Chapter 54: Unwilling

The surface of Sara's phone was smooth to the touch as Thorin's fingers idly brushed over its beveled edge inside his pocket. He leaned against the mantle, kicking a stray coal back into the fireplace as he waited for everyone to make themselves comfortable. Not long after their small breakfast, the ginger haired man, Eric, had begun asking questions once again, and Thorin had resigned himself to what was sure to be a long and circuitous explanation. Hashing out the story while also keeping certain aspects secret would prove to be interesting. Sara had been right; secrets were often more trouble than expected.

Sara's night had been, as expected, difficult and Thorin spotted her yawning several times as she helped Sigrid and Bofur tidy up the last of the dishes. She looked weary and rundown, her shoulders slumped lower than usual and her eyes were dark and heavy. Even her appetite had seemed to be affected for she had eaten little at breakfast. The meal itself had been meager, and Thorin suspected, a little guiltily, that a great deal of the house's food had gone into the stewpot the previous night. He made a mental note to replenish the family's kitchen at the first possible opportunity, even if it was with the money Nori had stolen from the elves. He would also have to be sure to repay the elves once the mountain once it was retaken. If it was retaken. He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. When it was retaken, and if it wasn't, well then they had more important things to worry about than a purse of coins.

The group was settling now and most were gathered around awaiting Eric's questions. Nori nudged the empty chair next to him further from the table and Thorin sank hesitantly into it. Legolas stood near the window looking out but the other elves had not yet returned from wherever Legolas had sent them. Apparently he was not the only to notice.

"Where are the other eves?" asked Eric. "I thought there were five of you." Legolas didn't take his eyes off the window pane as he spoke.

"Tauriel and Airidan are patrolling the outskirts of town and keeping an eye on the gates. Myrin and Lierin are occupied with a personal favor for me. Do not expect to see them back for at least ten days, perhaps longer."

"Watching the gates? Why?" asked the boy, Bain, taking a torn fishing net of the wall and sitting near the fire to mend it.

"Orcs," said Nori nonchalantly.

"Yes, but why are orcs after you?" shot Eric. Thorin settled himself back in the chair trying to mentally prepare himself for this conversation.

"The orcs are pursuing us because…" began Balin, but he was interrupted by Legolas who signaled for silence.

"What now?" asked Eric impatiently.

"Someone approaches," said Legolas, cocking his head to the side but his shoulders relaxed a moment later. There were footsteps on the stairs outside and a quick knock on the door before Hilda slipped inside. Kicking snow from her boots she walked to the table and deposited several large baskets and bundles with a thump, food and medical supplies spilling onto the tabletop.

"Where did you get the coin to pay for this?" ask Eric, clearly upset as he explored the goods.

"That one," said Hilda, gesturing towards Nori as she hung up her coat. "Nori was it? He gave me the coin and suggested that I replenish what we used last night and told me to buy extra." Thorin glanced at Nori who shrugged and then tossed him in the bag of coins. Thorin caught it effortlessly. Just how many pockets had the thief picked?

"The town is certainly restless this morning," said Hilda, going to stand next to the fire, rubbing her hands in an effort to warm them. "It seems that your arrival last night was not exactly a secret. You are the talk of the Town." She glanced at Ranson. "I even overheard a few people singing and discussing the old song?"

"What song?" asked Sara, drying her hands on a towel before coming to stand just behind Thorin. She rested a light hand on his shoulder and he quickly captured it, standing and ushering her to sit in the chair.

"It's a song that pertains to your company," said Hilda. "But you in particular I should think." She nodded at Thorin. His hand paused on its way to Sara's hair.

"What has one of your old songs to do with me?" he asked, bewildered.

"To be honest I'm not sure anyone could say for certain. The song is an old one and it's true origins are debated. Some say it's derived from a prophecy and yet others claim it's just a song."

"But what does it have to do with me?"

"Listen for yourself. It goes like this." She began to recite tonelessly. "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!"

"But that's not the only version," said Eric folding his arms over his chest.

"True, true," said Hilda. "There is, as some people insist, the older and truer version. What some people claim to be a prophecy."

"And what differs between the two?" asked Legolas.

"It's less optimistic," said Eric.

"The lord of silver fountains, the king of carven stone, the king beneath the mountains shall come into his own. The bells shall ring with gladness at the mountain kings return, but all shall fail in sadness, and the lake will shine and burn," said Ranson, looking directly at Thorin, his face expressionless.

Apprehension seeped into Thorin's chest like a bubbling ooze. He glanced down at Sara, as her shoulders stiffened under his hand. There was worry in the way the corners of her mouth were pulled down. No double she was thinking, as was he, of Smaug's attack on the lake.

"And you believe the song and prophecy refer to my company?" he asked.

"You are the dwarf king are you not?" said Eric flatly. "I know of no other king, and I hardly think it coincidence that to the north lies the Lonely Mountain."

"Indeed not," said Ranson, stepping closer and planting his hands flat on the table top. "I want to know what your aims are in these lands. If the song is to be believed then your coming foretells times of wealth and plenty in the future."

"But you don't believe that, do you?" said Legolas. Ranson shook his head.

"No. I am more inclined to believe the prophecy. I fear you coming portends an ill fate for this town."

"What does it matter," said Fili tucking a pillow beneath his brother's leg. Kili's face was paler than ever and he winced noticeably as Fili tucked a blanket around him.

"Of course it matters," said Eric. "Or perhaps you don't believe in such things?"

"No," said Fili, straitening. "I don't. I don't believe in fate or prophecy. I believe we make our own way in this world. The best any prophecy could stand to do is warn you away from a particular course of action. I feel the future is constantly in flux, dictated by our own individual choices."

"Perhaps you can afford to think that way," sniped Eric. "Your lives and homes are not the ones shining and burning. You have nothing to fear, but we do."

"We stand to lose just as much as you do," said Fili, folding his arms. "Perhaps more. I simply refuse to live my life in fear of what might or might not happen. I prefer to take life head on. But it doesn't matter, we came to warn you of the orcs and seek an alliance with your people. That is why we came, not to argue about some song."

"So you have said," replied Ranson, cutting off Eric before he could argue further. "But it seems strange to me that you would travel all this way simply to warn us. Why make an alliance with someone who is so far away? You are living in the east with no ties to this land other than a mountain that is currently inhabited by a dragon. The only reason I think could justify such actions is if you intend to reclaim your home under the mountain."

"We do," said Thorin, his voice flat as he locked eyes with the bargeman. "By the end of next month the mountain will be ours."

