The Lonely Mountain [1]

The Master of Lake Town

Later that night the dwarves attempted to break into the town's armoury to steal weapons. Amara, after escaping Bard with various excuses, was trying to find them a boat.

"Shh. Keep it down." Dwalin muttered as they waited for the guards to move.

"As soon as we have the weapons, we'll meet Amara and make straight for the mountain." Thorin muttered to them.

"Go, go, go." Thorin said to Nori as soon as the way was clear.

Nori ran towards the armoury; the rest of the dwarves had knelt in front of the window in a sort of makeshift staircase. Nori ran up their backs and jumped through the window.

"Next." Thorin said as Bilbo ran forward and followed Nori's lead.

Once most of them were inside, they began to collect the various weapons they would need. Kili walked around as all the dwarves inside placed weapons in his arms.

"You alright?" Thorin asked him as he handed Kili another axe.

"I can manage. Let's just get out of here." Kili said as he walked towards the stairs. He began to walk down the stairs but the pain in his leg increased and he fell; the weapons clattering to the floor.

Everyone froze as they heard the shouts of the approaching guards. The dwarves outside looked at each other.

"RUN!" Dori shouted as all the dwarves outside turned and ran, only to be cut off by two guards who pointed their spears at them. All the dwarves inside armed themselves and prepared to fight. But as they turned round they all had swords pressed against their throats. Thorin looked at Kili and Kili looked down at his feet.

Amara heard a commotion in the middle of the town and felt her heart get caught in her throat. She set off running and as she walked into the town square, she saw the company being dragged and shoved in front of the town hall. She ran forward and everyone gasped, an elf with dwarves was unheard of.

"Are you alright?" She asked Kili quietly.

He nodded his head as the doors to the town hall opened. A tall man dressed in dirty clothes that had have once been splendid walked out. He had Wispy ginger hair around his face and head and clearly had delusions of grandeur. He had to be the master of Lake Town.

"What is the meaning of this?" He asked, clearly annoyed.

"We caught 'em stealing weapons, Sire." Braga, the guard that Bard had angered earlier, said with a smile on his face.

"Ah! Enemies of the state, huh?" The master asked.

"A desperate bunch of mercenaries, if ever there was, Sire." Alfrid said with a smirk.

"Hold your tongue!" Dwalin said stepping forward. "You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal. This is Thorin. Son of Thrain, son of Thror!" Dwalin announced to the shocked bystanders.

Thorin stepped forward. "We are the dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland." Thorin said as all the towns people began to mutter amongst themselves. "I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbour, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake. This was the center of all trade in the north!" He turned and faced all the people. "I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!" He finished as the crowd cheered he turned to look at the master.

"Death!" Bard called through the crowd. "That is what you'll bring upon us." Bard said pushing his way through into the centre. He looked at Amara before walking towards Thorin. "Dragon fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all." Bard said.

"You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this; if we succeed all will share in the wealth of the mountain." Thorin said to the town's people, who looked pleased to hear this. "You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!" The crowd began to cheer but Bard turned to face them.

"All of you! Listen to me, you must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm? And for what purpose?" Bard said as the people looked down in grief. Bard turned to face Thorin. "The blind ambition of a Mountain King, so driven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!"

"Now. Now. We must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget, that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast. Hm!" The master said.

All the dwarves looked at Bard in shock.

"It's true, Sire. We all know the story. Arrow after arrow, he shot. Each one missing its mark." Alfrid said with a smirk.

"You have no right. No right to enter that mountain." Bard said in a hushed tone as he walked closer to Thorin.

"I have the only right." Thorin said at the same level before turning to face the master. "I speak to the Master of the men of the lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?" Thorin asked. The master hesitated. "What say you?" Thorin asked.

"I say unto you...welcome!" The master announced and the crowd cheered. Bard looked angry and he turned to look at Amara, his jaw clenched. "Welcome and rise! Welcome, King under the Mountain!"

Everyone but Bard, Thorin and Amara cheered.

"Why should we take you at your word, eh? We don't know anything about you. Who here can vouch for your character?" Alfrid asked with a smirk.

Bilbo stood forward and raised his hand. "Me. I'll vouch for him. Now, I have travelled far with these dwarves through great danger, and if Thorin Oakenshield gives his word, then he will keep it." Bilbo said.