All Roads Lead Home

[Ghorim]

As usual, Jokim twitched awake just before the first hint of dawn. He couldn’t quit that habit even if he tried.

But on this particular morning, he still lay in the afterglow of the last night’s feast. He could still feel that roasted pheasant sitting in the pit of his stomach, and a small lake of ale sloshing around through his head. That, of course, was the price he paid for having sworn off drink for so long.

“Come Jokim,” thought the dwarf. “You’re no infantry whelp any more. You can afford a day off every once in awhile...”

He rolled over on his cot and tried to settle back down. He did not succeed.

“Nae, nae! You ought to get up, have a good morning jog, get some air into your lungs.”

“But you'll be resuming your march soon enough. There’s no need to wear your feet down to stumps...”

"But what about your conditioning?"

"But what about a good night's rest?"

And so it was that, while considering whether or not to stay awake, Jokim ended the debate by falling asleep.

---

A few hours later, a peculiar humming sound awoke him. Jokim pulled himself up and made a groggy scan of the room, only to see a dark silhouette moving toward the windows.

The figure grabbed the curtains and ripped them open, casting the full light of morning into the shadowy room. Druri, still lying shipwrecked upon the bed, groaned and pulled the covers over his head. Jokim, meanwhile, squinted through the sunshine to make out the form of Avenhel.

She had been humming to herself all this while, but as soon as the curtains opened, so too did her throat. Her bell-clear voice danced swiftly through a soft melody as she went about tidying up the dwarves’ room:

“You’ve drunk your dreams and slept your fill,
Slumbering... throughout the night.
But now the sun is at your sill,
Beckoning... with golden light.

Arise, o sleepyheads, arise!
Shut up your snores and set to work!
Arise, o sleepyheads, arise!
Break your fast with knife and fork!”

She clapped her hands, and in rushed a pair of servants, each bearing a tray of vittles for the guests to digest.

“More food!” was Jokim’s first exasperated thought, but then he noticed that the cooks had catered his dish especially to him. It was austerely decorated with breads and cheeses, while a small bowl of fruit and a pitch-black cup of coffee sat on the side. Druri’s menu, meanwhile, featured a far sweeter array of treats, the smell of which brought the lad's nose peeking out from under the quilts.

Both trays landed upon the table that sat beside the broad window, and the dwarves made their way over to them in short order.

“Must every word in this valley be delivered in the form of a song?” grunted Jokim as he took his seat, eyeing Avenhel with an early morning air of grumpiness.

She was already straightening out the sheets on their beds again. “Be fair, Master Dwarf. We have kept our music in check so as not to disturb your recovery.”

“You have been fine hosts, granted.” Jokim took a sip of coffee, savoring its hard, bitter flavor. “Although you are fattening up the both of us too much for my liking.”

“It is a long way to the Blue Mountains, yet.” She cast one of Druri’s quilts over the bed with a grand flourish. “You shall both have ample time to walk off our hospitality.”

“Which reminds me!” Jokim clanged his cup down on the tray. “Go and fetch Haluin, if you would. We must discuss our departure.”

Avenhel’s busywork shuddered to a halt, and she turned to the dwarf with a surprised look. “Excuse me, Master Jokim?”

“I said to go and fetch Haluin.”

“But... Master Jokim...” She paused, placing a finger to her lips.

Jokim tilted his head to the side. “Well?”

“Master Haluin left before dawn this morning.”

There was no gasp, no blurted curse, no violent outburst from Jokim. He stood, glowering, but reserved judgment until he heard the rest. “Excuse me?”

“He... the terms of Lord Elrond’s ruling were that Master Haluin leave before dawn today. And he did, as ordered.”

“Why was I not awoken?” Jokim took a step toward the healer.

“We all thought you knew... that the two of you had an understanding...”

“The only understanding we had was that the two of us were to meet, this morning, to discuss our next move.” Only here did Jokim display a brief flash of temper. His voice boiled to a near-roar on the critical words, as he lashed out at the sense of betrayal this news had brought him.

Haluin had deceived him, openly lied and deserted him. And after Jokim had done so much to ensure that the Elf’s life was spared! Did that not warrant at least an open farewell, at least an honest explanation?

“Where did he go?” Jokim’s voice blew frigid and without inflection.

“To the west.” Avenhel cringed, blaming herself as the bearer of ill news. “That is all I know, Master Jokim.”

“And who would know more?”

“Perhaps... Sir Eldarin might.”

“I would agree.” Jokim turned for the door. He heard the screech of a chair’s legs on the wooden floor and spun around. “Druri! Stay here. Finish your breakfast.”

The lad had started to rise from the table, but his uncle’s harsh tone fastened him back down to his seat. As the door to the room slammed, he stared at the food on Jokim’s plate, which lay untouched and growing cold.

---

Jokim heard the musical ring of Eldarin’s hammer upon the anvil from the moment he marched out the doors of Lord Elrond’s house. A few of the Elves he passed on the way to the forge greeted Jokim as he gusted by, but the dwarf paid them no mind.

Gildor attempted to stop him at the entrance to Eldarin’s workshop, but Jokim burst past him as a gale might through a sapling.

“Smith!” Jokim shouted, standing at the center of the room and staring at Eldarin’s hunched back. Eldarin gave a short glance over his shoulder and then stood calmly, lowering his hammer.

“Master Jokim... I’d been expecting just such a cheery visit from you all morning.”

“Where is Haluin?”

“Haluin? He is gone, like a leaf severed from the tree, left to wander according to the breezes...” Eldarin spoke in solemn tones, but laughter seemed to hide just beneath the words.

“Spare me your flowery speech. What did he tell you?”

“Little. His parting words, in fact, came to me only through Lord Elrond.”

One of Jokim’s brambly brows shot upward. “And what were those?”

“That I am to arm you properly for what remains of your journey.”

“Arm me properly?” This final slight was truly too much for Jokim to bear. “Arm me proper... listen, Elf! I am equipped with an axe of dwarven make. It has served me well for the past 100 years of my life. Perhaps this is all Haluin’s final joke, but I have no need for any Elven steel at my side.”

Eldarin shook his head. “It is not merely you who I am arming, Master Jokim.” He turned about, and with his tongs lifted the piece he was working on. Even with it half completed, the dwarf could make out the intricate craftsmanship at work... a dagger, as sharp and as bright as daybreak. “I work on behalf of your nephew, as well.”

Jokim’s arms, which had knotted into that familiar cross in front of his chest, fell slack at his sides. “Preposterous...”

“As for your axe...” Eldarin lowered the small weapon again. “I propose a compromise. I need not craft an entirely new weapon for you. The only thing I need replace is the head of your weapon. Bring the axe to me, and I can easily trade one head for the other. If the new blades do not suit your tastes, then I will reaffix your dwarf-made axe head atop its handle.”

Eldarin extended a gloved hand toward Jokim. The dwarf eyed the smith suspiciously. Then Jokim shook his head... at himself, for doing what he was about to do. Jokim’s broad hand gripped the smith’s.

“I have seen the power of your work, Eldarin. Do not disappoint me.”

A brief hint of concern appeared to cross the Elf’s supremely confident expression, but he nodded. “I would not dream of it.”

“Good. I shall fetch the weapon. But what am I to do in the meantime, while you work?”

“I believe the healers wish to spend some more time bonding with you. They are not yet fully convinced that you are prepared to withstand a full day’s march.”

Jokim grunted. “Then I am to be delayed again? Haluin shall be miles away by the time I set boot outside of this dratted valley. I cannot allow him to dash off on his own...”

“Master Jokim...” Haluin bowed slightly. “With all due respect... your friend had survived the past sixty years without your axe at his side... and for a good many centuries before your birth, besides. What are another few days to him?”

A low, rumbling sound emitted from the dwarf’s very core, sounding halfway between a growl and a groan. Then he and Eldarin stood silently for a few moments, while Gildor and Inglor tried to work quietly at the opposite end of the room.

“So be it.” That was all Jokim bothered to say as he made tracks for the forge entrance. Eldarin smiled at the back of the departing dwarf’s head. Like all of the Naugrim, Jokim made for a powerful friend and a terrifying foe. But which one was he to Haluin now?

 

[chrysophalax]

A day later and...rain. Of course it would be rain! All the while they had tarried in Imladris, the sun had shone brightly despite the autumn chill. Now, nothing but steady, penetrating, irritating rain and Haluin was sick of it.

Glaring up at the steel grey sky, he wrapped his cloak tighter, grumbling. "Come, Master Dwarf. Now is not the time to sit at your ease! All you will find is a shrivelled husk if this continues!"

Haluin had never liked rain. It inevitably ruined good boots, made his hair tangle and, in general, put in him in a very bad mood. Having found a small hillock topped by several old oaks that still had a fair amount of foilage clinging tenaciously to their limbs, he had settled himself at the base of the largest and prepared himself to wait. There was no doubt in his mind that the dwarves would pass this way, as the hillock overlooked the main road heading west out of the vale and into the Wild. Indeed, not long after deciding on this spot, he had observed three rangers riding westward at an easy pace. They had given him no notice, so he felt confident he would remain undisturbed until his friends arrived.

As the sun began to set on his first full day of exile, he tugged on the new braids he now sported, one hanging from each temple and wound tightly with white leather. He hated them.

White against black. No one who has any knowledge of our plaits could miss the meaning...or the intended target. He longed to take out his knife and hack them out, but his sense of justice would not allow it. He had violated his king's edict and he had paid.

Had Haluin been an elf of typical habits, his sentence might have led to suicide, for most of his kind despised solitude, but he had always been different, preferring to choose his own companions where and when he would. Even now, even though the new braids irked him, it was more for aesthetic reasons than anything else. White was too stark, it would make hunting just that much more difficult and that bothered him.

Before his mood could shift from bad to worse, his eyes drifted down to the wonder that now graced his left forearm and an unaccustomed warmth filled his chest. How can I ever repay Eldarin's generosity? Especially when to be in his presence would mean a death sentance for him as well?

The black metal beneath his fingers felt soft to the touch and he pictured the smith labouring tirelessly, beating and tapping the metal, coaxing it with subtle magick until at last he had acheived his goal.

Haluin let his head fall back against the tree trunk as he stared out over the trees at the now fading sunset. Despite all the jibes Jokim had flung his way, Haluin was not normally given to dark thoughts, preferring rather to face the world with sardonic humour as his armour fo choice. Now however, he felt his armour slipping. So much, too much had happened in so short a span of time. Was this what it must be like for those with mortal life spans...to be forced to compensate and adapt and not have decades or centuries in which to turn each action over in one's mind at one's leisure? Why were they not all mad?

Unwanted regret clawed at him, gnawing hungrily and there was no escape. Clutching the pommel of his sword like a lifeline, he began to breathe deep, one breath at a time, letting the forest and its scents fill his lungs and his soul. He must not surrender, not when there was a chance that his friends still needed him and if they did, they would need him sane, not driven mad by the past.

With that thought in mind, Haluin watched as each star emerged to shine brightly against the deepest of blues, greeting them as the old friends they were, glad that they at least would never reject him.

 

[Ghorim]

“Well?”

The ropes dangled from a sturdy tree branch high overhead, swaying idly in the breeze. And there below stood Jokim, tensed in an anxious crouch. He waited for Lindir, who sat on a nearby bench with a pile of parchments in his lap.

“Well?”

The Elf glanced up from a half-jotted note.

“Begin.”

The dwarf leapt at his rope as if it had insulted his family. He clasped it firmly, and with a series of harsh lunges set to pulling himself up its length hand over hand. This was the sixth such physical test the healers had put him through that day, with afternoon now bleeding into evening.

Each exercise, in Jokim’s eyes, had grown more ridiculous than the last. But the tasks were made tolerable by the presence of Druri. In a show of solidarity with his uncle, the lad had joined in every drill. The both of them being dwarves, a friendly rivalry had naturally sprung up between uncle and nephew. Jokim had tried to handicap himself a bit each time (one-armed pushups, head starts for Druri on the races), but the lad hadn’t bested him yet.

The ropes proved no different. Druri struggled to find his form, and shuddered up his rope in fits and starts. By the time he hit the midway point, Jokim had already conquered his rope, and pulled himself atop the tree branch from which it hung. He sat there, arms crossed, feet dangling, an impatient eye cast down on his nephew.

“Come, lad! You can make it the rest of the way.”

Druri gave an exhausted wriggle, but only seemed to slip further down the rope. “But...”

“None of that!” Jokim slapped the tree branch a few times, the force of which gave Druri’s rope a vigorous shake. “Show some of that strength you had up in the Misties.”

The lad bit his lip, but then took in a thick gust of air to steel himself for a desperate ascent.

“A little bit at a time!” called Jokim from above. “Take it inch by inch.”

Somehow, those words made everything seem possible. “One inch...” Druri slithered up the rope’s coils. “One more inch...” Up and up. Suddenly, the branch above seemed within reach. But Druri could feel his body starting to fail him.

His uncle was clapping him on, very close by now. “One last reach and you’ll have it.”

Druri coughed, and clung to the rope in the name of life. Below, Lindir was on his feet and staring at the scene overhead.

“If... if I reach... I’ll fall!” Druri’s eyes were shut tight, so Jokim could not see the fear in them. When he opened them again, he saw his uncle’s broad hand, hanging down to just in front of his face. He glanced up, to see his uncle frowning with scarcely concealed disappointment.

