Chapter Text
If anyone had been drowsy earlier, they weren't anymore.
The cold river water sent a jolt down your spine and snapped your eyes open wide. Thorin, who was in the lead barrel with Bilbo, grabbed the sides of the wall, and held everyone back as they righted themselves. There were grumbles about the chill, but at least no one's barrel had bobbed back up upside-down.
"Everyone duck down." Thorin ordered, and waited until the company had all crouched down in their barrels as best they could before he let go.
It was a bit difficult for Thorin and Bilbo to arrange themselves, until Bilbo shrunk down to his fairy size and tucked himself into Thorin's chest pocket. Bracing himself, Thorin got a good view through a peephole in his barrel at what was coming. Stiffening his arms and legs, the dwarf prepared for the first waterfall in their rough journey.
"Brace yourselves." Thorin called, and promptly began the waterfall tumble.
More yells were heard, despite the fact that they were trying to sneak out under the upcoming guard's noses. How had they even managed this last lifetime? Once they had stopped bobbing back and forth to the point of near capsizing, Thorin readjusted his position to keep himself as low as possible. Maybe this time they'd be able to sneak by, and the guards wouldn't get slaughtered by Bolg's ambush. A pained grunt, and splash of water in front of Thorin's barrel made the dwarf's heart sink, and it sank lower when he heard the orc snarl at the remaining elves.
A horn was sounded by one of the remaining guards, calling for back up before it was suddenly cut off because another orc had stabbed the elf. It was at that point that Thorin went over the next waterfall. They had avoided being discovered, but the elves had still fallen to the hands of Bolg's squadron. With a grunt, Thorin pushed himself up enough so he could count the barrels, hoping that the company was past the gate. Seeing it was so, the dwarf stood up and gave a loud whistle.
Orcs and elves looked out on the river, while dwarves and hobbits stood up, all looking at Thorin with blank stares.
"You missed us!" Thorin called out in a teasing manner.
All eyes grew wide as they realized that Thorin was purposely calling the orcs, and elves, to chase after them. But Thorin wasn't willing to have Bolg kill the elves that would be needed when the bastards came to attack Erebor later. Thorin hefted up his axe instead of Orcrist, and mentally prepared for the next round of battle ahead. It was not going to be an easy one. The rapids and the spinning in the barrels, indeed, made it difficult to focus on the enemies upon the shoreline. The orcs shot arrows at the dwarrows and hobbits, thankfully only hitting the barrels and not flesh. That was one thing that Thorin was thankful for, Kíli hadn't gotten injured with the poisoned arrow… yet… hopefully not… please?
The elves and the orcs were chasing each other, and the barrels filled with either a dwarf or a hobbit, down both sides of the riverbank. Arrows flew, orc and elves dropped, either injured or dead. Some orcs succeeded in jumping on top of the barrels, but they were quickly killed or just knocked off by the barrel's occupant, or by Bilbo or Hildifons zipping out of hiding to yank them off before zipping back in to hide. One orc jumped on Dwalin's barrel, prompting the dwarf to grab the orc's axe and ram the orc into the rapids via head-slam. Forcing his barrel to face forward again, Dwalin was greeted to the lovely little sight of a dead tree over the river with about a dozen or so orcs on top of it.
"Cut the log!" Thorin yelled.
Any dwarf with an axe in their hand, (whether it was orc or dwarven didn't matter), that could still reach the log, swung their current weapon of choice at the makeshift bridge. Dori, Nori, Glóin, Bofur, Bifur, Fíli, Thorin, and Dáin, dodged the orc weapons as they chipped away the wood. Dwalin's blow cut through the log completely, sending the orcs upon it crashing into the water.
An orc spearman sprung onto Bombur's barrel, and they went under the water with a splash. When they surfaced again, the orc had been skewered by his own spear, and the force of it propelled Bombur, barrel and all, onto the riverbank. The barrel mowed down several orcs, bouncing off of rocks, bounced over the river, and plowed down more orcs before finally coming to a stop. The orcs surrounded the barrel, and Bombur's feet burst from the bottom and his arms from the sides, somehow wielding an axe in each hand. The largest dwarf of the company went berserker on the orcs, a whirlwind of destruction, flinging bits of splintered wood of the busted barrel as he went. Knocking aside his final opponents, Bombur shed the remains of his now ruined barrel, leapt back into the river, and into another empty barrel.
