The Last of the Guardians Part 2 - A Hobbit Fan Fiction

Chapter 17 - The Master of Laketown

The armoury was not far from Bard's home - a small mercy in Kili's opinion. His legs did not seem to want to support him, and hot, dark blood was seeping from the arrow wound he had taken in his thigh, staining his clothes.

His eyes were bothering him too. The shadows of the world appeared to him as deep pits, as rips in the very fabric of Middle Earth itself. He feared their touch, as though to walk in the shadows would be to fall from the world. 

But the patches of light they found struck him hard in the eyes like a swarm of fireflies. To look at a flickering flame was to be blind. His head was pounding. His heart was hammering. Every breath was a battle he feared he would lose. He was glad when they at last reached the armoury.

"Kili?"

The voice rang loud in his ears, and Kili almost hissed at his brother to keep his voice down. But then he realised that was exactly what Fili had been doing.

"Kili. Are you alright?"

"Yes," Kili replied, his voice tight. He moved away from Fili and held out his arms to his uncle.

Thorin eyed him for a moment, then dumped the swords and axes he had been carrying into Kili's arms. "Are you sure you can manage?" He asked, he voice echoing inside Kili's head.

The young dwarf nodded and turned to descend the rickety stairs to the floor level with the canal. 

All it took was one false step. The staircase fell away from him, as did the weaponry he had been carrying. Their clamorous descent was so loud that Kili would not have been surprised if Smaug himself was awoken by it, a thought which made his heart sink with dread.

He was struggling to his feet at the bottom of the stairs, thankful to have not been struck by a stray sword, when large, human hands grabbed him roughly under the arms and hauled him outside. He was soon followed by Thorin, Fili, Bilbo, Dwalin and Gloin, each being being forced out of the armoury at sword point. The rest of the company was already being herded across the canal and beyond, and it was not long before a large crowd of onlookers began to trail them, all eager to know how a group of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit had slipped through the town's heavily guarded gates undetected.

The walk was a painfully long one, and Kili felt sure they were going in circles. His suspicions were confirmed when they walked over a bridge identical to the one they had crossed three streets ago. There was even an apothecary on the opposite side, just as there had been for the last bridge. Their captors seemed to want to parade them around the town - but why? To gather a larger audience? To prove that no intruder would go unnoticed?

By the time they reached their destination - a large, ornate building with stairs leading up to it and a sheltered balcony - Kili felt so weak he was worried he was going to pass out. His skin had become cold and clammy, and the houses on either side of him appeared to be rocking from side to side.

The doors to the building before them swung inwards, and out walked two of the foulest looking men he had ever seen. The first was tall and thin, with dirty black robes and greasy black hair. His eyes were sharp and narrow, and his lip curled at the corner, giving the impression that he had smelled something terrible. The second man was much larger than the first, with a great belly that argued with the buttons on his jerkin, and a height that meant he would tower over everyone even if he had not been standing on an elevated platform.

The man in black spoke first, his voice high and full of delight. "What's this we have here? Intruders? Thieves? Vagabonds?"

"Vagabonds?" Dwalin bellowed, looking as though he was about to stride forward and strike the man on the steps. "Do you not know to whom you speak" He gave a grand gesture towards Thorin, who stared back, eyes wide with an uncertainty Kili shared.