„He gives his harness bells a shake to ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep of easy wind and downy flake."-Stopping by woods on a snowy evening, Robert Frost
She stood with her hand grasping the wooden railing of the barge and her body half-leaning out of the boat. Her eyes moved over the foggy landscape as she could faintly make out the silhouettes of ruins that stuck out of the deep water like phantom arms that grasped for a memory long passed. An icy wind blew across her and she closed her eyes as she experienced the biting sensation of her pupils being blown dry by the wind. The cold gales of the north that swept through eastern Middle Earth this season bit at her skin through the thin fabric of her late aunt's shirt and overcoat.
Time had ceased to matter during their wanderings through Mirkwood, almost as if time had stopped in itself while they had walked the labyrinthine paths of the sickened forest. It was almost as if they had been exempted from the natural progression of the world as long as they had been under the thick canopy of the Mirkwood trees. It had been a shock to her, after escaping the clutches of the Dark Wood, to look around her and perceive that winter was upon them and the sky looked heavy and bleak with the snow it wished to shed upon them. It had been golden and prosperous autumn when they had entered the wood elves' realm, with the trees golden and the temperatures gradually sinking. Winter had been thrust upon her like an avalanche, she hadn't expected it, it had taken her off guard.
She had her blue eyes fixed on the stony structures before her that glistened in the light with a glassy front from the ice covering that laid on top of it. Her fingers, unconsciously, raised themselves almost as if she wished to touch the stone, caress it, in hopes to ensure herself of the reality of the snow. Almost as if she was disbelieving that so much time had passed during their stay in Mirkwood, to test the realness of the ice. To acquaint herself with the world once more, so that all didn't seem so foreign and impossible to her.
"Watch out," she was roused from her contemplation by Bofur's accented voice crying out in alarm. Her form swayed to the side, as the barge was steered to the left sharply and she took a step back as the façade of the stone structure before her came at a breath's inch to her face.
"Do you wish to kill us, bargeman?" She heard Thorin ask in indignation and outrage.
She did not look at him, not even when she felt annoyance at his gruffness and his suspicion rise in her chest. She had not looked at him when she had awoken this morning and from the exhausted overcast on his grey-blue eyes she had realized that he had not slept the entire night, had not slept since they had been captured after their struggles with the spiders. It shouldn't have surprised her that the dwarf wouldn't have shut an eye during the duration of their stay in Thandruil's dungeons due to his suspicion and aversion to the elves. He was much too frightened that an elven guard would enter the cell at night to slit his throat during his sleep. He hadn't slept, even when Laurel had offered to keep watch one evening when she had perceived his exhaustion and he had gruffly dismissed her, tiredness rendering him volatile. He had not slept due to his stubbornness. And she had not looked at him, not directly anyway, since that night when she had overhead his confession and all she had thought she knew, all she had believed had disintegrated to ash around her. She hadn't looked at him because it would have caused her to understand what had laid behind his whispered words to her and she hadn't wanted to.
Not now. Not after everything.
Trying to steer her mind away from the memory that still burned in her mind like glowing ember, she recalled the occurrences of the day with exhaustion rendering her bones weary. She had been awoken by the familiar sound of her cousin calling her name and she had looked up, almost believing that she would be lying on her bed in Bag End and it would be one of those mornings where she had failed to wake before Bilbo and the herbal scent of tea that he had made them would waft through the halls of her home. Yet she did not wake to look into her cousin's smiling and teasing face but looking up at the mouldy and earthy ceiling of the elves' dungeons. She had looked to her side to see Bilbo standing at the swell of the prison door, the gates wide open behind him calling out her and Thorin's name and urging them to move. She had been so relieved at her escape and so thankful to Bilbo for enabling it to her, that she had completely forgotten that the last time she had looked into the beloved face of her friend, it had been twisted with vile cruelty and greed. She had forgotten that she had been so shocked by what the ring had done to him that, for the first time in their twenty-year long friendship, she had turned away from him and run. She had been so thankful to Bilbo that she had forgotten her worry over his well-being and her relief had rendered her incapable of allowing her mind to dwell on anything other than sweet escape. And then when the feeling was just about to retreat and she would have to face reality of how to escape Thandruil's heavily guarded halls, Bilbo had shown them the barrels and had released them from the elves' realm and her relief and euphoria had been renewed.