Druri cringed... looked to the hand again... and then made a desperate lunge for the top of the rope instead. He slipped. But that rough hand was there to grab and hold him upright, with his legs still wrapped tight around the rope.

Jokim was smiling. “Better.”

---

Once the dwarves were both back safely on the ground, Jokim approached Lindir. “Have you any more hoops for us to tumble through? Or are you finally convinced that I am fit to make it the rest of the way west?”

Lindir made no attempt to respond, and instead took out a small wooden rod that he waved in front of Jokim’s face. “Follow this with your eyes.”

Grumbling, the dwarf obliged. The healer watched mutely, before making another note on his parchment. “No dizziness?”

“None.”

“Stomach pains?”

“None.”

“Hairiness of the chin?”

“None... what?”

Lindir laughed and set his quill down. “Then I believe we are both rid of each other, Master Dwarf.”

Jokim smacked the Elf on the shoulder, a traditional dwarvish gesture of congratulations. But the force of the blow sent Lindir’s quill squiggling all over the page, rendering much of his notes illegible. Lindir was about to send a tirade crashing down on Jokim’s head, but a shadow suddenly fell over them both.

“I’m afraid Sir Jokim has one more test to pass.” They turned, and there stood Eldarin, a long sack tucked under his right arm. With typical flair, he set the package down upon the ground and unrolled it. Inside, a gleaming new blade shone atop Jokim’s axe handle like a winter star.

Druri gasped and rushed over, but Eldarin held up a hand. “Now, now! You’ll receive your gift in time, young Druri. Your uncle has first rights to this weapon.”

Jokim stumped over slowly, looking down his nose at the axe with great skepticism. He expected the blade to be covered with Elvish runes and frilly carvings of vines and leaves and such. Yet each half-moon blade stood completely unadorned. Eldarin had barely altered the design of Jokim’s original weapon, in fact, save for some triangular holes cut through the steel.

“Well! I see you stuck close to dwarvish engineering. Very wise.” Jokim knelt to gaze closer at the Elf’s handiwork. Then he gripped the handle and took up the weapon. Immediately, he noticed how much lighter it felt.

He looked to Eldarin with a scowl. “Is this the same handle?”

The smith bowed his head. “Examine for yourself.”

Jokim looked, and saw the wooden handle still had all of the familiar pockmarks its surface. “What material did you use for the blade, then?”

“I must keep my trade secrets, Master Dwarf...”

“Hmmph... well... will it still hold up in combat?”

“There is only one way to find out...” Eldarin strolled over to a nearby tree, where he had propped up a wooden staff before he presented himself to the others. He took it up, spinning the weapon with casual ease, before pointing it straight at Jokim. “I challenge you, Sir Jokim.”

“Ho ho!” Jokim tilted his head back and snorted. “Then lead the way, Elf. I’ll gladly break in this new blade on that toothpick of yours.”

Eldarin laughed, bowed, and then turned about on his heels. “The training fields are this way...”

 

[Ghorim]

Halfway up to the training grounds, Jokim felt a light tap on his head. He gazed up, and blinked as he caught a raindrop in the eye. The overcast skies had threatened to leak all day, and now they were finally making their move.

By the time he and Eldarin took up their positions on the field, facing one another at ten paces apart, a full downpour had commenced.

Off near the treeline, Druri had an Elvish cloak stretched over his head for cover, surrounded on both sides by several curious onlookers. They were mostly adolescent Elves, whispering amongst themselves in their native tongue. The meek dwarf in their midst strained his ears for a familiar word, but heard none.

On the field, Eldarin took a stride forward. “You shall stay on the defensive, then?”

Jokim lowered himself into a taut crouch. “I would not wish to lop off the hand of a smith with his own blade. A defensive exercise shall test the weapon well enough.”

“You are too courteous...”

“Begin, then. When you are ready...”

Eldarin eased back into his traditional stance, his right hand inching up the body of the staff. He began to circle Jokim, trying to get a good look at the dwarf’s stance before he leapt in. It was tight, compact, inscrutable... rather dwarvish, in its own way. How could Eldarin find his way in? Well, it would take more than a polite request...

The Elf’s feet took flight in a sudden whir, and his staff dipped for a strike aimed at Jokim’s shoulder. But out flashed the axe blade, fending the blow back from whence it came. Eldarin withdrew, but saw Jokim pursuing, a statue sprung to life.

He tried to force the dwarf back with an off-balance blow. But Jokim’s axe was there again, snaring the staff and twisting it down into the ground. The dwarf’s left palm shot out, catching Eldarin flush in the gut. Back stumbled the Elf, gasping for breath.

“I thought you had agreed not to attack...” Eldarin rubbed the sore spot with a grimace.

“Not with my axe.” Jokim pushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes. “But if you continue to leave such openings, I shall take them every time. Now come. No children’s games. You are capable of more.”

Eldarin chuckled and spun his staff about, flicking rainwater through the air. “Well! Let us see if you are right...”

The next time the Elf attacked, he did not relent. His staff probed at every angle of Jokim’s defensive front. Yet with every strike, the dwarf’s axe was there to meet the challenge. Though not as nimble as his opponent, Jokim did not waste a single movement. His sheer efficiency allowed him to keep pace.

But Eldarin still had speed and reach on his side. Jokim tried to close the distance again, hoping to clog up the Elf’s attacking lanes. Instead, Eldarin whirled back and around like a shadow in the rain, untouchable. When the dwarf gave chase now, a hail of quick blows mocked his efforts. And when he fell back, Eldarin could pick at him from afar.

Sensing an advantage, Eldarin pressed his luck with a daring leap straight at Jokim. But just before the Elf struck, he saw the dwarf’s axe twist slightly and slash upward. By the time Eldarin’s feet touched ground again, he found that not only had he failed to strike his foe, but his staff was now four inches shorter than it had been before.

Eldarin looked at the severed tip of his weapon lying in the grass, then up to Jokim. The dwarf gazed back coldly. In a sudden fit of anger, Eldarin swung straight for his opponent’s skull. Jokim deflected the blow, but stumbled slightly at its force. Before he could regain his footing, one of Eldarin’s lanky legs shot out in a fierce sweep.

Down went Jokim, flinching as he hit the wet ground. When his eyes opened a half-moment later, he saw the sawed-off end of Eldarin’s staff hovering directly above his head.

“Eh...” Jokim cleared his throat, sitting up slowly. “We’ll call it a draw, then.”

“Do not flatter yourself!” Eldarin laughed, and reached down to help the dwarf back up.

Within an instant, the crowd had surrounded them, hurling questions and congratulations. Druri came last, head dipped slightly. Jokim elbowed past the Elves and sought out his nephew.

Druri glanced up through the pelting raindrops. “Sorry you lost...”

“Now, now...” Jokim patted the lad on the shoulder. “There’s no shame in an honest defeat.” He looked to Eldarin, who was practically being borne off by his admirers. “Especially to a worthy adversary...”

---

The next morning at the breakfast table, Jokim’s axe sat propped up against his chair. Eldarin had not asked for his thoughts on the new blade, nor had the dwarf volunteered an opinion. But seeing the weapon as it sat there, ignored and familiar, was answer enough to the smith.

Outside, it still poured. The leaves shuddered with each blow from the thick raindrops. Rivulets trickled down the window.

Inside, the meal was through. Jokim leaned on the table, staring at the flowery painting on the far wall. Druri sheathed and unsheathed his new dagger again and again, staring at Eldarin’s elaborate craftsmanship.

Eldarin smiled, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Well... here we are, your day of departure! And I had thought you would be prancing about the halls when this hour came, Master Jokim.”

“Prancing!” Jokim snorted and shoved back his chair, taking up his axe in a smooth motion.

“Has the rain affected your mood?” Eldarin was only now beginning to realize how much fun he could have by needling a dwarf as self-serious as Jokim.

“I do not look forward to hunting down Haluin in such a mess.” Jokim had moved to his traveling pack, checking to ensure everything he needed was stuffed away inside.

“And who says you will have to hunt him down?” Eldarin hovered over him, leaning in with a curious expression. “You seem to think he has fled halfway to the sea by now. But why would he desert a friend without farewell?”

“He is sulking again...” Jokim muttered, yanking the pack back over his shoulders. “And I fear that if he does not wish to be found, I shall not find him.”

“Well... you know what they say...” Eldarin doubled back to the table to gather the plates. “There is only one way for a dwarf to track down an Elf...”

“What’s that?”

“... Hire another Elf to do the tracking.”

The dwarf sighed and shook his head. “What... is that an offer?”

“If you take it that way...”

Druri glanced hurriedly between his uncle and Eldarin, and then stepped between them in a brave display. “We should take Eldarin along, uncle. I think he will prove quite useful.”

“Hmm...” Jokim gave Druri a probing stare. “Well, do not forget Elrond’s decree, unless Haluin lied about that part, too: any Elf who provides him aid...”

“I do not see how my leading you to Haluin aids him in any way.” Eldarin chuckled. “It seems you are more likely to throttle him than anything else!”

“He might deserve it...”

“Uncle!” Druri stamped a foot.

“Fine, fine... Eldarin! You have officially joined this little circus of ours.”

“It is an honor...” Eldarin gave a deep bow and a flash of his eyes. But Jokim strode past, already planning his escape from the valley. Glancing up and after the old warrior, Eldarin then turned back to Druri and gave a smile. It was returned in full measure. The lad gave him another dwarvish slap to the back as they followed Jokim out.

---

The farewells were brief. Jokim and Druri presented themselves to Elrond one last time, with bows and thanks for the healing hospitality.

“Our folk do not forget our debts,” Jokim said.

“Indeed!” chirped Druri. “If ever you are in need, Lord Elrond, do not hesitate to call for us.”

The Elf Lord’s laugh filled his study. “Then I shall not forget your name, Druri, son of Dwoin.”

Druri beamed, rather pleased with himself. As if that weren’t enough, a few minutes later, Avenhel was giving him a kiss upon the forehead.

“Behave yourself.” She said nothing more and turned, walking back up the winding stairs to the entrance of the Last Homely House. Lindir stood there, waiting for her in the biting rain. Druri frowned as he watched them enter together, without a second glance cast toward the departing travelers.

“Druri!” That was his uncle’s harsh voice calling behind him. The lad looked over the forested lands one last time... tall trees that he could not name swaying in the wind as thunder rolled... and then he scurried down the path to where Jokim and Eldarin stood waiting.

Together, they went looking for their missing companion.

 

[chrysophalax]

Two days later found the trio still searching the Road and nearby environs for signs of the errant elf. Jokim's self-restraint was beginning to fray at the edges, while Eldarin had to admit to a growing sense of admiration for the fugitive. By no means unskilled in woodcraft, Eldarin called upon every trick he knew, but apparently, Haluin was reluctant to be found.

Not that he could be blamed, really. The close proximity of Imladris made him understandably nervous, yet he dare not stray too far, for fear of missing Jokim and Druri when they passed along the Road. Therefore, he had taken, as was his wont, to the trees and for going on three days now, there he had remained.

Impatience combined with a lack of activity however, proved to be his downfall. In the early morning of the third day, he carefully climbed down from his perch atop a tall oak, stretched, then after a meagre breakfast of dried apples and nuts, he decided on a little sword practise.

Haluin, an expert archer his entire life, nevertheless was more than competent with a sword. He smiled in remembrance as he moved through a series of stances, at a time soon after he had begun travelling with Hengist. The warrior from Rohan had challenged Haluin, after finishing off an entire wineskin by himself, to a contest with swords to first blood, having stated rather loudly to all and sundry that no archer could ever best him, elf or no.

Gladly the elf accepted and proceeded to tutor his friend in the not-so-subtle art of assumption. Granted, he had gone easy on him, as the man was drunk, but they had both ended up giving each other a nice set of scars and a large dose of mutual respect.

Now, he grasped his new sword effortlessly as he thrust it with killing force into an imagined enemy, left-handed. Eldarin's craftsmanship was impeccable. The dark sword sang a savage song as it clove the air, seeming to foresee Haluin's movements. Suddenly, he began to grin, then to laugh at the thought running through his head. It moves as though it were made for me! So engrossed was he in his swordplay that the sudden snap of twigs behind him brought his mirth to an abrupt end. He whirled, bringing his sword up.

"Thought you'd out-smarted us, eh? Unlikely, since you'd need sense for that!"

Haluin smiled brilliantly at Jokim, who stood now before him, arms crossed over his chest, his face a portrait of annoyance personified. The entire effect was ruined seconds later, however, as Druri came pelting up the hill behind Jokim, rushed past him and threw his arms around Haluin's waist, effectively driving the air from the elf's lungs with a whoosh.

Once he found his breath, Haluin set the sword aside, laughing and gave the youngling a warm embrace in return. "I'm very glad to see you again as well, young Druri!" He knelt, gripping the dwarf by the shoulders to gaze at him searchingly. "I see that your beard has filled out and you're nearly your uncle's height now. Is it the elvish cooking, do you think?" he asked as he looked over Druri's head to wink at Jokim, who was having none of it.

"You lie to us, then leave without us? Explain yourself, elf."

The smile faded from his face as Haluin got to his feet. Since crossing the Bruinen, he had dreaded explaining his actions. He doubted seriously they would understand.

