The boards squeaked and groaned beneath Sara's butt as the barge crested the manager waves of the lake on its way towards the town to the north. The soft murmurs of dwarvish from the front of the barge mingled with the whipping and snapping of the sail above her head. Kili sat beside her. He was having a difficult time with the rocking of the waves and with his injured leg bothering him as well Sara had helped him to sit with his back against the mast. His head was lean back, his eyes closed. To their left Thorin, Fili, and Balin were conversing quietly; Thorin's eyes occasionally glancing over to her and Kili. On Kili's other side huddled a sniffling Bilbo and a bit further off Dwalin sat quietly on a crate, his hand clenching and relaxing as he held his newly injured shoulder.

Sara glanced behind them to where the bargeman, Ranson, stood with the elves near the back of the boat. She was a bit surprised to see Airidan operating the rudder rather than the man. Ranson's eyes caught and held her gaze and for a moment and Sara was taken aback by his face. The last truly human face that she had seen had been little Estel's and he was only 10 years old. Ranson's face stood out among the pointed features of the elves, clashed with Bilbo's round little face and seemed soft next to that of the dwarves. His face seemed bare in comparison save for the neat mustache and a small patch of hair beneath his lower lip lip and short stubble on his chin and jawline. She had almost forgotten what a human face could look like, that she was in fact not just another dwarf in the company. Despite her more delicate features and frame, her short height fit her well amongst the others, especially when draped in Thorin's over large coat.

"He seems friendly enough," said Bilbo, his head swiveled to see what had caught her attention. With a jolt and a wash of embarrassment Sara realized she had been staring, and Ranson was now walking towards them.

"I suppose so," she said turning away. Thorin met her gaze and raised his eyebrows pointedly, jerking his head in the direction of Ranson. Sara pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. Shaking her head she turned to look at Kili. His face was pale and there was a sheen of sweat on his brow despite the chill breeze whipping past them. She squeezed his fingers and felt him return it weakly.

"Your friend doesn't look so well," said Ranson coming around to face them.

"It's nothing the lad won't recover from," said Dwalin gruffly, making as though to get to his feet. Ranson glanced at the burley dwarf as his fatigue got the best of him and Dwalin collapsed back onto his crate. Apparently the days earlier exertions had caught up to the warrior.

"You don't look so good yourself," said Ranson, stepping a bit closer to Sara and Kili and away from the dwarf.

"Mr. Dwalin was bitten by a giant spider in the forest," said Bilbo, fighting his chattering teeth.

"I heard stories of such creatures, but I had thought them not but tall tales."

"No such luck," mitered Sara. "They are very real and very dangerous. In fact their venom is one of the few things that dwarves do not recover from without aid."

"Was your friend here also bitten?" asked Ranson, inclining his head towards Kili. Sara shook her head.

"No, an arrow wound earlier today while escaping the orcs."

"He looks ill," said Ranson, concern creeping over his sun wrinkled face. "Shall I fetch the swill bucket? I would rather not clean the deck." Sara glanced at Kili. His closed eyes crinkled slightly at the corner with a weak grimace and he groaned softly.

"If you have one that might be for the best," she agreed. "Kili does tend to get motion sick." In a moment Ranson had found a bucket and held it out to Sara who tucked it into Kili's lap. "Thank you," she said, nodding to Ranson before brushing a lock of hair from Kili's face. The man watched her curiosity wrinkling his nose and brow.

"How did you come to care so for this odd group?" he asked, dragging a spare crate closer and popping down to face them.

"And why should she not," countered Dwalin morosely. Sara shot a look at Dwalin but he remained wholly unrepentant.

"I never said she shouldn't," said Ranson, waving at hand. "It was an honest question, for you must admit you are a strange collection." Sara looked around at her companions, her eyes lingering on Legolas and then even longer on Thorin. She felt a pang remembering that their party should have included one more. She shook her head and dove into the conversation, trying to distract herself.

"I suppose we are a rather odd bunch, and that's without the wizards we have traveled with, not to mention elf lord's, skin changes, or giant eagles we have met along the way."

"You have traveled with a wizard?"

"Yep, two in fact," said Sara. "Although I don't remember Radagast very well as I was delirious at the time."

"I have heard tales of Radagast for he is said to live in the southern part of the forest, but who was the other wizard?"

"Gandalf the gray," supplied Bilbo shivering. Ranson watched the hobbit stutter through the name and pulled an arm from his coat. Divesting himself he draped the ragged coat over Bilbo's shoulders but frowned when his hand brushed the hobbits neck.

"You are also suffering from a fever Mr. Baggins. You should be seen as soon as we reach Lake-town."

"Thank you," said Bilbo pulling the coat closed. "Do you know of anyone?"

"There are a few who might treat you, but my daughter could tend to you if it is a simple ailment as she's training to be a healer."

"What do you think Bilbo?" The hobbit nodded, burying his red nose and cheeks into the rough cloth of the coat. "How much longer till we arrive?" she asked, looking at the sun which was just now touching the western horizon, the sky lightly stained with its colors.

"A little over an hour," said Ranson, looking over his shoulder. We can just see the town now. There." He pointed and Sara clambered to her feet so she could see over the barges railing. In the distance and shrouded in a fog was the town. Through the mists she saw what she guessed were several watchtowers rising above the tops of the roofs with an even taller one near what appeared to be the center of town. She moved to the railing, squinting for a better view, Ranson following her.

"You never answered my question," he prompted. "How did you come to travel with such an eclectic group?" Sara turned to him, eyeing him carefully. His face was open and honest and the wrinkles near the edges of his eyes spoke of kindness and frequent laughter. Yet, there was also a dull hesitation in his gray green eyes that suggested he held much back.

"I told you, I was already traveling East to begin with when I happened to meet them in Bree."

"But why would they agree to bring you along?"

