Bard of Laketown

Part Twenty-Five

PART TWENTY-FIVE

AREYA'S POV

"Wait!" I say. Our boats are afloat in the icy lake. "We cannot go in now," I say. A sunrise of pink and orange is beginning to peek over the horizon. "The town will be waking up now, and I do not dare to enter now."

"What would you have us do?" Legolas asks. His voice is cold and harsh. He is already so different from the elf that I grew up with. Our threesome is splitting slowly, and I don't know how I can stop it from happening.

"We shall have to find shelter and wait until dusk," I say, thinking aloud. I scan the distant shores of the lake, then point to the east. "The shore is closer over there," I say, "We can easily find a place to hide in the trees, should the orcs come back."

Legolas and Tauriel both nod slowly. "I suppose we have no other choice," Tauriel says.

We row over to the shore and drag our boats under a tangle of bushes.

A large stand of fir trees is a few hundred feet away. I point to them and nod, and we walk towards them.

"Will not this be the most obvious place to hide in?" Legolas asks me.

I smile. "Yes, that is why we are going up there." I gesture to the uppermost branches of the trees.

We begin to climb, my hands grasping the rough branches and moving up the tree. By the time we reach the top, the northern sun is shining weakly down on us. I blink in the sudden light, and look over on the rooftops of Lake-town.

I can see the town clearly, thanks to my sharp eyesight. There is a large gathering of citizens on the far side, and I strain my eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the dwarves- or Bard.

I find a large, greasy looking man with finer clothes than the other townsfolk, standing on a wooden platform. I know who it is from the moment I see him. The Master of Lake-town.

Beside him is the weaselly man who spoke to Bard when we arrived. He is hunched over, yet he somehow displays arrogance and the fact that he is more important than everyone else. The fact that he has such a high status, and that everyone fears him probably doesn't take away from his pride.

I can see the Master's mouth moving, but I can't hear what he's saying.

I skim the crowd, looking over the many dirty and underfed people that make up this town.

My eyes stop on a familiar figure, still in his long coat, his eyes dark and guarded. Bard. All I want is to enter Lake-town now, and tell him how much I have thought about him since we parted. But that would be foolish. Surely a mortal man, one like him, who has seen so much heartbreak and despair in his life does not have any more love to throw away. I force my eyes away sadly.

Standing right by the river is the Company of dwarves, looking around, their eyes full of distrust. Thorin stands in the middle, his shoulders thrown back and his head high. Clearly he means to show the Master that he is not a mere dwarf.

Bard steps forward from in the crowd and starts speaking. From the way is face twists I know that he is full of anger for everyone there. His eyes flash, and his forehead is furrowed. He gestures towards a tall mountain in the distance. The Lonely Mountain. Where there lies a sleeping dragon.