"And what of the dragon?" scoffed Eric. "You expect old Smaug to simply surrender the mountain to you along with all its riches!"

"He will be dead," said Thorin. "We shall slay him."

"And if you should fail?" asked Ranson. "What then?" It was silent for several long moments, and then the bargeman's brow furrowed in anger. "That is why you truly wish to urge the evacuation of the Town, isn't it! Tell me truly, is there even an orc army?"

"Yes," said Dwalin and Legolas together. The pair looked at each other, surprised by the others vehemence. Dwalin huffed and glared into a corner of the room.

"Yes," restated Legolas. "Make no mistake there is a war on the near horizon and you would be a fool to discount our warning. Taking that mountain is your only hope."

"We have our own problems to be getting on with," said Eric, his voice thick with sarcasm. "If you fail to end the dragon, as I suspect you will, you will not only be eaten, but may bring the subsequent wrath of the worn down on us as well! Why should we care about some dwarf returning to his throne. Why should we not simply put an end to your quest here and now." Thorin's hand drifted toward his hip.

"Because Erebor is your best chance at survival," said Thorin. They all looked at him but the eyes he felt the most were Dwalin's.

"How do you figure that?" asked Ranson.

"If we are to prevail in the coming battle our best option is to fight from the mountain."

"He's right," said Legolas, his long arms folded over his chest as he glanced out the window once more. "The mountain is the most defensible position."

"So you expect us to simply abandon our homes here?" asked Eric, anger charging his voice.

"This town's defenses are weak," stated the elf, still watching out the window. "Your only defense is your gates which could easily be overrun. You haven't even a wall around the outside of the town. Once the orcs reach this place it would be only too easy to slaughter your people, whether by hand or simply setting a torch to it all."

"The fact still remains, we have nowhere to go," said Hilda quietly. "Winter is nigh upon us. We will not survive without shelter. We cannot simply walk away."

Thorin had ruminated over this particular problem for weeks now, and had even discussed it several times with Balin and Fili. The people of this town were not his to care for, but he could not simply look on and allow them to fall upon hardship; especially when he would potentially be the catalyst for their trouble. He had seen the devastation a war or dragon could wreak. It was not nearly enough to evacuate Lake-town. In the end it was Fili who had put forth the only possible solution, and although it would make many of their forefathers roll over in their graves, there was no other choice. He could feel Fili's gaze upon him, and he nodded his consent to proceed.

"There is Erebor," said Fili. "Once it's retaken." Dwalin's head jerked up.

"No!" shot the warrior, trying to gain his feet. He paused at a glare from Thorin.

"Keep you tongue old friend," admonished Thorin quietly in dwarvish. Balin pulled him back into his seat chiding him in their own tongue.

"What are you saying?" asked Ranson, glancing at the two brothers, Fili and then Thorin.

"Your townspeople will have need of a safe place to weather the coming battle and that is something the mountain can provide to all," stated Thorin.

"And once we are gone what is to stop the orcs from simply burning our town down to the water?" asked Eric.

"There's not much to stop that now," said Nori, leaning against the wall and picking at his fingernails.

"Da?" asked Tilda, clutching the carven squirrel from Bofur. "If our house gets burned where we live?"

"Don't worry love," said Hilda, reaching for the girl who gratefully came to her embrace. "Everything will be fine. We are safe."

"But that's just the point," said Nori, jamming his hands in his pockets with an audible clink. "No one will be safe till after the orcs are eliminated."

"What would you have me tell her," snapped Hilda, her hands covering Tilda's ears.

"The truth," said Legolas. "You are not safe here, either from the dragon or the orcs."

"We will not survive the winter without shelter," said Eric stubbornly.

"You won't be without shelter," said Fili.

"Why are we bothering with these people?" grumbled Dwalin. "They're not in any position to do anything about any of this. They are simple townsfolk. We are wasting our time."

"Because dear brother," said Balin patiently. "If we cannot hope to convince these people, how can we persuade the Master. Besides which, we owe them this much and more for the kindness they have shown us."

"You will never convince anyone to walk away from their homes," said Eric. "They know it's suicide."

"You're not listening," said Kili, wincing as he struggled to sit up. "We will have Erebor."

"What about it?" snapped Eric. "That's your home, not ours. And in case you hadn't noticed it's inhabited by a dragon."

"That's what we have been trying to tell you," said Fili, exasperated.

"Then speak plainly," said Ranson.

"Very well," said Fili, sighing irritably. "We need each other in the coming war, and we need to fight from the mountain. You must evacuate if you are to survive. The town is less likely to be bothered if you are not here. You can cut the bridges loose. But in the event that your homes are destroyed, either by the dragon or war, you may stay the winter and the spring in Erebor so that you may rebuild."

"Why would you offer this?" asked Ranson skeptically. "Even if you could slay the dragon and we win the battle, I have never known a dwarf to be so willing to share his home."

"I would wager you have never known a dwarf," said Sara coolly, but Ranson's eyes remained on Thorin.

"I do not intend to be like the other Kings," he said flatly. "I will not let you languish simply for pride's sake. My people will not arrive until summer next, but if they are to reestablish a home in Erebor when all is said and done, it behooves us to have strong neighbors and allies in both the men and elves."

"And what of rebuilding? We would be destitute," said Ranson.

"A portion of the gold in the mountain was captured from Dale," said Fili. "We had at one point thought to return it to the heir of Girion, a man named Bard, but we were informed that that particular line has been missing for some 80 years now."

"Who told you this?" asked Ranson, surveying them warily. There was a new reservation in the bargeman's eyes that hadn't been there a moment before. "How did you…"

"My father," said Legolas, waving a hand impatiently. "He makes it a habit to keep track of those of note."

"What do you intend to do with the gold now?" asked Bain, deftly looping the fishing net together.

"That portion of the treasure would go a long way to helping rebuild your homes," said Fili. "Whether here or in the city of Dale."

"But this is all contingent upon you being able to kill the dragon," said Hilda. "If you fail in that endeavor it is all for naught. What makes you so sure you can accomplish such an impossible task? Your number is small. Do you expect us to aid in the worm's elimination?"

"We shall take him on our own," said Thorin.

"How?" asked Ranson.

"We know his weakness," said Sara. "He has a soft spot, a missing scale on his left breast."

"Like in the old story about lord Girion?" asked Bain, his voice excited and intrigued all in one.

"That's all it is!" said Eric, disgusted. "An old story, a wives tale."