Her euphoria had not even retreated during their encounter with the Orcs as they had been riding down the wild currents of the river and she had heard the characteristic, guttural shrieks that had become so familiar and so frightening to her during her stay in Azog's dungeons. The same screams and cries that chased shivers down her spine and she had looked to her side to see Orcs running after them on the shore. Her fear had intermingled with her euphoria at her escape and it had rendered her unable to remain still and duck down into her barrel as Fili had screamed at her to do. Fearfully, her eyes had scanned the assembled Orcs for sign of the pale and scared visage that signalized the presence of the one she feared most. Her hand had clutched the hilt of her dagger with a grasp so tight that her knuckles had begun to pound. And then when she had seen an Orc jumping from a branch that hung over their river's trajectory and onto Thorin to start their struggle, she had been about to raise her blade and throw it at the beast, worry over the dwarf and fear for his life clouding her rationality, her knowledge that she was useless with weapons and her aversion to murder and killing. But then she had been roused from her haze by a sharp cry from her left and at recognizing the pitch, instinctively, her spine had straightened in alarm and she had looked over at Bilbo who was hanging onto an empty barrel helplessly with an Orc in the water pulling at his ankle. Seeing her best friend, no matter their estrangement and her worry over his health, in danger caused any thought of Thorin's safety to be blown from her mind completely and she proceeded to put her weight onto the left side of the barrel so that she would move closer to her cousin and the Orc. Holding out her hand to Bilbo, which he took as soon as she called out his name and he heard her over the roaring of the current, she proceeded to pull him away from the Orc and to her barrel. Yet foolishly, she had overestimated her strength as the Orc's grip heavily outweighed hers and she had to fight to not be pulled with Bilbo. But despite the danger at her renewed capture by Orcs being prevalent in her mind she had not let go of Bilbo and had tried to out pull the Orc. Then she had felt the Orc's grip falter and she and Bilbo had gone tumbling into the barrel. Through a hole in the side of the wooden wall, she had seen the Orc go down and drown in the fury of the water with an arrow embedded in his forehead and a second later, Thorin Oakenshield had passed by them with a bow clutched in his grasp. She had swallowed heavily at the realization that he had saved her and Bilbo.
"Rel," she had heard her friend's voice tentatively whisper beside her. She had looked up from her contemplation to see Bilbo looking at her with a sorrowful gaze. She had meant to be severe upon him, she knew from seeing the extent of the ring's influence on her friend that admonishing him and speaking to him would have been in vain, she was hurt that he had ever suspected her and allowed the ring to mess with their friendship. But then she had looked at him and he had looked so pitifully and lost like the young youth that she had so adored. In Response her heart had softened in her chest. She saw his lips open but she shushed him and slung her arms around him. She had laid her head on his chest and felt his deep and shaky exhale as he had reciprocated her hug. And as they had sat, rocked by the wild current of the stream, she had felt that for the first time since her return she had found solace in Bilbo's embrace.
She did not witness how, with the help of elves much to the dwarves' chagrin, they were able to fight off the Orcs upon them and were able to escape. She only wound herself from Bilbo's arms when she felt their vessel impacting with something hard and unyielding and she looked up to find that they had arrived at a stony shore.
Bilbo and her had raised themselves from the barrels and she had proceeded to take off her heavy overcoat that was soaked with the river's water and hanging it on a stony elevation where few rays of sun shone to dry. While she had been wringing the water from her hair, she had heard a pained cry and she had looked up to find Dori and Fili crouching before Kili and looking at his thigh from which an arrow with Orcish design protruded from. Alarmed by her friend's injury she had moved towards him with nimble steps, only to hear him protesting fiercefully when Dori had said that they needed to take out the arrow. She had knelt down behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, while he had been frightfully stating that he would not allow Dori to take the arrow from his thigh. The sensation of her hand resting on his shoulder had stopped him mid-speech and he had looked up at her over his shoulders. She had given him what she had hoped was an encouraging smile. In response he had set his jaw and had turned back to Dori, and with renewed courage had told him to do it. As Dori grasped the arrow, he had taken her hand and squeezed it and as the sharp arrowhead had exited his flesh he had bitten his lower lips to stop the pained outcry from passing his lips.
