Wayfarer of dawn

In which Laketown feels off

The town square of Laketown was uncharacteristically busy, Eleniel imagined, for the gloomy sky that stretched above them. Let alone the time of night she found herself wandering the decks, pushing through the crowd that had gathered.

Slowly, Eleniel approached the front of the thicket. She could hear Bard arguing hotly, and Thorin replying to him in an even more aggravated tone. And then a new voice joined the mix and the crowd got silent. Pushing past the last people, Eleniel gazed upon a really, really fat man. And next to him was an almost comically skinny man, highlighting their contrasting features. The fat man had his arms stretched out, as if he was going to embrace someone larger than himself. And the skinny man stood sniggering, eyes focused on Bard. Eleniel already didn't like him, not one bit.

Catching the end of the conversation, Eleniel frowned as she heard the undertone of sarcasm lacing the Master's words. His people cheered, eyes shimmering greedily at the promise of sharing the riches hidden in the dragon's hoard. A feeling of dread pooled in the bottom of Eleniel's stomach, and she took an uncertain step forward. She tried to catch the eyes of the company silently, hoping they too realised this town was no friend to them. At least, not as long as the Master held power. But Thorin seemed high on the feeling of someone finally accepting his birthright, after having to fight to prove it for so long. And in her heart, Eleniel could not blame him. She understood the thirst for acceptance. But she feared the price they would have to pay. Hardly anything good ever came from such a deeply rooted thirst, whether it was for power, money or recognition - it did not matter.

Then, Eleniel met the eyes of Bilbo Baggins. Their burglar had put himself to the back of the company, eyes flitting nervously between Bard and Thorin. And then to Eleniel, and then the Master of the town. Catching his eyes a second time, Eleniel nodded slowly, showing Bilbo she shared in his anxiety. Then, suddenly, the Master of the town lifted his arms high. He called for a celebration through the night, before they would see the Dwarves of Erebor off to the mountain in the morning. The town would even provide the company with food, weapons and boats for the journey ahead. And still, something gnawed uneasily at the back of Eleniel's mind. Perhaps it was the filthy look lining the eyes of the man next to the Master, hands wringing as if his plan was coming together and everyone else was nothing more than a pawn for him to play with. Or perhaps it was the look in Bard's eyes as she passed him on her way in to the hall, a look of pure terror.

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The next morning, bright and early, Eleniel sat upright on the cot she had claimed the night before. Opting out of the festivities in favour of an early night had allowed her to mull over her thoughts as she twisted and turned in the dark of the room.

Though the matter of Laketown's Master and servant bothered her immensely, her re-entering of the Greenwood weighed far heavier on her mind than she could have ever imagined. Stretching her legs and rolling her ankles slowly, popping her joints, Eleniel got off the cot. Moving to collect her weapons, she cursed in Elvish as she realised there were no weapons to collect. Muttering a few more angry words under her breath, Eleniel made her way outside. She wandered the decks for a while, between the icy mist that was slowly disappearing as the sun filtered across the lake. In her mind's eye she kept seeing the prince and the king, both on the night she had left and the day she had returned. Once, she felt at home in their woods. Though all such feelings came to pass, as Eleniel found they always did for her. But something within her still desired to call those wild woods home. Angrily, Eleniel yanked her cloak shut around her, trying to shake her thoughts and the cold that settled uncomfortably into her skin.

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Thorin woke early enough to see Eleniel wander off into the distance, eyes unfocussed as she walked across the decks of Laketown. Last night, after all festivities had moved deeper into town, he had tried to visit her in her chosen room. However, as he raised his arm up to knock, he had thought better of it. A king need not explain himself to others, much less to an elf like her. In fact, he now realised, she was the one that needed to explain herself to him. Not mentioning her affiliation with the woodland king was a grievance that could not be undone, and the minor mention just before entering the woods did little good to change that. Huffing angrily, Thorin grabbed some bread and water as breakfast before sitting down at one of the long tables. On his left, he could see and hear Dwalin, snoring to the high heavens. On the other side of the table lay Balin, cradling an empty cup to his chest. Making quick work of his breakfast, Thorin rose again. Slamming both hands down on the table loudly, he called for the attention of his kin.

"Rise up my brothers! The mountain awaits! Our home awaits!"

At first, the only responses were groggy eyes and some sleepy moans. Here and there a Dwarf got up, rising into a seating position to look at him, their king. Dwalin rose like an arrow shot from a bow, eyes narrowed and hands posed for a fight. But upon seeing the commotion was just Thorin, he lowered his arms again.

"Eat breakfast and gather supplies, we leave in two hours!" Walking to the sides of the younger Dwarves, Thorin added "Fili, Kili, walk with me."

Together, the three Dwarves strode off into the morning light of the town. And Thorin did not stop walking until they reached the edge of the decks. He did not stop walking until they had a clear view of Erebor.