"I would not be so sure," said Ranson, glancing at his friend. "Most old stories have some truth behind all the exaggeration."

"But they would still have to be fools to risk their lives on such shoddy information," argued Eric.

"Then I shall risk being the fool," said Thorin flatly. "I trust my source to be true."

"And just what is this source of information?" asked Ranson, his eyes flitting between Sara, Thorin, and Legolas. "And if the line of Girion has been missing for 80 years as you say, then how do you have the name of the man you had hoped to find?" Thorin's heart skipped a beat as Sara shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"We are not at liberty to reveal that to you," said Fili, calmly.

"But you would be wise not to doubt it," added Legolas.

"And you believe them?" asked Ranson, turning into Legolas. The elf looked to Thorin and Sara for a long moment before nodding.

"I do," he said. "I will follow them. And I'm not the only one who trusts their words. Do not forget that Mithrandir has given them his support."

"Who is Mithrandir?" asked Hilda.

"It is the name that the elves give to The Grey Pilgrim," said Ranson. Thorin could feel Sara's body relaxing ever-so-slightly.

"I still say you're mad," said Eric, standing abruptly. "You may be ready to risk your own lives on this crazy…" but his words were cut off at a hiss from Legolas. The elf moved quickly back to the window.

"Be still," said Legolas. "There are soldiers approaching." And indeed now that he listened Thorin could discern the heavy set of boots and scraping armor outside the house. He reached for Orcrist and stationed himself beside the door as the steps groaned outside. Legolas stood opposite him on the other side of the entrance. There was a loud hammering on the wooden door.

"Open by order of the Master of The Lake," boomed a voice.

"What business does the Master have with me?" called Ranson in reply.

"None with you bargeman, but with those you harbor." Ranson's eyes slid over the faces watching him.

"What does the Master want with them? They have done nothing wrong."

"That's between them and the Master. I'm simply charged with bringing them to him." Ranson's hand hovered above the doorknob uncertain.

"We did want an audience with the Master," reminded Balin, stepping closer and laying a hand on Thorin's forearm. Knowing him to be right Thorin released his grip on his weapon and nodded at Ranson. The door swung open to reveal seven armed guards gathered on the steps. The first three guards entered the room, hands on the hilts of their swords, though still undrawn. The first man to enter Thorin guessed to be the leader by the dark blue insignia on his breastplate. He was tall and broad, his yellow blond hair short but messy. The man was clearly taken aback by the number of eyes staring back at him.

"What do you want with us?" asked Legolas, his bow still in hand. The guard blinked and straightened.

"I am to bring these dwarves and their companions before the Master." The man looked around the room again. "But I was not aware there were so many of you."

"As you may have noticed several of our party are injured," said Balin, stepping forward, his empty hands raised. "It would be difficult to move them. Perhaps we may leave them here. Surely the Master does not wish to speak to us all." As if to emphasize this fact, Bilbo gave a tremendous sneeze from where he sat by the fire huddled in blankets. He and Kili both looked wretched, and though Dwalin was standing, he didn't appear much better off. The man turned to Balin.

"Are you the leader then?"

"I am," said Thorin. "These are my kin and companions."

"And what of the elves? Though I see only one, I heard that there were more. Who speaks for them?"

"They are my companions," said Legolas. "There are two others patrolling the town."

"Then it's you two the Master will be wanting to see. Come with me."

"This woman comes with me," said Thorin, reaching out for Sara. "She has business of her own with the Master. And I will have my sister's son as well." He gestured to Fili who stowed his swords behind his back and moved forward to be at their side. The man looked them over, sizing them up.

"Very well, that is acceptable," said the man, nodding. Sara moved to slip into her boots as Thorin retrieved his coat and set it about her shoulders, abrading himself for not yet having found her a replacement. Still she never made a complaint the times he lent her his coat.

"Keep them in line," he said to Balin in dwarvish as they turned to leave. "Be ready to fight or flee should the need arise. Mahal willing, the Master will see reason."

"From what we have heard of him, I highly doubt it," said Nori.

"Don't fret about us," assured Balin. "Just remember the reason we are truly here."

"Sara will be accompanying me. You think she would let me stray from our purpose," smirked Thorin, watching as Sara's head jerked up upon hearing her name amongst the string of dwarvish. She scowled at him.

"I hate it when you talk about me in dwarvish," she said, straightening, pulling his coat firmly around her.

"Let's go," said the guard, ushering them outside. They walked the wooden streets, sandwiched between guards in front and back. The walkway was generally too narrow to walk more than two abreast and leave space for others to pass by them. As Ranson's house was on the outskirts of the water bound town, the attention paid to them in the beginning was minute; a few faces peeking out through curtains or watching from doorways, but as they moved towards the center of town the whispers grew. The boards of the walk creaked and cracked ominously under their feet, giving away the condition of the wood despite the dusting of snow that covered them. Ahead, Fili let out a startled cry as one of his booted feet suddenly broke through a rotted plank. As if by instinct, Legolas's hand shot out to steady him before he fell into the lake below.

"This place is falling apart," said Fili in dwarvish as he pulled his boot up, shaking the water from it. "I definitely prefer stone under my feet."

"Enough chatter," said the guard behind them, urging them forward. Thorin had to agree; it seemed that everywhere he looked the town showed signs of neglect and decay. He could understand Eric's sentiments; it would be dangerous to winter in these lands without shelter, but from what he could see there was little shelter to be found here. The whispers were growing as they passed more and more people who moved hastily to get out of the way of the Master's guards. Though the people gave way to the guards quickly enough, they did so with a modicum of dissatisfaction and, in some cases, thinly veiled hostility. At last Thorin placed the niggling in the back of his mind of something missing; none of these people carried any type of weapon; perhaps a small knife here and there but it seemed that the townspeople had been stripped of their defenses. In fact the only other weapon he recalled seeing was Ranson's bow. He now understood why the bargeman had hidden the weapon amongst the cloth of the lowered sails before they entered the town. He could tell by the way Fili's eyes darted around the thickening throng that he had also noticed.

Beside him, Sara waved at a small boy who hid behind his presumed mother before shyly waving back. Sara's eyes were also combing over the crowd, but by the way her empty hand reached to pull on a chain that was missing from around her neck, he knew her thoughts were elsewhere. His gaze slid from face to face, seeking any familiar features. Many people here possessed her dark hair, and the narrow shape of her face was not a remarkably uncommon one either. Sara's most defining features would have to be her green eyes. They reminded him irresistibly of uncut emeralds, but though he saw a flash of green here and there, the shape and color were all wrong.

