Chapter 57: Statis Quo

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The thick mist had rolled in unexpectedly from the direction of Mirkwood, enveloping the entire town and nearly half the lake in a dense blanket of fog. The mist was abnormal for it had overtaken the city mid-afternoon. It was thick and almost tangible as if made from an oppressive shadow. Even the lanterns that swung and creaked in the chill breeze struggled to cut through the enveloping gloom.

"It's no use," called the elf prince from the top of the watchtower. "Still no visibility." Thorin cursed under his breath as he climbed the last few steps to see for himself. Grudgingly he had to admit that even his superior night vision could not penetrate the haze.

"I don't like it," he grumbled, turning in a circle, hoping to see something, anything but the dense fog. "It's not natural."

"Agreed." Legolas frowned in the low light of the lantern hung above them. "It's all too convenient that it should have come from Mirkwood to cover Escaroth. There is a quality about this mist that smacks of a wizard's magic."

"Is he capable of such a thing?" The elf shrugged.

"I'm no wizard, but if the conditions were favorable then it would certainly not surprise me. It puts us at quite the disadvantage for we are unable to spot any bird or spies he might send."

"What of the orcs? Any movement?"

"They vanished mid-day yesterday."

"And your last estimate of their numbers?"

"Somewhere in the thirties, but we can't be certain," admitted Legolas. "I have set all who can be spared to patrol along the edge of the forest."

"How many is that?"

"Eleven with the three that arrived yesterday, although we had to detain two more." Legolas's cheerless tone made it plain he regretted having to imprison his own kind.

"I sent Fili, Dwalin, Dori, Nori, Gloin, and Bifur to patrol the edges of town in pairs in case they should try and enter by water."

"And the others of the company?" asked the elf.

"Sara remains at the Masters, still searching the records for any trace to her family. The rest of the company is with Balin restocking the packs. I will not be caught without proper supplies again."

"Understandable, though orcs and low supplies may be the least of our concerns today," said Legolas. Thorin frowned. They couldn't help but overhear the whispered conversations among the townspeople and the energy of the atmosphere had shifted.

"There is a revolt in the air," said Thorin with a sigh. "Rather poor timing."

"Indeed, it is most inopportune timing. With orcs at their gates and a wizard to the West, they shall need every able-bodied man available and yet they squabble." Silence enveloped them momentarily as they each gave way to their own thoughts. "Do you intend to step in?" asked Legolas. "It's likely to happen soon, in fact, I would be much surprised if they didn't use this fog to their advantage."

"I'm not sure we could stop it, even if I desired to."

"Perhaps if we joined them we could minimize the loss of life while still ridding ourselves of the Master," suggested Legolas. Thorin grunted noncommittally.

"I don't relish getting directly involved with their politics."

"Will you condemn them to their fate? Surely there must be something we're able to do." Thorin thought for a moment before straitening.

"Perhaps there is," admitted Thorin, rubbing at his chin with the back of his hand. "But it will mean revealing the truth about Sara."

"To who?"

"The bargeman, Ranson. By his own admission, and according to the Master's fears he holds great sway with the people."

"I get the impression that Ranson doesn't much enjoy the limelight."

"No, you are right. He doesn't want to draw attention to himself, but he may have no choice. His friend Eric is too reckless, over-sure of himself."

"Can we draw him out?"

"I believe so, but first I would like to speak with him again. There is more to Ranson than meets the eye."

They descended the watchtower and strode back out onto the boardwalk. As they passed shops and stalls they heard more snippets of whispered conversation in the fog. For the first time in days, the gossip was not about the elves or the dwarves staying with the Master. The energy was still there, but it had shifted from curious and hopeful to determined and secretive. Men never seemed to realize that just because their hearing was poor didn't mean other was.