"When I met Gandalf he took a liking to me and insisted they bring me along since we were going the same direction. Besides, they were the ones who recognized the mark of Dale on a piece of jewelry I carried."

"And what has this jewelry to do with anything?"

"The necklace was all I had of my family. I'm looking for them. I had hoped to find a trace of them here in Lake town. Do you know of anyone who descends from Dale?"

"Many in Lake Town are descendants of Dale," chuckled Ranson, glancing back at Airidan and signaling him to steer right. "Perhaps you could show me the necklace in question."

"I can't," she said, feeling the weight of disappointment settle yet deeper behind her breastbone. "I lost the necklace."

"Then you may find your quest harder than imagined."

"Do you know of anyone that lost a daughter at a young age, around 24 years ago?" Ranson glanced at her, his eyes taking in her face.

"24 years you say?" She nodded hopefully, but it was dashed when his shoulders dropped and he sighed, rubbing a had over his face. "Many children are lucky to live past their first year. It is a hard life here, and many who have lost children prefer not to speak of it."

"I suppose that's true," said Sara quietly.

"How did you come to lose your family, may I ask?"

"As far as I can tell I was abandoned. I was found as a baby by a woman named Clarisse Miller and she raised me as her own. But I have always wanted to know my biological parents, to find out what happened and why I was alone."

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help."

"It's all right," she said. "Are there any geological records kept in Lake-town? A census taken perhaps?"

"I believe so, but citizens are not normally allowed to view such without the express permission of the master of the lake. As a traveler you may find it difficult to persuade him. The master is not known for openness and honesty, a fact that displeases many."

"I was under the impression your town prospers under his leadership. Before we left, King Thranduil mentioned that the master is a shrewd and successful businessman." Ranson's face hardened and he snorted derisively.

"Shrewd and successful he may be, but his short list of virtues does not include generosity nor a sense of responsibility for the people of Lake-town. Many languish under his leadership while he lounges in his relative opulence."

"Relative opulence?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Ranson gave another snort.

"For all the airs the master assumes, his fortune is really quite small when compared to that of leaders in other lands. In times of old Lake town was a bustling and prosperous town, not as well to do as Dale mind you but well off. But several generations ago that all changed."

"Because of Smaug the dragon?"

"Aye, the dragon drove away the dwarves and the people of dale and lake town suffered right along with them. Even before the master came we were struggling. But he brought a garrison of his own men with him, promising safety and prosperity if we elected him our leader."

"Did he not deliver on his promise?" she asked.

"For a short time it seemed there was more wealth and food to go around, but after a few years things gradually declined. More of our children went to bed hungry and wore shabbier and shabbier clothing. Although we knew that goods and food were coming into town, they never seemed to reach the market and meanwhile there were no shortages for the master or his guards. Conditions have only grown worse in the past year and many are unsatisfied with his leadership. Some are even…" But here Ranson broke off. "Forgive me. It's not right of me to burden you with the cares of our town."

"Don't worry," said Sara. "It's interesting and informative and confirms some of my own suspicions about the master." Ranson eyed her skeptically.

"If you have never been here how could you have suspicions of the master?"

"Oh… rumors," she said, waving a hand, trying to cover her blunder.

"I was not aware Lake-town merited enough notoriety to generate rumors," said Ranson, folding his arms over his chest.

"A few," said Sara, not looking at him but rather bending over to pick at the railing of the barge. "Still, it doesn't bode well for a purpose if the master is so... well, disinterested in looking after his own people."

"Only in their money," said Ranson bitterly. She turned to lean against the railing.

"Still, I suppose we have to try."

"Try what?"

"To convince him of the danger of the orcs and goblins headed this way. We hope to make an alliance with the master and convince him to evacuate the town." Thorin broke from his conversation and approached, Bain following behind him as Fili went to sit beside his brother.

"You're going to find it difficult to persuade the master of anything that doesn't increase the bulk of his pocketbook," said Ranson.

"Indeed," said Thorin, coming to stand on Sara's other side. "All the more reason for us to see him."

"It is to our benefit that Prince Legolas and the others decided to join us in the end," said Balin. "He may be able to persuade the master where we will not."

"I wouldn't count on it. And I was not aware that you were listening in on our conversation," said Ranson a bit miffed.

"Clearly you have not been around dwarves then," said Legolas, approaching them. "Although it's hardly their fault. Dwarves and elves have a heightened sense of hearing so your conversation is all but private in such close quarters."

"I was not aware," said Ranson, frowning.

"Don't let it bother you," said Sara. " Even Bilbo has better hearing than we do. The only way to keep a secret in this group is to not speak it aloud, although with Nori around even that's no guarantee." From the other side of the barge Nori's head shot up at the sound of his name and Sara fought to stifle a laugh.

"I'll keep that in mind," said Ranson seriously.

The red-gold light from the torches stained the surrounding mist as they drew beneath the arches of the South Watergate of Lake-town. The sun had gone down some time ago and Sara shivered with the cold that was steadily seeping into her.

"Percy! Open the gate for pity sake," called Ranson into the fog.

"Ranson is that you?" came the reply. The glow of a torch bobbed closer to them though the bearer was still indiscernible.

"Of course it's me you old codger," called Ranson good naturedly. "Quickly now before we all freeze."

"We? Who's we? Who have ya go with ya besides yer barrels?"

"Open the gate and find out man. Come on now, it's bound to snow tonight. Don't keep us out in the cold."

"Alright. Alright. Give me half a second."

There was a grinding and squeaking that was reminiscent of nails on a black board as the portcullis was raised out of the dark water and they entered into the city. Sara tried not to flinch as water dripped from the slimy moss covered gate above and landed on her scalp, sliding down her neck and under her collar. Beside her stood Thorin, one hand absolutely resting on his sword and the other on her back. To her right Legolas's back was straight, his head held high and arms crossed expectedly over his chest. The torch bobbed closer once again and they could see a man on the wooden walkway to their right.

