#like sir out of everyone in laketown they all immediately believed you to be the trouble

[middleearthwanderer]

Someone who worked on The Hobbit needs to tell me what Bard did that had Laketown's guards and master having it out for him at the slightest spot of trouble

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Return Her pt. 5

The Company (and friends) x Reader

Womanly charm and Laketown. The company only hates Bard more and more as time passes.

Bard had you close his jacket around you to hide your odd clothing and sat you next to him like before, telling you quietly to let him do the talking because he’s not too popular with the local authorities. 

So you did just that, hanging out by the helm with his jacket covering your odd jeans and shirt while he steered into the port thing with a big gate blocking the way. 

You’ve never seen anything like it. A town completely on the water that should be beautiful, only it’s dark and gloomy and reeks of poverty and hunger. 

Bard exchanges a few words with the man at the gate, they glance back at you at one point before the new man suddenly declares that everything is in order. 

Before the approval slip thingy can be given back, though, a slouchy, long-browed, greasy man slinks up and snatches the paper and hisses, “Not so fast." 

This new dark-haired man reads over the papers, then looks up and observes the barrels lined up in his boat, "Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm. Only, they’re not empty, are they, Bard?”

He drops the papers and takes a few steps forward, a weird delighted gleam in his eye at having caught the bargeman off guard. “If I recall correctly, you’re licensed as a bargeman, not a fisherman.” As he says this he picks up a fish from the barrel that Bombur is in, sneering when Bard replies. 

“That’s none of your business." 

“Wrong. It’s the Master’s business, which makes it my business- Oh.” He pauses when his eyes suddenly fall on you, his facial expression shifting slightly. “What have we here?" 

Bard looks over at you, then back at the man with irritation, "Who she is, is no concern of yours. But if you must know she is the sister of my past wife.” He lies smoothly and you find yourself feeling a bit impressed. 

“The sister of your past wife, you say?” He doesn’t seem to believe him as he saunters over towards where you’re sitting, “She’s very pretty if you look past them bruises on her face, but I do wonder why she would live outside of the city when your wife was born ‘ere." 

Oh, okay he’s attracted to you. That’s good. 

Well, it’s gross, but good because you can definitely put that to good use. 

You stand up and rack your brain for a fake name before you remember the name of one of the Elvish guards in Mirkwood, "Hello, sir. My name is Aerin.” Despite not wanting to be anywhere near this man, you take a step forward and offer a dazzling smile. 

He seems taken aback by your positive response, but not displeased for he also takes a step forward and bows slightly, “I am Alfrid, the right-hand man of the master of this town. At your service.” After he says that he throws the fish into the water and reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, and you try your best not to cringe. 

“Bard, you did not tell me there were such n-noble men living here in your town.” Alfrid wasn’t looking at your face, but if he was he’d see that you don’t look very happy. 

Bard stares at you blankly for a few moments. He knows what you’re doing, they all do except for Alfrid apparently, and he just feels so bad for your poor soul. 

The slimy man lets go of your hand and steps back, smiling at you with his crooked, odd teeth before turning back to Bard with the same scowl on his face. “Anyways, these fish are illegal." 

"Empty the barrel-”

Before he can finish you speak again. “Bard! How much longer is it going to be? I’m simply yearning to see my nieces and nephew again.” You put extra emphasis on the word yearning and look the creepy man directly in the eyes, smiling coyly before looking back at the dark-haired bargeman. “I know that your devilishly handsome friend here is cross with you, but I really must go see Ta-er- Tilda and the other two.” You think you got the name right. 

Flattery get’s you everywhere in life, because your seductive euphemism and shameless compliment seem to make him forget all about dumping the fish out over the edge of the barge. “Handsome?” Ugh, he sounds all too happy about that. 

“Aerin I’m afraid Alfrid is upset with me, so I’m not sure how much longer we will be.” Bard plays along, crossing his arms over his chest as he shakes his head, “Forgive me my dear, I pray that this won’t take much longer." 

Alfrid looks between the two of you a few times before settling to look at your face, a sickly pleasant smile coming to his face, "No, no. I won’t hold you any more.” He walks back a few paces and steps off the boat, raising his arm, “Raise the gates and welcome our new guest warmly." 

And just like that the gate is being raised and the lot of you are gliding through the entrance with no further obstacles. 

"Until we meet again, my dear.” He says as you pass by, that same unnerving smile on his face. 

You release an all too enthusiastic giggle at his words and wave with faux-shyness, turning only once you’re at least a few meters away.

