Hiraeth - Thorin Oakenshield

𝐗𝐈𝐕 . 𝐀 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝

"Thank you, again," Mylaela smiled, sitting on the boat's edge near Bard. She pulled out a pouch of gold, handing it to him.

"This was more than promised," he acknowledged, Mylaela nodding, "You have mouths to feed."

Bard thanked her, glancing down at the blood soaking through her tunic, "That looks bad."

Mylaela wrapped the Woodland cloak around her, noticing the Dwarves glancing at her from across the boat, "It was only a graze."

"Watch out!" Bofur shouted as the fog cleared, revealing large rocky structures in the water. Mylaela on the other hand, remained relaxed. The Bargeman seemed to know what he was doing, so she chose to put her faith in him.

"What are you trying to do, drown us?" Thorin accused, Bard remained unphased, "I was born and bred on these waters, Master Dwarf. If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here."

"Oh I've had enough of this lippy lake-man," Dwalin complained, "I say we throw him over the side and be done with it."

"I apologize for them," Mylaela chuckled as Bilbo began to talk with the Dwarves, "They require a little bit to warm up to people."

"I do not expect us to be stuck together for that long."

Mylaela noticed the Dwarves staring behind her, in curiosity she followed their gaze. In the distance, was the Lonely Mountain in all its glory. A warm feeling washed over Mylaela, they were so close, after all their troubles, they were almost there.

"Quick, into the barrels," Bard ordered, "All of you."

With much arguing, the Dwarves were finally tucked away in the barrels as Bard began to talk to a fisherman. Mylaela began to climb into one before Bard stopped her, "You will be fine."

"Shh! What's he doing?" Dwalin asked from inside the barrel, Mylaela glancing over her shoulder, "Talking to someone."

"He's pointing right at us!" Bilbo squeaked, "Now they're shaking hands."

"The villain," Dwalin spat, "He's selling us out."

Mylaela bit her tongue as they prepared to dump fish on the company, deciding to let it be a surprise. A chuckle let her lips as she heard them moan and groan as the fisherman emptied the load.

"Did you use the whole pouch?" Mylaela asked as Bard returned, "I can spare a few more."

"There's no need."

The company continued to groan from inside the barrels, Bard sending a kick to one of them, "Quiet! We're approaching the toll gate."

"Halt! Goods inspection! Papers, please!" A man shouted, coming onto the dock, "Oh, it's you, Bard. And a friend."

"Morning, Percy," he greeted.

"Anything to declare?"

"Nothing, but that I am cold and tired and ready for home."

"You and me both," Percy breathed out, taking the paper from Bard to stamp it, "There we are. All in order."

Just as Percy began to hand the paper back, a greasy looking man appeared from behind, snatching it, "Not so fast. 'Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm.' Only, they're not empty, are they, Bard? If I recall correctly, you're licensed as a Bargeman. Not a fisherman."

"That's none of your business."

"Is there a problem?" Mylaela spoke up, the greasy man turning to her in shock before regaining his composure, "Yes, there is. These fish are illegal."

"Actually, they are not," Mylaela stepped up to the man, staring down at him. The She-Elf noticed a slight falter in his confidence, "Lord Thranduil has permitted these fish, as he has heard of the tough times the people of Lake-Town are facing. Do you really want to challenge his orders?"

"I, uh," he muttered, a dark aura radiating off of Mylaela as she blankly stared into his eyes, "I don't think you do."

The man stepped back without another word, a smirk making its way to the Elves lips, "Raise the gate."

"What was that?" Bard questioned as they entered through the gate, Mylaela sending him an innocent look, "What was what?"

Bard remained silent, maneuvering the boat through the town. A few people sent the Elf a few odd glances, to which she simply shrugged off.

Upon docking the boat, Bard pushed over Nori's barrel, followed by Dori's. As he grasped onto Dwalin's, the Dwarf popped up with a fowl expression, "Get your hands off me."

The Dwarves all began to jump out of the barrels, attempting to rub the slime off of them. Mylaela itched her nose with a laugh, "You lot reek."

"Watch your tongue!" Kili shouted, strutting up to her, "Or you will reek as well."

Before Mylaela could object, Fili and his brother began to rub the slime on her, the Elf pleading for them to stop. The remaining Dwarves could not suppress their laughter at the She-Elf standing in defeat with slumped shoulders, staring down at her now slime coated cloak.

"There's no time to joke!" Bard called, walking down the path, "Stay close."

The company followed after Bard, attempting to avoid any conflict. Mylaela examined the streets, she had heard tales of the great Lake-Town, how it was the center of trade among Middle Earth. Now, it looked as if they were struggling to make ends meet.

"Halt!" A guard shouted, Mylaela ushering the Dwarves to hide, "In the name of the Master of Lake-Town, I said halt!"

"Go, go," Mylaela commanded, she blocked the path of a guard, stepping in front of him as he attempted to pass her.

"May I help you?" She smiled, stepping to her left as he tried to walk around once more, "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"My Lady, I must ask you to move," he addressed her, once again being blocked by Mylaela, "You can not spare a moment? Please?"

The guard looked at her face, his jaw slightly dropping, "I apologize, My Lady. What may I do for you?"

Mylaela smiled sweetly, gently rubbing his upper arm, "Could you fetch me a glass of water? I am truly parched?"

"Yes, My Lady," he nodded, turning around, "I will be right back."

Mylaela turned around to face the Dwarves, just as they knocked out all of the guards, beginning to hide them.

"What's going on here?" A voice questioned from down the stall, a man accompanied by three guards, "Stay where you are, nobody leaves."

Bard stepped out into the opening, "Braga! Sowry."

"You," the man named Braga hissed, "What are you up to, Bard?"

"Me? Nothing, I'm looking for nothing."

A thud from behind a stall caught Braga's attention, shoving past Bard. Mylaela gripped her blade anxiously, until the Man turned back around, not seeing anything.

"Hey, Braga," Bard held up a dress, "Your wife would look lovely in this."

"What do you know of my wife?"

"I know her as well as any man in this town," Bard shrugged, a stifled chuckle coming from Mylaela. Braga scowled at him, storming off into the distance.

Bard collected the company once more, leading them away. Mylaela watched as a young boy ran up to them, "Da! Our house, it's being watched."