"By the stars, who are all those people with ya Ranson," said the stooped old man as he peered at them with squinty eyes, holding his torch higher.

"Travelers with urgent business, here to see the master," replied Ranson, catching a hold on the dock and securing the barge in place.

"Fat chance he will see them at this hour," snorted Percy, extending an empty hand expectantly. "Let's see yer papers before Alfrid and the others arrive. No doubt they'll be skulking around here soon enough. I have a feeling he will not take kindly to yer additional cargo."

"Here you are," said Ranson, stepping onto the wooden planks of the walkway. He fished inside his jacket and pulled a folded paper from a pocket and handed it to the old man.

"We are hardly cargo," said Legolas, cutting into their conversation, irritation etched in the lines of his brow. Percy glanced up at them ducking his head in a little bow.

"No offence to you good sirs, whoever ya may be, but to the master ya be little else. I'm sure I don't…"

"What have we here?" cut in an oily voice from the shadows of an overhang. Even from her place on the barge Sara could hear Ranson muttering under his breath as the man that stepped into the light. He was of average build and height, dressed in long dirty black robes closed with a gold leaf clasps and a belt worn especially high. Over this was a black furred cloak that had seen one too many years of service and atop his head was an oddly cylindrical looking hat with flaps pulled low over his ears. His face was scruffy and unkempt, yellowing teeth peeking out from under his mustache which was rivaled only by the line of hair stretching between eyebrows in a solid line.

"Ranson has returned with his usual barrels from the Woodland realm," informed Percy, not quite shuffling out of the way fast enough to avoid being knocked aside by one of the five guards that accompanied Alfrid.

"And so he has," said Alfrid, yanking the paper from Percy's hand and turning to Ranson. "But last I checked, you were licensed as a bargeman, not a ferryman. Leave the barrels and return this sorry lot to where you found them. We have enough to be getting on with without the troubles they surely bring."

"I can't do that," said Ranson stanchly.

"And why not? They are elves and dwarves. What business could they possibly have here except to be begging help?"

"They are escorting a woman," said Ranson. Alfrid glanced over the bargeman's shoulder. Sara felt Thorin draw ever-so-slightly closer as Alfrid's dark eyes roved over her quickly, the bridge of his nose wrinkled in disgust. Sara was unsure if she felt self-conscious or infuriated. She knew she was far from kempt, but someone who looked like this man had no business looking down on anyone for their appearance.

"And so what if they are. They found her, they can take care of her. The last thing we need is another scrawny waif haunting our streets."

"Have a care how you speak of Sara," warned Thorin, a hand on his sword hilt. "There are many here who would gladly strike you down for your ill comments."

"She is still none of my concern," sneered Alfrid. "Away with you now or there will be trouble. You're not welcome here."

"Perhaps you were not listening," said Ranson, stepping closer to Alfrid who instinctively drew back from the larger man. "I will not return her to the lakeshore." The five guards stepped forward, hands on gleaming weapons. Alfrid glanced around, drawing cowardly strength from his peers and reached out, attempting to shove Ranson, but the bargeman didn't budge an inch. Alfrid huffed irritably before a simpering smile spread over his oily face.

"And I say you will return them. That, or you can forget about your business license. You'll have no work." Sara watched the altercation with apprehension. What would they do if they were not allowed to enter Lake-town. Beside her Legolas had apparently had enough. He leapt onto the boardwalk to stand beside Ranson.

"I am Legolas Greenleaf and you will let this party pass." Instantly the guards had their weapons trained on the elf, but in the same moment four bows were drawn and aimed at them in return. Even Thorin had his own sword half drawn. Sara tensed waiting.

"What of it?" barked Alfrid defiantly. "Why should I care who you, or any of these vagabonds are?"

"Because Alfrid," said Ranson, smirking. "If you knew the names were our allies you would know that this is the son of King Thranduil. This is the prince of the Woodland realm." Alfrid's face was blank for a moment before it drained of any remaining color. But a moment later his beady eyes hardened."

"And how can you prove such a claim. It seems highly unlikely that such an esteemed person would arrive in such an unorthodox fashion. If you are indeed the elf prince as you say, why not ride up to the front gate with an entourage? Why enter the back gate at night?"

"That is none of your concern," stated Legolas curtly. "I demand that you take us to see the master at once." Alfrid looked him up and down, squinting.

"Even if I were inclined to believe your cockamamie story, the master is currently indisposed. Completely out of the question to see him until at least tomorrow afternoon during the normal hours."

"Indisposed my…" began Ranson, but he was cut off by Legolas.

"Be that as it may, by the terms of our treaty you are required to allow myself and my friends inside this town." Alfrid frowned, mulling over his options. At last he sighed and relented.

"Very well, you and the other elves may enter. But the others will have to leave."

"They all come with me," stated Legolas.

"You would be most unwise to turn them away," said Ranson.

"And why is that?" simpered Alfrid. "Going to claim that you have more royalty in your party?"

"Actually we do," said Legolas. He pointed to where Fili was helping Kili to stand. "Those two are dwarf princes and this is King Thorin Oakenshield." There was a blank look on Alfrid's face.

"Are those names supposed to mean anything to me? I told you before, we have no treaty with dwarves. Now, either the elves come in alone, or you all shove off." Alfrid folded his arms over his chest, attempting to stair down Legolas and Ranson to no effect.