There were snippets of whispered, and not so whispered, conversions as they entered the town's main square beneath the Masters looming house. The voices carried a palpable note of hope and the faces that tracked their guarded progress across the square were expectant. The sizable crowd that had gathered near the base of the Masters steps awaited them with anticipation.

"Make way!" called the head guard when they seemed more than reluctant to move aside.

"Who are they?" called a voice.

"Dwarves you fool, are you blind?" answered another.

"Is it the Mountain king?" cried one.

"It's a sign! They bring good fortune!"

"I said make way," shouted the guard once again. "They are to see the Master." The people crowded around as their excitement grew. When Fili and Legolas stepped back to surround Sara slightly, she let out an exasperated huff.

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"Relax," she said. "They're just curious."

"I heard they were bursting with coin," said one woman loudly.

"And very generous," called her companion. The Master's seven guards began to grow uneasy, their weapons half drawn as a crowd pressed in further.

"I warn you," called the head guard, a note of desperation in his voice. "Make way. Let us pass!" For a moment it seemed they would be overcome by the throng but just as Thorin felt a hand reach out to pluck at his sleeve the large double doors of the Masters home were thrown wide, the loud bang halting all in their tracks.

"Clear off! Clear off!" called a familiar grating voice. At least ten more guards rushed from the Master's home and out into the crowd which dispersed. Alfrid glared down at them from the top step. "What's all this now. Clear off the Master steps!" Visibly relieved the guards led them forward to stand just below the statue of the Master as Alfrid descended towards them looking harried and irritated. "What's this?" he snapped, upon looking them up and down. "I told you to relieve them of their weapons before they saw the Master."

"We only just arrived," said the guard.

"And yet they still have swords and bows, or am I blind?" The guide stammered and grumbled something under his breath. "Oh neverminded," said Alfrid, turning to face the four of them. "You there hand over your weapons. No one sees the Master while armed." To his left Thorin saw Legolas's jaw clench, his grip tightened around the bow sling over one shoulder.

"That's ridiculous. We are allies. Why should I relinquish my weapon to you?"

"If we are such great allies, what need have you for a weapon?" countered Alfrid, not even trying to mask his sardonic grin. "Surrender them or you can forget seeing the Master."

"Then we don't see him," stated Thorin flatly. "I will not again relinquish my sword." One of his hands closed firmly about the hilt of Orcrist and the other Sara's wrist. She glanced at him, but he kept his gaze fixed on Alfrid. After the fiasco immediately following the Feast of Starlight, Thorin had determined that never again would he be parted with his sword, no matter the circumstances. Alfrid glared at them.

"You there," he said pointing to Fili. "Turn over your weapons!"

"You're welcome to any you can find," said Fili, holding his arms away from his sides. "But I promise you will not find them all. Not even the elves found my last one." Sara tried and failed to stifle a snicker. Legolas's eyes darted to them, clearly nettled.

"Let us pass as we are, or let us leave," said Thorin. "But I warn you, it would be a foolish act to turn us away."

"Let them see the Master," called a voice.

"Don't you know he's the Mountain King of old!" cried another. The square began to again echo with cries and complaints.

"For heaven's sake Alfrid," maligned a voice. A portly man stepped from within the doors and ponderously made his way down the steps. "Have you no skill at all in reading a crowd," the man hissed.

"I was simply following your orders, Sire," said Alfrid, ducking his head.

"I ordered you to bring them to me, not cause a riot before my doors." Thorin observed the man before them, presumably the Master, not impressed in the least. While not particularly short, the man was stout, his rotund stomach bulging out from his grimy waistcoat, the two remaining buttons strained to the max. The long stringy ginger hair combed over a bald pate matched the long ginger mustache under his nose. His clothes showed signs of having been finely tailored at one point, but were now dingy with age and neglect. His dark beady eyes observed the gathered crowd, which had once again grown in volume, many of the faces turned to him, attune to his next words.

"Just who are you people to come to my town and cause such a ruckus?" asked the Master in a quiet and suspicious tone. Seeing a chance to force this man's hand Thorin seized upon it.

"I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, king under the mountain," he said in a voice he was sure would carry clearly to the crowd. The murmurs and excited whispers grew louder and a frown crept across the Masters jowly face.

"And just what business do you have here may I ask?" Thorin fought hard to hold back his smug satisfaction. It had initially been his plan to speak to the Master in private, but by all accounts and his own judgments, the man before him was not the type to see reason unless forced to do so. He had come across men like this one in the past and he knew how to handle them; they were predictable, driven by greed and the need for power. So be it. If there were rumors and a prophecy about his return, then he would use them to his advantage. All the better if the Master happened to ask questions where the crowd might hear the answers.

"I have come to give warning. This land will be overrun by an army of orcs and goblins inside of two months. I seek an alliance with you and your people so that we may mutually benefit." Cries of shock and dismay rose from the gathered throng.

"I fail to see how it could be mutually beneficial," said the Master loudly, catching onto the game. "The nearest dwarf colony is away to the northeast in the Iron Hills. I see no army with you. What could you possibly offer us, that is if your claim be true."

"I have come not only to warn you, but to reclaim my homeland," said Thorin. "I have come to retake the mountain from Smaug and restore my people to their home. I would make your people an ally to mine, as we have done with the elves of Thranduil. Together we can weather the coming battle from the shelter of the mountain and once the enemy has been destroyed I will rebuild the kingdom of Erebor."

"How exactly is that supposed to be beneficial to us? Especially if we should lose our home to ruin?" asked Alfrid. The crowd grew quieter awaiting the reply and Thorin turned to face them.

"I remember this town in the great days of old," he said. "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!" Murmurs of accent began to trickle through the crowd. He went on. "I would see those days return. I will relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing forth once more from the halls of Erebor." More cries of jubilation.

"Yes but what good will they do us if we have no town," called the Master.

"I promise you this," called Thorin over the waxing din. "If we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!" Now all the noise of approval was near deafening.

"Why should we take you at your word?" yelled Alfrid, once the volume had died down somewhat, cutting through the frenzy. "We know nothing about you but what you claim. Who here can vouch for your story and character?" Again silence fell over the crowd and all eyes turned to Thorin.

"I will," said Legolas, stepping forward. "I am Legolas, son of King Thranduil your ally. The claims of an impending battle are true."