As soon as you’re out of sight you collapse down on the box and start rubbing the back your hand against his coat, “Ewww, I can’t believe I let him kiss me.” You complain while still rubbing your hand in an attempt to wipe away the awful feeling. 

“I can’t either. That was quite the performance.” He sounds amused, and when you glare up at him he looks it too with only hints of sympathy, “If I hadn’t known better I would’ve truly thought you were taken by him." 

"Ugh, shut up.” You stop wiping your hand on the coat and look down at it as if you expect there to be something smeared all over it from his too wet lips. “God, maybe I should just cut it off." 

"No need for that. Allow me.” The bargeman leans down and takes your hand in his, lifting it up so he can press a kiss in the same place. “There." 

Holy shit. 

Your face goes hot and when he lets go you allow it to fall back to your side, "W-Well now you’ve indirectly kissed him, so while I may be fine now you’re stuck with the knowledge that your lips have technically touched his.”

At your words there is raging that comes from inside the barrels. 

Bard grimaces at your words, it seems he didn’t think of it like that, but he doesn’t allow that to deter him, “I need not worry about that for long, because once your friends get out of those barrels I’m afraid I won’t last much longer.” He pauses, then adds with a smirk, “Or perhaps you can return the favor?" 

No one can hear it, but you’re screaming internally. 

The raging only gets louder, so you shake your head and stutter out, "N-No way, I don’t want your blood on my hands." 

He laughs at that, nodding along as he listens to the grumbles and yelling coming from the barrels of dead fish. "If I am to die anyways then surely you can make an exception.”

“You’re really pushing your luck, Bard! Your death is of when, not if anymore." 

—

Eventually you did get near his house, but then one of his kids came running up saying something about their house being watched, and so your poor friends ended up having to come through their toilet. 

Dwalin came in first, and the glare he threw at Bard was so withering and dark you nearly cried. Not really, but it was scary.

Bard only seemed to find it funny, though. 

Everyone is inside and wrapped up in record time (since it’s the only recorded instance of dwarves and a hobbit coming in from a toilet, it’s only natural that it would set a record), and none of them seem to happy about any of this. 

You get along with Bards children rather easily, his youngest is a total cutie pie, but ultimately after that fiasco at the gate you’ve got to hang out with the company a bit more so they don’t murder the poor bargeman. 

They’re given some extra clothes to change into and you elect to stand outside with his daughters while everyone changes, conversing with the younger one about her hobbies and other things she likes. 

Eventually their brother pokes his head outside and says it’s okay for you all to go back in, and when you do you’re met with the sight of shirt dresses and too long coats. 

You feel bad for them right away and head over to where they’re all hanging out by the fire, your eyes immediately falling on the shivering Bilbo.

Right away you go to his side and sit next to him, wrapping your arm around his shoulders to share some of your own heat (since you dried off quite a while ago and changed your jeans out for a pair of leggings you had in your backpack). You pull him closer into your side so his cheek rests against your chest, rubbing his arm lightly to create some warmer friction."I hope you don’t get sick…” You mumble worriedly, looking down at his red face. “Oh god, you’re already going red. You’re not coming down with a cold, right?" 

There’s some laughter from the others but you ignore it since you’re suddenly feeling very worried for the small hobbit. 

He doesn’t have much body-mass or fat, so surely he’s absolutely freezing. 

"Oin, maybe you should come check on Bilbo!” You call, looking up to see that they’re all laughing at you and not something stupid like usual. 

You pause and look around in bewilderment, “What’s so funny?" 

Nobody responds to you, instead they just keep on chuckling and laughing like they’ve just been given an entire stand-up comedy performance. 

"Gosh, let the lad breath, Y/N!” Bofur exclaims between laughs, only causing everyone else to laugh harder. 

You furrow your eyebrows and look back down at Bilbo, still completely confused, “What are you talking about? He’s breathing just fine, isn’t he?" 

This goes on for a few more minutes, you being baffled and asking questions while everyone else takes jabs and makes jokes, before you finally realize what they’re laughing at. And the only reason you realize is because of the very inappropriate comment Kili makes (despite looking a little pale).

"Hey Y/N, I’m feeling rather cold too, can I have a turn?" 

And then there’s more boisterous guffaws and unmanly giggles. 

You look back down at Bilbo and see that you’ve pressed his poor face right into your breast, and while you definitely didn’t do it to be weird or anything it seems that you’ve successfully embarrassed him. 

"Oh you complete idiots!” You yelp, loosening your hold on Bilbo so he isn’t pressed so firmly against you, “He's cold !” You cry disapprovingly, shaking your head at these immature and lecherous jests, “You wouldn’t be joking like that if I were a guy. Or if it were you!” You grumble, looking away from their overly humored gazes in favor of looking at the wall. 

