"What's it to you?!" Dwalin demanded defensively. The Laketown man picked at a dent in one of the barrels where the wood had started to peel away.
"I know where these barrels came from." he stated seriously. 
"...what of it?" asked Thorin uneasily, suddenly feeling wary of asking this man for help. What if he just turned them back over to the Elves?
"I don't know what business you had with the Elves, but I don't think it ended well." The man continued as he untied the boat. "All of the Master's trade comes from the Woodland Realm, he would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil."

"Offer him more!" muttered Thorin to Balin in frustration under his breath. They needed to get across the Lake and this was the only way, or the Orcs would catch them and finish what they had started.