"And what of this Dwarf's promises?" asked the Master, greed glinting like flames in his eyes. "If the mountain is retaken and the battle won, will he honor his word? Will he share his wealth?" Legolas looked back at him for a moment, his features impassive before he turned back to the Master.

"He will."

Thorin was not sure what he had been expecting from the elf prince, but three days ago he could not have imagined that Legolas would be vouching for his character. But when he looked to Sara however, she seemed unfazed, as if this were all perfectly natural. Perhaps that was part of her charm, how she not only expected the best of others, but unwittingly had a way of bringing it out in the open. He turned back to the Master.

"Then what say you? How will you answer Master of the people of the lake?" called Thorin over the quiet. The Master's eyes darted this way and that, calculations ticking away in them before they were filled with a grudging resignation.

"I say unto you Master dwarf," said the Master, plastering an oily smile over his lips and throwing his arms wide into the air. "Welcome! Welcome! And thrice welcome!" The crowd erupted into deafening cheers as the Master smiled and waved, backing slowly up the stairs and into his house.

"Very well," said Alfrid, gesturing the four of them forward, the captain of the guards trailing after them. They climbed the steps and crossed the threshold into a large entry hall, candles burning lowly and dust floating lazily through air. The moment the heavy doors closed behind them, the elated expression slid from the Master's face to be replaced with skepticism. Hands behind his back, he circled them slowly.

"So you are the fabled mountain king." Thorin did not reply as the man continued his vulturistic circling. "And you," he said waving a hand at Legolas. "You claim to be the elvin prince. But who are these other two."

"Fili, my sister son and Prince of the dwarves," said Thorin.

"And the woman with you? What business has she here?"

"I am Sara Miller," she said, stepping forward. "I have traveled with the dwarves from Bree in search of my family. I hope to find evidence of them here in Lake-town."

"Just who is it you seek? What are their names?" asked the Master, clearly more willing to believe her story than the others.

"I... I don't actually know," she admitted. "I never knew them." The Master frowned.

"That does make it complicated. Impossible in fact." Sara opened her mouth to speak, but the Master had already moved on. "Now what shall we do with the four of you?" He turned to the head guard. "Where did you find them?"

"With the bargeman, Ranson, and the cooper, Eric."

"Were they indeed?" said the Master eyeing them once again. "Are there others in your party?"

"We number thirteen dwarves, three elves, this woman, and a hobbit, Bilbo Baggins," replied Fili.

"Quite a troop, but hardly enough to take on a dragon I should think, unless it is not your true purpose."

"We will take the mountain," said Thorin. He was fully aware the Master had taken them into his house because of the pressure from the crowd, and not because he believed their story. Now began the delicate and more complicated work of convincing the cynical man, if possible, of the truth.

"I personally feel it to be a fool's errand," continued the Master. "But that is not my affair for it is likely to be your end. But your association with the bargeman and his friend, that is altogether more worrying. It could prove to be quite dangerous."

"While I find Eric to be stubborn and disagreeable," said Legolas coolly, folding his arms. "I hardly think they are dangerous. In fact they have proven most accommodating and kind."

"Perhaps so," said the Master. "But I must insist that you be relocated at once."

"And where would you suggest we go?" asked Legolas. "We were informed that you no longer have a functioning inn."

"That is true," said the Master. "But I have several rooms that will serve. They can be made ready... for a price. After all, I would not want to insult your highnesses by insinuating that you came here to beg."

"That is ridiculous," started Legolas, his arms dropping to his sides in disbelief. Thorin raised a hand to stay the elf.

"What price?" he asked. He was familiar with this new game as he had haggled many a time with men in their villages. He knew better than to expect a fair price, particularly from a man like the Master. Normally when faced with such blatant opportunism he would have turned away and sought business elsewhere, but that was not an option here.

"Perhaps a gold coin a night per room will be sufficient," suggested the Master.

"No doubt. And what of food?"

"Three coins per day I think should cover the expense." Thorin drew the heavy purse from his pocket after pouring half the gold coins into his hand, tossed it to the Master who scrambled before catching it.

"Will that suffice?" The Master opened the purse, his eyes glinting as he pulled out a gold coin.

"Indeed it shall," said the Master grinning as he slipped the purse into his pocket. "For now. I welcome you once again, and pray that your stay here will be most lucrative for us both. I invite you to join me at my table for dinner this evening. In the meantime, Alfrid."

"Yes, Sire," answered Alfrid.

"See that five rooms are cleared out and prepared for their use. Make sure their needs are met. And see to the immediate relocation of their party."

----------------------------------------

Sara bit her lip, concerned as Bilbo's sniffled miserably, holding a large handkerchief to his nose. Neither Bilbo or Kili looked any better today, in fact if anything, they had taken a turn for the worst. Both were running fevers, but while Bilbo's could be explained by the nasty cold he had, the cause of Kili's had no visible explanation. When they had returned from the Master's house, accompanied by five of his soldiers and Alfrid who waited for them down in the street, it was to find the dwarf prince stripped to almost nothing and covered in cool wet cloths. Oin knew it had something to do with Kili's leg, for it was red, angry, and swollen, dark blue veins creeping out form the wound, but he could not find the source of the infection.

"I don't understand it," Oin had told a solemn Thorin as Sara rang out fresh rags to drape over Kili. Her fingers brushed over his forehead and she only grew more worried. He felt way too hot, like the pavement in the summer sun. "The wound is clean and we have administered all the medicinal herbs we know of. I even used kingsfoil, but still the fever will not break. I don't know what else is to be done. I can continue to try and treat the symptoms, but I don't know what causes them."

"What of poisons?" asked Thorin.

"It's a possibility, but I can find no traces as to what the poison may be, I am unfamiliar with it. If I just go administering antidotes incorrectly it could make things worse. I could inadvertently poison him further. At this point I dare not even risk moving him."

"I don't like being separated," said Thorin. "But I agree. To move him could be dangerous." After a brief whispered discussion with a hesitant Ranson, Thorin made arrangements for Kili and Oin to remain behind with the bargeman and his family until Kili's fever broke. At first Fili had insisted that he be allowed to stay as well but Thorin and Balin had talked him down.

"You're not a healer laddie," Balin chided. "Your talents are needed elsewhere. Leave him with Oin."

"But he is my brother," said Fili stubbornly. " I should be with him."

"I understand," said Thorin. "But we are in a delicate position and we have imposed upon these people enough as it is."

"We may have to move our residence to the Masters villa," said Balin. "But you can come back and be by his side soon." It was with great apprehension that Fili had finally agreed. After a reluctant farewell to Ranson and his household the rest of the company met Alfrid in the street below.

