#mf14

"Just follow the river. Follow the bloody river..." you kept muttering to yourself as your feet manoeuvred the slippery rocks, sliding on the wet moss and stones.

"How long does this God-damn river go ON?!" you complained to yourself, but your moaning was met by deaf ears, as there was no-one in sight to listen to your voice, and the deafening crash of the river made sure to drown out any sounds that you made.

You had been walking for what seemed like hours, your feet precariously placing themselves on black, wet boulders. You had fallen over, of course, many times. Coordination wasn't your strong point, and the icy slipperiness of the ground beneath your feet did nothing to help your cause. Yo were sure to have a few bruises tomorrow...

The first few times you had stumbled, you almost expected to hear a low chuckle and a mocking "Careful there," accompanied by a strong, warm pair of arms wrapping around you and pulling you upright, but he was gone, and you had to accept that. Yes, you would miss his crappy jokes and his comforting presence, but you were just going to have to get over yourself.

You had survived this far without the help of that poncey elvish princeling, you could survive the rest of your life without it. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, sending him away, but the longer and further you travelled, the more you regretted it. Ironically, he would probably be your best bet at finding these bloody dwarves. They were causing you a considerable amount of difficulty at the moment.

To think if Thorin had just taken you with him, and you wouldn't have to make this uncomfortable journey down the fast flowing river. Though, on the other hand, if he had not left you behind, you never would have got to know Legolas, never got to see his face split into a grin at your clumsiness or unladylike manners...

Suddenly, your foot placed itself on a particularly slippy piece of rock, and your stomach lurched as you flew backwards, your legs being swept from under you. Ungracefully, you landed painfully on your tail-bone, that would leave a bruise...

"Fuck," you grunted, feeling the pain radiate from your lower back, jarring your spine.

The bad language felt good coming out of you, almost as if you had so much pent up anger and frustration inside you, it had to be released somehow.

The water sprayed your face, and it mingled with the tears that you didn't know were falling until now.

"Fuck." you repeated again, attempting to make yourself feel better.

The water splashing from the river soaked into your hair and tunic, freezing you to the bone as you pushed yourself up from the soaking ground, wiping the grass and moss off your already ruined tunic.

"Fucking sitting hell on a stick," you continued, standing up on your feet and yelling at the sky, letting your fury pour out like the water poured out of the river, un-swayed by barriers.

"FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKING PERFECT HAIR AND FANCY CLOTHES AND INFURIATINGLY GORGEOUS SHOULDER TO WAIST RATIO!" you continued to roar to nobody in particular. It wouldn't surprise you if Legolas could hear you from Mirkwood, you were shouting so loud.

"YOU CAN TAKE YOUR BEAUTIFULLY CARVED ELVISH BOW, AND YOU CAN SHOVE IT STRAIGHT UP YOUR ROYAL-"

"Are you alright there, lass?" you heard a male voice ask you, and your hand immediately reached for your sword, until you turned and saw that it was just an old man, face creased and weathered by age.

His thin, white hair stuck up in shocks on his tanned head, and he leaned on a thick stick, unable to stand up properly.

"Are ye lookin' te get te Laketown?" he asked, in a heavily accented voice, made all the more noticeable by the fact that he only appeared to have three teeth, "Cuz ye ain't gonna manage it by yelling profanities at the clouds, I can tell ye that fer nothin'" he said, a toothless grin breaking out on his face.

Laketown?

"Is that close to Erebor?" you asked, perhaps this was the place the dwarves had come...

"Aye," the man replied, nodding his head knowingly, "Laketown has lived in the shadow of the misty mountain fer all its long years..."

"How do I get there? To Laketown?" you urged impatiently, sure that this was the place you were headed.

"I can lend ye me boat, lassie," the man offered, and he pointed a gnarled finger out into the large lake that you had managed to miss whilst you were too busy shouting, "She's a good boat, straight and true..."

You rooted in your pockets, and managed to pull out a few golden coins. You didn't remember where they were from, but you hoped they would serve you well today.

"Is this enough?" you asked, proffering your hand out.

The man's eyes widened, "Aye, that'll do..." he answered, snatching the coins out of your hands and inspecting them thoroughly, "She's moored over there," he pointed to the side of the river where a small, wooden boat was tied up.

Sighing, you thanked the old man, and walked over to the boat, untying it and sitting inside, feeling your stomach lurch at the unexpected movement. If you were going to do this, you were going to do it properly. Grabbing the oar firmly, you pushed out from the bank and began to row, keeping in a straight line.