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Mending the Broken Pieces	By : LadyLaran Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 13613 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own "the Hobbit" nor do I make money from this story. Tolkien and Jackson are the ones who own the characters and world.

Chapter List
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Author’s Note – So far the new year is doing all right if you don’t count still waiting to hear back on the appeal for disability. Frustrating but what can I do? I do hope everyone is having an excellent start to 2017! Enjoy the chapter.

Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Chapter Thirty-three – Entering Laketown

Hawthorn was stiff the next morning and slightly congested, and it didn’t take long before she realized she’d caught a head cold. She was glad it was a mild one, knowing that her trip in that cold river could have caused a serious illness. As it was, she didn’t have a fever and was dealing with mild congestion and a few sneezes so she couldn’t be too upset about it.

The group erased all signs of their campsite before heading in the direction of Laketown. Thorin had Sting, which she had passed to him due to him being the stronger swordsman of the company. Her throwing knives, excepting the blade Frerin had crafted, were loaned to the rest of the company in case they ran into any trouble. The dwarrow promised to return them to her as soon as possible, knowing how important these blades were to her since they had been her first courting gift from Thorin.

It was afternoon when they reached the dock of Laketown, spying two guards standing at the posts where the land and wooden pier joined together.

“Halt! State your name and business,” the elder of the two men called out.

There was a silent look between Balin and Thorin, and it made Hawthorn’s stomach twist with anxiety. She had a feeling she knew what was about to happen, and she didn’t think it would go well given the circumstances. If the adviser felt it was the only way, then it needed to be done but announcing themselves might not go the way they were hoping. The hobbit only hoped she was wrong and that things would not go as poorly as she feared they would.

“We are here to speak to the man in charge of Laketown,” Thorin told him. “We have important business to discuss with him.”

“Why would a group of dwarves want to speak to the Master,” the man asked, sneering a bit at their bedraggled appearance.

“We are the dwarrow of Erebor,” the king-in-exile answered, voice cold and regal. “He will not thank you for holding us here instead of bringing us to him.”

The one who had been quiet spotted the rings the dwarf lord wore and smacked his companion’s arm, murmuring something in a tone that was too soft for them to hear. The pair argued for a moment before the first human spoke again.

“Follow me,” he told them, heading up the pier towards the town.

She took Thorin’s arm when he offered it to her, grateful for the support since the sight of the water below the wooden pier was making her rather dizzy. The hobbit walked with him, biting her lower lip as they entered the city and found people going about their business. The buildings were in horrid condition, and the people wore rags and looked hungry.

“Thorin,” she whispered softly, leaning into him.

“I know,” he replied in a voice just as quiet. “I see it too. This town was just a fishing port in my youth but even then, everything was in perfect order and the people were happy. I know the dragon limits trade but surely, there’s some kind of income that would help to keep the people fed, clothed, and sheltered in proper buildings?”

“If there is, someone must be hoarding the money and not ensuring the ones who live here have a means of feeding their families,” the hobbit told him, struggling to hide her distress when she spotted a child dressed in rags.

“We will find answers,” Thorin assured her, following the guard into a building that was in better shape than the others.

The corpulent male sitting at a table turned all of their stomachs, made worse by the realization that this person was the ruler of this impoverished town and that said ruler had not been living in the same squalor the people under his protection were.

“State your business,” the man ordered, taking a bite of his meal and staring at the group that had entered his domain.

“I am Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror,” he began, keeping a hand over hers as it rested on his arm. “We are the dwarrow of Erebor and seek to reclaim our home, but we require resupplying.”

“You realize there is a dragon in the mountain,” the Master drawled, sending a shudder down Hawthorn’s spine.

“I am aware the worm has not been seen in nearly sixty years,” the dwarf lord replied. “I will enter the mountain to reclaim what belongs to my people and restore the alliances between the mountain and the men of Dale and Laketown.”

Everyone in the company could see the look of avarice on the man’s face, and all of them had a feeling that any money sent to this town would not be seen by the people who desperately needed it.

“The alliance would be welcome,” the disgusting male stated. “Supplies and shelter you shall have. Give a list of what is needed to my man, Alfrid, and he shall see you have all you need. It is my hope that Erebor will remember those who supported you on this quest.”

“Our allies will be amply rewarded,” Thorin replied, hiding his disgust at the greed of the human in front of him.

“Excellent! We shall feast tonight to celebrate your return,” the Master told the group. “I shall have clean attire sent to your lodgings so you may bathe and be ready for the celebration. Alfrid, see to it that our guests have everything they will require for their stay as well as their journey to the mountain.”

A thin, greasy haired male bowed and headed towards the dwarrow.