"Oh, I've had enough of this lippy lake man," growled Dwalin pushing forward. "I say we toss him in the water and have done with it." Looking around Sara could tell that several of the others echoed his sentiments. She could hardly blame them, she too felt the urge to crunch her fist into Alfrid's smug jaw. The five guards shifted their attention to Dwalin and the company and Sara was mildly satisfied to see a thrill of fear flash across Alfrid's peaky face. Dwalin took another step forward, his knuckles cracking, but just as Thorin laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, staying him, Nori tossed something small into the air. It landed with a tell-tale clink at Alfrid's feet, a few gold coins spilling across the dirty boards and gleaming up at him in the torchlight. The shift in Alfrid's face was almost immediate. He glanced around at the soldiers and then stooped to collect the tiny purse and it spilled contents, mentally counting the coins. Legolas glared at Nori and Sara could tell that the elf was only just holding his exasperation in check. Nori merely shrugged nonchalantly.

"What's this then? A bribe?" asked Alfrid shrewdly.

"Not at all," drawled Nori sarcastically. "Think of it as a show of our faith in your good and noble character."

"Then you definitely over paid," said Ranson. Alfred lowered at him, but kept the purse tightly clenched in his fingers non the less.

"We are not asking for charity," said Thorin, his voice flat and even. "We can pay our own way. All we ask is that you allow us inside the city and let us speak with the master of the lake."

"You say you can pay your own way?" asked Alfred, weighing the coins thoughtfully in his hand. "So you have more like this?" Nori shook his coat so his pockets clinked and jangled audibly.

"We can and we do," said Thorin in the bland voice he used when he was disgusted.

"And you will cause no trouble? Just speak to the master tomorrow and then be on your way?"

"Once our business is concluded we will depart," agreed Thorin. Alfrid watched them for a moment, the gears in his mind almost visibly grinding into motion as his expression shifted.

"Welcome to Lake-town my good sirs and lady," he simpered. "Let them pass," he barked to the guards before turning on his heel to leave.

"Wait," called Legolas, bringing Alfrid to a halt. "Where might we find accommodations for the night?"

"What do I look like? The blooming inn keeper? You're in the city and you'll see the master tomorrow. Find your own beds." With these parting words the man turned and disappeared into the gloom, the guards following. Legolas looked to Percy and Ranson, and the old man clamored to answer.

"There used to be an inn," said Percy. "But it went out of business long ago on account of us having few to no visitors in our town. It was abandoned and has since fallen into disrepair. The only extra rooms to be had in town now belong to the master, and as you heard he is…"

"Yes indisposed," said Legolas frowning. Bilbo sneezed violently, rubbing at his nose blearily.

"You could stay with me for the night," offered Ranson hesitantly. "It's not much. I haven't beds, only a dry floor and few spare blankets to speak of, but you are welcome to it."

"Sounds better than being snowed on," said Nori, looking into the sky.

"And it seems we are unlikely to receive any other offers," said Balin. "Have you room for a party our size?"

"It will be cramped," admitted Ranson. "But I believe my friend Eric will be willing to put a few of you up for the night. He lives just next door."

"And he won't mind the intrusion?" asked Airidan. Ranson shook his head.

"I shouldn't think so. Besides," he said, running hand over the back of his neck. "My youngest would have my hide if I let the chance slip by for her to meet elves and dwarves."

"Well let's not disappoint the wee lass then," said Bofur, the wine bottle once again in hand. Nori swiped the bottle and took a long draft before handing it back, empty, to a disgruntled Bofur.

"I agree," said the thief. " It's got to beat sleeping on a dungeon floor or on the beach under a blanket of snow." Ranson eyed the thief doubtfully.

"Well acquainted with dungeons are you?" he asked, looking as though he were regretting his hasty offer.

"No more than usual," said Nori casually.

"And what is usual?" Here Legolas stepped in.

"They were for a time in my father's dungeons."

"And why is that?" asked Ranson, looking to Thorin.

"We were mistaken for vagrants and beggars in his lands and were wrongfully imprisoned until our purpose and intent could be proved otherwise."

"But that was taken care of? The master will throw you out if he thinks it will endanger his trade agreement with Thranduil." Sara glanced at Legolas. They would need to be careful not to let the master know what was really going on in Mirkwood.

"I would not be here if it hadn't," said Legolas. "Set your mind at ease on that front." Ranson seemed mollified by his answer and turned to Thorin.

"Very well, my offer stands. You are welcome in my home for the evening. What say you?" Thorin looked around at the others, weighing their non-existent options, his eyes lingering on Dwalin and Kili.

"We will accept your gracious offer."

"Then let's be off," said Ranson. They clambered aboard the barge once more, Ranson bidding farewell to Percy as they moved further into town.

They made their way silently through the water bound town. The boardwalk streets were near empty, only the occasional figure quickly darting from shadow to shadow in the mist that was beginning to lift. The town was built on wooden stilts that raised the buildings a foot or two above the surface of the water. The homes and business themselves were squished together, as often as not, sharing walls with their neighbors. Small boats and dinghies littered the waterways, the occasion bridge spanning over them. From what she could see, the town reminded her of a ghetto version of Venice.

Despite the poor visibility Ranson maneuvered the barge with finesse, gliding them smoothly into what appeared to be the center of town. A large open space of water was surrounded by buildings but one in particular stood out from the others. The structure in question was at least three or four times the size of anything they had yet encountered in lake town and before its doors was erected a larger than life bronze statue of a paunchy looking man. Fires were lit in small braziers on either side of the figure casting wavering shadows over the glinting surface.

"The master of the Lake," said Ranson, giving a sarcastic little bow as they passed by. About ten minutes later they came to a stop near the Eastern edge of town. The house before them looked like so many of the others Sara had seen but was spared being squished between its neighbors like a piece of an ill-conceived sandwich.

"Follow me," said Ranson, nodding to Sara and Thorin. Together they climbed the short flight of wooden steps to the door followed closely by Legolas. There were voices coming from within, but as the door opened quietly, silence fell like a blanket of fresh snow. From behind Ranson, Sara could see a man look up from where he stood bent over a parchment on the table. Two children, a boy and younger girl sat with the remnants of a meal before them. All was still for a moment.