When Dori had thrown the arrow aside with aversion, she had felt Kili's shoulders slump in a mixture of relief and exhaustion and she had moved to the front of him. Ripping the hem off her shirt, she had bound it on the gaping wound and soon the white textile of her shirt had been stained dark red with blood. And as she had looked at Kili's pale face that had been tortured as he tried to smile at her, she had not been able to shake off the feeling of premonition and worry concerning the arrow. Almost as if she knew something about the arrow, something she tried as hard as she could to recall but could not.
She had only looked up when the relatively idyllic nature of their gathering had been broken by a newly raised tumult. She had almost feared as she turned around that she would find the dwarves fighting a stray Orc that had survived their struggle and come to exact revenge for his fallen kin. But she had turned around to find a bowman with an arrow drawn and poised on Ori, telling Dwalin offhandishly over his shoulder that should he try something again he would not hesitate to kill them. Her form had stood rigid in attention as his forest green eyes had passed over their exhausted and dishevelled forms. She saw him furrow his brow slightly in confusion at the eclectic and uncommon composition of the company. Silence had presided over them as they awaited for the bowman to make his move, but then it was broken by Balin's accented voice as he stepped forward cautiously and with a diplomatic voice stated: "Excuse me but I believe you are from Lake Town." The bowman did not lower his arrow which he kept trained on the elderly dwarf and his eyes wary with suspicion studied Balin. "That barge over there, it wouldn't be available for hire, by any chance?" The man lowered his bow as Balin asked him this and looked at them with a confused expression. After a few seconds of utter silence, the man turned and walked towards the said vessel, with the company moving after him at his silent command.
"What makes you think I would help you?," the human asked as he transported the barrels which had served them in their escape from Thandruil's halls, onto the barge. Balin looking at the worn attire of the man closely, responded: "Those boots have seen better days. As has that coat." She stood between Bilbo and Thorin as Balin tried to convince the bargeman: "Many hungry mouths to feed. How many children?" "One boy and two girls," the man stated and Laurel felt her eyebrows raise in a reflection of her surprise as his features that were heavy with solemnity but otherwise hinted at youth, did not betray his true age. Balin smiling slightly at the man's back: "Wife's a beauty, I'd imagine." In response to the dwarf's word, the man seemed to freeze on his spot and his shoulder stiffened. She studied him as he said in a heavy voice: "Aye, she was." Balin closed his eyes and looked down slightly ashamed that he had brought up the man's pain and said in a low voice: "I apologize."
From behind her, she heard Dwalin groan out in his frustration and exclaim in a guttural growl: "Enough with the niceties." The man's gaze was diverted from Balin towards his younger brother and in a loud voice asked: "What's your hurry?" Dwalin crossed his tattooed forearms over his chest and spat: "What's it to you?" The man smirked at them and said: "I would like to know who you are and what you are doing in these lands." His eyes came to rest upon her during his words and he looked towards her with an inquisitive gaze. She met it as Balin answered: "We are just simple merchants from the Blue Mountains." The man scoffed and stated: "What about the girl? You don't expect me to believe she is a tradesman, as well." Laurel bristled slightly at the man's teasing comment, but then overcoming her annoyance she realised the importance of a lie to save their momentary undertakings. Her right hand shot out and grasped Thorin's and with a loud and steady voice, fearing any tremble that could reveal the truth, she stated with a slight nod to their leader: "I am his wife. We are journeying to visit our kin in the Iron Hills." For a few moments, the man continued to study her and she feared that he would be able to see through her farce, but then he nodded his head and looked away from them. Exhaling inaudibly in relief, she attempted to slip her hand out of Thorin's grasp but she could not as he held onto her hand tightly. She furrowed her brow and looked towards him inquisitively but he did not meet her gaze while his thumb caressed her knuckles.