They don’t quit their laughing for another minute or so, but when they do calm down you and the poor hobbit are both successfully humiliated. 

“And this is why Bard is my favorite.” You hiss at them, eyes narrowed with an irritated expression on your face.

There’s no more laughter after you say that, and you feel smug at the frustrated and angry looks that pass over their faces. 

“I can’t believe you let those men kiss you. They’re all hideous.” Dwalin growls, crossing his arms over his chest like he usually does. “You could do much better." 

"Kiss me? My hand you mean?” You ask, raising an eyebrow in question, “Hey, if I didn’t play up that charm y'all woulda been found out so fast. You should be thanking me." 

"Wait, so it wasn’t an actual kiss?” Bofur pipes up next, an expression that looks way too relieved on his face. 

“Um, no. Why would I let them kiss my mouth? I care about you guys and all but I gotta draw the line somewhere." 

"Maybe not that other guy, but you sure seem fond of Bard.” Fili grumbles.

“Oh my god, this again? Are we really gonna have this conversation again?” You really thought they were over it. How foolish of you.

Nori sits up a bit and exclaims, “That was before he kissed your hand!" 

You groan over dramatically and throw your head back, "Guyyysss,” you begin in a whiny voice, “It was my hand! My flipping hand!" 

A few of them huff, but nobody says anything else about it. Thank god. 

—

When Bard returns from whatever he’s doing the dwarves immediately bombard him about the weapons they were promised, and he leaves to go get them.

Only, when he comes back he’s met with a lot of outrage cause his weapons are pretty shitty. 

You watch from the opposite side of the table as Bard, looking at the weird grappling hooks and stabby 'weapons’ he provided them with. Also some weird hammers too. 

From what you’ve seen, these guys only accept the best of the best when it comes to weaponry, so this just ain’t cutting it. "Um, is this all you’ve got?” You wonder out loud, looking at the pathetic bundle of makeshift things. “Like, you haven’t got any swords or fancy things like that? These guys are total divas about that kinda stuff, so…" 

The others around you grumble at your slight jab and at the poor quality of the things they were given until they start to complain about paying him for weapons and these being trash, bla bla bla. 

Yeah, you totally called it. 

They all continue to argue and Bard says something about an armory, but your attention is grabbed by the sight of Kili and his old man walking stick. 

He’s struggling to sit down, no doubt from the awful wound on his leg, so you zoom over quietly (but quickly) and say in a hushed voice, "Hey, you’re not lookin’ very good, Kili." 

The brown-haired prince doesn’t look up at you right away, but when he does you can see very clearly just how pale and tired he’s looking. 

You take a seat next to him and place your hand on his non-injured knee, glancing over to make sure everyone else is distracted before whispering, "Are you okay?" 

He doesn’t do or say anything at first, looking down at your hand for a moment before looking back up at your face, "I’m fine." 

Fucking liar. 

"Kili, come on. Everyone else might just take that and roll with it, but you’re clearly not. You need to rest more." 

Your concern only seems to frustrate him, though, for he rolls his eyes and shakes his head stubbornly, "No, I already told you I’m alright. This will pass, and when it does you’re going to feel really silly for being so worried." 

You fix a glare at him, not removing your hand still, and shoot back, "And when it doesn’t, you’re gonna get your ass kicked by me. If you’re not gonna rest or deal with this, then at least let me clean it up so it doesn’t get infected." 

He stares at you for a few moments as if trying intimidate you into dropping it, but you return the look with a steely glare that says you’re not asking. 

Eventually he sighs and drops his head back, "Fine. Do as you wish." 

"Good choice." 

You pull your trusty backpack off your back and open it up, looking through it quickly to see if there’s anything there that you could use. When you catch sight of some cotton balls your expression brightens. "Oh, nice.” You take the bag out and place them next to you, then grab the water skin that they gave you and some tweezers you kept in your makeup case. 

Without hesitation you move onto the floor on the other side of him and kneel down so you’re closer to eye level with his nasty wound. 

Ew. 

You unwind the wrap slowly, glancing up occasionally to make sure you’re not hurting him, and once you’re done you drop it on the ground and crinkle up your nose at the unsightly hole in his leg. “Yikes, you’re the biggest fucking liar in the world." 

He doesn’t get a chance to retort because right away you gently grab the front of his leg to add a bit of press to test just how tender it is and if it’s still bleeding. 

It is. 