"It was not for your sake that I left without telling you...not entirely. I feared that you would push to leave before you were completely healed." That earned him a glower and he cleared his rapidly drying throat. "Foolish, I grant you. You would never put the youngling at risk, not even to pin my ears back. Forgive me." That said, he began to relax slightly. "Nay, in truth, I left without letting you know for..."

Like a shadow, Eldarin drifted into sight and his voice faded to a whisper. "...Eldarin's sake." In a flash, his face changed as he glared at the new arrival coldly. Druri's face paled, confused and he started back before Haluin's anger, even as Jokim turned swiftly to face Eldarin.

Eldarin froze, stunned by Haluin's reaction and he looked uncertainly from Jokim to Druri before stepping forward to greet Haluin, who flung up his hand to stay him. "Why are you here?" he hissed, then turned his glare on Jokim. "Why did you bring him? You know he can be slain now, for aiding me! Am I now to be responsible for another death?"

"Haluin, relax! He offered to guide us to you, nothing more. He's not aiding you by doing that." Jokim said as calmly as his startlement allowed. In all the time he had know the elf, he had never had that raging anger directed at him and he found it more than a little intimidating, though he refused, of course, to show it. Druri, meanwhile, stood firm next to Eldarin, eyes wide and with a slight tremble in his legs.

"Jokim has the right of it, Haluin." said Eldarin soothingly. "He reminded me of Lord Elrond's edict and I offered to track you down." He squared his shoulders, then continued. "Your actions were callous regarding your friends. I had not thought you capable of such..."

"I fully intended to wait for them, smith! Why else would I be here, lurking among the trees like a thief? I would never abandon them!" he said fiercely, stabbing a finger in their direction. As Haluin continued his tirade, Jokim motioned to Druri and they edged away from the tree under which they now stood, making as little noise as possible, until they were just out of sight, but not, unfortunately, out of ear-shot.

"Durin's Beard, uncle! Does he do that often? Listen to him!" Druri asked unsteadily, shaken by the change in the normally friendly elf. "Nay, Druri, I'd rather not." he said, wincing at the string of invectives being hurled not far away. "Let them work it out. Elves are odd creatures at the best of times, but when things go awry between them, it's best to be elsewhere!"

************************

"...and did it ever occur to you that I thought you might have been worth the risk?" Eldarin snarled at Haluin finally. Both elves stood glaring, fists clenched in a desperate effort to gain control...and failing miserably. "I told you before you left, when I gifted you with sword and hand, that I admired your courage and that I valued your friendship. So yes, curse you! I have made my decision. I intend to help the dwarves, to help all of you! Will you now make a mockery of me for it?"

Haluin couldn't remember ever being so angry, or so conflicted. For his sake, Eldarin had chosen exile and now faced death. He could almost picture Neniel's delicate features laughing aloud at his plight, at the irony of it all. Swallowing hard, he turned away, unable to look at Eldarin any longer. "I cannot stop you, but this is never what I wanted. I, too, value your friendship and I am already so far in your debt that I can never repay you."

Taking the pause in Haluin's speech as a sign that he might soon accept Eldarin's presence, the smith took a deep breath, exhaling slowly in order to steady himself. "I ask for no repayment, mellon. I think I know you better than you know yourself, Haluin. What will you do after you have seen the dwarves to Ered Luin? Wander alone until you eventually fade from boredom? Maglor, you're not, despite all that has happened to you. That is why I am determined to accompany you. One thing I have never been called is boring!"

In spite of himself, Eldarin's words made him chuckle and his shoulders began to shake with mirth. Mistaking this for sorrow, Eldarin stepped forward swiftly, tripped on a root hidden beneath a small pile of leaves, then fell heavily against Haluin so that they landed side by side on the ground.

Moments later, Jokim rolled his eyes as the sound of uncontrollable laughter came rippling down the hillside. "Silent as an elf. Right. Druri, we maybe in more danger now, with two elves, than we ever thought possible with one." Druri smiled hugely as they started back up the hill to re-join the elves. "At least we won't need worry about entertainment, uncle!"

 

[Ghorim]

The rain came and went that day, lashing out in spurts as gray clouds blotted out the sky. But no downpour could dampen Druri’s spirits. He marched right at the front of the procession, as if this were his band to lead west.

Druri could not have predicted that Eldarin would join their adventure, but something felt so irresistibly right about the Elf's arrival. Now they were four, and what beast or force of weather could defeat them? Three fearsome warriors at his back, and Druri with his new dagger. Together they would conquer every hill and dell between here and the mountains.

The sights they would see! The stories he would tell his new friends in the Blue Mountains!

Clearly amused and feeding off of his youthful abandon, the Elves followed close behind, occasionally correcting Druri when he steered them off course. And last of all followed Jokim, with a stormy countenance to match the tempests overhead. The others seemed to conveniently overlook his mood, and traded songs and riddles as the day’s uphill march carried on.

Then night swept in, with a sudden leap from light to darkness. A stiff autumn chill descended, with shades of oncoming winter. But the rain did not turn to sleet, and that was enough.

Eldarin stopped the march, glancing up to the stream of raindrops that filtered through the thick boughs overhead. “Let us see what sort of fire we can raise amidst this gloom.”

Jokim clicked his tongue sharply. “Druri! Are you up to the task?”

“Ha! Fetch me my kindling and you shall see.” Perhaps the thrill of the road had gone to the lad’s head. Jokim gave him a glare that promised grand suffering and torment. The lad swallowed his bluster with a thick gulp. “... If you please, sir.”

“With pleasure, master firestarter.” Jokim gave a stately bow.

The Elves both burst out laughing at the same time, and it was all Jokim could do to ignore them. They were going to be impossible like this, in each other’s company... nattering along like little children. But Jokim would still have something to say on that matter...

---

Druri struggled with the tinder that evening. At every sign of progress, a new waterfall seemed to drop from the heavens to douse his efforts. The others crowded around him, and at Jokim’s silent order did nothing to assist him. Druri had to learn.

The frustration mounted, despite the lad’s best efforts to hide it. When Druri slammed his tinderbox down upon the ground, Haluin gave the lad’s uncle a pleading look. Jokim nodded, and in stepped the Elf to provide his assistance. Working together, the Elf and young dwarf fostered a modest blaze, sheltered from above by a sturdy pair of trees. And finally, the group settled down against those thick trunks in preparation for a night’s rest. Druri did not last long, with all of his energy spent on the day’s toils.

Haluin, meanwhile, grew restless, and offered to scout the path ahead. He slipped off into shadow, leaving Jokim and Eldarin to stare at each other from opposite ends of the fire.

The dwarf eased back against the wet bark that would serve as his bed for the night. And yet his expression did not relax in the least. It held on Eldarin... measuring him, questioning him... while the reflection of the flames danced over Jokim’s eyes. Eldarin feigned a fascination with the campfire, but found the dwarf’s persistent scrutiny impossible to ignore.

“What are you doing out here, Eldarin?” Finally Jokim spoke, and at first Eldarin mistook it for a rumble of thunder.

“What am I doing?” Eldarin looked up from stirring the blaze. “Well... I am enjoying a scenic stroll to the west.”

Jokim leaned forward. He said nothing.

The rain, the fire, Druri’s breathing... all of these sounds suddenly became heightened to Eldarin. “Have I... not answered to your satisfaction?” He offered a smile as a token of goodwill.

“Try again.”

The Elf leaned forward. He would meet the dwarf on his own terms, then. “I am here to help you and your nephew reach your destination.”

“We do not need you.”

Eldarin laughed, but this time it was only to stall. “You are so certain? I do not doubt your abilities, or Haluin’s, or even young Druri’s, but danger is always...”

“Eldarin. You agreed to take us only so far as Haluin. Nothing more.” Jokim did not wish to stir Druri, and so his volume did not rise by so much as a hair. But the intensity behind his words burned white-hot. At that moment, Eldarin abandoned all thoughts of rest.

“Haluin and I have already had this discussion, Master Jokim.”

“And it appears you have convinced him. Convince me, then.”

“Somehow, I imagine accomplishing one is not the same as accomplishing the other...”

“You do not owe us a thing, Eldarin. Know that first. My axe, Druri’s blade, Haluin’s arm... and his confidence. Our debt to you is beyond measure.”

“Just so you are aware, this is how my and Haluin’s conversation began.” Though it did not seem proper, a mirthful look danced over Eldarin’s face. He could not hope to control it. As with Haluin, humor was like an extra limb to him.

“And what did you say?” Jokim slid forward again, almost to the fire’s edge.

“I owe him more than objects... than metal. I owe him the debts of friendship. The road he must walk... none should travel alone.”

“You speak of debts.” Jokim’s right hand came up, brandishing an angry finger like a sword. “But what of your oath to your Lord Elrond? Your duty to the realm that bore and raised you? Your hammer, your sword... you shall deprive them of both?”

Eldarin shook his head. “You overestimate my value...”

“You wear this humbleness like a mask. You have weakened Rivendell with this rash decision of yours, Eldarin. What will you do, should war come? You will not be able to fight alongside your brothers and sisters, for they will have disowned you.”

“Say what you will of this choice I have made...” Eldarin mustered his strength, which had burned cool unto now. “But do not call it rash. I have considered all of these things you speak of. The cost...”

“An eternity of costs, Eldarin. Could you have fully considered those in one day?”

“Do not lecture me, dwarf.” Finally, here came the Elf’s fire, bursting forth in a fierce plume. “Eternity! What do you know of it? You will be returned to the earth ere long. Who defends Haluin then? He will wither without company. Fellowship... laughter... these things sustain him! Someone must provide them... someone...”

Eldarin’s words fell short, but this time Jokim made no effort to cut into the silence that followed. The dwarf eased back once again into the grooves of the great tree. Stonefaced, he watched Eldarin struggle with his emotions for a couple of moments. The Elf eventually regained control, and looked up. Their gazes met again.

Jokim cleared his throat. “I remember this very well... when Haluin reappeared outside of Mirkwood. I did not want him along. But then he told me of his crime. Never in our past years together had he made any mention of it. And I saw then how alone he was... his every fear laid bare at my feet.”

The dwarf paused to stroke his beard. Eldarin leaned forward slightly, sensing the air between him and Jokim had eased somewhat. “So you took him.”

“I took him,” Jokim nodded. “But I wanted to find him a home. That is what I said to him: ‘There must yet be a place for you in this world,’ I said. ‘If there is one for me, then there must be one for you.’”

Eldarin smiled. “So when you spoke with Lord Elrond...”

“I asked him not only to spare Haluin’s life... but to adopt him, as well.” Jokim snorted and waved his hand as if to sweep that fantasy aside. “Obviously, my words were not heeded. So now he is left without a land to call home... permanently. And you have chosen to suffer the same fate. That is what I do not understand, Eldarin. One must always have some place he can call home, or else...”

“No.”

“No?” Jokim arched a brow.

“You are wrong.” The idea was beginning to form in Eldarin’s head as he spoke these words, and soon it struck him so hard that he simply had to spring to his feet. “It is not the places we call home. It is the people.”

“You are hiding behind pretty words, Elf.”

“No. No I am not. Hear me. What was it you said at our picnic by the pond in Imladris? That Erebor was home to you no longer... that it was lost and bespoiled...”

“Indeed.”

“Nothing more than a pile of rocks to you now. It was not the mountain that made it your home. It was your friends, your family. Druri.” Eldarin motioned to the lad, who had curled up beside his uncle in slumber. “Soon you shall call the Ered Luin home. But what does it matter? Wherever Druri goes... that shall be home to you, always.”

Jokim’s jaw had dropped slightly and his eyes narrowed as he considered these words. “I... cannot fault that reasoning.”

Eldarin smiled with a warmth to match the fire, and sat back down again. “So it must be with Haluin and me. A home... to each other.”

All of this sentimentality had made Jokim uncomfortable, and so he tried to make his next words as terse as possible. “Well... so be it, then. I cannot endorse your decision fully, but I suppose I will allow you to accompany us.”

From the din of raindrops, a sharp clapping sound emerged. Both Jokim and Eldarin glanced up, with hands on their weapons. And from the shadows appeared Haluin, clapping his hands together in mock congratulations.

“What wise fellows I have for traveling companions.” He sat down between them, as both shifted nervously at Haluin’s appearance. Neither could guess at how long he had been listening.

“Well... harruuuumph...” Jokim gave a loud rumble of phlegm. “I should turn in.”

“And perhaps I’ll have a look for some dry kindling,” Eldarin muttered.

And yet, before they could turn away from him, Haluin managed to offer each a look of quiet gratitude.

Who would not count him among the blessed now?

 

[chrysophalax]

Early the next morning, Jokim woke to the whispered mutterings of the elves as they prepared breakfast over a cheerfully burning fire.

"Durin's Beard, can they never shut up? Their constant nattering's going to drive me mad!" he grumbled as he scratched his beard, then stretched, his back making a satifying cracking sound as he did so. "Ah, much better!"

"If our "nattering" bothers you so, master dwarf, perhaps I can fashion you some earmuffs." said Haluin as Jokim approached them. The look he received was far from pleased. Smiling broadly, the elf handed him a steaming bowl of rabbit stew and a hunk of bread from the packs the cook had filled for Eldarin before they departed Imladris.

"mmf...so, what is so important at this early hour, Haluin?" Jokim asked around his bread. Eldarin shot his friend a quick look and Haluin merely shrugged in answer. "Haluin has no knowledge of the Great Road in this part of the world, so he has asked that I lead us the rest of the way to the Ered Luin."