"I think Sam is going to be disappointed that he missed that." Pippin commented as his barrow-blade stabbed another orc who thought he or Merry would be an easy picking.
"Yes he will." Merry agreed as he hamstringed another.
Legolas, who had been hopping from barrel to barrel and shooting down orcs on the barrels or on the riverbank, leapt up and came down on solid ground with the grace that all elves had. His bow, (damn, he missed the one that he had been gifted in Lothlórien), sang as arrows were fired through the air, hitting orcs close-up or far away. The elf's fighting took him to the top of a hills and he again failed to notice the orc coming up from behind because he was focused on the orc in front of him. Thorin threw the orc axe in his hand, watching as it spun through the air before sinking into the chest of the orc before it could strike Legolas down.
The elf prince dispatched his final opponent, and glanced behind him to see the dead orc. He had noticed the axe sail over his shoulder for the second time, and was kicking himself for not taking the precaution of Thorin not having the axe on hand. He was lucky, that Legolas knew. The dwarves looked back and watched as they flowed downstream, away from danger. The elves had ceased their pursuit, but he orcs still followed. Hopefully, the current would outpace the vile creatures soon.
Legolas breathed deeply several times, fully aware that there was another orc, Fimbul, behind him with an arrow drawn and pointed at his 'unguarded' back. Spinning around, Legolas shot the arrow out of the air at the same time as Tauriel. Distracted by two separate fronts, Fimbul was distracted long enough for Tauriel to disarm him and forced him to his knees.
"Tauriel!" Legolas' tone made the female stop, preventing his friend from beheading the creature. "Stay your hand. This one we leave alive for questioning."
Tauriel nodded once. She despised these dark creatures simply because they had killed her parents when she was a very young child barely out of her milk years, making her the rarely orphaned elfling. The two watched the barrels a moment longer before they turned to head back into the kingdom. Legolas found himself wondering what his father would do. Would he close their boarders once more, or would something else occur?
But one thing was for certain, they wouldn't know until they got there.
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"Why do the stupid elves have to do everything so… elegantly?" Pippin whined much later.
"Because they're elves." Nori replied.
"They're probably getting manicures done right now, you know." Merry said, proceeding to pretend to be an elf that was filing their fingernails, making everyone else laugh and call out that they also wanted facials or a massage.
They had been in the barrels for a very long time… the sun had set and risen again. The only cheerful point of that day was when Merry and Pippin wished Bilbo a happy 41st Birthday. Of course, that prompted the dwarves to do the same and demands to know why they hadn't been told his birthday was coming up. Bilbo's response was that he didn't know what date it actually was. Legolas hadn't kept a calendar in his rooms.
"Is there anything behind us?" Thorin called back.
"Not that I can see." Balin, who was at the end of the line, yelled back.
"I think we've out run the orcs." Bofur commented after spitting out a mouthful of water.
"Not for long." Thorin groaned. "We've lost the current."
"Uncle, we're all half-drowned." Kíli called.
"Make for the shore." Thorin ordered, and started to paddle towards the riverbank.
There were groans, but all did as Thorin ordered. Once at the shore, Thorin rolled out of his barrel and marched up to solid dry ground, but doubled back to help everyone else onto the land. Ori was particularly weakened after their long ordeal, but Dwalin had enough strength for the both of them. Bilbo hopped out of Thorin's pocket and went to his larger normal form. To him, it didn't matter if he was on a barrel or in a barrel, he never wanted to do that again! Soon, the company and their supplies were on dry land.
"Do we have enough time to make a fire and dry off?" Pippin asked as he rung out his black tunic with a silver tree embossed on the front.
"Not with an orc pack on our tails." Dáin shook his head and he tried to wring the water out of his beard. "We'll be caught while we're standing around in our skivvies."
"Where do we go now?" Ori managed to ask.
"To the mountain." Bilbo replied. "We're so close."
"A lake lies between us and that mountain." Balin apparently had decided to be pessimistic today. "We have no way to cross it."
"So then we go around." Bilbo tried to keep the optimism up.