More blood begins to well up and you barely keep yourself from gagging, and he groans quietly in pain. 

You take your tweezers and cotton balls and place them on the bench next to you, then go for your waterskin. 

A handful of cotton balls and a bit of splashing later, and you’ve got some wet cotton to work with. 

The tweezers tips clink together softly when you close them a few times just to make sure they work right, then you grab one of the cotton balls with it and begin to gently clean up the area around his arrow wound. 

Very quickly the white fluff of the wet cotton turns red and smushy, so you drop it with the gross bandaging and grab another. 

This process of cleaning, dropping, and getting another goes on until it looks mostly cleansed, and once it is you begin to search for something else to bind his leg with. 

You sit there and think for a moment before an idea strikes you. 

Once said idea comes to your head, you sit up a bit straighter and wrap your arm around his thigh from the bottom, reaching up to touch your shoulder to see if your sleeve can properly wrap around his leg. 

"Uh, Y-Y/N? What are you doing?” He mumbles, looking at you oddly. 

“I’m trying to see if it’ll fit…” You say absentmindedly, slowly letting go. 

He chokes on air and splutters, “What?!" 

You don’t reply and instead pull both your arms out of your sleeves, lifting it a bit so your head goes in and you can get your arms out properly, and once both arms are poking through the hole for your head, you pull your head through too and secure it just above your chest. "There we go." 

Once that awkward sight is through with, you grab the sleeve of the arm just wrapped around his leg and begin trying to rip it off. 

It looks so much easier in the movies. 

You pull and tug and even try to bite at it, but it won’t give like you thought it would. 

After a minute or so of trying to rip it off with brute strength, you stop and glare at the offending piece of fabric, "Awh, freak…" 

You put your arms back into your shirt properly and return them through the sleeves, standing with irritation on your face, "Don’t move a muscle or I’ll cry and tell everyone you called me fat.” You threaten before approaching Sigrid, Bard’s oldest daughter. 

The two of you whisper for a moment, then disappear into another room only to appear again minutes later. 

You’re now wearing a soft red blouse (one of her nicer shirts) with your long sleeved white (it’s not really white anymore) ringer shirt hanging over your arm. 

With quick steps you walk over to Fili, who was speaking with everyone else, and tug lightly at the back of his borrowed shirt. 

He pauses in his listening and turns to look up at you, raising an eyebrow in question. “You’re wearing something new.” He comments. 

You ignore said comment and hold out your shirt to him, “I need you to get the sleeves off. It’s for Kili." 

Before he can ask questions you go back to said brother and kneel back down, taking a dry cotton ball to soak up the blood that had begun to gather while you were busy. 

Right before you finish with dabbing at the blood, Fili approaches with your now tattered and destroyed shirt, both sleeves held out to you in pretty good condition (though the same can’t be said for the torso…) all things considered. 

"Thank you Fili.” You beam, taking the sleeves from him without hesitation. 

With deft movements you tie the ends of the sleeves together tightly, pulling on it to make sure the knot is good, before beginning to wrap it around his leg. “Do I have to do it tightly, or is that not a good idea?" 

"Wrap it tightly enough to where it’ll stay on and clot the wound, but not too tight that it’ll make his leg numb.” Fili responds, crouching down to watch as you begin to gently but firmly wind it around his thigh. 

“Like this?” You ask, pulling on it a bit to make sure it doesn’t loosen or fall. 

“Yeah, that’s good." 

Once you’re done, you tuck it under one of the first coils and tie it firmly. "Is it too tight?” You ask, glancing up at him with furrowed eyebrows. 

Kili shakes his head, releasing a shaky sigh, before reaching down to smooth his hand over it, “Thank you, Y/N…" 

A small smile comes to your face as you get up to sit down next to him. "Where would you fools be without me?” Your voice is good natured and humorous, but he can see the worry hidden in your expression. 

“Probably dead.” He jokes, looking over at Fili who laughs lightly. 

“That sounds about right." 

You wrap your arm around his shoulders much like you did to Bilbo earlier, looking down at the stark white of your now ruined shirt being used as a binding for his leg, "So long shirt.” You mumble. 

You look back at Fili and open your mouth to say something, but you cut yourself off when you feel a weight pressing against your left boob. 

Fili starts to laugh, and you don’t even have to look to know that he’s trying to be sly. 

Kili elected to lean against you much like Bilbo earlier, and though your eye twitches and the thought of flicking his nose passes your mind, you allow it.

He’s wounded, but as soon as he gets better you're definitely going to kick his ass.

And you tell him as much. 

“You’re so freaking lucky you got shot.”