Lake-town

Lake-town, also known as Esgaroth, stood on the Long Lake south of the Lonely Mountain, a lake along the upper and middle reaches of the Running River.

In the old days, before the Fire-drake ruled the Lonely Mountain, the town had prospered thanks to the convenient transport offered by the Running River.

Merchants traveled north from here in great numbers to trade at the Lonely Mountain or the Woodland Realm in Mirkwood.

The people of Lake-town could make a comfortable living simply by selling their handicrafts or catering to passing travelers.

But all that had vanished after the Lonely Mountain fell into ruin. Lake-town's population dwindled year by year, and the town itself shrank.

Now, most of them lived by growing crops along the shore or fishing in the Long Lake.

Those with influence, however, controlled trade with the Woodland Elves and still lived comfortably.

At that moment, a troop of magnificently equipped, fierce-looking riders came galloping toward Lake-town along the road from the south, shouting loudly as they rode.

It was now the third day since Bolg's death.

Allen led his personal guard onto Lake-town's wooden bridge. The guards stationed before it did not even dare call out to stop them.

In previous years, Allen had visited Lake-town in the guise of a merchant while traveling to the Iron Hills to see Dáin, experiencing its distinctive way of life.

Allen had little regard for the town's fat Master, and the distance between them was too great.

For those reasons, Allen's Wilderness Town had never established any meaningful diplomatic relations with Lake-town over the past four or five years.

Now, Allen and his personal guards, their bodies spattered with black blood, drove their horses fiercely along the wooden bridge toward Lake-town's gate. Townsfolk and merchants hurried out of their way.

After so many peaceful years under the protection of the Woodland Elves, Lake-town's defenses had grown lax indeed. Its idle guards only noticed Allen when he was nearly upon them.

An alarm rang out, and the wooden gates were immediately shut.

Soon, a slightly panicked voice came from behind them.

"M-my lords, this is Lake-town. Please state your business."

The men could hardly help being nervous. Their equipment was decent enough, and their fighting ability was passable.

The trouble was that the Master's greed had left them short of men. Keeping watch, maintaining order, and bullying the townsfolk under Braga's leadership were well within their abilities, but actually fighting Elves was another matter entirely.

Seeing Allen's party arrive with such an imposing display, the guard captain who had spoken knew they meant trouble.

And everyone in the troop seemed to be an Elf. What could have brought fully armed Elves to blockade Lake-town's gate?

He was already wondering whether the Master had cheated the Elves in some trade deal.

Now they had come to demand an explanation, bringing a disaster beyond his ability to handle upon him while he was on duty.

Seated on his horse, Allen found the voice familiar. After thinking for a moment, he asked harshly, "Braga, is that you?"

Behind the gate, Braga grew frightened when he realized the man outside actually knew him.

All he had ever done was indulge in a little petty extortion and bribery, or at worst use the Master's name to bully the townsfolk.

Now that the Elven leader had called him out by name, Braga was too afraid to speak.

A day earlier, while passing the edge of the Woodland Realm, Allen had exchanged a few words with the Silvan Elves working there.

Only then had he learned that Thorin Oakenshield and his companions had escaped the king's dungeon on the very day he left.

He counted the days. It had already been four or five days-far too long, and enough to worry him.

In the original novel, Thorin Oakenshield and his companions had spent more than two weeks in Lake-town, but in the film, they had stayed only a single day.

Allen had specifically told Thorin Oakenshield to wait for him in Lake-town.

But who knew whether those impatient fellows would leave Allen behind and head to the Lonely Mountain on their own?

From what Allen knew of them, Thorin Oakenshield was quite capable of doing just that.

Then Allen would have to spend a great deal of time searching the Lonely Mountain for the company.

And if they found the hidden door before Allen arrived, would his mission count as complete or not?

Deeply frustrated and anxious, Allen had led his men here at a furious gallop.

In fact, since yesterday, he had only managed a brief nap on horseback.

Sleep-deprived, Allen was in no pleasant mood. He could barely maintain basic courtesy.

"Open the gate. I'm here to see Bard."

Once Braga heard that the visitor had come neither for him nor for the Master, but for the Master's sworn rival, his heart settled back into place.

