'Lost Without You'- A Thorin Oakenshield Fanfic

Chapter 10

The silence is the eeriest aspect.

Bard's trusty barge skims along the water with little more than a muted slosh, sending quiet ripples across the gloomy expanse of the lake. Sizeable chunks of ice that coat the lake's surface, some even larger than a Man, scrape chillingly at the barge's wooden sides, yet the boat sails steadily on into the unknown.

It has taken all night to sail across the lake, since leaving before dusk the previous day. Now the dawn beckons, sending feeble rays through the clouds, and none of you have had a wink of sleep.

The Company is huddled beneath the bow of the barge, a shivering pile of bodies that peer apprehensively into the clouded distance. Every so often, spectral shadows appear ominously in the watery path ahead, yet are revealed as little more than long-dead trees and other such haunting debris.

The still surface of the lake is smooth like shimmering glass inbetween the hunks of ice, yet nought but your own reflection is visible in the murky depths. Thick, unforgiving mist curls off the water from all sides, seeping into your still damp clothes and making your teeth chatter.

The fog makes it impossible to see more than several feet ahead. Yet the bargeman seems unperturbed by these far from ideal sailing conditions. With an expert hand, he urges the boat onward, toward his city. You can only blindly trust, like lambs to a shepherd, that he leads you to safety and freedom rather than the slaughterhouse.

Abruptly, a several imposing rock formations loom out from the choking vapor.

"Watch out!" Cries Bofur, face peeping over the bowsprit as he braces for impact, clinging onto the turn buckle for dear life.

But there is nothing to fear. Bard instantaneously leans to the right with the tiller, and the barge sails on through the crumbling ruins with ease.

"What are you trying to do, drown us?" Thorin bites out as the barge narrowly misses another gigantic pillar of a forgotten age.

"I was born and bred on these waters, master dwarf," Bard responds grimly, leaning his weight on the tiller once again to shift the rudder. "If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here."

Thorin stares the bargeman down from his place on the starboard side.

"Oh, I've had enough of this lip here lately." Dwalin leans his elbows on one of the now empty barrels.
He mutters over his shoulder to the others darkly, "Let's just throw him over the side and be done with it."

"Bard, his name's Bard," Bilbo gripes, giving the formidable dwarf a pointed look.

"How do you know?" Bofur asks grouchily.

"Because I asked him," the hobbit snipes back.
"And because I was actually listening during Balin's conversation with our ship's captain?"

"I don't care what he calls himself, I don't like him," Dwalin growls huffily, not taking his eyes off the man in question.

Amid the bickering of your companions, Thorin meets your eyes. You beckon him over with a knowing look, and your glowering beau relents, traipsing over to your side and reclining his body against the splintery wooden gunwale.

"We don't have to like him," Balin says with a tinge of annoyance.
He continues to count out the Company's remaining coin on a small battered table, setting another meagre stack aside.

"We simply have to pay him."

"Come on now, lads," he urges the dwarves. "Turn out your pockets."

There's a collective mutter of irritable mutiny as every dwarf pats down their soaked clothing, looking for any remaining coins to contribute.
You toss a small money pouch to Balin, who nods appreciatively in your direction. It's not much, a handful of gold and silver, but it's all you have on you. The rest of your funds are stashed away at your cottage in the outskirts of Bree; hopefully if and when you return, it will all still be there, safe from looters.