"The orcs will run us down, and we're exhausted." Dwalin shook his head. "It will be difficult to run them off with no injuries or deaths."
"At least we have our weapons and some supplies." Pippin pointed out. "But some shelter would do some good."
"And where do you propose we find that, Pip?" Merry asked sarcastically.
"How about from him?" Pippin nonchalantly pointed.
All eyes turned to see the man with his bow drawn and arrow pointed at them. The dwarves were instantly on the defensive, but no arrows were fired at them. Bilbo and Thorin glanced at each other and then back up at Bard. The man had the higher ground, so it wasn't a good idea for them to try and attack him. Besides, they needed the help that the bargeman would, (currently unknowingly), be giving to them.
"Sir, you're from Laketown, correct?" Bilbo took a cautious step forward, keeping his hands up where Bard could see them, and filling the role that Balin had filled last lifetime. "That barge over there, is it available for hire?"
Heads turned to see Bard's boat anchored at the shore.
"How did we miss that?" Bofur asked.
"You make it seem like I want to help you." Bard replied to Bilbo as he took his arrow off the string and put it back in his quiver. "Which I don't."
"Why is that?" Bilbo questioned.
"I am currently authorized to bring empty barrels back into Laketown." Bard stated. "Not empty barrels, dwarves, and… whatever you and your kin are. I'm sorry, what are you?"
"We're hobbits." Pippin said flatly.
"Hobbits?" Bard shook his head.
"Halflings?" Merry ground out.
"Oh, right." Bard nodded. "Based on your tone, the term 'halfling' is insulting."
"It is." Bilbo nodded.
"I still can't help you." Bard shook his head, and rubbed the barrels near one of the arrow marks. "These barrels came from the Woodland Realm. Whatever business you had with King Thranduil, I can tell that it didn't go very well. The Master of Laketown would sooner see you in jail then jeopardize his trade with King Thranduil, which is where all of his wealth comes from."
"Those marks came from orc arrows." Bilbo replied, and Bard took a closer look. "Careful not to cut yourself on them, orc weapons are typically poisoned, so you'll probably have to scrap all the barrels. Prince Legolas came up with the idea to send us on our way in the barrels to try and help us avoid an orc pack that has been tracking us. As you can see, it didn't really work."
"All the more reason the Master won't let you in." Bard pursed his lip. "He definitely won't want orcs in his town."
"We just need a place for one night, at least, it depends if any of us get sick." Bilbo pleaded. "We're heading to the Iron Hills. Dáin, the red-head with the hobbit fussing over him-"
"Oy!"
"Is Lord of the Iron Hills." Bilbo continued. "The fussing hobbit is my Uncle Hildifons, and Merry and Pippins… cousin/uncle, I'm not sure how many times removed. The rest of the dwarves, except for Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, are related to Dáin. They are second or third cousins I believe."
Bard pursed his lips tighter as he continued to haul the remainder of the barrels onto his boat. One night he wouldn't mind, but he still didn't want to get into trouble with the Master and his guards. That man had it in for him simply because he refused to let his eldest daughter marry the slimeball. That, and they were the true descendants of Girion, Lord of Dale. The Master's paranoia believed the Bard was plotting against him to over throw the ruling 'government', but he couldn't make any of his petty charges stick… yet.
This might be the scale tipper.
"Look, is there a bridge or something we can use?" Bilbo tired a different route.
"Aye." Bard gave the information. "But if you go that route, you're going to be taxed heavily."
"And paying for a smuggler won't drain the coin from our pockets?" Bilbo snorted.
Bard nodded with a short laugh, conceding the point to the hobbit. It didn't matter what happened in the near future, their pockets were going to be a lot lighter by the time they made it into Laketown. With a sigh, the man finally gave into his inner debate of helping the travelers.
"Half a mile south is the bridge." Bard instructed. "It's quite a walk to the town, and the upkeep on the bridge isn't what it used to be. The toll gates will imply a heavy tax for you to get through, entering the town or leaving it. Good luck making it to the other side without the Master hauling you into the town square. And please leave my name out of it."
"But, we don't know your name." Kíli pointed out slowly.
"Let's keep it that way." Bard replied, and began to strap down the barrels.