Whispers were not the only thing that gave away the shifting tide in the town. A figure rounded the corner at speed and fairly bounded off Legolas' side, spilling the contents of the sack in his arms. Makeshift weapons clattered haphazardly onto the boardwalk at his feet. It wasn't until the boy's hood fell back as he looked around that Thorin recognized him to be Ranson's son, Bain. Hastily, Bian gathered the contraband collection and stuffed them back into the sack. Thorin reached down and hauled the boy to his feet. Bain stood almost a foot taller than Thorin, but judging by the arm in Thorin's grip, he lacked much of the strength of a grown man. He pulled the boy back around the corner and into an alleyway. There would be too many questions if the guards discovered Ranson's son with his bag of weapons.

"What is all this?" asked Legolas, holding out a crude knife that had eluded the boy's hands.

"It's none of your business, " said Bain, pulling his arm free before snatching the knife from Legolas.

"Where are you taking these and to what purpose? It wouldn't have anything to do with the whispers we have been hearing around town today would it?" asked the elf.

""What whispers?" said Bain. "Don't know what you're talking about." Legolas wrapped the boy's skull with his knuckles.

"The whispers about a rebellion," stated Thorin flatly. The boy's face blanched.

"Does your father know where you are?" questioned Legolas pointedly. The boy's silence was answer enough.

"Eric put you up to this didn't he?" pressed Thorin. "He is behind this movement is he not?" Bain just stared back at him balefully.

"We don't wish you any harm," said Legolas. "We don't want to get involved, but don't you think you owe it to your father to at least tell him of your plans?"

"Father would not approve," muttered Bain.

"What if something should happen to you?" coaxed Thorin. "Or did it not occur to you that you might end your short life on the end of a sword this night?"

"Don't let Eric lead you blindly," said Legolas, folding his arms over his narrow chest.

"I'm no fool," argued Bain defiantly, glaring back at them. "The Master is a tyrant, ending him and his guards is the only way to bring peace to our town. You would not understand. Even my own father will not see sense." Thorin glanced meaningfully at Legolas.

"Our years far outnumber yours," said Legolas. "I feel it safe to say we understand the situation far better than yourself."

"Has it occurred to you that perhaps your father knows something you don't?" prompted Thorin. "That he has had a reason for not acting upon up to this point?

"I know the reason," said Bain ashamedly. "Father is a coward. He would rather keep his head down than fight."

"Your father's eyes are not those of a coward," stated Thorin. "I do not pretend to know his reasons for holding back, but your father is more of a fighter than his friend. If Eric were wise he would take counsel from your Father." The boy was quiet, his face sullen for many long moments and Thorin knew better than to press him. Young people had to be left to make their own decisions and the more they were pressed the more they resisted.

"You really think my father is a fighter?" asked Bain at last. Thorin nodded.

"It's in his eyes. Tell me, where is your father?"

"You're not going to tell him are you?" asked Bain, a hint of panic in his young voice. Thorin considered for a moment.

"That depends more on what your father has to say to me. But I would be much surprised if your father is not already aware of the situation. He's no fool," said Thorin bemused. Bain's shoulders dropped in defeat. "Now, where can we find him?"

"I knew this was coming," sighed Ranson, rubbing his hand over his forehead. "Eric has been more secretive than normal." He leaned back in the chair and surveyed Thorin and Legolas before glancing at his son. Bain sat with his head hung low, the weapons he had been smuggling were laid out on the table before them. Just before they had entered Ranson's home Bain had insisted that he would be the one to tell his father.

"I'm sorry Da," said Bain meeting his father's gaze.

"While I can hardly say I'm pleased with your choice, I understand it. Still, I can not allow you to participate, in fact I mean to find Eric and put a stop to this altogether. He's a fool to try and move now of all times."

"Why? Why do you do nothing? The people would rally to you," insisted Bain. "Step up and they will follow you."

"I can't," said Ranson wearily, folding his arms over his chest.

"Can't or won't?" shot Bain agitated. He rose and began to pace. "Do you want Tilda and Sigrid to always look over their shoulders in fear? Do you like being taxed out of our livelihood and having to smuggle weapons to assure our safety? Why will you not fight to protect us?"

"I am protecting you," growled Ranson, bringing Bain up short. "You know nothing of having to constantly look over your shoulder. Do you think I enjoy this place? I do not, not in its current state, but I can't afford to draw attention to myself. It's not safe."