"This is not all of your party," said Alfrid after a quick head count.

"Kili is ill and can't be moved," said Sara.

"So is that fellow, yet he is being moved," said Alfrid, pointing to Bilbo who was being carried by Bofur.

"He has a bad cold, and while it's not pleasant to move he is not at risk," said Thorin.

"Risk or not, the Master ordered the immediate relocation of all of you."

"We don't yet know the cause of price Kili's illness," said Balin shrewdly. "Who's to say if it is contagious. Would you risk bringing illness into the Masters home?" Alfrid had made no other complaint and in a short time they were settling into the Master's house. The five rooms prepared for them were near the back of the house, and by the layer dust in them had not been used in some time. At first Sara had expected to share a room with the others as there was limited space, but Thorin and Legolas had both insisted that she take a room of her own, even offering her the large one in the midst of the others. She had staunchly refused, arguing that if they were going to insist on giving her her own room, it ought to be the smallest one, and had summarily taken the room further down the hall. Thorin, Fili, Balin, and Dwalin took one room, while Bombur, Bifur, and Bofur claimed Bilbo as their roommate, and Dori, Nori, and Ori shared a room with a displaced Gloin, leaving the last room for the three elves use.

Not long after they had settled, Sara knocked on Thorin's door only to find him, Nori, Fili, Balin and Legolas inside. Judging by the several purses on the table Thorin had compelled the thief to reveal just how much he had pilfered from the elves. As it turned out Nori still had four sizable bags of gold and had also sheepishly revealed a handful of the white gems from the ceiling in Sara's room.

"You did not collect these from elves around the palace did you?" asked Legolas, his arms crossed over his chest, a deep frown turning his lips. "There are not many who would simply carry purses of gold on them."

"Never said I did," said Nori, idly rolling a while stone in his palm.

"Then just how did you come to acquire all this gold?" questioned Thorin with a long suffering sigh. There was a red mark on the bridge of his nose.

"Not only that, but how did you keep it from the guards? They searched us," said Fili.

"Those are both things I would like to know as well," agreed Legolas.

"Out with it Nori," barked Thorin. Nori jammed his hands into his now, presumably, empty pockets. He shrugged.

"I found the treasury."

"But how did you get inside?" asked Legolas. "It is not only hidden but guarded as well."

"I didn't," said the dwarf. "I followed people as they left and nicked it off of them. As for getting it past the guards when we were arrested, I didn't have to. I wouldn't keep that much gold on me normally, makes too much noise. Besides you were searching me nightly. I figured we might possibly need some money here in Lake-Town after Sara's description from the book, and I wasn't wrong. I hid the gold in the wine cellar because I knew if anything should go wrong that would still likely be our route of escape and I could collect it on our way out."

"Is this truly all of it," asked Thorin wearily.

"Just these purses of gold and the stones." Thorin turned his attention to Legolas.

"We shall replace what has been pilfered," he assured, Legolas did not seem overly concerned.

"I trust you to do so once all this is over," said the elf, waving away his words. "It seems your thief was correct in his assumptions. It is of little concern, hardly a drop in the bucket."

"Regardless, these are yours," said Thorin, scooping up the little white stones and offering them back to the elf. "I believe they are from Sara's room." Legolas waved them away.

"He may keep them, they are of no real value, little more than enchanted glass; pretty but worthless." Sighing, Thorin returned them to Nori who gladly tucked them back into his pocket before pulling out Sara's keys and compulsively clicking the button on the laser pointer. Legolas watched the small red dot trace around the room in mild fascination before turning to Sara abruptly.

"Did you not say that I might know what you carry in your little box?" Sara laughed and once she had made sure the door was locked Thorin pulled her phone from his pocket. Legolas turned the device over in his hands.

"It's an odd item I grant you, but what is it for?" asked the elf, his brows drawn close together. Several minutes later after they had let the solar battery charge in the light from the bedroom window Sara powered on her phone. Legolas's eyes grew wide.

"Is it magic?"

"Nope," she said, taking a quick picture of the elf prince. "Technology. It's called a phone. On earth just about everyone has one and it allows you to talk to people who are all the way on the other side of the earth. That and you search the internet, listen to music, take video and pictures and a whole slew of other things." She handed him the phone, his picture staring up at him.

"Truly if there had been any doubt left in my mind regarding your story," said Legolas. "It is certainly eradicate now. This is quite impressive."

Their conversation was cut short with a knock on the door. Alfrid had come to tell them what time to expect dinner with the Master and suggested they make themselves presentable. To this end several large wash tubs and hanging iron pots were presented to them and after some help from Fili, hauling water and warming it, Sara had gratefully sunk into a bath.

It felt good to be clean again as she scrubbed off the dirt and blood. In all honesty she had been quite a mess, but with her body practically glowing pink and her hair clean she dug into her pack, trying to find something suitable to wear to dinner. She had several clean sets of underclothes from the elves, and even if they were a bit unusual they were functional and comfortable. Regrettably almost all her clothes were more suited for travel. The best she had was the skirt she had cut from the lavender dress as they had escaped Mirkwood. She slipped it on, pulling her shirt over the cut hem and was pleased to find that there were not any holes in the velvety fabric, there were however stains from her time in the dungeon. Perhaps they could be cleaned. With this in mind she set about scrubbing the cloth in the remaining bathwater and was pleased to find it cleaned easily. She wrung the water from the material and hung it near the fire to dry. Rummaging through the few tops she had she found a top in a soft cream with simple silver embroidery. She slipped it on along with a pair of her pants and sat on the four poster bed sending a small plume of dust flying into the air as she vigorously rubbed at her hair with a towel. It had grown, now almost reaching past her shoulder blades. She was combing her fingers through her hair when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," she called and Fili entered. Upon seeing her, he crossed the room and situated himself behind her, taking her hair in his hands. He spoke little and she could tell he was distracted. She fidgeted with his bead and Thorin's hairpiece trying not to wince when his fingers pulled too hard. His finger brushed the spot just behind her left ear and he paused. It was smooth to the touch, the hair never hanging regrown.

"Are you okay?" she asked, after he had pulled out his work to start again for the second time. His hands dropped.

"I…" but he never finished as there was another knock on the door.

"Come in," she called. Thorin opened the door but hesitated one hand still on the doorknob upon seeing Fili.

"Shall I come back at another time?" he asked.