Thorin stepped forward and stated: "We need food, supplies, weapons. Can you help us?" The man passed his thumb reflectively over the chipped wood from the barrel, where an arrow had worn away its mantle. He then looked up at Thorin and stated: "I know where these barrels came from. I don't know what business you had with the elves, but I don't believe it ended well." The man scoffed slightly and shook his head. He bowed down and picked up the rope that bound the barge to the dock, throwing it towards Balin. "No one enters Lake Town without the leave of the Master." Laurel observed as the man's features contorted with distaste as he mentioned his sovereign. "All his wealth comes from trade with the woodland realm. He'd rather see you in chains before risking the wrath of King Thandruil." She saw Balin look towards Thorin and her with a panicked gaze and she heard Thorin exclaim something in Khuzdul and nodding his head towards the bargeman with insistence.
"I wager there are ways to enter that town unseen." Balin exclaimed and the man stopped in his track and cocking his head confirmed the dwarf's assumption: "But for that you would need a smuggler." He moved towards the far end of his ship and with a speed that surprised Laurel, the elderly dwarf moved with the man and crouching down beside him stated: "For which we are willing to pay double."
And that is how she had found herself standing on the barge of Master Bard, as she and Bilbo had found out was the name of the man. He stood on the south end of the barge steering it, while the company sat huddled on the opposite end of the boat, counting the man's wage. And she... she had chosen to stay leaning on the railing, distant from the rest of the company which had earned her an inquisitive gaze from Bard who had found it odd that she would not stay beside her so-called husband. It still stung her that he believed that as a woman she should cling to her husband, because it reflected the belief that was widespread in Middle Earth of a woman's dependency on men. And she had longed to cry out that she was no bird and that no net ensnared her and that she was independent being with a free will. But it would have revealed her farce, so she had been quiet and ignored Master Bard's questioning look.
A shiver raced down her spine as a particularly cold wind blew across her. Releasing the wooden railing from her unrelenting grip she put her arms around her. Startled she looked over her shoulders, when she felt someone putting a textile covering on her. She saw Bard looking down at her with a polite, yet slightly withdrawn smile and he stated: "As your husband seems preoccupied with his silver coins, I thought that I would see that his wife did not catch her death by cold." She smiled at him and inclined her head in gratitude, whispering a small thanks.
The man nodded his head quickly, his smiled widened by her response and moved back towards the steering wheel. She followed him and stood beside his usual spot with her back leaned against the railing of the boat. He answered: "You need not thank me, you are after all paying me double and I can see the pain it is for your kin to part from their gold." He nodded his head towards the assembled company and she watched as they seemed to argue with Gloin over the coins, as he stated vehemently that their venture had 'bleed him dry'. She rolled her eyes inwardly at the dwarves' greed and looked away from them. The human did not look at her as he continued to steer the boat, his eyes trained fixedly on the horizon before him. For a moment, she wondered whether to address him to ask about Lake Town, her curiosity about the settlement and his blatant distaste for the Master overwhelming her, when he said in an inquisitive voice: "I find it odd that you are on this journey or at least not constantly by the side of your husband. I have heard that dwarves are very possessive and protective over those they call their wives." She exhaled, recalling the fierce and possessive nature of Thorin's kiss, but then she answered: "Even though I love him, my life and being do not centre around him, Master Bowman." In response, he flashed a smirk towards her.
After his open question, she was encouraged and asked him with her chin raised high: "Tell me about Lake Town." His expression, produced by their light conversation, fell and for a moment he did not answer her question and she wondered if she had offended him somehow but then he said: "There is not much to tell, except about the hungry and starving people under the Master's cruel reign while your kin grapple with loosing a few silver coins from their vast collection." She looked down in shame at his words, she could not even envision the poverty in Lake Town. Having only lived in Hobbiton and on the outskirts of Bree, she was unfamiliar with hunger and distress and it only increased her guilt over having ever been unsatisfied with life in Bag End.
With her face down-cast, she asked: "Why do you not leave?" She looked up when she felt his eyes on her and he was looking at her as if she had suggested that he battle Smaug on his own and asked in utter confusion: "To go where?" She shrugged her shoulders and stated: "Somewhere, away. You have children, I do not believe you would wish them to continue in this place under the corrupt regime of the Master." He furrowed his brows at her and looked down stating: "I haven't got a choice." "Everyone has a choice," she stated in a low whisper and as he looked up at her with his brows heavy, she raised the corner of her lip by an inch and smiled a small smile at him. He studied her for a few long seconds before he stated: "You are sad." Her eyes widened in response to his words and she felt her jaw slacken and her lips part in surprise.