"Are you really that frightened of the Master," scoffed Bain.

"There are more terrible and dangerous things in this world than a corrupt leader," said Ranson. "Sometimes it is more prudent to hide than to fight. There are some enemies you simply can't win against. I do not fear the Master, he is a power-drunk fool, but if I were to orchestrate a rebellion it would draw unwanted attention to our family and put us all at risk."

Thorin listened to the heated exchange trying to learn not only from what was said, but what went unsaid. What enemy drove this man into hiding? Was it worth it to ally himself and the company to him, or would it prove more dangerous? Thorin scoffed internally at that foolish thought. How could it get any worse? Saurman wanted Sara as a captive as did Azog and his master Sauron. Could there be any more dangerous trio? No, the real question would be if Ranson was willing to ally with them.

"Why have you never spoken of this?" demanded Bain. "Why are we in hiding? Who..." but he was cut off by a knock at the door. Ranson raised his hand, silencing his son.

"Enter," said Ranson. The door opened to reveal Eric. His eyes darted around the room anxiously until they landed with relief on Bain.

"There you are. I have been looking for you everywhere. Where have you..." But he stopped upon spying the table's contents.

"Eric," said Ranson, his voice like a whip. "Tell me, since when have you been using my son as your personal courier?" Eric staritend definaly.

"He may be your son but he's no boy. He can make his own decisions. I did not coerce him."

"You may not have coerced him, but you hardly dissuaded him either. You understand how I feel about this matter. I made it clear to you I don't want my family involved."

"You made your position clear, though not your reasoning. But it's too late to stop it now. I ask you again, will you not join us? The people look to you." Ranson shook his head and Eric's face hardened.

"I will not, even if I were so inclined, the timing is poor."

"Very well you leave me no choice but to continue this on my own." Eric turned to leave but was blocked by Legolas. "Get out of my way," growled Eric.

"We can't let you do that," said Thorin cooly, getting to his feet. "Now is not the time to be caught squabbling amongst ourselves."

"Squabbling," scoffed Eric. "We fight for our liberty from tyranny, and with the fog blanketing the town it is the perfect time to strike."

"The master may be greedy but he is no fool and neither is Alfrid," said Ranson. "They will be expecting your move. How will your poorly armed townsfolk fare against ready and waiting soldiers?"

"Some of the guards are on our side as you well know. We can handle the Master's guards," snapped Eric.

"And perhaps you can," said Legolas. "But at what cost? Can you hold your own against a mob of orcs without their help? The orcs will give no quarter."

"What is all this talk of orcs? There are no orcs!"

"The orcs are not a fabrication," said Ranson, resignedly. "The orcs are here."

"Have you seen them yourself?" asked Eric. Ranson nodded.

"Three days ago when I went to retrieve the latest shipment of barrels from Mirkwood there were no barrels. Instead, I found signs that a sizable number of orcs had passed through. If you had thought to use the fog to your advantage it will have certainly occurred to the orcs as well. We should be guarding ourselves against attack rather than cutting our defense."

For once Eric was silent, considering. Thorin moved to the window that faced the direction of the Master's house and opened it. The fog was still thick but now there was a heavy scent of smoke carried on the air.

"You truly believe the town will be attacked?" asked Eric, turning to look at Thorin, Legolas, and finally Ranson.

"I think the risk is too great to ignore," replied Ranson calmly. "I understand your desire to rid us of the Master, I truly do, and any other time I would not stand in your way. But now is not the time to strike. I feel that there are greater powers at work in the world at large." Eric glanced at Thorin and wrinkled his nose.

"You believe his tales of war and invasion?"

"I believe their story at least merits a second telling... Perhaps a much more detailed one," said Ranson, catching Thorin's eye. The bargeman sat watching him expectantly. "That among other things is why you are here is it not?"

"Can you be trusted with a full account?" asked Thorin, turning to lean against the windowsill, arms crossed. "There are those that I am striving to protect as well. One in particular, her enemies are most formidable."

"You speak of your companion Sara," stated Ranson, falling silent for a moment before grunting. "I too would see her safe. Despite not knowing her full tale I feel an unexpected sense of kinship with her."

