That's Another Story For Later

The Master and the Weasel

The man who held the knife at Kili and I arranged us before the doors surrounded by guards. The guards opened the door, and the Master stormed out, putting his coat on. "What is the meaning of this?"

"We caught 'em stealing weapons, sire." The captain of the guard said, holding all of mine as well.

"Ah. Enemies of the state, then." The Master mused.

"This is a bunch of mercenaries if ever there was, sire." Alfrid added, sneering down at me. "I've never heard of a girl mercenary, though."

"Shut up, you weasel! I could kick your ass any day!" I shouted, trying to get free of the guards. The cuts on my arms burned, and I let my struggle go a little.

"What an unruly bunch." Alfrid looked on at me in amusement, and a little bit of lust. Fear passed through me, and I shrunk back toward Kili.

"Hold your tongue! You do now know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal; this is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!" Dwalin said proudly. He gestured to our leader, who stepped forward. A murmur of amazement passed through.

"We are the dwarves of Erebor." The crowd whispered in something close to shock, recognition passing through. I watched as people craned their heads to see. "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 spoke with such earnest, and the crowd began to agree. I looked back to Alfrid, who looked unamused, until he met my eyes, and they stared hungrily. Why is it always the ugly brutes?

"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 people cheered and clapped and I stood proud at the words of Thorin. He sure knew how to work a crowd. A voice shattered the cheers.

"Death! That is what you will bring upon us." Bard strode into the inner circle, shoving my guards off of me. I shot him a rueful, but thankful look. "If you awaken that beast, you will destroy us all." He said gravely. The people started whispering anxiously. Gullible crowd, for they switches sides very quickly.

"You can listen to his naysayer, 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!" He spread his hands, his voice rising. He sounded like a true leader. The people shouted in excitement at his words, applauding loudly. The Master looked on, smiling and nodding. Greedy bastard. He just needs popularity after what's happening.

"All of you! Listen to me! You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale?!" Bard interrupted. The crowd quieted down and shook their heads. "Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?!" As much as I hated to say it, Bard knew how to run a crowd. He would've made a decent leader, as much annoyance I felt. The people responded, shouting "no." "And for what purpose! The blind ambition of a mountain-king so riven by greed, he couldn't see beyond his own desire!"

Bard and Thorin began to have an intense stare off. They were seething at the edges. The crowd grew more angry. That Master stepped forth, and they silenced. "Now, now, we must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!" The Master pointed to Bard accusingly. The crowd was clamoring. Bard looked away from Thorin, who looked at the Lakeman with shock, and anger. How interesting... the bargeman was an heir to a town, Dale no less.

"It's true, sire. We all know the story: Arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing its mark." The crowd started to yell angrily at Bard. I was seething in rage. Bard didn't deserve that. He was an advocate of the people, and yet here they were, turning on him.