I'm Staying With You (A Hobbit Fanfiction)

Chapter 34

Fili and Bofur get to work, carefully binding Kili's leg. I untie the ripped off section of my shirt from my arm and observe the wound.

It's enflamed and the flesh is torn where the arrow hit. A green and black bruise surrounds the cut and I groan.

"When did that happen, Nossa?" Bofur asks, looking over at me.

"The goblin tunnels," I reply, gritting my teeth.

"And you didn't tell anyone?"

"No. I can take care of it."

Bofur huffs.

"Balin, can you please check on Nossa's arm?"

Balin walks over and Bofur continues on Kili's leg. Balin looks at my wound and sighs.

"It's not poisoned. You're lucky," he says. "Has it been hurting a lot?"

"I've been suffering silently. It hurts worse when I put weight on it," I explain. "It's been getting better, honest." Balin takes proper bandages out of his pack and begins to wrap my arm when we hear footsteps behind us.

We spin around and see a man with a bow aimed at the group. Dwalin stands up with a stick, which is shot. Kili is about to throw a rock, but it's shot out of his hand as well.

"Do it again and you're dead," the archer growls.

A silence falls over the group, and Balin stands up from where I'm sitting.

"Excuse me, but you're from Lake-town, if I'm not mistaken," he says. "That barge over there, it wouldn't be available for hire, by any chance?"

The bowman is silent before walking to his barge.

"What makes you think I would help you?" he asks.

"Those boots have seen better days," Balin says. "And has that coat. No doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed. How many bairns?"

"A boy and two girls," the man replies, lifting a barrel into his barge.

"And your wife, I imagine she's a beauty," Balin says.

The man stops.

"Aye. She was."

Everyone's face falls, and Balin stutters an apology.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"Oh come on. Enough of the niceties," Dwalin grumbles.

"What's your hurry?" the bowman asks.

"What's it to you?" Dwalin demands.

"I would like to know who you are and what you are doing in these lands," the man says.

"We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains," Balin lies. "Journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills."

I sigh. It's pretty obvious that we aren't simple merchants, considering we were floating down the river in barrels.

"Simple merchants, you say?" the man asks.

"We need food, supplies, weapons. Can you help us?" Thorin asks.

The man runs his fingers over the notches and cuts in the wooden barrels.

"I know where these barrels came from."

"What of it?" Thorin demands.

"I don't know what business you had with the Elves, but I don't think it ended well," the bowman says. "No one enters Lake-town but by leave of the Master. All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil."

"Offer him more," Thorin whispers to Balin.

"I'll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen," Balin says to the bowman.

"Aye. But for that, you would need a smuggler," the man replies.

"For which we would pay double," Balin says desperately.

The man sighs and looks to the lake, then back at us.

"I have an idea. Get on."

We all get onto the ship, and my eyes flicker to the bowman.

"What is your name?" I ask.

"Bard," he replies.