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The company were now all warm and dry and all had a full stomach of the best stick-to-your-ribs stew any of them had ever tried – even Bombur's endless appetite had been satisfied. In the place of chicken, beef or even rabbit, there had been hearty chunks of fish amongst the carrots, peas and potatoes without even a sniff of a stray bone. After the way things had been going the past few weeks it was like a banquet. It was true that Thranduil had not held back on feeding them during their time in his dungeons but knowing who had provided the food had caused it to stick in their throats more often than not and none of them had enjoyed it, only eating enough to keep up their strength. This simple meal was like a feast.

They had watched as the Hobbit had dashed from kitchen to table again and again, making plates and bowls appear from small cupboards as if by magic while Bard moved around her with effortless ease. It was a dance between them, graceful and practiced.

Balin had heaped thanks and praise upon the mistress of the house for the hearty meal and she had blushed prettily while cleaning up and sending the children off to prepare for bed.

Silence fell among the company, helped by the lethargy brought by full bellies and they easily picked up on the quick exchange between the Bargeman and his wife.

"The girls can sleep with me tonight, that will free up two beds," the Hobbit was informing her husband, "You and Bain can share his room,"

"Bilbo-"

Bard was not given the opportunity to finish but they could tell that he was not keen on being separated from him wife for the night.

"I have no clean sheets for the beds, I hope they don't mind," the Hobbit fretted.

"They were bobbing down the river half drowned not too long ago, love," Bard assured his wife, they could hear the smile in his voice, "I am sure they won't mind sleeping on your day-old spotless sheets,"

"Oh, you," came the annoyed but loving huff from the woman.

There was a pause and they could imagine the Man leaning down to kiss his small wife.

The mistress of the house had done quick work of setting up sleeping pallets throughout the room before going to see to the children with a promise to return shortly and ensure they had everything they needed.

Soon the soothing tones of a lullaby drifted to them and the Bargeman who had been moving between the kitchen and the small room adjoining – following his petite wife like a guarding shadow most of the evening – stilled and went to stand by the door leading to the rooms where his wife had vanished.

The Dwarves froze at the soft words that filtered to them.

"The King beneath the mountains,

The King of carven stone.
The lord of silver fountains

Shall come into his own,"

All eyes swung to Thorin who sat as stoic as ever, his face a careful blank, his eyes staring at the far wall.

"His crown shall be upholden,

His harp shall be restrung,
His halls shall echo golden

To songs of yore re-sung."

Was this a song about them? About Thorin reclaiming the Mountain from the Dragon? Just how long had it been it spoken or sung by the people of Laketown?

"The woods shall wave on mountains

And grass beneath the sun;
His wealth shall flow in fountains

And the rivers golden run."

They had given very little thought to the plight of the men of Dale over the years, too caught up in their own struggles and as they looked around the room they could not hold the Bargeman's insistences on payment against him. Wood everywhere, not a whiff of masonry work to be seen. They shivered to think how often the beams beneath the water must need to be replaced to prevent them from rotting.

"The streams shall run in gladness,

The lakes shall shine and burn,
All sorrow fail and sadness

At the Mountain-king's return!"

Perhaps, just perhaps, they would be welcomed after all once all was done.

Perhaps…

A sleepy mumble, belonging to the youngest girl drifted to them now as she begged her mother for the lullaby to be repeated

"Not tonight, love, we have guests to see too," came the gentle reply,

The squeaking of a door being pushed too and the deep voice of Bard broke them from their reverie. He was blocking any sight they might have had of the small woman but from the way he was leaning forward it was clear that she had come from the room and was standing in front of him.

"What do you think, my love? Would you care for a lake of jewels?"

The Hobbit scoffed loudly at the Bargeman's words.

"Fish cannot swim through gold or breathe mithril. What would we eat?"

"My Bilbo, ever the practical thinker," the man sighed in exasperation and they could see the back of his head shake from side to side.

"Mmm, but you love me anyway,"

There was a breathy giggle from the woman followed by a moments silence before Bard's rough tones drifted to them again.

"Aye, I do my Bilbo,"

Gloin and Bombur were both sitting with matching grins as they listened to the exchange, thinking of their own wives, safe at home. They were nearly at the mountain now and would be able to send for them soon.

"Bard," the woman sounded concerned now, the amusement gone, her voice soft and reassuring, "I am happy. We have a good life here and we want for nothing. You make sure of that,"

The Dwarves looked around the small home, hardly large enough to accommodate thirteen Dwarves and a family of five. It was clean and tidy with a homey feel to it and despite the smell of the water that hung outside the rooms smelled of lavender and other plants that hung from the ceiling and sat in wooden cups – splintered and useless for holding liquid but adequate for the purpose of keeping the dried stems together.

"I would give you the world if I could," the man's voice was soft, barely perceptible over the soft lapping of the water beneath the floor.

They felt like they were intruding on something private as they listened into the intimate conversation between the Bargeman and his wife. But there was nothing they could do now. After all, if they were to all suddenly begin chatting it would draw more attention than their silence.

They could turn away but their attention was caught as the man leaned down and a small arm encircled his shoulder. Pale, slim fingers threaded through his hair and drew his head further down.

"I have you and I have the children, I do not need the world, or a lake of jewels and gold,"

They could not see what was happening but they could imagine the gentle creature's forehead pressed to her husbands in affection.

They didn't have much opportunity to expound on what could be happening out of their sight as the man was released from the gentle hold and straightened.

All eyes immediately found something or other in the room fascinating to focus on.

Except for the younger members of the company. Their heads were together in a way that would have caused panic to rise in the chests of their elders if they weren't so busy trying to act innocent of all eavesdropping.

"Ori, did you get all that," Kili whispered to the scribe who had the best memory for words and speeches of the company.

He nodded his head.

Of course he did.

Good, they needed to remember everything.

This Bard was turning into a goldmine of romance.

Hi everyone!

Just another little update for this story - due to popular demand :)I am not intending to make this a regular story to update but I will add to it every now and then.

If you read some of my other stories you may know that I am having some computer issues (I have already had one spontaneous shut-down while sorting this chapter out) so that too will slow down any potential updates.

I hope you enjoyed this new chapter - I admit I only wanted it to be pure fluff :)

Take care and have a nice weekend.

P.S. needless to say, the lyrics for the King Beneath the Mountain came from The Hobbit by J.R. and I do not own them. I liked the idea of it being sung like a lullaby by the people of Laketown to their children.