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Chapter Twenty Nine - Painful Wounds

The healer could only imagine that once her companions hit the water it must of felt like knives slicing into their skin. Maura luckily was not one of the ones that had to endure, climbing into the freezing lake. Bard had suggest they enter through the outhouse, which had all the Dwarves scowling, and protesting but they saw no other way of entering that house, without being seen. Maura followed Bard and his son to they're home, the last thing the healer saw before entering the house, was the Dwarves jumping into the water. The company was indoors, sitting near a fire, waiting for the feeling to slowly returned to they're frozen forms. The bowman's daughters were kind enough to bring dry clothing and blankets for the company, they weren't their size but it was better then their own drenched ones. "They may not be the best fit, but they'll keep you warm." Bard stated. Sigrid led Maura to her bedroom and offered her one of her dresses for the healer to wear so she could get out of her wet one. The half-breed thanked the young girl and she was left in private to get changed.

Maura returned shortly after. She saw Bilbo sitting by the fire, wrapped up in a blanket. Her other companions were scattered throughout the room. The healer saw Thorin staring out the window, his attention was focused on whatever it was he could see through the crack of the window. The half-breed was approaching in his direction right behind the hobbit when the Dwarf prince whispered something. "A Dwarvish wind-lance."

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Bilbo stated, seeing the leader's face looking a little pale as he blew on his hot tea, feeling the warmth against his frozen fingers.

" He has." Balin answered, coming from behind them. "The last we saw such a weapon, a city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came. The day that Smaug destroyed Dale." Maura could feel a chill go through her as the tragic story continued.

"Girion, the Lord of the city, rallied his bowmen to fire upon the beast. But a dragon's hide is tough, tougher than the strongest armor. Only a black arrow, fired from a wind-lance, could have pierced the dragon's hide. And few of those arrows were ever made. His store was running low when Girion made his last stand."

Maura had been holding in her breath, waiting for Balin to continue on, but it was a voice she did not expect. Thorin rarely ever revealed anything about himself, let alone his past, and the healer could hear the anguish in his voice as he spoke. "Had the aim of Men been true that day, much would have been different."

"You speak as if you were there." Bard spoke from behind them, looking at them all skeptical.

"All Dwarves know the tale." Thorin stated, not admitting to nothing. Maura saw out of the corner of her eye, the bowman's son step out from behind him.

"Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon. He loosened a scale under the left wing. One more shot and he would've killed the beast." Dwalin let a small chuckle out at this nonsense.

"That's nothing more then a fairy story, lad." Thorin suddenly stepped forward, seeing enough time had been wasted and didn't see the need to continue this talk any further. The Dwarf Prince looked up at the bowman before speaking.

"You took our money. Where are the weapons?" Thorin demanded.

"Wait here."

Bard disappeared down the stairs to get the weapons he promised, leaving the Dwarves alone for a few to discuss certain matters. Maura wandered over to the hobbit to see how he was doing, while Thorin, Balin and his nephews were discussing how much time they had left before Durin's day fell. They soon heard the man coming back, carrying something and placed it on the table. The Dwarves gathered around and all were not pleased with the weapons Bard had promised them.

"What is this?" Thorin growled as he held the piece of metal in his hand, expecting something a bit more useful.

"Pike hook, made from an old harpoon." The bowman answered sternly.