Jokim glanced from one to the other as he swallowed. "So? This we knew already. Is it a problem?"

"Not exactly, merely a difference of opinion. From what I know of you, I would think the direct route would be the most appropriate, while Haluin prefers a more circuitous one. He seems to think that Druri might like to see something of Eriador before we reach your new home."

Haluin had been chewing thoughfully on a crust of bread as Eldarin explained, his eyes watching for Jokim's reaction. Truth be told, he wanted the dwarf to choose the longer route, as he was loath to part from them before he had to. Also, he knew that Eldarin would be able to share much of Eriador's history with the young dwarf. Druri had shown a certain fascination for new experiences and Haluin felt he could only benefit from the additional knowledge. The fact that Haluin was being just a bit selfish was beside the point.

A huge sneeze, followed by an enormous yawn broke the moment's silence and Haluin chuckled. "We should be glad we're not still on the Redhorn, or we'd have more than one warg circling us now!"

"I heard that, Haluin!" called Druri as he hauled his boots on before joining them by the fire. He sniffed appreciatively. "Is that rabbit?" "Elbereth, are you certain he's a dwarf and not a hobbit, Jokim?" laughed Haluin. "He eats enough for one!"

The elves grinned as they watched Druri wolf down two consecutive portions of stew and even Jokim rumbled humourously at the sight. Both Haluin and Jokim knew just how close they had been to death mere weeks before and were now able to take pleasure in each other's company, if only for a short time.

"What were you talking about before I woke up?" asked Druri curiously. Jokim shot Haluin a piercing glance before answering. He knew exactly what the elf was thinking...and why.

"Eldarin was just telling me that there's many a good story to be had about some of the places in this part of the world. So, if you want to put up with an unending string of long-winded stories and walk who knows how many extra miles to see decrepit walls and tumbledown citadels from here to the mountains, on your head be it!" He gave the ghost of a wink to Haluin as Druri's mouth fell open.

Both elves threw their hands up, shielding their faces in mock disgust. "Valar, Druri! Swallow first!" cried Haluin as Druri hurriedly dragged a sleeve across his mouth. "Do you mean it?! Stories about heroes and battles and...and those little people, uh, hobbits? Uncle, can we?"

The wicked smile on Haluin's face almost earned him a broken jaw, but Jokim's heart just wasn't in it. The look on Druri's face was priceless and Jokim could no more have denied him than he could have flown.

Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Druri with a stern glare. "I'll agree to it, but only because I know we'll reach our new home before the snow flies. I've no desire to be caught out in the open, waist deep it, is that clear?" Both elves nodded solemnly, glad that Jokim had fallen in with Haluin's plan.

"Excellent!" said Eldarin as he rose smoothly to his feet."I propose that we head for the bridge over the Mitheithel and from thence depart slightly from the Road to the north where we will encounter the Weather Hills. The only thing we must be wary of as we near the hills are the Rangers. They are great allies of Lord Elrond and, while I would never believe any evil of them, we must be wary for Haluin's sake."

This instantly sobered the elf. He stood up from his seat on a fallen log and set about clearing up the campsite without another word. Jokim cleared his throat, but Eldarin shook his head sharply. Leave him.

"Druri, get your pack in order, lad. We'll be off shortly." The youngster hesitated just a moment, then replied. "Aye, uncle. And look, the sun's up and no clouds!" His uncle gave him a sharp clap on the shoulder as he hurried off to re-stuff his pack.

As he turned to speak to Eldarin, Jokim saw the elf's brows furrow worriedly. "What is it?"

"Is he always...?"

"Stubborn? Annoying? Emotional? Irritating?"

Eldarin looked at Jokim askance. "I was going to say sensitive...but yes."

"Always. I wish you much joy." As Eldarin's eyebrow rose, Jokim turned away and began whistling merrily. This might be amusing after all!

 

[Ghorim]

Later that day, the trees parted.

The whole of the western plains spread out before them, with hills like the backs of slumbering beasts jutting from the earth. Jokim seemed to exhale a knot of tension from his lungs as they left the forested lands at long last. Now he could see full well in every direction, and that was no small comfort.

The rise upon which they stood spilled down to the shores of the Mitheithel below, and there awaited the Last Bridge. Eldarin stopped them halfway across to provide Druri a short lecture on the structure’s history.

“Go ahead,” he said to Druri, placing the lad’s hand upon the worn stone siding. “Touch it. It is old, but good craftsmanship survives the ages.”

Druri beamed, and his glow found a reflection on his uncle’s face.

Once they had crossed and crested the first great hill on the other side of the river, Druri insisted on tumbling down its side. Jokim gave his reluctant approval, and off Druri went, somersaulting and spilling end over end like an overgrown hedgehog. Haluin gave a whoop and followed close behind.

“A child, as ever!” declared Jokim, shaking his head as he watched the two roll down the hillside.

Eldarin smiled, and accompanied Jokim in the long walk down. “But it is a part of us that we all should preserve, if we can.”

“Such an Elvish thing to say...”

But Eldarin only laughed. “I would have much liked to have met you when you were Druri’s age, Jokim! I am certain you could not have been born so gruff.”

Down below, Druri and Haluin were stumbling about, dizzy from their shortcut. Jokim looked from them, up to Eldarin, and then sighed a thick breath of autumn air. The dwarf tugged at his hood, and said nothing more.

---

Within the next two days, Eldarin had pulled them from the main road to strike north for the Weather Hills. The skies had treated them kindly thus far, but now clouds began to overtake the view once more. Their leader insisted on assaulting the tallest hill of the group.

“All things for a reason,” he told the dwarves, cryptically.

Druri relished the challenge, but underestimated the difficulty of the ascent. He practically sprinted the first quarter of the way, until his young legs tired and the others passed him one at a time. Soon enough, Jokim was hauling him along by the forearm. “Why are we climbing this one?” the lad called to Eldarin between heavy gasps for air.

“You’ll see before long.”

“There’s something at the top, isn’t there?”

“Perhaps...”

What could it be? Druri strained his imagination to conjure up images of great fortresses, or a tunnel that led to a cave filled with treasures. Those visions encouraged his weary feet to keep plowing the path, and he shrugged off his uncle’s help ere long.

Once they reached the hill’s final crown after a full day’s climb, Eldarin made a grand gesture. “Behold! One of the great works of Man!”

But Druri saw nothing to warrant such excitement. A tired and broken ring of stones sat at the peak of the hill. The land was claiming the structure back, inch by inch, as grass overgrew the formation and dragged it back into the earth.

Druri leaned forward with his hands on his knees, but kept his head held up as he tried to distinguish something remarkable amidst the ruins. “What... what do you mean?”

“Come closer and see.”

And so they all hiked into the center of the stone circle, where the stench of decay hung heavy. Jokim glanced over the masonry with a critical eye. “These stones once bore a great weight...”

“Correct.” Eldarin clapped his hands. “For here stood the Tower of Amon Sûl, and great it was, in its time.”

Druri glanced up to the sky, which was just beginning to darken for the night. He tried to envision a tower stretching like a finger to the clouds, but his imagination failed him.

“Yes,” Haluin moved to stand beside Druri. “A great thing built by great Men, but torn apart in time by their failings.”

“It amazes me...” Eldarin said. “For I witnessed this tower’s rise and its fall in my time. You must recognize this about Men, Druri: they have but a short while to live, and yet the best among them grab that time for all its worth.”

Haluin nodded solemnly. “How they come and go...”

“So who built it?” cut in Druri. “And how did it come down?”

“Well, that is a full night’s tale,” said Eldarin. “Perhaps we’ll cook our supper for the night and I’ll tell you then?”

Druri gave an eager nod, and was soon assembling the evening’s fire. Eldarin assisted him, and was already beginning the long saga... tales of a great leader named Elendil, strange “seeing stones,” and brewing strife within the land of Arnor.

Despite his passing interest in the history behind the ancient monument, Jokim thought someone had best make use of this prime vantage point and stand watch. So he stepped outside of the stones to patrol the area. Haluin followed close behind.

“May I ask you something, dear Jokim?”

“Hmm...?” the dwarf glanced over his shoulder as the Elf caught up with him. “What?”

“How is it that whenever I try to give Druri a lesson, you stare daggers at me and interrupt whenever possible... and yet when Eldarin does the same...”

“You are forgiven.” Jokim strangely punctuated that statement with an elbow to Haluin’s ribs, but it seemed to be a dwarvish gesture of reconciliation. “Say what you will to the lad for the rest of the march. He is learning sound lessons from the both of you.”

Haluin grinned, surprised at how easy that was. Together with Jokim, he gazed west, toward their eventual destination. Only a few stars shone through the murky dusk sky. A peculiar autumn silence hung in the air, for a lack of summer’s buzzing insects or cooing birds. The land slept, and the four travelers on the hill seemed the only ones awake.

“What will you do, then, once you are among your folk again?” though he tried to hide it, the hint of envy in Haluin’s voice was all too clear.

“I should think that would be clear enough.” Jokim lifted his axe and balanced it upon his shoulders. “I shall take to my new station as best I can. Drills in the morning, drills in the afternoon, drills until nightfall...”

“Sounds perfectly suited for you.”

Jokim glanced over, attempting to see if Haluin’s tongue was indeed planted in his cheek. “The question is what you will do with yourself.”

“Oh...” Haluin stretched his arms with a muffled yawn. “Much the same as before, I suppose. Roaming the lands, singing songs, righting wrongs... only now I’ll have Eldarin along to slow me down.”

“Hmmph. You make it sound like a picnic.”

“And why shouldn’t it be?”

“I need not even answer that.”

“Come, Jokim.” Haluin patted the dwarf on the shoulder. “Enough worry has been spent on my behalf these past weeks. Most of all by yourself. I shall make do as ever, old friend. And if your people do not force me away, I would be happy to visit you on occasion.”

“They will allow you to visit,” Jokim said, giving Haluin quite the serious look. “I shall see to that.”

Haluin smiled and lifted his hand. “That gladdens me to hear. But let us not speak of such things just now. There are many leagues yet to travel. And besides, we’ll have company soon enough.” The Elf pointed out across the plains.

“Eh?” Jokim turned swiftly to follow the gesture.

“See there? The dust kicked up by a horse in full gallop. A single rider. He'll see the smoke from our fire soon enough, and if he thinks it worth the climb, he'll be upon our camp by daybreak.”

“I see your dust, but I must trust your eyes for the details. Is he friend or foe?”

“That... depends.” Haluin’s face flirted with a frown before he turned to march back to the camp.

Jokim’s gaze lingered on the distant rider before he moved to follow. He kept his axe gripped close and tight.

 

[chrysophalax]

Soft snores from the vicinity of the campfire made Haluin grin as he approached the dark form that was Eldarin. "Finally bored him to death, mellon?

"Lala-inye, toron." he responded acidly. The youngling hasn't our endurance. Not yet."

"Not yet, indeed. Yet if Jokim is any measure of their kind, he will become formidable. His uncle will see to that..." Haluin's voice held a tint of wistfullness as he spoke of Druri, for he knew that once they reached the Ered Luin, the young dwarf's life would become one of duty and back-breaking toil. It made him cringe inwardly and hoped that Jokim would not stifle the obvious creativity and thirst for knowledge Druri possessed in abundance.

In an attempt to throw off the ever-present cloak of darkness threatening his thoughts, Haluin crouched down next to Eldarin, deftly plucking a morsel of meat from the make-shift spit as he did so. "We are about to have a guest."

Eldarin raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Friend or foe?" he asked as his hand drifted unconsciously toward his scabbard. "An excellent question and one which I have already heard. In truth, it could be either. One of the Rangers you spoke of, perhaps. It is any case a man who, from the speed at which he is driving his poor beast, has pressing business. Mayhaps he will pass us by."

"Unlikely, if it is a Ranger. Our fire will, unfortunately, have drawn him like a moth to a flame. This is one of their most frequented places of meeting, after all."

The elves pondered briefly on this turn of events, but after repeated assurances by Eldarin that all would be well, Haluin finally unbuckled his sheath, letting it slip off his back with a sigh. Eyes sparkling with humour, he said, "Your craftsmanship is certainly not what one would call shoddy, mellon! Indeed, should Ea ever stand in need of a weaponsmaker for, say... trolls? I'm certain you would be the first they would seek out!"

The elven smith chuckled softly. "A high recommendation, toron nin. Certain you're not having any difficulty in wielding such a grand weapon?"

"What a question! I am wounded to the heart!" exclaimed Haluin as he dramatically clutched his breast and sank to one knee. A well-timed snort from Druri in his sleep was nearly Eldarin's undoing as he tried not to burst out laughing. "Now I see what Jokim meant." he mumbled as he got to his feet, eyes streaming.

"What has that reprehensible dwarf said to you behind my back?" asked Haluin from where he now sat, cross-legged on the ground.

"Are you always this curious?" When only a smile was forthcoming, Eldarin sighed heavily. "Very well. He wished me joy of you once we leave them to their own devices."

After a prolonged silence, Haluin asked softly, "Do you regret your decision, Eldarin? There is still time...you can still return..." Abruptly, Haluin was hauled to his feet by the front of his tunic, Eldarin's face white with anger not two inches from his own. "Never speak to me again of my decision! If I have not given you enough reasons, then you are truly a fool and I have chosen poorly, to my ever-lasting regret!" He shoved Haluin away, then turned his back. "Leave me, Haluin. Now."