“Follow me,” he said to them, leading the group out of the large home and down a worn pathway to a building that was slightly better than the ones surrounding it. “This shall be your place of lodging until you are ready to depart. I shall return later with clean attire for you and tomorrow, we can meet to discuss what supplies you will need.”

“I will have a list ready,” Balin stated, knowing this would be a task he would need to take on since this fell under one of the roles an adviser handled.

The human nodded, unlocking the door and handing Balin the key.

“Supplies for your stay will arrive soon,” he told the group. “There are bathing facilities and clean linens aplenty for you so please, take the time to relax and refresh yourselves. Someone will be by to escort you to the feast later this evening.”

The group entered the building, closing the door behind them, and once they were assured of not being overheard, Hawthorn broke the silence.

“Oh merciful Valar, how can such odious people exist?”

“Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time we’ve met people like the Master of Laketown and his lackey,” the white haired dwarf answered tiredly. “I’m certain they won’t be the last.”

“How in Mahal’s name does a town like this go from fairly bustling to being so dilapidated,” Dori asked, frowning as he did so. “Laketown was never like this.”

“I’m certain a good chunk of that is due to the dragon and not having Dale and Erebor to trade with. I imagine the elves are not always a reliable source of income either,” Nori replied. “However, with your permission, I think I’ll do a bit of snooping tonight to see what’s going on with the leader here and why the people look to be starving when they’re living on a lake full of fish.”

“I’ll wait for your report,” Thorin told the thief, knowing he’d find the answers they would need. “Nori, I have another task for you to complete while you are doing reconnaissance. I want you to see if any of Girion’s line survived.”

“I’ll do my best,” he answered, knowing this would be important to his king.

A short while later, the clothing and other supplies arrived. Hawthorn and Bombur filled the kitchen with the food stuff they’d been given, cleaning it up before parting to go get their own baths once the ones who had gone before them had finished.

The hobbit sighed, staring at her reflection in the tarnished mirror. Her old attire was a wreck, and she wasn’t pleased with what she was wearing either. They’d given her a child’s dress, which was not made for a fully grown female hobbit. The length was right, but the fabric was tight across the chest.

“This is ridiculous,” she grumbled, feeling slightly indecent.

At the knock at the door, she opened and peeked out to find Gloin waiting for her.

“Is it time to go yet?”

“Not yet, Hawthorn. Is everything all right? You seem rather upset about something.”

“Somewhat,” she answered, looking uncomfortable. “Would you mind finding Dori for me please? I really need his help with something.”

Her uncle nodded, disappearing to find the dwarf she’d requested, and after a few moments, she let the silver haired tailor into her room. It didn’t take him for than a second to realize why she’d asked for him.

“Is this what they sent for you to wear,” he asked in dismay, looking very unhappy at the picture she presented.

“Yes,” Hawthorn told him. “The length and waist are fine, but the bust area is so tight that it’s indecent. I can’t go out in this!”

“They sent everyone clothing made for children,” Dori grumbled, walking around her to see if he could alter this for her. “I’ve spent a good portion of the afternoon making adjustments to clothing. I had hoped yours would be a bit more acceptable.”

“I’m not the most generously gifted hobbit when it comes to the chest area but even the most flat chested of hobbit matrons wouldn’t fit in this properly,” she complained. “I bound them as tightly as I could too when I realized they’d sent me a child’s dress.”

“Can you breathe all right,” he asked, sounding concerned.

“As long as there’s no dancing or fighting, I’ll be fine,” the lass reassured him. “Do you think you can do something with this?”

He looked at the seams and shook his head, knowing the dress was not made to be adjusted.

“The seams aren’t deep enough to hide excess fabric; whoever made this did so knowing there was just enough material to make the dress to be handed down once the child outgrew it. I do have another option if you don’t mind trousers,” he offered. “Some dams might not like wearing such things to feasts and other gatherings so I didn’t think to bring them up with the dress.”

“As long as they’re modest, I don’t mind. I don’t feel comfortable going out of my room in this thing,” Hawthorn told him. “I’ve no wish for Thorin or the others feeling like they have to spend the evening defending my honor, and they will have to if I wear this in public. The company deserves a chance to relax as much as possible, and I doubt the master of this town will make it easy for them to do so. I don’t want to add to their stress if I can avoid it.”

“Give me a few moments to get the clothing, and I can do a quick tack to ensure everything fits well. I’ll be right back.”

Dori left the room, coming back a short time later with a bundle of fabric in his arms. He laid out a pair of dark trousers, white shirt that laced up the front, and a dark blue coat. They were obviously made for larger children, but the two had hopes this would fit her without being indecent.

“Perfect,” Hawthorn stated, grabbing the clothing and disappearing behind a screen to change.