"Da!" squealed the girl scrambling from her chair and propelling herself forward to latch around Ranson's middle. "Where have you been? You're late."

"Sorry love," said Ranson, returning the girl's embrace. "Something came up."

"Da?" asked the girl, letting go and peering around his waist, her blue-gray eyes wide. "Who are they?" She pointed out the door to the faces peering in.

"They are the reason I am late," said Ranson stepping aside so Sara, Thorin, and Legolas could enter. Sara looked around the room. It was small but tidy. A merry fire was crackling away in the hearth and as Sara got a clearer view of the room she saw an older girl and a woman sitting at a window seat. There was a relieved yet confused look on the girl's face.

"But who are they?" asked the little girl, hopping from one foot to the other excitedly.

"Patience Tilda," chided Ranson.

"I'm sorry we kept your father," said Sara, looking around the room and meeting eyes with each individual in turn. "I hope we didn't cause you to worry too much. My name is Sara Miller. Your father was kind enough to help us out of a difficult situation." The girl's eyes grew even wider as Tauriel and Fili helped support a limping Kili through the door. The woman and older girl immediately moved away from the window surrendering the seat to Kili who nodded appreciatively.

"Da you brought home elves with you!" exclaimed the girl in wonder, brushing a stray lock of dirty blonde hair from her face.

"And dwarves as well, if I'm not mistaken," said the man, snatching the paper from the table before folding and tucking it into a pocket. His hair was a short messy auburn, almost the color of cattails in the fall. His green eyes sparked with good humor, but the square shape of his clean shaven jawline was all business and leant a flinty look to face.

"Yes but who are they?" insisted Tilda.

"I was coming to that if you would give me…"

"What's going on Father?" asked the older girl, coming around the table but halting as more of the company filed into the room. She resembled her younger sister save that her hair was a few shades darker towards chestnut and pulled back in a braid set close to the back of her head. The third of the children, a boy had dark hair like his fathers and soft brown eyes and a crease of premature worry between his brows. As the others continued to file in the two older children moved back to make room. Tilda on the other hand just stood in the center, watching raptly. She reminded Sara irresistibly of Estel the night that she and Thorin had first caught him in the kitchens. She even looked to be about his same age. As Bilbo shuffled into the room he gave a tremendous sneeze.

"Da, look," said Tilda, pointing to the hobbit. "He's even shorter than the others. Even shorter than me."

"Tilda," scolded Ranson. Bilbo turned, offense and consternation flashing briefly across his face before he caught a glimpse of the speaker. His face softened somewhat.

"It's alright," he said, raising a hand. He looked at the girl. "My name is Mr. Bilbo Baggins. I am a hobbit. I hail from the shire away to the west."

"I've never met a hobbit before," she said. "Are all hobbits short?" Bilbo looked taken aback by her bluntness.

"When compared to the other races I suppose so. But it's considered quite rude to mention it. Besides, I'll have you know that for my kind I am actually rather tall."

"Oh," said Tilda, biting her lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Don't fret," assured Bilbo. "I'm not offended." He turned ready to move further into the room but Tilda reached out and caught his sleeve.

"Mr. Bilbo," she said, glancing up at her father quickly. "Will you be my friend? I'd like to have a hobbit as a friend."

"Then ya couldn't have picked a better one to ask," said Bofur, clomping past and clapping a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "Mr. Baggins here is about the nicest fellow you could hope to meet." Bilbo looked a bit pink around the ears. Tilda looked at the hobbit awaiting an answer.

"If you wish to be friends that would be agreeable to me," replied Bilbo.

"What about me?" protested Bofur, turning to the little girl. "Have ya ever had a dwarf for a friend?" Tilda looked the toymaker up and down, thinking.

"Well... you are a bit taller than me," she said, taking a step closer to Bofur. "But I suppose you will have to do." Bofur laughed heartily.

"My name is Bofur lass, pleased to meet ya. And if you'll be needing an elf to complete yer collection, ya can always try Leggy over there." Bofur jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Legolas who unfortunately had heard the dwarf. Despite the plain murder in the elf's eyes he remained in place, but Sara could have sworn she saw a smirk flit across Airidan's face as he passed by. "Ya see lass he's quite the catch because he's an elf prince."

"He is?" asked Tilda, glancing at Legolas lowering her voice growing quiet quieter in their conspiracy.

"Move in, move in," groused Dwalin, pushing past the toymaker and making his way slowly to collapse on the window seat beside Kili.

"Tilda," called the woman extending a hand for the little girl. The woman had long dark hair with dark eyes to match and wore an odd hat with beads strung over one ear. "Come over here and let them all inside." Reluctantly the girl compiled. Soon they had all squeezed inside, most of them standing around the edges of the room.

"Welcome to my home," said Ranson when most of the movement had ceased. "These are my children. Bain is 16," he pointed to the boy. "Sigrid is 15." He nodded to the other girl. "And of course my youngest Tilda who is almost ten."

"My birthday is tomorrow," said Tilda beaming.

"These two," continued Ranson, "Are my friends Eric and his wife Hilda. They live next door." The couple nodded, watching the group uncertainty.

"But who pray tell are you guests?" asked the redheaded man Eric. "Where did you stumble across such a group?"

"They were at the dock waiting with the barrels. They asked for a ride into town. They say they have urgent business with the master."

"Then why did they not come to the main gate and why are they here now?"

"We are being hunted by a pack of orcs and could not spare the time ," said Thorin plainly.

"And you brought them here?" shot Eric, looking to Ranson. "With orcs tailing them? They could spoil our plans."

"Your plans," correctly Ranson. "I have told you before that while I agree with you, I want nothing to do with your harebrained schemes." Eric scowled.

"You could put us in danger."