"No," said Fili rising. "You had better do this, I keep pulling her hair without meaning to." Thorin raised an eyebrow but came to take Fili's place all the same. Fili, it seemed, could not settle, instead pacing the room back and forth.

"What is ailing you nephew," inquired Thorin, settling himself behind her and reaching for her hair. Fili's quick staccato steps came to a halt on the wooden floor.

"Kili," said Fili, shortly. "Does his state not concern you as well?"

"Yes," said Sara, worrying at a thumbnail.

"I am indeed concerned for him," confirmed Thorin.

"Then why are we here and not with him?" asked Fili tersely, folding his arms over his chest.

"There is little we can do for him at present," said Thorin, reaching for a leather tie.

"But something is really not right with him," insisted Fili. "He's never been sick. I should be at his side, not attending dinner with that pompous Master. You know he doesn't believe us. Why bother?"

"We have to try," said Thorin.

"I know," said Fili sighing, running a hand over his face. "I just… I can't focus."

"So I can see," said Thorin. Sara did not have to see his face to know he was frowning.

"You can hardly blame me," said Fili. "What if it were mother who is sick?" Thorin sighed.

"Perhaps you are right. You should be with him. It's clear you will be of no help tonight, distracted as you are, and I must admit it would bring me some small comfort to know that you are with him." Fili looked overwhelmingly relieved.

"Then I shall go," he said, already at the door.

"Wait," called Thorin, producing a small pouch of coins from his pocket. He tossed it to Fili. "Give this to Ranson with our thanks. I had not the chance to repay him amidst all the chaos." Fili caught the purse and vanished. Sara picked at a small patch on the blanket beneath her as Thorin's fingers once again resumed their task.

"Do you think it's really okay to be going to dinner?" she asked quietly. "I'm really pretty worried about Kili as well."

"As am I, but Kili is a dwarf. In the rare event that we do become sick we recover. He will be well in time."

"But what if it's poison, like with Dwalin and the spiders?"

"There is nothing either you or I can do Sara. Oin is his best hope and he is quite an accomplished healer. If this dinner were not without its own importance I would not go either, and in fact I fully intend to return to his side for the night once its over."

"Can I come as well?"

"I expected that would be your wish," he said, his hands pausing. "I had hoped to convince the Master to allow you access to his records so you could continue your search for your family."

"I'm really beginning to believe that it's hopeless," she said.

"Don't give up now that you could be so close," he said, placing a kiss on the back of her neck, having finished her braid.

"Thorin?"

"Yes?"

"What happens to Fili's offer if I do manage to find my family?"

"It is still in force," he said, beginning the small braid behind her left ear. "It is not unheard of for family members who were assumed dead to return after the bond had been finalized."

"So how does that work in the end?"

"Legal rights revert to the original family, but the heart sister or brother are still considered to be one of the blood family."

"So it wouldn't change much."

"Fili would no longer be in charge of overseeing your courtship, but he would still be your brother," he said, tying Fili's bead into her hair before letting the narrow braid fall over her left shoulder. She turned to face him, her shirt stretching and falling off her shoulder. It was just a hair big on her and the neckline wide.

"About that," she said, taking his hand. "You never told me the solution you finally came up with."

"No I didn't," he said, softly running his thumb over her shoulder before pulling the loose fabric back into place. He leaned closer to her, till his breath ghosted over her face. "We were, as I recall, interrupted."

"So are you going to tell me?" He opened his mouth to answer, a grin spreading across his lips, but once again there was a knock on her chamber door.

"Oh for goodness sake," she said, sitting up straight.

"Let them be for a moment," said Thorin, grabbing her waist and pulling her close again, making her heart do a little dance. But whoever was outside the door was persistent. Thorin slumped slightly, his arms growing slack around her waist.

"This place is busier than the campus parking lot on game night. Come in." Balin poked his head inside the door.

"I suspected you might be here," said Balin.

"What is it?" asked Thorin grudgingly, as he pulled Sara into his lap. His beard tickled her ear as he spoke.

"I just wish to speak to you before dinner. Dwalin is still feeling poorly and is begging off dinner, claiming to want to keep an eye on Bilbo. The poor little fellow is doing poorly. And I wished to speak to you about our situation here in Lake town." Sara could feel the indecision leaching from Thorin as he looked at Balin.

"It's okay." She squeezed the forearm wrapped over her stomach. "I need to finish getting ready anyway. She glanced at the skirt drying by the fire. Thorin released her and went to feel the damp cloth of the skirt, his face falling.

"I should have acquired more appropriate clothing for you."

"Don't worry about it," she said.

"Tomorrow I shall see that you get a dress."

"Really don't bother," she said. "It would be pointless. We will not be here long and I rather not face a dragon or battle in a dress. Besides pants are much warmer and practical.

"A coat then," he asked. "Until I'm able to make you a proper one that is."

"Deal," she said. "But only if you promise to tell me about you and Fili's arrangement when you return."

"It's settled then." He kissed her gently on the lips. "Until dinner then."

Dinner was turning out to be an interesting affair to say the least; from the questionable food to the more than slightly uncomfortable attention of Alfrid sitting beside her. They were seated at a long table, the Master at the head. Behind him was a large window overlooking the town square and on the wall was a painting of the Master. Sara determined that either the Master had looked dramatically different when he was younger, or the painter had very poor eyesight. To her dismay and Thorin's disgruntlement, the moment the Master had spotted Sara he had insisted she sit to his right at the head of the table. That in and of itself might not have been so bad if Alfrid had not planted himself happily on her other side, forcing Thorin to take the seat across from her. The situation reminded her forcibly of the Feast of Starlight, but all in all she would have much preferred to be seated besides Thranduil once again; at least then she would not have to watch, stomach-churning, as the Master ate the sautéed goat testies with sickening gusto. The first few courses of the meal had been palatable, but now with the smacking noises coming from her right and left she wished she had not eaten so much.

"Are the bollocks in mushroom gravy not to your liking Ms. Sara?" asked Alfrid, reaching once again to try and pour her a glass of wine despite her having upturned her glass. On his other side Legolas once again reached out to stop him, taking the wine from him and placing further down the table. Alfrid had taken to calling her by name as the company were want to do, but this she felt was perhaps the one time she would have preferred to go by her surname. When Alfrid said her name it sounded as though he were trying to run his hands up and down her spine. Apparently the man was easy to please when it came to women, for the disregard with which he had treated her the previous night and that morning had evaporated like a fine mist now that she was clean and kempt. Sara however was not inclined to be polite to him and shut down all his clumsily and obvious attempts to gain her favor.