“Let’s hope so,” the tailor replied. “I’ve no desire to watch our king murder people tonight for eying you the wrong way.”

“I know he, Calon-Tad, and Uncle Gloin would fight to protect me, but surely he wouldn’t resort to killing?”

“We love fiercely, Miss Hawthorn, and we are highly protective of those we keep in our hearts. Thorin and the rest of us would ensure your honor and virtue are protected even if it meant destroying those who have ill-intentions towards you. We all would happily do it as you’re important to all of us,” he told her, making her blush.

Hawthorn came out from behind the screen a few moments later, and Dori quickly pinned the trousers to the right length. The shirt and jacket were a bit large, but they covered her well and allowed for comfortable movement so he would leave them as they were.

“You’ll need a belt for this,” he said, checking the waistband of the trousers. “I don’t want to tack this because I know you’ll gain healthy weight back once things settle down. I think I know where to find one. Take those off, and I’ll adjust these for you.”

She disappeared behind the screen, holding the garment out once she had them off.

“Right, once I’m done and you’re dressed, come down to the parlor and Thorin can do something about your hair. Your braids will need redoing before the feast,” he told her, making her laugh softly.

“If he can get this mess untangled, he’s welcome to do whatever he likes to fix the disaster my hair has become,” Hawthorn giggled, causing Dori to laugh as well.

“I’ll tell him you said that. I’ll be back in a bit,” he assured her, heading out to go to the sewing kit he’d found earlier.

Once alone, Hawthorn sank onto a chair and rubbed her temples as she tried to gather her thoughts. A large part of her did not want to go to the feast since she had seen just how poor the people of the town were. It didn’t sit well with her to know that she would be enjoying food that should be going into the mouths of those who needed it.

Chances were good that any funding coming from Erebor would stay in the pockets of the man who ran this town, and it made her stomach churn with anger. Something had to change here, but she wasn’t sure how to do it. The influence of the mountain kingdom could only go so far.

The hobbit got up, moving to the window to stare out at the busy streets and waterways. Her heart was breaking at the sight of underfed children, and she was furious by the knowledge that she could do nothing to help the little ones.

Dori came in a few moments later, handing her the trousers and belt, and frowned over the look on her face. He slipped out, letting her dress, and went to speak to someone who would be able to help ease the hobbit lass.

Hawthorn dressed, donning the belt correctly and laying the jacket on the chair before returning to stand in front of the window. She heard a tap on the door, calling out to whoever it was to enter.

“Dori said something is troubling you,” Thorin asked, moving to stand beside her.

“Children are the greatest gift the Valar has granted every race on Arda,” the hobbit answered, voice rough with anger and heartbreak. “Yet the little ones here are underfed due to the greed of one man and there is nothing I can do about it.”

“We’ll find a way,” he assured her, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her into him. “Hopefully, Nori can determine if Girion’s line survived and if so, I can make an offer to his heir. If he takes it, he can rebuild Dale and offer a life of plenty to the people suffering here.”

“And if the Master refuses to let the people go?”

“I’ll intervene then and even try to spur the damned elf to their aid if I can manage it. If he won’t help, I’ll send for help from my cousin and see if the Lord of Lothlórien would be willing to do the same to help protect the innocents here,” Thorin promised. “People have the right to ensure their children are fed and well taken care of, and I refuse to allow the little ones to suffer as they are. I have seen this happen too often, and now I have the means to do something about it for those around me.”

Hawthorn turned in his embrace, slipping her arms around his waist and leaning her head against his chest. She closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat and taking comfort from the powerful sound.

“Thank you,” the hobbit lass whispered quietly.

“Anytime, my One,” he answered. “We’ll make this right, I promise.”

He held her close for a while, staying silent until he felt the tension ease from her too thin frame. Once she was relaxed, he pressed a kiss to her hair.

“Now, let’s get your hair combed out and see what I can do with all these curls,” Thorin said with a smile, catching a glimpse of the small teasing one she gave in return.

“I hope you can do something with my hair because I fear it’ll frighten the dragon with how tangled and horrid it looks after washing it,” Hawthorn said, smiling as he laughed.

“I’ll remember that in case we need to scare him out,” the monarch answered. “In the meantime, I wish to show just how beautiful my betrothed is and that means creating some kind of order here.”

The hobbit giggled, letting him guide her downstairs. She was grateful to have a soulmate who understood and was willing to do what he could to help those in need. At the moment, she refused to think of Smaug and was determined to simply enjoy time with those she called family.

Author’s End Note – And we are now in Laketown. I hope everyone enjoyed this; please let me know what you thought of the chapter. I’ll see you all next week! ~ Laran
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Mending the Broken Pieces