He had long since forgotten who Allen was. Back then, Allen had merely been a minor merchant who had to pay him a toll.

Since the matter had nothing to do with him, Braga poked his head just above the wooden gate and shouted:

"My lord, you're welcome to see Bard, but Lake-town's laws forbid anyone except the guards from carrying weapons. Perhaps you could..."

Allen stared at him with bloodshot eyes, frightening Braga into ducking back down.

Allen was in no mood to waste words with him. He handed his weapons and horse to Hollimion.

He quietly instructed them to wait for him on the other side of the bridge. Once Hollimion turned away, Allen called out, "Braga, I'm the only one going inside. Open the gate."

Only after Hollimion and the others had moved away did the wooden gates slowly open. Braga emerged at a leisurely pace, his face wreathed in smiles.

Bowing low, he said to Allen, "Lord Allen, if you don't mind, allow me to take you to Bard. I know him very well."

Allen knew Bard's situation in this town and nodded.

Thorin Oakenshield had indeed stayed. He was waiting in Bard's house, and his patience was wearing very thin.

Several times, he had wanted to take the company away and head for the Lonely Mountain.

But old Balin had talked him out of it, because they no longer had enough money to buy supplies and boats.

Allen had told Thorin Oakenshield to wait for him here.

After all, Allen would not be searched when passing through the Woodland Realm, so he was bound to have money. Once he arrived, everything could be resolved.

But they had been waiting here for nearly a week. With the Lonely Mountain looming before their eyes every day, they were growing restless.

Finally, on this day, Allen appeared near Bard's house with Braga leading the way.

Kili, who had been watching out the window, was the first to spot him.

"Allen's here!"

Ignoring the risk of being discovered, he shouted excitedly. Thorin Oakenshield, who had been pacing inside, sat down and let out a deep breath of relief.

Hearing the shout, Allen also breathed a deep sigh of relief. Thorin Oakenshield had finally listened to him for once. That was no small achievement.

Allen took out a few gold coins and sent Braga away.

The man had wanted to find out why Allen had come to see Bard. After all, Allen and his guards had cut a truly intimidating figure.

But when Allen dismissed him, Braga reconsidered and decided he ought to report this matter to the Master at once.

With that thought, he hurried toward the Master's residence.

Allen met the other members of the company on the second floor of Bard's house.

As soon as he entered, Allen greeted everyone, paying particular attention to Bilbo. He leaned close and whispered, "You did very well, Bilbo. I told you long ago that you would be a great Burglar."

Bilbo Baggins was both surprised and a little embarrassed. He merely scratched his head, unsure what to say.

Bard, the owner of the house, was out at the time. Only his children remained at home.

Truth be told, having more than a dozen Dwarves and Bard's family all living in this one two-story house was terribly inconvenient.

Fortunately, the Dwarves had paid something for their stay. Otherwise, life would have been far too difficult for Bard's family.

Thorin Oakenshield had long since had enough of living here. Excitement crossed his face as he looked at Allen. He knew he could finally leave.

But before he could say anything, Allen took out a bundle and opened it, revealing Bolg's head.

Allen looked at Thorin Oakenshield and asked:

"Do you know him?"

Thorin Oakenshield looked at the pale head, nodded, then shook his head.

He nodded because his family bore an irreconcilable blood feud with the Pale Orc, and shook his head because he did not recognize this hideous one.

"I don't know him," he said in a low voice, "but I imagine he must have something to do with that fellow Azog?"

Allen nodded. Resting his forehead against his right hand, he rubbed his temples with his thumb and middle finger and said wearily, "This is Bolg, Azog's son. He was sent to hunt you down, but I intercepted him and killed him. Consider it a gift."

Looking at the head on the table, then at Allen's exhausted face, Thorin's eyes filled with gratitude.

But it quickly vanished, and he said calmly, "I will never forget your friendship. Rest assured, once we reclaim the Lonely Mountain, I will give you something worthy of this gift in return."

Allen smiled, somewhat reassured. How could he have missed the look in Thorin's eyes?

Shaking his head with a smile, he told Thorin, "All right, Thorin, there's no need to be so formal. We're still friends, aren't we? Come on, let's meet this Master of Lake-town. We still need to get our supplies from them."