"Oh no." She gingerly pushed the bulgy veiny sacks to the far edge of her plate. "I'm afraid I'm allergic to mushrooms," she finished lamely, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the slurping sounds coming from the Master.

"What a pity, they are quite a delicacy. I could have some prepared in a tomato sauce instead," offered Alfrid.

"Oh please don't trouble yourself," she said hastily, trying to block out the wet rubber band sounds. She flinched as a speck of something wet, she rather not know what, hit her cheek. "I assure you, I could not eat another bite." And it was true, for she was having difficulty keeping what she had already eaten in her stomach.

"That's a shame," said Alfrid, his own plate clear of food.

"I'm with the lass," said Bofur from Legolas's other side, pushing his plate away, the two testies bouncing slightly. "I could not eat anything else."

"Well we mustn't let these go to waste," said the Master reaching his porky fingers across to her plate to take the remnants of her dinner. "Perhaps we can tempt you with a bit of desert."

"What is it?" asked Bofur, some eagerness returning to his voice as he looked around expectantly.

"Perhaps we might now discuss our aims in coming to your town," said Thorin, also setting his unfinished food to the side as he turned to better face the Master. It was not the first time he had attempted to bring up the subject but the Master had sidetracked the conversation or flat out ignored Thorin, instead turning his attention to Sara.

"You have told me why you were here," said the Master, suppressing a belch. "But I must say I am hardly inclined to discuss it here at dinner. I don't want to be put off my food." Thorin's jaw worked and Sara was surprised his frustration was not evident in his voice.

"You claim to know our purposes, yet you would brush it aside for food?" The Master suppressed another belch as their plates were cleared away.

"My dear lucrative guest," said the Master. "I brought you into my home because the people expected me to, as you well know, you being the one that forced my hand in the matter. That and I could hardly have you staying with such unsavory characters as the bargeman. But don't believe for a minute that I swallowed your story about orcs and goblins, and as far the dragon goes, well no one is that foolish."

"Even with my testimony you disbelieve?" asked Legolas, clearly affronted. The Master grinned at the elf prince.

"You see that's just the thing," he said. "I don't believe you to be the elf prince. In all my years dealing with Thranduil I have always conducted business with him by way of those magnificent birds of his. Never once have I received a personal messenger from the elf king. Why then would he send you? Besides which, if you were the prince on official business you would have come to the front gate and not stunk through the side gate in the dead of night. I can't imagine Thranduil would not even send a letter of introduction with his own son."

"Then why not throw us out?" asked Legolas heatedly.

"Because on the off chance that you are the elf prince I would not want to anger Thranduil, that and again the people believe you. But until you can produce some substantial evidence I will assume you are here with other motives." Legolas looked as though he had been slapped.

"So you have no intention of hearing us out?" asked Thorin, not quite concealing a snarl.

"Let us just say that at this point I am not entirely ready to discuss any diplomacy until I have verified some portion of your story," said the Master. Thorin leaned back in his chair, his fists clenched.

"Will you not at least help Miss Sara?" asked Balin from Thorin's left. "She has come such a long way."

"Now her story is slightly more believable," said the Master, licking his fingers. "But even if I were inclined to help, which I'm not entirely against, there is little I could do for her. She doesn't even know who she seeks."

"Perhaps not," said Balin. "But she does know that they have a connection to Dale. Perhaps she could be allowed to view your town records?" The Master looked at Sara, studying her face.

"It could be that you are correct," he admitted. "It seems to me that I have seen her eyes before, a long time ago, though I can't think where." The Master shook himself. "Still it's out of the question for her to peruse the records unsupervised. Who knows what ungodly mess a woman would make of them." Sara worked to hold back the anger and frustration bubbling up inside of her. To be so close and then be denied by this man. Apparently she hid her disappointment poorly and Alfrid seized upon it.

"Perhaps I could assist her Sire," piped up Alfrid, looking hopeful. Sara's anger was tamped down somewhat by a feeling that reminded her of a slug crawling over her hand. Alfrid leaned a bit closer. "I could watch over her." Across the table Thorin looked ready to deck the man. Balin laid a resting hand on his friend's forearm.

"No," said the Master, waving away the suggestion. "I need you at my side. Your time is far too valuable to be wasted on such a fruitless search." Sara was not sure if she felt disappointed or relived.

"Value did you say," said Balin, leaning forward. "If it's value you are concerned with then perhaps we can pay you for your counselors time and help." The Master eyed the diplomat with renewed interest.

"Alfrid's time is very valuable to me. He is my right hand man."

"Then what would you say to a gold coin a day," said Thorin, leaning forward to match the Master. The Master's beady eyes flicked from Alfrid, to Sara, and then back to Thorin calculating.

"Two coins a day and a three days minimum in advance."

"Agreed," said Thorin, his eyes flashing. "But if your right hand man lays a hand on Sara, he will cease to have hands. As for the rest of my company… who knows what they will claim." Alfrid inched subtlety away from Sara.

"As you say," said the Master.

"Very well," said Thorin, pulling six gold coins from his pocket and sliding them across the table. The Master happily pocketed them as thick pieces of moist cake were placed before. Sara felt hope build inside her as she took the first bite of the sweet dessert. Sure it was not ideal to be stuck with Alfrid as her babysitter, but creeps like him she could handle. That she was confident of. She reached her foot across the floor and gently tapped Thorin's boot. He tapped back and met her gaze with a smile before giving a small pained grimace. Smiling, she pulled her foot back only to encounter another foot waiting where hers had been moments before. She started a bit when it had the audacity to rub against her shin. She turned to Alfrid, giving him her best smile. He watched her with a self-satisfied smirk, that is until she stomped on his toes. Groaning he pulled his foot back.

"Are you quite well?" asked Thorin, suspicious.

"I'm fine," she said, taking another bite. "I just felt a rat run over my feet. But don't worry, I got it. It won't be running anywhere anytime soon." Alfrid scooted to the far edge of his seat, leaning away from her. There was a sudden clatter in the hallway just outside the closed doors of the large dining room.

"Let me pass!" growled a voice. There were more muffled shouts and a loud thump. The doors opened, the guard sliding to the ground holding his bloody nose as Fili stepped past him into the room looking frantic.

"Fili?" called Thorin, standing. "Fili what is it?" A mild relief crossed Fili's face, but it was immediately replaced by fear.

"Uncle! Come quickly, it's Kili!"

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