"You are already in danger," said Sara. "That's why we're here. The orcs may be after us, but they are preparing to bring war to your land. They will be here in a matter of weeks. We came to speak to the master, to warn him."

"I would have taken them to see the master but you know how he operates," said Ranson sourly.

"He doesn't," said Eric, spitting into the fire.

"As it is they are lucky to be in the city at all. Alfrid was at the town gate and was all set to turn them away." Eric nodded knowingly.

"Indeed he is most troublesome, coward though he be. But just who are you people, how came you to be pursued by orcs?"

"I'm Legolas Greenleaf son of King Thranduil," said the elf stepping forward. "These are my close friends, Tauriel, Airidan, Myrin and Lierin."

"And you?" asked Eric, turning to Thorin.

"I am Thorin Oakenshield, King of the dwarves. This is my company of friends and companions, including Ms. Sara Miller and Bilbo Baggins."

"Quite the party you are, but why are orcs pursuing you? What of this war you speak of? What's going on?" Thorin sighed and opened his mouth to speak but Sara beat him to.

"Look,' she said, rubbing a tired hand over her eyebrow. "Not to be rude or anything, but it's been a long day. We have been through quite an ordeal. Many of us have not eaten or slept in almost two days. Some of us are injured and we even lost…" But the words caught in her throat.

"We lost a friend and companion earlier today," finished Tauriel. "Might explanations wait until the morning?"

"Indeed two of our company have a long journey to begin tomorrow," said Legolas.

"But what about…" started Eric. Hilda rested hand on his arm bringing him to a halt.

"Have a heart love," she said. "Can't you see they're exhausted. Leave well enough alone until morning." Eric seemed to deflate under his wife's touch and he rubbed a hand over the back of his head and then down his face, blowing out a puff of air.

"You are right," he said, squeezing his wife's hand before turning to face the group again. "Please forgive me my lack of manners."

"Not at all," assured Balin, speaking quickly for them. "It's only natural to want answers, especially when faced with such odd circumstances. We would be glad to enlighten you more of our particular tale in the morning before we go to the master."

"If he sees," said Eric.

"Right," said Ranson, seeking to change the subject. "Eric, as you can see this is a large group. I had hoped you would also allow a few of my guests to stay with you for the night." Eric pursed his lips, rolling his eyes.

"Of course you did." He sighed, his wife giving him a look. "Very well, but I can't say accommodations next door will be any better."

"What of your wounded?" asked Hilda, glancing around. "What can Sigrid and I do to help?" Here Oin stepped forward.

"I did not get the chance to properly cleanse the wounds from earlier today as we were on the run. Do you have any spare bandaging? Some hot water and an antiseptic herb would be beneficial as well."

"That can certainly be arranged," said Hilda. She and Sigrid got to work as Tilda and Bain jumped to clear away the empty dishes on the table. Soon the small room was bustling with activity.

Oin directed the tending of the company's wounds, even seeing to Tauriel's head as Legolas, Thorin, Ranson and Eric discussed sleeping arrangements. Tilda had been quick to drag Bilbo and Bofur off to a corner of the room and sat talking animatedly to them. Bofur held a small chunk of firewood in his hands and was happily carving away as Tilda peppered him with questions. Myrin and Lierin had disappeared, but Sara suspected they were nearby keeping watch on the house. The others found various tasks to help with. Bombur had begun to cook a large pot of stew over the fire with Hilda occasionally checking to see that he had what he needed.

Kili was still sick to his stomach and Dwalin had yet to recover his strength. At first Sara chose to sit with them as Oin tended to them with Sigrid's help, but she soon found that she could not stomach it. The memory of a tangy blood in her mouth was still fresh in her mind. Noticing her distress Fili had seen her to a chair at the table. He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her reassuringly before he returned to Kili's side. Seeking for a way to distract her mind and fingers Sara asked Bomber if she could help cut the vegetables. At first he had insisted that he had everything under control, but after a quick whispered word from Bifur, Bomber had quickly surrendered the vegetables to her care. Soon enough, all were doctored up, fed a thick and hearty stew and all thoughts turned to rest.

It had been decided that Dori, Nori, and Ori, along with Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur would stay with Eric and Hilda while the others remained with Ranson and his family. Ranson had tried to insist that Sara take his bed, but she had declined. She had intended to sleep in the main room with the others as usual, but when Sigrid and Tilda had approached her, offering to let her share their bed, it was impossible to turn down the excited little girl. Thankfully Bilbo and Tauriel had included a blanket in all the packs, not that the dwarves really needed the extra warmth, especially indoors, but it meant that Dwalin, Kili, and poor sniffling Bilbo could be made more comfortable. At last everyone had found a spot to rest and the house was quiet.

Sara lay with her back to the two sleeping girls, Tilda snuggly pressed to her back and Hilda on her sisters other side. Sigrid had offered Sara one of her nightgowns for the night and at first Sara had wanted to turn her down. She had never liked nightgowns, but then she had realized the state of her clothes. Not wanting to dirty the bed or offend the sisters, she had taken the offered garment. The two sisters had long since fallen asleep, but sleep was slow in coming to Sara. The little room was dark and quiet save for the sound of the waves on the lake below them.

Unoccupied and half dozing, her mind began to sift through the events of the day. Inevitably her mind wandered to Ruven and the orc's attack. Fear and panic jerked Sara back to full awareness and she sat up on the edge of the bed rubbing her face in her hands, trying to ignore the unwanted adrenaline coursing through her body, putting all her nerves on full alert. A wash of suppressed emotions crashed over her and she stood, fighting back the panic. It was certain she would not be sleeping tonight. Not wishing to disturb the sisters with her tossing and turning, Sara rose from the bed, tucking the blanket back around Tilda. Trapped in a little girl's hand was the wooden squirrel that Bofur had presented to her as an early birthday gift.

