Taming the Wolf (A Hobbit Fanfic)

Chapter 22

As they reached the city armory, Dwalin stopped them. Two watchmen walked passed them as the dwarves hid in the shadows.
'As soon as we have the weapons, we make straight for the mountain,' Thorin whispered to the others. 'Now, go, go, go!'
After her return, Frêllian had explained what had happened, which had resulted in Dwalin throwing a fit. Three dwarves had to restrain him as the angered dwarf had shouted he would murder the filth for even mentioning such things.
And even now, the dwarf wore a sour look on his face as Nori climbed up the pyramid of dwarves to reach the window on the second floor. Bilbo was next, followed by a limping Kíli. And soon enough, half the company was inside the armory collecting weapons. The other half remaining outside to keep watch.
As Frêllian inspected a sword, she could hear Fíli whispering to Thorin. Telling them they had enough, to which the older dwarf agreed. In a hushed voice he ordered everyone to store the last weapon into one of the bags, when a terrible clanging sound reached Frêllian's ears. A sound loud enough to warn the guards of their presence.
'Run,' Dori cried out after hearing running footsteps approaching. 'We need to leave, now!'
But before they could even think of running, guards had pointed their pikes at them, disabling them to escape. And from the startled yell outside, it seemed their comrades had been captured as well.
'Keep moving,' a guard grunted, while pushing Bilbo.
Frêllian growled lowly as she watched the hobbit stumble forwards, regaining his balance just in time. How come they had yet again been imprisoned? And with so little time left to reach the hidden door! They did not have time for this!
She snarled, snapping at a guard who was foolish enough to walk too close to her. Her mood already having dropped after the incident with the master of this cursed town. But the pokes she received every now and then to keep on walking made it even worse.
Though this time she wasn't the only one grumbling. For next to her, Dwalin was even worse than she was. Growling even, as he was pushed around.
'Careful now,' one of the guards warned as Frêllian growled at one of the guards. 'I heard the girl is a ferian. Put your hand too close and she'll rip it off.'
'Oh trust me,' Dwalin replied, his voice cold and low. 'It is not her you need to watch out for. Because I will rip your heads off if you even think of coming near her!'
It only took them a couple of minutes to reach their destination. The mansion of the master. There they were put to a stop as Dwalin muttered a 'get off of me' while pushing the guard off. Though Frêllian was focused more on their surroundings.
The commotion had attracted the townspeople, probably wanting to know what was going on. Yelling and muttering amongst themselves, as Frêllian was placed in line next to the others.
'What is the meaning of this?'
Recognising that voice, Frêllian turned her attention to the mansion. There the master was standing, struggling to put on his coat as he looked around. Behind him the slimy little weasel.
'We caught 'em stealing weapons, sire.'
She scoffed. They were planning to give them back once they were done. And if only that foolish pig of a man had accepted the deal, they would not have had to steal.
'Ah, enemies of the state then.' His beady eyes scanned the group of people before him. His eyes quickly spotting the platinum hair of Frêllian. 'So it seems I was right to deny your offer. You are no queen, just a dwarven pet!'
'Hold your tongue,' she could hear her father shout out in anger. 'You will not speak of my daughter in such way. Do you not know who you are dealing with here?'
'A bunch of criminals, from what I can see.'
'Wrong.' From the corner of her eye, she could see Dwalin walk forth, glaring up at the man. 'Frêllian is who she claims to be. And this is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!'
He gestured at Thorin and the said dwarf stepped forward as well. Telling them they were the dwarves of Erebor. After hearing this, the townspeople started to whisper in shock, craning their heads to get a better view.
'We have come to reclaim our homeland,' Thorin continued, noticing he had gained the attention of the people. 'I remember this town and the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbour, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake! This was the center of all trade in the north!'
People nodded in agreement, listening carefully to what the dwarf had to say.
'I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from tbe halls of Erebor!'
After Thorin his speech, Frêllian turned her gaze back to the leader of this godforsaken town. His expression calculated as he seemed to take in everything Thorin had said. The cheering and clapping of his own people taken into consideration as well.
Suddenly a voice called out over the crowd. Stating that death was what they will bring the people of Laketown. Only death.
'If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all,' Bard finished, glaring down on Thorin. But he did not care, turning his attention back to the man that mattered right now.
'You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this. If we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain.'
'And what makes you think you can slay the beast,' Bard demanded to know. Obviously not believing the dwarf by his word. 'You are with just a handful. And from the looks of it, most not even warriors.'
'Yet all of us have come this far,' Frêllian finally spoke, her voice steady yet regal. Demanding all attention. 'I have lost count on the times we should have died. Yet we remain standing.'
'That alone is not enough,' the dark haired man stated, his attention now on Frêllian. 'Nothing can compare to fighting a dragon. You might not know what happened to Dale, but we know! We have not forgotten those who died in the firestorm.
And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a mountain king so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!'
He turned to face Thorin again, the dwarf glaring at him. It seemed Bard didn't trust dwarves and their ambitions. And she could not say she blamed him.
But before either could say another word, the master of town spoke. Telling Bard not to be quick to lay blame on someone else, while his ancestor failed to slay Smaug. His finger pointed accusingly at the man.
At this, the crowd yelled out in anger. Blaming Bard for what his ancestor had failed to do. Which was quite sad actually, the young ferian silently admitted to herself. Having dealt with a crime she had not committed, she knew it was unfair to blame the man for what his ancestor had failed to do. But if they wanted to leave this town armoured, they would need the favor of the people. And right now Bard was standing in their way.
'You have no right, no right to enter that mountain,' she heard Bard say as he stomped towards Thorin in anger.
But the dwarf simply told him off by stating he had the only right. Then Thorin turned his head to face the master of Laketown.
'I speak to the Master of the men of the Lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?'
There was a moment of silence, as everyone watched in anticipation for his reply. But when the man did not answer quickly enough, Frêllian clenched her fists impatiently. Suppressing a growl, she moved next to Thorin.
'Well, what say you,' she asked, though her voice holding a demanding undertone.
She watched as the man's eyes travel down to her, before looking back at Thorin. His answer slow as he pointed his sausage-like finger towards the dwarf with a smile.
'I say, unto you… welcome! Welcome and thrice welcome, King under the Mountain!'