for all the gold || hobbit {completed}

chapter thirteen - lake town

Huddled and cramped up as I was beneath several layers of fish, I was  struggling real hard to resist the urge to leap from the barrel and smack the bargeman one straight in the... Well, wherever I could reach. Maybe it was because I had never been much of a fan of fish, but mostly it was because the bargeman was likely enjoying our discomfort a little too much for my taste. Even if I had been able to escape from my smelly confinement, I was hardly going to reach anywhere to cause too much visible damage for the bargeman and plus the boat was already moving again. I could only keep myself crouched down low and my mouth closed firmly shut and buried into the sleeve of my tunic. I might have managed to keep my mouth free of entrails, but I still had to smell the rank odour every time I inhaled. Disgusted tears running down my cheeks, I could only push myself further against the barrel's side and try to figure out what the bargeman was really up to.

"Morning, Percy," he called out, answering in reply to something muffled, something from this Percy fellow.

"Anything to declare?" I could just about catch Percy's voice, muffled as it was by a layer of stinking fish.

"Nothing," the bargeman replied, his footsteps sounding out against the deck, "but that I am cold and tired and ready for home."

"You and me both," Percy replied with a dry chuckle.

Enough, I thought, with stinging eyes and my clenched jaw aching already. Get me out of here!

"There we are," Percy finally said. "All in order."

"Not so fast," another voice sounded out. My queasy stomach plummeted.

"Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm," the voice sounded out, reading something aloud. "Only... they're not empty," the slimy voice concluded, "are they, Bard? If I recall correctly, you're licensed as a bargeman." Another pair of footsteps on the deck. We were done for. "Not..." he added, "a fisherman."

"That's none of your business." The bargeman's reply was detectably cool. He did not seemed fazed by the other man's interrogation, but why would he? He wasn't playing fugitive at the bottom of a barrel. He had our money now. If he wanted to (and he most likely did) he could save himself a job, easily rat us out now, hand us over to the town's authorities and sail off with our remaining coin. I'd be tempted to do the same myself if I was standing in his boots. But then again, I wasn't.

"Wrong," the voice continued, "it's the master's business, which makes it my business."

"Oh, come on, Alfrid," the bargeman replied, "have a heart. People need to eat."

"These fish are illegal!" Alfrid cried. "Empty the barrels over the side."

No, I thought, no! Desperately, I pushed my hands against the barrel's sides, praying that I could hold myself in place as a set of armed footsteps and raised voices came ever closer.

"Folk in this town are struggling." The bargeman at least hadn't sold us out at this point. His voice however was not as calm as before. Above me came a cool rattle as a mailled pair of hands grasped the top of my barrel.

"Times are hard," he continued to speak, "food is scarce." My barrel was beginning to shift, beginning to tilt. No, no, no. Splashes below told me I was already losing fish, losing cover. No, no, no. Mahal, no.

"That's not my problem," Alfrid responded.

"And when people hear the master is dumping fish back in the lake," the bargeman said. "When the rioting starts, will it be your problem then?"

"Stop!" I swallowed back the sudden lump in my throat as my barrel was righted and the guards' heavy footsteps backed off.

"Ever the people's champion, eh, Bard?" Alfrid sneered, following the guards from the boat. "Protector of the common folk. You might have their favour now, bargeman, but it won't last."