Thorin stiffened. What did he mean by that? Ranson seemed to sense his thoughts.

"Worry not, she is yours," said Ranson chuckling and waving a hand. "My life's love has come and gone, leaving me our children. I simply meant that I trust her."

"She can be quite persuasive," said Legolas.

"Will you bring her to relay her own story, for it is more her story than yours is it not?"

"She should be present, yes," said Thorin, looking out the window again.

There was a faint glow from the direction of the Master's mansion and the acrid stench of ash and cinder was born in once again. Where was all the smoke coming from? It was too thick for mere residential fires. The sudden peal of bells rang out through the heavy air and Thorin's heart stuttered. Ranson appeared by his side looking out the window as well. The glow in the fog had doubled in brightness. That was no mere smoke.

"It's a fire. Looks to be the Master's mansion. What have you done?" accused Ranson, rounding on Eric. "Surely even you do not suggest that the Master's mansion be burned! He holds much of the town's goods and supplies."

"It was not me," said Eric, half definitely, half worried. "Our plan was to ambush them in the night, not torch the place that would be... "

Sara! She was still in the Master's house. Thorin seized the man by his loose shirt, half dragging him out of his seat.

"If Sara comes to harm because of your schemes, so help me..." Legolas's hand fell on his shoulder bringing him up short.

"There's no time. We need to ascertain the precise origin of the fire and keep it from spreading. We need to find Sara." Reluctantly Thorin released the man before turning to follow Legolas out to the door, Ranson, Eric, and Bain hot on their heels.

There had to be more in the records, there just had to be. Sara shoved away from the table trying to fight down her disappointment as she made her way to the stack of crates she had already been through. Not one lead to point to her family.

She had spent years longing for, searching for her family on Earth with to no effect. She had been beating her head against the same wall for years but finding the mark inside the locket had felt like the wall had suddenly been knocked through and a multitude of possibilities were now open to her. That hope had only increased the closer she drew to Lake-Town. She now realized that the wall had not truly been destroyed. Instead, she had been thrown into this void of information. What good was the symbol inside her locket if it never let her further? That's all it would remain, a symbol, full of false promise.

It had been foolish to get her hopes up again. She should just face reality. She had no family. It was better to move on as if they never existed than to repeatedly have her hopes dashed. She was on her own here in Middle Earth, she had to look to her future, if she had one, instead of wallowing in the what-ifs of the past. They were gone and nothing could change that.

Sara growled, running her fingers through her hair. Who was she kidding? She would never be able to quash the glimmer of hope, as much as she sometimes wished she could. It was the coal burning away at her core ever since she had been old enough to realize that Clarice Miller was not her biological grandmother. Were there really no more records?

Alfrid was bent over a parchment, scratching away. He did not look up as her shadow fell across his work, but she could tell by his stiff posture that he was very aware of her presence beside him. He continued his work, ignoring her. She folded her arms and cleared her throat loudly. He continued working. She wrapped her knuckles on the table sharply.

"You made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with me, Ms. Miller," he said, his voice giving away the anger in his bowed face. "What could you possibly want from me?"

The past few days in the records room with Alfrid had been interesting, to say the least. The day after their altercation Alfrid had been absent, but that had suited Sara just fine as she had still been recovering from the symptoms of her cycle. The herbs Sigrid had given her had helped and even speed up the process, but she had been all too happy not to leave her bed. Besides this, it was better that Thorin and Alfrid not encounter each other just yet. Thorin had promised he would do nothing to retaliate but Sara was not sure she trusted his resolve in the immediate proximity of the perpetrator.

When Sara and Alfrid had met in the records room again to allow her to continue, the counselor had sported a dark bruise under and around both eyes. He had not spoken a single word to her in the past three days. He had stayed out of her way and worked at the table farthest from hers. But she had not been fooled. She had not heard or seen the last of the handsy chancellor. This seeming quiet would only last as long as the status quo remained unchanged.

"Are those really all the records there are?" she asked, not sure she would believe his answer.

"All save the records in the

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