"No." The word left the elf's lips without thinking. "I am not one of your apprentices, to be ordered about at your whim. If I erred by asking you what was in my heart, forgive me, but do not order me, for I will not obey."

Eldarin's eyes narrowed. He was not accustomed to being flouted, it was true and his hands became fists as he strove for control. So, this was Haluin. Exile, malcontent, kin-slayer and Varda, help him...friend and otorno. Drawing in a deep breath, he turned.

"I will never ask you to obey...if you will never ask me why, again. Agreed?" Rebellion flared in Haluin's eyes for an instant, then he extended his arm to Eldarin. "Agreed." Gladly, Eldarin clasped his arm and clapped Haluin on the shoulder. "I think we understand each other, toron, though it was a near thing."

"Aye, Eldarin...that it was. Valar, do you realise how murderous you look when you're angered?" "So I have been told, on more than one occasion!" he replied with a wolfish smile. "Take heed, elf of the Greenwood! Eldarin of Imladris can make a fearsome foe!"

"Of that I have no doubt!" said Haluin with a slight quaver in his voice, for in truth, he would far rather lose his own life than the friendship of any of his companions.

 

[Ghorim]

Jokim continued his lone vigil upon the hill. Only wind for company, and the endless space, and the faint murmurings from within the ruins behind him.

And there he was, amidst all this quiet. How strange... how strange that his life should have led him here! He tried to picture the past actions that had charted his course, but could not remember. He tried to imagine what lay in store, and yet nothing came to him.

All that he could perceive was that moment. Then a twig snapped in the dark, and the moment was gone.

Without thought, the dwarf dashed behind a great stone that had fallen from the former tower, now coated in moss and strangling vines. He peered after the source of the noise, which had sounded from further down the western end of the hill. How far down he could not guess... until he saw the figures. Two of them, creeping along in the night, several dozen yards distant. They hunched low as if in search of concealment. One led a horse along behind, with a hand on the beast’s muzzle.

Jokim saw them for only a few blinks of his eyes, before they disappeared behind a rise in the hill. He paused for a moment, considering his options. Alert the Elves? No... he could handle this matter on his own. Those slinking shadows did not seem hostile... not necessarily.

So the dwarf crept... practically slid down the hillside, maintaining a fair distance between himself and the strangers the whole way. He managed to keep the high ground, monitoring their progress from above. All the while, Jokim remained keenly aware of each movement he made, careful not to give himself away with an idle footfall or sharp breath.

The strangers sought and found shelter in a cozy hollow, flanked by trees and rocks.

“Here...” At the sound of that whisper, Jokim halted, settling into an uneasy crouch on a grassy overhang several feet above the two others. He dared not peek over the edge just yet. Let them get comfortable, first...

“We can settle here for tonight, my dear. But no fires.” It was a boy’s voice.

“I believe I hear a stream nearby...” A girl speaking. “How wonderful it is, just the two of us here...”

“Yes, and let us keep it that way!” The sound of a heavy load hitting the ground, and the horse whinnying softly. “There was smoke atop the hill... we must be careful tonight.”

“Of course, my love. A short rest, and then...”

“And then tomorrow we fly. Toward our future... together.”

These honey-drenched words were too much for Jokim to bear, and he edged forward to catch a glimpse of the twosome who were assaulting his ears so. They stood in the glade below, arms wrapped about each other, swaying to a tune that only they could hear. By Jokim’s reckoning, they were both in their teens, although his knowledge of Mannish years was lacking.

The boy stole a glance at the sack that lay in the grass beside their mount.

“What are you looking at, dearest?” the girl smiled up at him.

“Oh... I simply cannot wait any longer!” he broke off their embrace and ran over to the sack. “I must show you what I found for you in Bree.” And so he set to tearing through the bundle, pulling out set after set of fine clothes, decorative metalwork, and sundry other items that glittered even in the dark.

Jokim’s eyes widened, and he inched forward again to take in this peculiar bounty.

"Ah ha!" At last, the boy stood, his arms held high. From his hands dangled a golden necklace, with a jeweled pendant attached.

She gasped at the sight. “Merrill! Wherever did you find it?”

He giggled, dancing around her in a circle as she chased after him. “It belonged to our hosts’ late daughter. The mother showed it to me one night, would you believe? Such a precious thing... And to think it was going wasted, gathering dust in a chest, when it only awaited a beauty such as yours to unlock its brilliance.”

Suddenly, he stopped evading and stepped forward. With a tender touch, he affixed the jewelry about her throat. She placed a hand to his cheek. “I am... overwhelmed...”

They embraced tightly, laughing and resuming their swaying dance through the shadows. “I always knew you were clever, my beloved...” She could barely contain her joy. “Even when you worked as our stable boy. If only my father would have...”

“Do not speak of him!” Merrill pushed her back for a moment, still clutching her shoulders. “He is far behind us now, Mirina. We shall take our spoils, and ride until the land ends. And there, at the shore, I shall build us a house, where we can spend the rest of our days in peace.”

“By the sea!” She squealed with delight. “You could fish for our meals, and I could collect the shells from the beach... how blessed we would be.”

Jokim, more than ready to shut up the two young lovers at this point, rose to his feet. “Blessed, indeed! For I have never seen a couple so young carrying riches so fine!”

The children shrieked in unison and spun to gaze overhead. They could see nothing of Jokim’s features, only a terrible, avenging shadow in the night. Their horse, lashed to a tree, tried to pull the thing out by its roots as it reared up in fright.

Merrill fumbled for the shortsword sheathed at his side, but Jokim gave a wordless roar that froze the lad dead. The dwarf leaped down from the overhang, a distance nearly twice his height. His landing was harsh, but he did not so much as pause before striding toward the trembling couple. “You will come with me.”

But the lad cracked, moving to draw his weapon again. “B-b-back, fiend!”

As soon as the sword left its sheath, Jokim’s axe swept in to knock it clear from Merrill’s grip. It tumbled into the nearby bushes, disappearing.

“Need I explain this again?” Jokim growled.

“Perhaps if you were a bit more cordial, they would accept your invitation!” And who else would it be but Haluin, leaning against a tree not ten feet away, looking as pleased with himself as ever.

Surprising as they were, these unannounced appearances by Haluin were becoming a tad predictable for the dwarf. “Haluin. Am I to extend courtesy to petty thieves, then?”

The Elf smiled and shook his head. “I am certain our young friends have a good reason for sneaking through the night with a bulging sack full of priceless goods.” He glanced to the young couple. “And if you two would consent to having your wrists bound, we would be happy to hear your story.”

---

Jokim and Haluin led the captives back up the side of the hill. Haluin gazed west and smiled, tapping Jokim’s shoulder to stop the procession. “See our rider there? Now I believe I know why he’s in such haste.”

The dwarf looked out to note the familiar cloud of dust approaching their way. “Hmm! I see your meaning. In which case, we need only hold these two until daybreak.” He tugged at the rope that bound the youths together. Merrill and Mirina kept their heads bowed and said nothing. Their fair features were downcast and shadowed.

“Let us be gentle with them, then.” Haluin gave his friend an admonishing look, before continuing up the path toward the peak of Weathertop.

“Gentle...” Jokim muttered, glancing back to the captives. He shook his head at them, a deep scowl furrowing his beard. “Blessed, indeed!”

 

[chrysophalax]

As they trudged to the summit of the hill, Merrill brooded. Things were not going at all to plan. What had started out only the previous morning as a thrilling, romantic adventure had swiftly degenerated into a humiliating disaster.

What am I to do? he wondered despondently. Mirina's father will surely have my guts for garters if these...people turn us in and I will look like the worst sort of fool besides! The young man cast a forlorn gaze at the fearsome presence that marched beside him and shuddered. What have I gotten myself into?

Haluin, meanwhile, raced ahead to their campsite to alert Eldarin and as he reached the rocky ring in which their fire blazed merrily, he called out softly, "Mellon! Jokim has brought entertainment in the form of two human youths. It appears that they are thieves and intend to use their ill-gotten gains to buy a house near the sea. Romantic, eh?"

"Touching. Human, you say?" the smith sighed gustily. "I've no idea how much experience you've had with the Secondborn, Haluin, but mine has been, shall we say...varied. I would not choose one as my dearest companion, let us say."

Haluin grinned. "Nevertheless, our stalwart dwarf is even now soldiering up the hill with them, as we yet speak. I noticed their horse, a fine animal, though badly startled when Jokim showed his grizzled face, tied to a sapling below. I am going down to soothe it and, as it was most likely stolen as well, will calm it enough to tell it go home."

A sound that imitated rather well a small landslide caused the elves to turn. It was Jokim grumbling. " 'His grizzled face' is it? I'll have you know, elf, that you're no prizewinner yourself."

With a wink and a wave of his hand, Haluin sped off down the slope to liberate the stranded horse, leaving Eldarin to sort things out. The elf gestured to the snoring Druri, then beckoned for Jokim to follow him. Rolling his eyes, the dwarf complied, then told the young lovers to move on, waving his axe for emphasis.

They were led several yards away, to a part of the ancient tower that still held a fleeting memory of its former glory. Two arches still held up the semblance of a roof and this, Eldarin thought, would make as good a shelter as any for the fugitives.

No sooner where they settled however, than the bickering began. Merrill looked askance at his hosts and nervously asked, "Who-who are you people and by what right do you detain us? My lady and I have ridden far this day. Can you not see that she is weary?"

I am weary? Need I remind you Merrill, that I have been riding almost since I could walk. It was you who insisted that I ride side-saddle before you." She rubbed her upper leg irritably. "Have you any idea how uncomfortable that can be?"

Stunned at how surly she had become, Merrill immediately attempted to soothe her. "Dearest, if only you had had the patience, I could have taken both horses..."

"And if you had not decided, without my consent, mind, that you would steal those jewels before the entire household was properly asleep..."

"Did you just say, without your consent?" Icy silence and harsh glares were the only means of communication the two shared for several long hours after that and by the time Haluin returned, both Jokim and Eldarin wore complacent grins as they sat near the fire awaiting his return.

 

[Ghorim]

Every few minutes, Mirina would snap awake again. To the east, the sky would be just a bit paler. And to the west, the approaching cloud of dust would seem just a bit closer.

Her innards would constrict, and she would curl up tighter against the crumbling stone wall, trying to dream herself some place else. Anywhere else...

She cast an angry and envious look to Merrill, who lay slumped on his side, dead to the world. How could he...? How could all of this turn so black, so quickly?

There came a quiet footfall beside her as she watched the rider’s progress toward Weathertop. Mirina turned. With her hands bound behind her, she could not wipe away the fat tear that rolled down her freckled cheek.

“Good evening.” It was the Elf... or the merrier of the two Elves, rather. He was smiling, moonlight dancing across his features. He stooped down and gently swept away the tear from her face. “I am Haluin.”

“Mirina...”

“That was a fine mount you and your friend laid hands on.” Haluin sat against the opposite wall, facing her beneath the roofed shelter. “You two have good taste, at the least.”

“My father is a stablemaster.” Mirina held her head up with a tense pride. She would not let this one see her so weakened.

“I see...” He was watching her, staring at her. Valar, make him stop! “Mirina...” He eased forward, and she recoiled against the wall. “You seem too... what is the word... level-headed to get involved in such a mad business. Robbing homes? Stealing horses? How did all of this start?”

She exhaled deeply and dropped her head, dark red tresses falling over her face. Beneath that veil, she gazed over to Merrill. “He was... he has always been... in love with me.”

Haluin settled back again. “Oh?”

“He worked for my father. And every time I came in to pick up a beast, he paid me especial attention. Merrill’s family is poor, but he has the charm and manners of a nobleman.”

“Of course.” He smiled encouragingly.

“Well, soon we started spending more time together. And then my father found out.” She bit her lip. “It soon became clear to Merrill... if he wanted my hand, he would have to take me away. And so the plan came together in his head, I suppose. To elope. And make our living dishonestly... I urged him not to, but he filled my head with such pretty lies.” She looked up to the Elf, a helpless pout on her face. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.” Another smile, another nod. “But how did you manage to come away with such a haul?”

“We posed as brother and sister... orphans... and a well-to-do couple in Bree took us in. After that, it was simple.” She paused. “They were so kind to us. How could we... how could Merrill...?” She lowered her head again, sobbing quietly.

“Come, come,” said Haluin warmly. “You’ve told me enough, child. Just look at you! You’re shivering. Why don’t you head back to the fire and warm yourself for the rest of the night.”

“Is it long until dawn...?”

“Long enough. Go on, now.”

She bowed her head in gratitude, and then stood to creep over to the camp where the others rested.

Haluin watched her go until she settled down near the campfire. Then he turned to shake Merrill awake.

“Eh...?”

“I’m inviting you over to share our fire, young Merrill.”

“Oh, I see...” A yawn. “Well, that will do nicely. Thank you.”

“But first, a word in private...”

“Why, what is it?”

“Well, forgive me for being so blunt, but I must say: you seem too... what is the word... level-headed to get involved in such a mad business...”

---

As soon as Mirina appeared, Jokim and Eldarin made it clear that they would have nothing to do with her. So she strayed as far away from them as she could while still keeping close to the fire’s warmth. Finally, she threw herself upon the ground and fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

Once she had drifted off, Jokim visibly relaxed. He leaned back, patting a sleeping Druri on the shoulder. The lad had rolled over onto his side about an hour ago, throwing an arm across his uncle’s lap. Still he snored on, snug beneath his blanket, a half-smile on his face as his dreams whisked him here and there.