She looked away from him self-conscious and sated in a low whisper, compelled by this stranger's kindness during their conversation: "I haven't experienced the easiest days." She looked up at him through her eye-lashes to see him looking at her confused. She regained her composure and intent on not blowing their façade she stated: "I miss my family greatly and our captivity only prolongs our journey painfully." He nodded his head, seemingly appeased by her answer and before looking away from her, he smiled and stated: "Don't worry, it's not bitterness. It's... a hopeful kind of sadness. The one that heals. The one that just takes some time."
Warmth rose in her chest at the stranger's words and she was about to thank him when she saw his face become grave and he quickly moved towards the dwarves, demanding his payment. She saw Thorin look up at him with a tight expression, stating through his teeth: "You will get your payment as soon as we get our provision." Bard looked down at the dwarven king and stated: "You will pay me if you value your safety. Up in front are guards." And in response to his words, she looked up to see the silhouette of watchtowers rising from the waters, through the mist.
After Thorin reluctantly paid the bargeman, he ushered them into the barrels and she sat crouched as Master Bard steered the boat. Through a hole in the barrel, she watched as the watchtowers become more defined and closer and eventually, the barge stopped and she watched Bard step off the vessel to talk to another human man. While the dwarves around her became alarmed at Bilbo's narrative of Bard's talk with the other man, she remained quiet and assured that he would not 'sell them out' as Dwalin suspected. She did not know why she did not suspect him, only that no such wary feeling rose in her chest concerning the righteous man who had seemed so indignant at his superior's reign not on his behalf solely, but on the behalf of 'the hungry, starving people'. Then she was roused from her thoughts when fish fell like rain upon her. She did not know how long she sat crouched in the barrel surrounded by the putrid smell of fish.
Eventually Bard sternly silenced the groans from the company that arose due to their unfortunate situation stating: "Quiet, we are approaching the tall gate." And Laurel looked out the hole to see Lake Town appear before her out of the mist. The town rose out from the icy lake like a water spirit and Laurel looked with large eyes at the silhouette of the town with sharp towers that rose like daggers from the homogeneous mass of houses and the town was guarded by an imposing iron gate. Her heart stated to beat furiously in her chest when she heard a voice call out: "Good inspection." However relief flooded her when the individual seemed to recognize Bard. Expecting the barge to continue as the individual had greeted Bard so amiably, she was to be disappointed and once more put on edge when she heard a nasal voice state: "Not so fast." Her hand tightened into fists, as she vaguely caught snippets of Bard's discussion with someone he referred to as Alfred, who was loathe to let him pass as Bard was a bargeman and no fisherman. "Come on, Alfred. People need to eat." She heard Bard state in despair and she realised that the fish did not only serve the purpose to conceal them but primarily to feed his hungry neighbours. Sympathy for this man and his efforts rose in her chest. "These fish are illegal. Empty the barrels over the side." she heard Bard's opponent order and alarm rose within which only strengthened as she felt her barrel being raised and carried over to the railings. It was tipped over and she clung to the sides desperately to not fall and reveal the hiding company. However, the fish fell out of the barrel and soon enough it would be her to to topple out of the barrel and into the cold water. "When the people hear that the Master is dumping food into the canal and they start rioting, will it be your problem then?" Silence presided over them in response to Bard's word and she held her breathe, but then the nasal voice pierced the reticence and stated: "Stop." She exhaled loudly in relief as the barrel stood once more erect on the floor of the barge and the voice that had greeted Bard amiably stated: "Raise the gate."
The Barge continued on its journey after that perilous encounter only stopping once they had presumably reached their destination and Bard started to tip over the barrels containing the dwarves to free them. She rose out of the mass of fish and Bard extended his hand towards her and helped her out of the barrel. She smiled at him with a growing respect for this man after her discovery of his efforts, but he seemed to preoccupied to return her smile. After all the dwarves had escaped the barrels, they proceeded to follow the bowman as he led them towards his house, intent on concealing them from the eyes of the other citizens of Lake Town.