Calm The Fire: 74

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Having to climb up through the toilet wasn't exactly anyone's grand idea. But it was the only idea they were stuck with. With Bard's house being watched, walking through the front door was out of the question.

“Da, why are there Dwarves coming out of our toilet?” A girl's voice called down.

Náriel trudged past. “I'm not a Dwarf, thanks.” She muttered and looked to Bilbo who had very much the same bewildered look on his face as she had.

“Will they bring us luck?” A younger female voice asked.

It was sometime later sitting in front of a fire that Bilbo found a new set of clothes placed in his lap. “Oh, thank you.” He said kindly to Tilda, the youngest of Bard's children. He lowered the warm cup he was holding and looked to Náriel. She was flexing her hand. “Problem?” She turned her hand – or where her hand should be – to him. She hadn't been given female clothes. She got given clothes which evidently must have once belonged to Bain, though even with clothes which once belonged to a child they were still too big.

Though despite of this, Bard's words were right, she already felt warm in the new clothes she found herself in. A simple white shift top which was underneath a thicker dark green tunic, the trousers fitted a little better and these were dark in colour, they were tucked into her boots. Being the only one with actual weapons, she had had the displeasure of handing them over to Bard. He didn't seem wholly up for having an armed Elf in his house.

Standing up she slowly moved forwards, kneeling on the window seat she peeked through. Frowning she looked to the side. “Do you have a better view?” All she could see from her small part of the window was patchwork tiled roof tops. Most of which had smoke whispering and twirling out of their chimneys.

“Come here,” Thorin was leaning against the wall looking out at the small opening of the window. Náriel fidgeted along and jumped down. He put his hands on her shoulders and made her stand where he once was, from their little corner position in between where the two walls met, they could see outside. They could also feel the cool chilled air from the outside world. Having her suddenly lean back against him, Thorin leant his head against hers, though he pulled away with a frown when his eyes had settled on something, something unsuspecting.

“The Dwarfish Wind-Lance.” He said quietly, Náriel frowned and leant forwards. The two exchanged a look and then looked back to the weapon he had spotted.

Bilbo appeared by their sides still cradling the warm cup in his hands. “You look like you've seen a ghost.” He said while shuffling from foot to foot, he readjusted the blanket which was around his shoulders and looked to the two of them patiently awaiting a retort of some sort.

“He has. The last time we saw such a weapon the city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came. The day that Smaug destroyed Dale.” Balin had shuffled over to take a look out of the window too. The others nearby looked up and listened to him speaking. “Girion, the Lord of the City, rallied his bowmen to fire upon the beast. But a dragon's hide is tough, tougher than the strongest armour. Only a Black Arrow fired from a wind-lance could have pierced the dragon’s hide. And a few of those arrows were ever made.” Balin explained sounding wistful at the memory which had resurfaced. “The store was running low when Girion made his last stand.”

Thorin patted Náriel on the shoulders, she got the hint and moved away from him slightly. She ended up sitting down on the window seat. “If the aim of men had been true that day, much would've been different.” He said while looking around.

Appearing from somewhere else in the room, Bard stepped forwards and looked at them questionably. “You speak as if you were there.”

“All Dwarfs know the tale.” Thorin countered simply while turning to looking up at dark haired man in front of him.

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