Jokim watched this for a moment and gave a muffled sigh. When he glanced up, Eldarin had an eager grin waiting for him from the other end of the fire. The dwarf snorted and looked up to the sky, distracting himself with the clouds and stars for a minute or two. But when he looked back, Eldarin’s smile had only widened.

“Confound it... what are you leering at?” Jokim crossed his arms.

“I only wish to say, Master Dwarf, that this is the most precious thing I have ever seen.” Eldarin gave a nod to Druri.

“Well! Laugh it up, if you will. But know that I...” Jokim’s voice had risen too loud. Druri began to murmur and stir. The uncle’s face turned ashen, and he immediately set to patting his nephew’s shoulder to settle him back down. After a few tense moments, Druri resumed his snoring.

Eldarin, meanwhile, had to shove a knuckle between his teeth to prevent a peal of laughter from bursting forth. “Come, now,” the Elf said once Druri was asleep again. “We all see through that stern warrior’s pride. You adore him. There is no shame in that.”

“Ahem...” Jokim shifted uncomfortably. “Well, perhaps I have coddled him too much.”

“Coddled him? Whatever do you mean? He starves for your approval and likewise dreads your wrath. I see nothing amiss in that.”

“But he cannot depend on me for these things. Soon enough he must become his own dwarf... make his own decisions...”

“That is absurd. How old is he?”

“Eh... I believe... fourteen.” Jokim scratched his beard.

“Barely fuzz on his chin and you already wish to set him free!” Eldarin chuckled. “No, no, Sir Jokim. Your obligation to young Druri has just begun. No matter how old you live to see him grow, he shall continue to come to you for advice and wisdom. And you are more than qualified to give both.”

Jokim answered with his customary, stolid silence. Eldarin watched the dwarf from the corner of his eyes, hoping to see if his words had made any impact. But Jokim had already turned his attention elsewhere.

“What is Haluin up to?”

Eldarin glanced up to the covered tower. “He is having a word with the boy.”

“And what good will that do?”

“Perhaps he will fish out some answers about these two young brigands. That, or well-spun lies. It makes little difference to me, in truth...”

 

[chrysophalax]

" You wouldn't understand." came the muffled answer as Merrill turned his back on Haluin. He was still smarting from Mirina's words and saw no point in talking about his pain to a stranger.

Said stranger however refused to be put off. Few creatures in Middle Earth save dragons were more curious than Haluin and so he tried another tack.

"She seemed a bit...cold just now, almost regretful as she spoke to me. Why should that be, I wonder? After all, as you imply, I know little of your race and you care for her..."

Merrill was on his feet in an instant, despite being hampered by the ropes binding his hands. "She was always coming in the stables, looking at me, talking to me. You've seen her! She's beautiful and she wanted to be with me, but would her father allow it? No!" He spat on the ground angrily. "Said I was no good for her and that I'd best stay my distance."

"How unfair. Anyone can see how, er, how well-mannered you are." said Haluin with a smirk, but the boy failed to spot the sarcasm. "Exactly! So I told her we'd run away together and find a house by the sea. The only problem was, no money. A man must support his beloved, after all!"

Plucking a knife from its sheath on his right boot, Haluin carefully pared the nails on his right hand as he listened. "A good point. continue."

Encouraged, Merrill sat down on a rock, his eyes shining. "I stole one of the master's horses, Mirina told me which one and we rode hard for Bree. There we stayed in her cousin's house, near the eastern gate. The old lady was nice, so it surprised me when Mirina told me to steal her jewels and some of her fine clothes for Mirina to wear during our journey. I asked her about the woman's husband, for I had no wish to harm them, but she told me he would ride out the next day for Deeping Coomb. Ah, sir, she's so in love with me that she was willing to steal from her own kin in order for us to have a life together!" The huge smile on his face made Haluin momentarily sad for the boy. It was more than obvious that the star-crossed lovers' relationship was not long for this world.

Sheathing his knife once again, the elf stood and pulled Merrill to his feet. "Come, young one. You're shivering and we have a merry fire just there. I am certain my companion Eldarin might even have something in the way of food if we ask him nicely." The boy nodded gratefully and grinned crookedly up at him as they walked up the gentle rise to join the others. "Thank you, sir." he murmured.

Ever mindful of the horseman he had glimpsed earlier, Haluin said, "Do not thank me just yet. I am not the one you must convince."

Eldarin waved a hand in greeting as they approached and Jokim grunted. "Don't wake the lad, Haluin." He grumbled, his eyes falling to where Druri lay snoring deeply. The elf looked scandalised. "Of course not! How can you think that I...never mind. Eldarin, is it possible that you find something edible for our young guest? Excellent! Jokim, a word?"

Jokim and Eldarin exchanged befuddled glances, then shrugged as Jokim slid carefully away from his nephew's sleeping form as Elarin began rummaging through their packs.

"What, Haluin? Durin's beard, you're acting strange!" the dwarf hissed as he joined Haluin behind a large pile of tumbled stone. "Why the secrecy?" Sighing heavily, Haluin looked down at him and flexed his left arm irritably. "They're lying...one or both, I cannot tell." Leaning back against the crumbled wall, he drew his cloak more tightly around him against the chill wind that blew fiercely on this side of the hill. "It wearies me, Jokim. I have always despised liars. Hengist was ever truthful in his dealings with me."

The dwarf's eyes narrowed at the wistful tone in the elf's voice at the mention of his long dead friend. "Men are not to be trusted in general, Haluin. It's always best to trust to who you know best."

"We should all keep to our own then? Had I done that where would I be now? Dead, had I not trusted in you." He rubbed his eyes wearily, then pushed away from the cold stone. "Ah, Jokim, pay me no mind. I cannot help but fear for them, despite their falseness. They are young and no nothing of the world as yet."

"It is just such sentimentality that set you on your current path, Galvornion." spoke Eldarin as he silently appeared next to the dwarf.

Haluin hissed. "As you say, Eldarin. Are you my conscience now, to chastise me thus?"

"What on...who's watching the fugitives?" growled Jokim as he dashed off to check on them, leaving the elves to it. Yes, far better to stick with those you know best!

*********************************

"Your conscience? Nay, mellon. Do not be so quick to misunderstand." said Eldarin quietly. Haluin was not convinced. "I freely admit that my actions have indeed lead me to my 'current path', as you so rightly put it, yet I have few regrets. I have lost many dear to me and nearly found myself in Mandos' halls more times than I can count, however...I have also seen much, experienced much and found others to care for. Can you say the same? Has your life in Imladris always gone as you would have it?"

Dark shadows seemed to flow across the elven smith's face as Haluin spoke, his eyes the smoky-grey of summer stormclouds. "My life in Imladris, aye, but before then..." A flash of deep pain marred his features and Haluin found himself suddenly fearing the answer. "Mellon, do not-it is of no..."

"Silence, I beg you, Haluin. You asked a fair question, now listen." Eldarin turned away, facing the lightening sky to order his thoughts. "You know of Celebrian's abduction and subsequent torture by orcs, yes?"

"Aye." breathed Haluin.

"She-I was among the party sent to keep her safe. I was sorely wounded, not so very far from the place I found you, only...no one aided me. Understandably, their only concern was trying to find our lord's wife." He drew a ragged breath. "It was not too long before a band of brigands which normally haunted the Greenway came upon me, weak from thirst and blood loss. It was...not pleasant, but let it be said, I am here and they are not." He faced Haluin, whose face had gone white with rage. "And that is why I do not put my trust in Men, nor will I ever. What the dwarf said makes sense. Therefore my answer is, no, not entirely."

For once, Haluin was speechless. The thought of Eldarin having been cruelly used made him angry beyond words, yet his own past with the Eldar forced him to disagree with his companions, but he chose not speak of it...for now.

Placing his hand on Eldarin's shoulder, he silently offered an apology and was drawn into a fierce embrace. "Do you see now why I could not have left you on the Redhorn, my foolish friend?" Haluin chuckled. "Aye. I also see that I am not the only one to have suffered more than his due share. Forgive my arrogance, if you can."

Eldarin drew back and smiled. "I think that can be arranged, but for now, I think it best that we see to our visitor, who even now approaches the base of our erstwhile refuge. I'm certain Jokim will have something in mind for an appropriate welcoming!" he said with a laugh and Haluin joined in, relieved. Then his thoughts flew to Druri. He couldn't wait to see how the young dwarf would react to all the excitement!

 

[Ghorim]

Druri rolled over, took a deep intake of air... and smelled something cooking. Little else could have stirred his slumbering senses. But the scent of freshly caught game — was that rabbit? — roasting on an open fire was enough to sit him up.

Directly in front of him was Eldarin’s back, hunched over the flames. Haluin stood vigil at the northern edge of the stone circle, looking out upon the plains as he flexed his metallic arm out of habit. And to Druri’s left lay Jokim, slumped in a half-doze as day dawned to the east.

The young dwarf stretched and yawned, drawing Eldarin’s attention. “Hmmmmm! What a good rest that was. I don’t think I’ve ever slept so well...”

Eldarin smirked over his shoulder. “Well... I’m glad my historical narration proved so refreshing!”

“Oh...” Druri remembered the Elf droning about the history of Arnor just before he nodded off. “I’m sorry Eldar...iiiiin.” Another yawn slurred his speech. ”I was just tired from the climb, is all.”

“Of course.” Eldarin rose to his feet. “Still, I deserve none of the credit. Jokim here guarded your sleep like a hawk.”

Naturally, the elder dwarf snapped an eye open as soon as Eldarin mentioned his name. But Druri’s attention had focused on the other end of the fire. Eldarin’s figure had obscured them, but now he spotted the two young humans sitting in the camp. They looked miserable and bleary-eyed, huddled close together.

“Oh! Hullo!” Druri hopped to his feet. “My name is Druri... at your service.” He gave one of his boyish half-bows. “What’s yours?”

“Druri!” Jokim barked, rising up ominously behind his nephew. “Do not speak a word to those two.”

“Why not?”

“Have a look at their hands,” Eldarin said, turning back to his spit.

Druri walked around the fire, just a few paces, far enough to see that their hands were bound together. The lad grimaced and quickly retreated. “What did they do, uncle?”

Jokim nodded to the bag of stolen goods that sat at the far end of the camp. “Thieves.”

“What will we do with them...?”

“Their escort should be arriving shortly,” Haluin called from his sentry post. “Just see for yourselves.”

With one last look at the ragged captives, Druri followed Jokim up to Haluin’s perch, where they gazed out to the wide world beyond. And there came the rider not far below, gingerly picking his way up the hill on his mount, leading another horse behind by its reins.

Haluin clicked his tongue. “He went so far as to track down their horse, even after I went to all that trouble to free it! But the beast seems to trust him. Interesting...”

“I hear you muttering about me, sentry!” came the distant shout, echoing over the still landscape.

The Elf laughed and patted Jokim on the shoulder. “Why don’t you welcome him to our camp? It sounds like the two of you will get along.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” grumbled the dwarf, but Haluin was already heading to the fire for his breakfast. Jokim spat on the ground in annoyance, leaning forward to peer down at the approaching stranger. Druri huddled close to his uncle, as peckish as ever, but still more curious about the shadow below.

Soon enough, the rider came into full view. The fine, grey stallion he rode granted him the illusion of great height, but Jokim could tell he was a short and stocky type. His thick brown curls were limp and matted from days of riding in the rain. Although he was young yet, a stubborn bald spot had taken up residence atop his head. And he wore one of those scraggly human beards that always forced Jokim to smirk reflexively.

As the man approached with his pair of horses, Jokim called for him to halt. “What brings you to the summit of Weathertop, traveler?”

“Mmm...” The man narrowed his eyes at Jokim with a wry expression. “And now I see a dwarf laying claim to Amon Sûl as though it were a lost stronghold of his people. Perhaps all these days without sleep have driven me mad, after all.” He dismounted with an agile leap, taking the reins of both horses in one hand. Neither animal so much as stirred.

“I ask only out of curiosity.” Jokim glanced to Druri, who had halfway concealed himself behind a stone outcropping.

“You have something I want, dwarf,” replied the man. “Two somethings, in fact. And if the tracks are any indication, you and your youngling there are not alone.”

“True enough. Name yourself, then, and enter as a friend.”

“You may call me Goran. I fear my name comes without any titles or ornaments to it.”

“Just as well.” The dwarf jabbed a thumb into his chest. “Jokim.” He yanked his nephew out of hiding. “And Druri.”

“What silly names your kind adopt on the road!” snorted Goran, leading his horses up to the ruins.

Once inside, he stopped to stare at Merrill and Mirina, before a gale of rueful laughter rose from him. “And here I thought I was due for a pitched battle with these fugitives once I caught them.” The two young lovers shrank at his sight. “But it seems that two Elves and two dwarves have done all of my work for me! What sort of menagerie is this, eh?”

“A most peculiar one, I’ll admit.” Haluin stepped forward to speak, while Eldarin noticeably withdrew. “But all of the credit goes to Master Jokim here. He spotted them, hunted them down and captured them before he’d even had his supper last night.”

“Jokim...” Goran glanced at the dwarf again. He sounded out the name, creasing his brow: “Yoh-keem... now where have I heard that before?”