"Thank you." Bilbo nodded his head, tossed a small bag of gold coins to the startled man, and started in the direction of the bridge.
"You paid him?" Glóin demanded.
"His coat and boots have seen better days." Bilbo replied. "If he was a single man with no dependents, his clothes would be in better condition. He probably has children to feed."
"I don't trust this lippy lake-man." Dwalin snarled.
"I trust him more than I trust all the orcs chasing us combined." Pippin injected.
"Fair point." Dori agreed.
"Let's move." Thorin instructed. "I'd rather have someplace warm and dry to sleep tonight. We'll worry about payments later."
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"Such is the nature of evil." Thranduil walked in a slow circle around the orc that Legolas and Tauriel had captured and brought back for questioning. "Out there in the vast ignorance of the world, it festers and spreads. A shadow that grows in the dark. A sleepless malice as black as the oncoming wall of night. So it ever was… so it shall always be. In time, all foul things come forth."
"You were tracking a company of 15 dwarves and 4 hobbits with orders to kill them." Legolas picked up. "Why? What is Thorin Oakenshield to you?"
"The dwarf runt will never be king!" Fimbul snarled.
"There is no King Under the Mountain, nor will there ever be." Legolas cut of the orc, pressing his dagger closer to the creature's throat. "None would dare enter Erebor while the dragon lives."
"You know nothing!" Fimbul hissed back in orkish delight. "Your world will burn. Our time had come again. My master serves the One. Do you understand now, elfling? Death is upon you. The flames of war are upon you. The time of the orcs has come!"
Fimbul laughed, but it was cut off by Thranduil's sword slicing through the air. Legolas and Tauriel wrinkled their noses at the now decapitated orc, Legolas again holding the orcs head while the body fell to the floor, twitching.
"Really?" Legolas sighed as he looked at his father and dropped the head. "There was more he could have told us."
"There was nothing more he could have told me." Thranduil replied as he stomped on the corpse's ankle, forcing it to stop moving. "And I wasn't going to let that thing run loose again."
"What did the orc mean by that they served the 'One'?" Tauriel asked.
"I fear what it may mean." Thranduil stated. "The orcs have only ever served two masters. One was dispatched by the Valar at the end of the First Age, and the second was believed to have been defeated at the end of the Second Age. But Isildur never destroyed the One Ring. War may be upon us, whether we desire it or not."
"So the 'One' is…" Legolas paused. "Sauron?"
"I am almost certain of it." Thranduil began to explain. "The darkness that has grown in this forest reminds me to much of the Dark Lord's foul magic in Mordor. That is why I have not allowed anyone to travel to the ruined fortress, where the magic is strongest."
Tauriel ducked her head down, feeling ashamed that she even thought ill of her king's orders. Of course he had a reason for not allowing even a scouting party to travel south, and now that she knew the reason, it was embarrassing that she had thought it had come from spite. Legolas felt a touch mortified as well, though he had understood why his father insisted they keep the spiders out and not track them to their main nest.
"And the flames of war…" Tauriel gathered her thoughts and took a deep breath. "The enemy means to use Smaug, don't they?"
"The enemy intends to unleash a weapon so great it will destroy all before it, and a Dragon certainly fits in that category." Thranduil descended a series of stairs to give orders to several of the nearby guards. "Double the watches and the guards on our boarders, all roads and all rivers. For now, we monitor the orc movements. If they are heading south, do not engage. East to west, west to east, and south to north shall be dealt with swiftly. Do not leave the boarders unless you are in pursuit a top commander, like the tall pale orcs of Gundabad."
Tauriel and Legolas bowed their heads. Legolas was impressed that his father hadn't sealed the boarders to let the evil fall on its own. And while he wasn't sure what Bilbo had said to Thranduil before the Feast of Starlight, it had invoked a change in the Elvenking, making him desire to be more involved with the outside world again. It was with a sad smile that Legolas went to his rooms. Somehow, he would need to head north in pursuit of Bolg. But the spawn of Azog would attack the dwarves and Bard's children in Laketown, so that was where he needed to be. With a silent apology to his father, Legolas grabbed the bag of supplies he had prepared, and slipped out the back door.