The old lace hem of the nightgown brushed against at the back of Sara's knees and she quickly slipped out of it and back into her day clothes. Dirty or not she would at least be comfortable. After months on the road sleeping in the same clothes that she traveled in, it was certainly more comfortable than a nightgown. What she wouldn't give to have some of her old earth clothes. Drawing her blanket around her shoulders she exited the small bedroom and made her way to the main living room where the others were sleeping.

The glow of the fire cast golden shadows over her friends' faces and she smiled at the familiar buzz of their snores. Dwalin snoozed on the padded window seat, one arm flung over his face, and Kili slept in a chair beside him, he's injured leg propped up on a basket. Against the wall between them, his blond fuzzed chin resting on his chest slept Fili. At first Sara was tempted to simply curl up next to him but he was sleeping so soundly that she didn't want to wake him. Instead she turned to go to the fire where Bilbo lay curled on his side, snoring louder than normal. She passed Balin asleep in a padded armchair and Oin and Gloin passed out under the table. Even Myrin and Lierin were leaning against each other, slumped against the wall near the door. She was looking for one face in particular but Thorin was not to be seen, and not indeed were Tauriel, Airidan or Legolas. She sighed. Perhaps Thorin was next door checking on the others, or he had chosen to stay the night there as well.

A shiver ran up her back and she moved to sit in front of the fire, grabbing her back from the pile at the end of the table as she passed. She pulled her puzzle box from within its pockets, intent on checking to see if the phone had survived the flight from Mirkwood. She had checked it physically earlier when Dwalin had brought her bag to her but the phone had been without power. She had let the solar battery sit out for a while but before she had been able to power up her phone, Ranson had arrived and she had been forced to hide it away once again. Leaning back against her pack Sara pushed her toes closer to the flames as her fingers smooth over the grooves in the puzzle box. The house was silent and there was little chance of her being disturbed by Ranson or one of his children. Carefully she found the pin and released the catch, sliding the box open just as the front door opened as well.

Hastily she tried to tuck the box under her shirt and turned to see who had come in. The door closed with a soft click of the catch and Thorin stepped into the firelight. He began to slip out of his boots but as if feeling her eyes on him he turned and caught her gaze. She let out a relieved breath, pulling the boxout from under her shirt as he padded toward her in his socks.

"I wondered if I might see you here later tonight," he said, softly sinking to sit on the floor beside her. He pulled off his coat and she reached out to brush away some of the snowflakes that had caught in the fur. They melted on her fingertips and she flicked the moisture at him. He did not dodge, merely raised an eyebrow at her. "Did you find it difficult to sleep?" She nodded, turning her face back to the fire, it's heat prickling her cheeks.

"It's too… quiet. My mind didn't want to shut off," she said. He nodded and they sank into an easy silence for a few moments.

"How much snow?" she asked, wiping her hand on her pants before pulling her phone out of the box.

"Only a light dusting, but it only just began," he said. He produced his pipe from his pocket and proceeded to fill and light it. The red glow at the end of the pipe cast a red light over his face as the sweet smell of his tobacco floated toward her. Her fingers absently smoothed over the surface of her phone as she watched the flames dance.

"Sara?" She looked up at him. "I have a request to make of you." She froze unsure what he would ask.

"Sure, what is it?"

"I wish to read the book."

"The Hobbit?" she asked. He nodded.

"I want to read the full account in detail, such as it is."

"Are you sure?"

"I would not ask if I were not." She sighed.

"No I don't suppose you would. I'm convinced you never do anything if you weren't sure of it."

"I try not to," he agreed. "May I read it?" There wasn't anything in the book to give away the true nature of Bilbo's ring or anything pertaining to the future. Was there? Nothing came immediately to mind.

"I think so," she said. "Can I ask you why you want to read it?"

"I hope it will aid us in making wise decisions for the future," he said, but he did not meet her gaze. She had the distinct feeling that was not the only reason.

"And?" she coaxed. He sighed, surrendering.

"I wish to abate or confirm my fears," he admitted. "I must know if I truly succumb to dragon sickness. If so I hope to take steps to prevent it."

"Is that possible?"

"There's no way to be certain," he said. "But if it's true then I have to try."

"All right," she said. "But I'll have to teach you how to navigate my phone and you must promise not to get rid of any of the pictures."

"Even if I knew of such things, why would I?"

"Because I may have a few of you," she admitted. His eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch.

"You have an image of me on your device?"

"I do, although to be fair it was Fili and Kili who took it."

"I wish to see it," he said. "Will you show me?"

"Are you going to make me erase it?" He snorted.

"I believe I have given up on ever trying to make you do something you don't wish to Sara."

"Good. Then I will show you. There's not a lot of battery life but it should be enough to at least acquaint you with the basics." She plugged the power into the phone and booted it up while Thorin tapped out his pipe into the fireplace. Once he had stowed his pipe once again she showed him where the power button and volume control were.

"This is the music app," she said pointing. "But I would not recommend using it here. I mean you should obviously only use the phone where no one else can see, but if your room or pocket suddenly breaks into a chorus of Three Days Grace or the Carpenters, people are bound to start asking uncomfortable questions."

"I will not be careless," he said.

"I know. Okay this is where the files for the book are. Open this here, and this button will allow you to switch from page to page or chapter to chapter. I think that currently we are in chapter 10, A Warm welcome." Thorin chuckled.

"It has hardly been a warm welcome." She grinned.

"No, your right. It hasn't exactly gone according to plan or script. Just be careful with my phone, it's one of the last things I have from home."

"I will return it to you in good condition, have no fear. What's this?" he asked, returning them to the home screen and pointing to a bright yellow figure.

"Oh that's the game Pac-Man." She tapped it and quickly turned the volume off as the game started up. Thorin watched as she moved the little yellow figure across the screen.

"I know not what you are doing, but it is mesmerizing."