“Nowhere important,” said the dwarf briskly. “Haluin, Eldarin... this one’s name is Goran. Goran, these are my companions...”

“What were their names?”

Jokim did not like to repeat himself. “Haluin... and Eldarin.”

The man stared blankly at the Elves for a moment, and then slapped his knee, cracking up in a fresh fit of laughter. Eldarin thought this odd fellow was laughing at his name, and so his expression bristled. “What tickles you so, horsemaster?”

Goran eventually straightened himself up by leaning on one of the stone walls. Still chuckling to himself, he turned his back to the others and set to tying his horses up against a crumbling support beam for the old tower.

“Well?” Eldarin stepped forward.

Suddenly, Goran spun about on his heels, placed a hand to his chest and bellowed out: “Out on the plains! Three riders seen! One short, one tall, one in-between!”

The reactions from Jokim and Haluin could not have diverged any further. While the dwarf groaned and slumped back against a wall, the Elf clapped his hands and laughed along. “You see, Jokim! Even today, our fame carries on.”

Goran waved a finger at Haluin. “My family hails from the Rohan originally, you see. And it is a well-worn legend in our clan that my grandfather fought alongside your three-headed monster in the old days.”

“Incredible!” Haluin shook his head in disbelief.

“Now what am I to tell my master upon my return? That I came upon the ghosts of Haluin and Jokim at Weathertop? He shall have me sent away!”

“Not ghosts in the least,” cut in Jokim. “Nor imposters to the names. But tell me, rider, whom do you call master?”

Goran nodded to Mirina, who would not so much as look at him. “This one’s father. He dispatched me to track them as soon as they turned up missing.”

Druri inched closer to Goran, fighting off his timidity. “Are you a ranger, then?”

The man shook his head and laughed again. “No. Far from it. A ranger would have caught these urchins much sooner. As it was, I just missed them in Bree. And I knew I would have to make haste, as they had stolen my master’s swiftest steed while he slept!” Goran glared at the children with a quick flash of temper. “Well, I drove my beast nearly to death — and myself, besides — but now it appears things may be righted again. That is their loot over there?”

“All of it,” Haluin nodded.

“Brilliant.” Goran marched over to the couple, grinning as they recoiled at his approach.

“Perhaps you and your animal should take some time to rest, then?” Haluin approached the rider. “We are in no hurry, and could watch over your prisoners while you slept.”

“Sleep!” Goran’s head shot up. “I appreciate that idea very much, Elf. But first, I thought I might share in your morning meal?”

“By all means.” Haluin smiled over to Eldarin, who only looked in the other direction.

 

[Ghorim]

Merrill and Mirina watched like scrawny dogs awaiting table scraps as the others broke their fast. The sun was fully up by now, but the sky above had gone overcast. Though he savored the food, Jokim still watched the skies pensively, fretting about early snows.

Haluin, meanwhile, attacked the new visitor with his customary curiosity. “Where do you and these two hail from, Goran?”

The man chewed a roll of bread down to mush, swallowed, and then replied. “A healthy little village in the plains of Eriador. We are not the sort of place that, say, Bree would ever bother to sneeze at, but we do quite well for ourselves.”

“Ah... surrounded by land... far from the ocean...” Haluin glanced at the couple with a smile.

“Er... yes...” Goran scratched his bald spot and ladled another serving of rabbit stew for himself.

“And so you are headed home, now?”

“More or less.” Goran nodded. “We must first stop in Bree, however, to return the goods. And I expect our young friends here will make the presentation themselves.” He gave a wicked grin to Merrill and Mirina, who both made half-hearted attempts to escape from their bonds.

“Hmm...” Haluin glanced to Eldarin briefly, and then back to the rider. “And so it seems we are all headed the same way... more or less. Perhaps we could travel together as far as Bree?”

Goran shrugged. “It will make my task easier, if the rest of your companions here would have me.” He meant, rather specifically, Jokim and Eldarin.

Of course, Jokim already knew that Druri was thrilled to have another race around to study and learn from. He could only imagine the lad’s begging and pleading if he said no. So with his mind already made up for him, the dwarf gave a passive nod.

Eldarin gave a sigh as the others turned to him. “It seems I am overruled in either event,” he said flatly. “So my opinion does not matter.”

Goran flashed a half-smile, half-sneer in Eldarin’s direction. His response rang just as dry. “Thank you for that vote of confidence, Sir Eldarin.”

 

[chrysophalax]

Inwardly dismayed by Eldarin's reaction, Haluin crouched down and broke the largest remaining piece of bread in two, then ladled some of the rabbit stew onto them. Their captives might be thieves, but they were also little more than wayward, frightened children on an adventure that had gotten out of hand and keeping them hungry was not in the elf's nature.

"Druri, toss me that waterskin, will you?" he called as he crossed to where Merrill and Mirina were now huddled together on the ground, the girl hiding her face against the stone at his approach. Interesting, why does she not seek his touch for comfort? wondered Haluin as he stopped beside them.

"Catch!" cried Druri and the elf spun, easily snatching the skin out of the air. He winked at his young friend, then turned back to see Merrill eyeing the bread greedily. "Here, take this." Haluin said softly. "Mirina, will you not eat?"

She shook her head slowly. "No. I'm sure he'll eat it though." she said bitterly. Concerned, Haluin edged closer with the waterskin. "Drink then. It would grieve me if you fell ill."

She glanced up at him, her tongue sliding over cracked lips, then to the skin in his hand. "As you wish." she replied, then drank thirstily for a few moments before Merrill turned and tried to take it from her. "Don't drink it all, you're not the only thirsty one, you know!"

Haluin reached out, lightning-fast and stopped him. "You will wait until she has finished." he said grimly and the boy's eyes widened before looking down, ashamed.

She handed the skin back to Haluin, grinning shyly as she did so. "Thank you, elf. Forgive me, but I've forgotten your name."

"I am Haluin, young one and you are welcome." Dropping the skin into Merrill's lap without further comment, he stood and set about clearing up the remains of their breakfast.

"Is he always so touchy?" Goran asked as Jokim finished the last of his stew. "Only when provoked." The dwarf replied. He hadn't liked the way the younglings reacted when they upon seeing who had come after them. Fear of punishment is understanable, but why would they both cringe from him? Her father is his master, after all. Determined to keep an eye on the man, Jokim sopped up the last bite, then threw the bones on the fire.

Meanwhile, Druri, having finished his own meal, watched the two young people and Goran with interest. Of course he had seen men before, in Laketown, for instance. But he had never had the chance to speak with them and, as ever, he had questions.

Deciding to risk it, Druri walked over to Goran and cleared his throat. I'm beginning to think you're that foolish elf's nephew and not my own! The words of his uncle spoken what seemed ages ago echoing in his head as he did so.

"I heard you say your grandfather fought with my uncle and Haluin. Did he have any stories about the battles they fought?"


*********************************


Grinding his teeth, Eldarin stalked to the far side of Amon Sul and stood staring eastwards, wondering just how big a mistake he had made. Why did Haluin have to be so accepting? Did he not see the danger in such things?

Fool, of course not and now...now...“So it must be with Haluin and me. A home... to each other.” The words he had spoken in earnest to Jokim mere days before came rushing back to him, strengthening his resolve.

Frustrated, he began throwing stones as far as he could down into the trees below, relieved at least that this Goran was not a Ranger, for it would not be long before their leader would be made aware of Haluin's presence in the area and that would bring an entirely new set of problems if they weren't careful.


**********************************


"Stories, you say? Well, lad, it just so happens that I do remember a few wild tales the old man used to spin after he'd had a few mugs of beer by the fire. It seems your pointy-eared friend there is quite the shot with a bow and not just because the song says so, neither!" He put a finger beside his nose and said secretively, "'Tis said he once shot clean through three Dunlendings with one arrow. Pinned all three together, he did."

Druri's mouth fell open. "Is that even possible? I didn't know arrows were that long!"

Garon shrugged. "That's the story, lad. Take it or leave it. But...your uncle now, he slew thirty enemy soldiers by himself after his axe-handle had been cut in half and in under an hour! What do you say to that?"

Eyes shining with pride, Druri threw out his chest. "I say that's a fine day's work! One day I hope someone will tell such stories about me!"

He's doing it again! thought Merrill as he listened to the man regale his impressionable audience. He's worming his way in amongst them with his tales and his friendly ways...should I warn them? The boy almost called to the larger dwarf, but then he remembered Haluin's treatment of him earlier and he frowned. No. Let them find out on their own. Serve that elf right!

 

[Ghorim]

Once he had managed to detach Druri from his ear, Goran requested a private moment with the captives.

“There are private things that the three of us must discuss, and strangers’ ears make for still tongues.”

“Hmm.” Jokim looked straight into Goran’s eyes for a few silent moments. And then he shrugged. “Be brief.”

The dwarf stepped out of the stone circle, taking his nephew and Haluin with him. Eldarin was still nowhere to be seen.

Goran watched them go, and then turned to see the two lovers huddled together on their knees. He clapped his hands together with a flourish. “And so it ends. You two made a good run of it, I’ll give you that.”

Mirina cast a look up at her father’s bodyguard through wisps of hair that drifted in the breeze. “What did Father say... when he found out?”

The man smirked, crouching down to her level. “You think he’s angry, don’t you? Furious, even! Well, he was at first.” He watched her wince. “But in the end, he only wants you home safe and sound. He sent me off with only concern in his heart.” He cradled her chin in his hand for a moment, but then noticed Merrill glaring at him.

“And what are you getting so hot for, child?”

“You know why.”

“Is that so?” Now Goran took Merrill’s chin in hand. He squeezed the boy's cheeks together, shaking Merrill's head from side to side. “A helpless babe, as ever.” And with a quick snap, he tossed the boy headfirst to the ground. Then Goran stood, sighing to himself as he adjusted his riding gloves and regarded the skies. “Well, at any rate... behave on the ride home and the old man might be lenient on you for leading his daughter astray. Either way, you’ll be in search of a new place to work.”

“What do you want from us?” Mirina edged forward, wishing her hands were free to help Merrill.

“The story. From your escape until your capture. And please...” Goran flexed his fingers. “No lies.”

---

Of course, Eldarin had made no promises about giving Goran his privacy. He watched the whole scene unfold, peeking over the edge of one of the decaying walls. The Elf’s eyes narrowed, but just as Merrill and Mirina began their tale once again, he heard heavy footfalls coming around the side of the ruins.

Leaping down from his perch, he landed just in time to face the oncoming Jokim.

“There you are!” The dwarf shook his head. “Is eavesdropping an Elf’s favorite pastime, then?”

“I do not trust the man.” Eldarin dusted himself off, looking stern and stiff. “And nothing that I overheard just now has won my favor.”

“And you think I’d allow him to watch my back?” Jokim snorted, leaning close to drop his voice to a hiss. “But I’d rather him than two sniveling thieves! He is their foe, and that makes him friend to me, at least until Bree. Now come. We are readying to leave.”

Jokim knew that the Elf had a snappy response coming, so he spun in a flash to head back the way he came. Eldarin stood to himself for a moment, considering their predicament as the winds whipped along the hillside.

With a sharp grunt, he drove his fist into the side of the ancient tower. And then he followed.

 

[chrysophalax]

"I see no reason not to follow the Road, Haluin. Throw a hood over those ears and no one will be the wiser. I remember well your fondness for disguises!"

The elf favoured Jokim with a raised eyebrow, then chuckled. "Ah! There you have me, master dwarf! Your memory is as sharp as ever."

"It would serve you well not to forget it!" The dwarf grumbled under his breath as his eyes searched the campsite. "Druri!"

A head shot up from behind a largish boulder. "Here, uncle! Just taking care of the necessaries." After a moment he emerged, adjusting his belt and blushing at Goran's amused snort as he turned to Jokim.

"If we're all in agreement, I'd like to get on the road as soon as possible. My master is not a patient man and since this one has chosen to flee, we are now two men short in the stables and he is most displeased!"

Jokim shrugged, then looked to Haluin. "We will be ready, Goran. See to your master's daughter and Merrill while we prepare." said the elf softly. He knew Eldarin was still opposed to being in the man's company, but as it would be such a short time, he felt certain it would make little difference in the end.

The man looked for a long moment at Haluin, then shook his head and gave him a mock bow. "As you wish, my good elf! We shall await your pleasure."

"I'll go fetch Eldarin. I fear he's..." "He is here, Haluin." said a voice behind him. "Get the packs."

A low, rumble from Jokim at Eldarin's tone was instantly silenced as Haluin shook his head sharply, mouthing, It is nothing. Grimly, the dwarf left them to it as he and Druri set about dousing the fire and returning the stone circle to the way it had been before their arrival.

Silently, the elves gathered their gear, stowing it all away with swift efficiency. Goran watched the interplay between them closely and his thoughts turned to treachery. Elves, the self-proclaimed "Firstborn"! Such open hostility toward Men is hardly normal for them. It might be interesting to discover the cause. One less elf one way and another won't be noticed in any case, should he prove too meddlesome. He thought viciously as he jerked Merrill roughly to his feet.

The boy bit back a cry and Eldarin's head came up, eyes fierce and dangerous. A hand harder than any steel gripped his arm with punishing force. "Nay, tor-nin! whispered Haluin in his ear. "Not now, not here. Listen to me!"

Eldarin flicked his eyes to Haluin's hand. "Release me, Haluin. We will speak later." he hissed, then tugged his arm free before returning to his task.