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About an hour later the dwarves and hobbits were paying the first toll gate. The men there had tried to swindle them, but Merry and Pippin talked the guards in circles to the point where they only had to pay 1 silver coin for each person. They men were grumbling, but did the tax paperwork and let them pass. They actually hailed down Bard in his barge and had him take them the rest of the way in. The man didn't look happy, but didn't voice his disapproval to the Master's spies.
"Bless my beard." Fíli whispered a little while later.
All eyes turned to see the Lonely Mountain, shroud in fog, but beautifully silhouetted against the setting sun.
"You guys get some amazing views out here." Merry commented to Bard.
The man paused, and thought for a moment. While Laketown itself wasn't much to look at, the natural nature more often than not made up for it. But it had been a while since Bard had stopped to actually enjoy the sights that nature presented to him.
"I guess we do." Bard agreed softly.
"And I'm guessing that is Laketown?" Ori piped up, pointing across the water.
"Aye." Bard replied grimly as he directed his barge. "Keep quiet while I talk to the guard. Despite the paperwork saying that you've already paid the traveler's tax, you might get charged again if you irritate whoever is there enough."
The dwarves and hobbits immediately checked to see how much coin they had left on their persons. They'd be able to avoid having their funds completely drained, but it would be best if they didn't get taxed again. They were still a several weeks away from the "Iron Hills", and needed food to last them that long.
"Halt, goods inspection!" Percy called from his post, making Bard relax a touch. "Papers, please. Oh, it's you Bard. And you have more than barrels."
"They paid the traveler's tax, here's the paperwork for that." Bard replied as he handed over the necessary papers. "And here are the papers for the barrels."
"Good, anything to declare?" Percy asked.
"Just that I'm cold, tired, and ready for home." Bard nodded.
"You and me both." Percy sighed, giving the passengers on the barge another look before he went inside, stamped the papers, and held them out to Bard. " There we are. All in order."
"Not, so, fast." Alfrid Lickspittle took the papers from Percy's hands, keeping his eyes on Bard. "These papers are for, 'Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm'. And yet, you have 19 extra passengers on board your barge, which is illegal."
"Did he not read the tax papers?" Pippin 'whispered' to the others.
Alfrid glanced more closely at the papers in his hands, and saw that the passengers had indeed paid the traveler's tax and had been placed on Bard's boat for the rest of the trip into Laketown. It would be quite a shame if this paperwork was lost, the wind was picking up a bit with the sunset, as it always did. An unexpected gust made the papers 'slip' through Alfrid's fingers and he watched as they fell towards the water.
The man wasn't expecting a strange creature that wasn't a dwarf to snatch the papers up less than an inch away from the water.
"That would have been messy." Bilbo commented airily, but had pinned Alfrid with a look of disgust. "We would have had to pay another tax, which wouldn't have been fair since we've already paid it."
"Indeed." Alfrid managed a weak and brief smile that vanished as soon as he turned around, stalking past the guards to report back to the Master. "Let's go."
"Raise the gate!" Percy yelled as Bard and Bilbo hopped back on the barge.
The guards that had been waiting for the call grunted as they spun the mechanism that opened the gate. They were quite tired of Alfrid and the Master of Laketown trying to get Bard in trouble, especially since he hadn't done anything wrong. The only thing 'wrong' with Bard, was the fact that he and his children were the true descendants of Girion. The Master of Laketown could only claim that ancestry via his great-aunt's marriage, but not by blood.
"The Master has his eye on you." Alfrid doubled back, anger obviously on his face. "You'll do well to remember Bard, we know where you live."
"It's a small town Alfrid." Bard sighed as he got the barge of empty wine barrels, dwarves, and hobbits going again. "Everyone knows where everyone lives."
Bilbo kept his eyes pinned on the man in black, and couldn't stop the snicker when two 'innocent' ladies kept walking after Alfrid got hit with a couple of eggs. Served the spineless jerk right. Thorin tugged Bilbo away from the edge of the barge and into his arms, but his eyes were also alit with humor. Entering Laketown had gone much smoother than it had last lifetime.
Hopefully, it would stay that way.
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Timeline
September 21st, year 2931: The barrel escape and an orc attack is led by Bolg.
September 22nd, year 2931: Bilbo's 41st birthday, meet Bard, and enter Laketown, (21 weeks after departure from Bag End).