, the Master not only provided the company with the most adequate boat necessary for the journey to the mountain, but with warm enough clothing for the cold weather, even for the ponies as well. All wore matching red warm coats and armor with weapons, provided the moment they each stepped foot inside the Master's halls. The citizens were all lined up on the piers waiting to watch them make their leave of the city, and the Master and Alfrid were stood atop their platform right above where the band was waiting for the call off to start. "You do know we're one short," Bilbo pointed out. "Where's Bofur?" "If he's not here, we leave him behind," Thorin bluntly replied. "We have to, if we're to find the door before nightfall," Balin said. "We can risk no more delays." Sunny sat with Izzy and Bilbo at the front, saving a spot for Thorin, while Pipp and Hitch were sitting beside Ori, Fili, and Kili. Zipp limped towards the edge of the boat, when Thorin stopped her. "Not you," he said. "We must travel with speed. You will only slow us down." At first, she assumed he was joking. "What are you talking about? I'm coming with you." "No," Thorin replied. "Y-you're not joking, aren't you?" "Lady Zipp, stay here. Rest. Join us when you're healed." Thorin turned to enter the boat, leaving a Zipp dumbfounded behind. "I'll stay with the lass," Oin spoke up, exiting the boat. "My duty lies with the wounded." Hitch looked to Zipp, sensing the plight on her pale growing face, then he got up and followed Oin out of the boat. Pipp followed him, until he stopped her. "No, I'll stay," he said. "Can you promise you'll protect her? My sister?" she pleaded. They then clasped hooves, before sharing a goodbye kiss. "I promise." Pipp returned to her spot in the boat, dismayed as Ori gently stroked her main, as Fili and Kili then got out of the boat behind Hitch. "Fili, Kili, don't be fools," Thorin said. "You belong with the company." "I belong with my friend," Kili stated. "I as well, not just with my brother," Fili added. Kili then clasped the shoulder of his uncle. "We'll meet up with you in the Mountain," he smiled. Thorin smiled back, before climbing aboard taking his place at the very head of the boat, right as the Master began the band's music to send them off. Pipp watched as Zipp, Hitch, Oin, Fili, and Kili waved them off in the growing distance as company rowed their boat right along the main canal. Soon enough, Laketown atop Lake Esgaroth was distant behind them, and the Lonely Mountain was ahead. Bilbo and Sunny looked to Thorin, who stared ahead with such pride that they had not seen in him, not even the moment he had arrived in Bag End. However, Bilbo and Sunny also shared the very same fear: Smaug was still asleep inside the mountain, and as far as they were concerned he had been lying in wait, or at least prepared for any...unwanted intruders.