************************************


Later that same day, a group now numbering seven made their way along the Road toward Bree.

Goran rode, leading Merrill, who's hands were tied by a length of rope to the saddle. This allowed the boy to walk alongside, but not so far that he could try and pull himself free. Mirina followed close behind them, her head down so that her face was hidden by her hair from the others, the very picture of abject shame.

Druri was again took the point, his head up, alert as a hawk. The young dwarf took his responsibility seriously, as was to be expected. His uncle allowed a brief flush of pride to wash through him as he watched the youngling marching just ahead. With any luck, his nephew would live to a ripe old age, bring honour on the family name and possibly even sire children of his own. All they had to do was reach the Blue Mountains. Strong, rich, Dragon-free Mountains! He inhaled deeply and grinned behind his beard. Hammer and tongs, it'll be good to see proper mountains again!

The elves meanwhile were ranging off the Road, taking solace from the trees that wooded the northern side.

"...and then I saw him fling the boy to the ground! Haluin, by all I hold dear, the man means trouble. Can you not feel it?"

"Nay, Eldarin, I cannot. Wait...listen..." He stilled Eldarin as he opened his mouth to argue further. "I believe you saw what you saw. I have no reason to doubt your word, mellon., calm yourself! I will watch this Goran as well, for I have no wish for either of them to come to harm at his hand."

The elven smith slapped his hand against his scabbard, then winced, darting a look at his hand. Dried blood coated the back of it and Haluin's eyes widened slightly at the sight. "What...?" "Leave it, Haluin. I...lost my temper earlier and paid the price."

"I see." replied Haluin coolly. "Just be sure your temper doesn't damage you to the point that we all pay for it. Not many can wield a sword despite a broken hand." Eldarin bit back his reply, choosing instead to ponder the wisdom of Haluin's words.

 

[Ghorim]

Eyes sweeping over the curves of the land, Druri played the role of watchman with all the eager obedience of a hound sniffing out a trail. Once every minute or so, his eyes would fly back to his uncle, in search of an approving nod or glint of satisfaction in Jokim’s gaze.

The old dwarf had grown quite adept at hiding any twitch of emotion behind his beard and stone mask of a face. But Druri could see through it all. He waved back to his uncle. Dour expression still intact, Jokim gave an old, Erebor-style salute. Sensing the full honor of the gesture, Druri grinned to himself and scampered even further ahead.

Goran gave a throaty chuckle from atop his horse. “You’ve trained your little pup well! He treats duty like a joy.”

“And why should it not be?” Jokim glanced up. “Doing a job well is its own best reward, as the Khazad say.”

“Men say that too, so you are aware.” Goran shifted in his saddle. “Now... is he your nephew by blood or by marriage?”

“Blood, of course! Can you not see the resemblance?”

“Mmm...” Goran squinted. “Around the eyes, perhaps?”

“He has his mother’s eyes, actually...”

“And she is...?”

“Was. My sister.”

“Ah.” Goran knew Jokim’s wrath awaited him if he traveled down that path of discussion any further. So his mind raced after some other topic to pursue. What does one talk about with these dwarves, so irritable and distant? Maybe if he tried to butter Jokim up...

“Well, let me just say, if I haven’t already, what an honor it is to travel alongside a warrior of legend such as yourself.”

“Hmmph.” That was not the reaction Goran had hoped for. “That fellow from the songs you know... I am not him any longer. If I ever was him. I did what I had to do during those days... all three of us did. Then the minstrels got a hold of our story and it became some silly tale of adventure and heroism. I am a mere infantryman. I have never claimed any greater station.”

Well, look at it this way, Goran... that’s more words than he’s said during the whole journey so far...

“Uncle!” And just like a hound, Druri had shot ramrod stiff, arm pointed to a distant hill. Within two strides, Jokim was moving at a full sprint to reach the lad. In the same instant, Goran pulled his horse up short and called his prisoners to a halt.

As he ran, Jokim lifted one hand from his axe to shield his eyes, for Druri was pointing directly into the sinking evening sun. He skidded to a quick stop, a cloud of dust and gravel flying in his wake. “What is it, lad?”

“A rider! And he’s just sitting there.”

Jokim squinted, and then he saw Druri’s meaning. The position of the sun doomed any attempt to identify the figure, but there it sat on a rise some leagues distant. Mounted. Alone. “Well, well...” Jokim lowered his axe.

“Do you think he’s watching us?” Druri had his dagger drawn, eager to break in the new blade.

“It would not surprise me in the least.” Jokim took Druri’s weapon hand and lowered it slowly. “Patience, now.”

The lad glared at him in reply.

For one instant, Jokim froze. His hand dropped to his side. In that furrowed little face, he saw a distorted reflection of himself at the same age. Growing up lost, deprived of a home and a father, hungry to lash out at the world by any means possible.

Jokim paused... and then he acted, shoving a warning finger in front of Druri’s face. The lad flinched, and suddenly he was a simple child again.

“Patience,” Jokim repeated in a stiff whisper. Goran was galloping up behind him, nearly drowning out the word. But Druri heard it, and took fear from it. “Patience.”

“What is it, then?” Goran called, a hand to his eyes. Merrill and Mirina stumbled pathetically along behind.

“Well, do you not see the...” Jokim turned to the hills again, but the rider had vanished. “Hmm...”

Goran’s mount snorted and fidgeted, and the man laid a hand to its temple. Its movements slowed and then ceased. “Company, then?”

“Possibly. It will come tonight, if it comes at all.” Jokim hoisted his axe over his shoulder, and watched with great interest as Druri reluctantly sheathed his dagger.

 

[Ghorim]

“Rather provocative, wouldn’t you say?” Eldarin watched the distant standoff, crouched on a high branch. The flashing autumn leaves swallowed his figure.

“The word that comes to my mind is ‘cheeky,’” replied Haluin. He knelt on a neighboring branch, bow at the ready in case the rider tried anything foolish.

Eldarin shook his head at the remark and spared a glance to Haluin. “Would you call that a Ranger?”

With the benefit of Elvish eyesight and a different angle of view, the two could make better sense of the rider than the five walkers stranded out on the plains trail. He was hooded, armed with bow and blade, stolid in the saddle and affectless in his posture.

Haluin squinted and shrugged. “They have no uniform... neither in their attire nor their methods. But he seems well equipped, and is using the sunlight to his advantage.”

“A message? A warning?” Eldarin gripped the bark of his branch with a scowl.

“Remind me again why you are so fearful of coming across a Ranger on the road west?”

Eldarin turned again to his companion, holding back an incredulous expression. “Why, for your sake, of course. Who could say how they would react...?”

“True. But three crossed my path while I was waiting for you and the dwarves to find me. They let me go unmolested.” Haluin watched as the rider descended the far side of one of the hills, disappearing. “My guess is this one would be more interested in our young prisoners.”

“But as you’ve said... each one of their number handles his business differently. I would take caution.”

“Of course, as always. I have my disguise, in case things go awry...”

Eldarin stood. “At least we have the element of surprise, for the moment.”

THOCK!

The arrow struck the tree trunk directly between the branches where each Elf stood. Haluin leaped and spun about midair, drawing back a bolt of his own in search of a target. He caught a glimpse of a fleeing shadow, but it disappeared amidst the trees.

Eldarin hopped down from his branch to give chase, dashing off into the woods. Meanwhile, still on his branch, Haluin exhaled sharply and glanced to the embedded arrow. A small strip of parchment was tied to its shaft...

Some minutes later, a panting and frustrated Eldarin returned. “Our assailant had a horse waiting for him by the stream! The coward. But how did he...” His words faltered as soon as he saw Haluin. The Elf was leaning against a tree, staring at a strip of parchment and chuckling to himself. “And just what are you giggling about?”

“Our friend was sending us a message with that shot.” Haluin held up the parchment with a grin.

“What does it say?” Eldarin placed his hands to his hips.

Haluin began to speak, but then snorted with a fresh fit of laughter. Covering his mouth in mock embarrassment, he handed the parchment to a glowering Eldarin.

The smith gave the message a quick look. It contained but one word, capped by a garish exclamation point: “Cheeky!”

---

“So there are two of them, at the least?” Jokim had driven the head of his axe into the ground, and leaned sideways upon the handle as he regarded Eldarin.

“We do not know for certain if they are working in concert... but yes.” The Elf had one foot propped up on a stone, his eyes sweeping over the plains in nervous arcs. He had insisted on a private conference with Jokim as soon as he returned from the woods with Haluin. They needed to plan.

“Hmm!” Jokim stroked his beard with a half-grin, and Eldarin was alarmed by how everyone else seemed merely amused by these developments. “They are worthy adversaries, at the worst. To think one managed to get the drop on two Elves!”

“Yes, well...” Eldarin wanted to forget that lapse in attentiveness as quickly as possible. “They are clever enough, I suppose. And they have us out here in the wide open, if they want us.”

“But as you said before... Rangers are not wicked by their nature. My guess is that they were dispatched from Bree after our two little brigands robbed the town. And if they wish to take custody of those urchins, I see no fault in that! Our main concern should be protecting Haluin.”

Eldarin considered for a moment, then nodded. “Given the skills they’ve displayed... I doubt they could be anything other than Rangers. And if that is so, then what you say is true. I’d gladly entrust them with our prisoners over that Goran character.”

Jokim glanced back to the rest of the party. Goran and Druri appeared to be playing a game of tag in the orange dusk light, running around one of the horses while Haluin tended to the shackled youths. The dwarf scowled, yanking his axe from the ground. “We make camp here. No hiding, no fleeing. If they come, then they come.”

Eldarin smiled. “I admire that about your folk, Jokim. The fearless audacity...”

Jokim wagged a finger, a gleam in his eye. “We call it ‘common sense.’”

---

It began to snow that night. A light flurry, nothing more. But still it was enough to obscure the sightlines of the four warriors who stood watch. They lined the far edges of the camp, Haluin facing north, Goran east, Eldarin south and Jokim west.

Encased in their protective circle were the horses and the three youths, all huddled by the fire together. Druri stared at the young humans, whose eyes would not rise to meet his. The lad believed he had been entrusted with the most important task of all... guarding the prisoners.

Of course he remembered his uncle’s orders: that he should not speak with them, or even make eye contact with the thieves. But how could he not want to know more about them? What was so scary about them, besides?

Druri cleared his throat, attempting to deepen his young voice before he spoke. “Why did you do it, then?”

Merrill gave him a sour look. “And why should you bother to ask?”

The young dwarf shrugged, holding his nerves in check. “There had to be a reason.”

“Out of love...” Mirina spoke up, but only in a half-whisper. “Foolish love.”

The boy at her side was struck dumb for a moment, but then turned away from her in a huff. Druri, too, was taken aback, and his jaw fell slightly. He inched closer to the fire, wetting his dry lips.

"Love, you say?" Druri began nonchalantly. “What... what’s it like to be in love?” The dwarf didn’t look at either of the prisoners as he asked the question, instead fiddling with his dagger as a distraction.

Mirina smiled faintly. “It is not a lightning bolt from the heavens, if that is how you imagine it. It is... quiet. A quiet need that conquers your senses over time, without your even realizing it.”

Druri glanced up. “Until it’s too late?”

The lass giggled, showing her youth for a moment. “That is one way of putting it.”

A grin began to trace itself over Druri’s fuzzy face, and he opened his mouth to speak again, but a nearby shout silenced him.

“Druri! What did I tell you about speaking with the prisoners?”

The young dwarf sighed, looking down to his dagger again. “Sorry, uncle...”

And so began a silent hour at the camp, with just the crackling fire and gusts of wind for company. Merrill and Mirina went to sleep, and Druri pulled his blanket tight about himself to keep warm. He was determined to stay up all night in vigilance over the prisoners, but the coziness of the campfire was lulling him under.

But just as his eyes were beginning to droop...

“Halt!”

Druri’s head shot up, and the two humans awoke as well. It was Haluin shouting, sounding suddenly fearsome with an arrow drawn. Save for Eldarin, the others could not see what had alerted the Elf’s attention.

“State your name and purpose!”

Haluin’s words tumbled away into the swirling winds, their sound disappearing in an instant. A mounted shadow appeared at the farthest reaches of sight, staying in motion but not seeming to come any closer. It drifted amidst the falling snowflakes, with distant hoofbeats sounding over the gusts.

Before Haluin could reiterate his orders, Eldarin took the words right out of his mouth.

“Halt! Name and purpose!”

Another rider approached from the south. Eldarin began to inch back toward the fire, and the other three guards followed his lead.

“What’ll it be, lads?” Goran had his sword drawn, turning left and right to keep tabs on both riders.

“Lads, he calls us!” Jokim snorted. “You just hold your side of the formation, boy.”

With a sudden eruption of courage, Druri jumped to his feet and ran to his uncle’s side. All too quickly, Jokim shoved him away. “Get back!”

“Uncle... I’m at your side, no matter what.” Druri marched forward again.

Of course the lad had picked a moment like this to get stubborn! Jokim reached a hurried compromise, shifting Druri behind him. “You have my back, lad. Be my eyes back there.”

That gesture was more than enough to please the lad, and a rush of battlefield euphoria filled Druri as he took up his position.

Haluin bit his lip, awaiting some response from the northern rider. “Need I remind you, stranger, that your silence forces me to assume the worst!”

A laugh burst out in reply, a sound that split the winds and froze everyone within the camp circle.