"Yeah, Fili and Kili found that out the hard way."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You remember the night the trolls stole the ponies and almost ate you all?"

"That is something I am not likely to forget anytime soon," he said, grimacing.

"Well let's just say that... and you're not allowed to be angry with them because it was forever ago, but Fili and Kili may have been playing Pac-Man instead of paying as much attention to the ponies as they should." Thorin scowled.

"Is that so?" She nodded.

"But they have hardly touched my phone since. I can't say I blame them. Phones cause lots of people to become distracted back on earth. Many people get hurt because they are paying attention to their phones and not their surroundings, especially when they are driving a car," she said. Thorin was watching his nephews. Kili moaned quietly, his face pinched in pain but he did not wake.

"Where is this image you have of me," he asked. She tapped the screen and brought up her photos, scrolling through them till she found one that she was looking for. She handed him the phone and he took it gingerly, staring at the image for a long time.

"It is a remarkable likeness," he said at last.

"It's not just a likeness," she said. "This is exactly how you looked. "See, watch this." She took the phone back from him and quickly snapped a picture of Bilbo's sleeping face before showing it to him.

"It is remarkable," he said, glancing back and forth from the phone and Bilbo. His thumb touched the screen shifting it to the next image and he was soon engrossed in perusing the pictures. Sara watched as he flicked through all the pictures of the company before he stopped.

"What is that behind you?" asked Thorin, his forehead wrinkling in confusion as he handed her back the phone. It was a picture of her standing in front of her green 1989 Honda Civic hatchback.

"That was my car," she said. "My roommate Melody took that picture just before I left on that last camping trip that led me here. Gosh was that really only four months ago?" She pushed the image to the side going further and further back in time with each picture. Thorin watched intently over her shoulder not speaking, but she could tell his list of mental questions grew with each image. A wash of regret swept over her as the pictures flipped by. Her phone gave a small beep and died once again. They sat there in silence for a few moments.

"Would it be acceptable for me to view those images again while your phone is in my care?" he asked. She looked over at him.

"Sure, I have no secrets to hide." She handed him the phone and charger. It grew quiet again as they each were lost in their own thoughts.

"Do you miss it terribly?" She glanced over him confused. "Your old home, Earth," he clarified. She studied her hands unsure how to answer at first.

"Of course I miss it. I grew up there."

"What about it do you miss most. It seems like such an alien world to me yet I know it is a part of who you are."

"I miss sweatpants," she said at last.

"What are sweatpants?"

"Very warm but loose-fitting pants that are perfect for sleeping in on cold winter nights like tonight." He nodded.

"What else do you yearn for?"

"I miss Coke, being able to get a cold Coke for the fridge. And shower. Baths are fine and all, but I do miss the water beating down on my back like a waterfall but hot. I miss my car. I don't think I will ever again complain about a long car ride, not that I'm likely to ever see a car again. Do you know that with a car we could have made this whole trip in a few days, although I suppose we would have needed more of a bus." She knew she was rambling, but somehow she cannot stop the flood of words spilling for her mouth, and Thorin just sat listening.

"I miss modern conveniences and how easy they make life. I miss how big modern technology makes the world." She hesitated before going on. "I miss... I miss being safe," she said, her voice so quiet she almost didn't hear it. Thorin drew in a sharp breath as her fingers trailed over the inside of her wrists and a moment later he had pressed close to her side. He tipped her face up to meet his, a finger under her chin.

"You know I will always do all my power to see to your safety Sara. I'm sorry for my shortcomings in the past." She shook her head.

"It's not your fault," she said. "I don't blame any of you for anything that's happened. It's just... on Earth I could be me, live my life, and no one wanted me. I mean no one was after me to drag me off to some dark master or force me to tell them all the secrets of the future. I was just me. Just Sara Miller college student. For better or for worse not many people noticed there. Hear it seems that wherever I go from now on I will only bring danger to others. I don't... I don't want what happened today to happen to anyone else." Thorin reached an arm around her waist and drew her sideways into his lap.

"Sara there was nothing you could have done for him. It was not your doing." She could feel the rumble of his voice in her ribs as he spoke. She rubbed her hands over her face, willing herself control.

"I know, but I can't help it. I can't stop thinking about his face when he…"

"This is the real reason you are not abed isn't it?" She nodded.

"I close my eyes and try to sleep but all I can see is his face. His or Azog." Thorin pressed a kiss to her hair.

"You needn't say more. I understand."

"Do you have a similar problem?" She could feel him nodding.

"From time to time. More when I was younger. Anyone who has seen battle or death reacts thusly."

"Does it ever get any easier?" He was silent for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh.

"It never truly goes away, but it does ease with a distance of time. But you can't run from it or hide. Face it, embrace it. Let it strengthen your resolve for the future."

"I'm... I'm afraid to sleep," she admitted.

"That is understandable, but sleep will find you whether you're resigned to it or not. It's better not to fight it."

"Thorin, I'm so tired." She slumped into his chest, laying her head on his shoulder. "But what if I dream about…"

"It can be hard to separate the fear and grief from a person's death from the memories we carry of them, but we shouldn't let fear of a memory taint or erase all we know of them. Ruven's last act was one of sacrifice and care. Remember it as such." Sara raised a hand to swipe at a tear before it could fall. Thorin's fingers gently stroked her hair relaxing her into him. So much had happened in the last two days and it was difficult to let her mind slip free, to turn over control to her subconscious. Thorin's finger absently brushed the tip of her ear tickling it and she shifted to look up at him. He lifted his hand looking down at her.

"Do you wish me to stop?" She shook her head laying it back on his shoulder.

"Can I stay with you tonight," she asked quietly, not moving. He paused in his attention to her hair and instead slipped a hand under her chin so she was looking at him. His lips met hers in gentle assurance, his dark hair mingling with her own.

"Tonight and every other you wish."