The Kingdom under the Mountain - Free RP

[Lirimaer]

A place to roleplay in Rhovanion
from the Grey Mountains in the North, to the lands east of Mirkwood, as far as Rhun and the Iron Hills and beyond
Whether you want to duel in Dale, or lounge about in Laketown (Esgaroth), mine under the mountain or kneel to the king - you can do it here!

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“Long ago in my grandfather Thror’s time our family was driven out of the far North, and came back with all their wealth and their tools to this Mountain on the map.”
~ Thorin, The Hobbit
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“It had been discovered by my far ancestor, Thrain the Old, but now they mined and they tunnelled and they made huger halls and greater workshops—and in addition I believe they found a good deal of gold and a great many jewels too. Anyway they grew immensely rich and famous, and my grandfather was King under the Mountain again, and treated with great reverence by the mortal men, who lived to the South, and were gradually spreading up the Running River as far as the valley overshadowed by the Mountain. They built the merry town of Dale there in those days. Kings used to send for our smiths, and reward even the least skillful most richly. Fathers would beg us to take their sons as apprentices, and pay us handsomely, especially in food-supplies, which we never bothered to grow or find for ourselves. Altogether those were good days for us, and the poorest of us had money to spend and to lend, and leisure to make beautiful things just for the fun of it, not to speak of the most marvellous and magical toys, the like of which is not to be found in the world now-a-days. So my grandfather’s halls became full of armour and jewels and carvings and cups, and the toy market of Dale was the wonder of the North. Undoubtedly that was what brought the dragon.”
~ Thorin, The Hobbit

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They buried Thorin deep beneath the Mountain, and Bard laid the Arkenstone upon his breast. “There let it lie till the Mountain falls!” he said. “May it bring good fortune to all his folk that dwell here after!” Upon his tomb the Elvenking then laid Orcrist, the elvish sword that had been taken from Thorin in captivity. It is said in songs that it gleamed ever in the dark if foes approached, and the fortress of the dwarves could not be taken by surprise.
~ The Hobbit

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There now Dain son of Nain took up his abode, and he became King under the Mountain, and in time many other dwarves gathered to his throne in the ancient halls.
~ The Hobbit
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Rhovanion has changed over the years, but you are welcome to roleplay here in whatever Age you please. Perhaps you are a visitor to these parts - if so, take time out to visit the local area an you visit our halls. If you are an enemy, be warned, the Dwarves are wary and not all their making is toys for children. If you are of the Khazad, be welcome, friend!

Whatever your tale, whenever your tale, you can RP it here.
Free RP for all races

[Lirimaer]

Vestri Karkûna, dwarf maiden

In her chambers

"What are you DOING in there?" her sister Austri shouted through the stone door. "I am going down without you!"

"Fine!" Vestri yelled back. "I can concentrate better without your yelling!"

The silvered mirror was doing a fine job of showing her the few hairs in her beard which were causing so much distress, and with a few moments spent not shouting at her sister, they were once again under control. She did quite like the idea of plaiting and twisting and adding beads, but unfortunately she could never let herself get through that awkward in-between phase where it was mostly a scraggly mess. Maybe if she lived as a hermit for a year ... but no, she wasn't going to do that without the world ending.

One last check in the mirror and she was happy. She checked her hair: its shoulder length pleasingly tousled with a couple of tiny plaits woven in here and there for interest. Most particularly, very different from Austri's long single braid. She had never wanted to be exactly like her twin, despite being identical. It's not that she was vain, particularly, but she was a perfectionist, and as annoying as it might be to everyone on a personal level, on a professional level it was a definite plus.

She was heading out to Dale today, just to check on the town. She'd be meeting with some of Brand's chief traders, and taking a sample of some things she'd been working on, which were ready to go, stacked neatly on a waggon last night. Since the Dragon had gone, the relationship between Dale and Erebor had been excellent, with both sides working together well, but recently there was talk of strangers passing through, and unknown lurkers on the outskirts, and it had been agreed that maybe Dale needed a little more fortifying than it was currently set up for. The Dwarves had led that conversation, of course, being naturally suspicious of strangers, but the Men of Dale had agreed to consult, even if it was only to humour their violent and paranoid neighbours. That was a few months ago now, and it was time to share some prototypes.

But breakfast was calling her. She headed down to the great cookhouse on the main floor, as that was where Dain liked to host meals for anyone visiting. She could have made something quickly in the small cookery on her own floor, but she was a gregarious soul, and she liked to meet new people. Besides, her stomach was rumbling, and it would be far quicker to join the breakfast banquet.

[Lailyn]

Lake-town, Fourth Age shortly before Lailyn’s return to Rohan (private)

It had been a beautiful early summer morning in Lake-town, full of promise of a bright day to come. The pale morning sun shone across the town and shimmered upon the lake, whose blue waters were calm, its surface smooth. Lailyn had delighted in its beauty before making her way into a small boathouse, her heart skipping a beat in anticipation. As she sat on the rowboat’s bench, she let her fingers dip into its cool surface, creating a small ripple barely visible in the dark boathouse.

The door was halfway open, allowing in some pale grey light that fell on one side of the man’s face who sat across from her. The other side of his face was in shadow as dark as the hair upon his head and the dark beard that framed his face. It struck her then how like him this shadow was, half light and half dark. This dual nature had first caught her attention when she met him and against her better judgment, she allowed herself to be pulled in, trying to bring out the light if she could. Being so far from home seemed to free her restraint in some way, though she’d still been cautious of his advances.

But not anymore. Before they’d even left the cover of the boathouse or opened the hatch to drift out onto the lake, she found herself enveloped in his arms and brought into a kiss. What had happened to her? Though she always followed her heart, these types of matters were different. Lail wasn’t bold or flirtatious. She’d always been hesitant and unwilling to take the lead. But where she paused, he was confident and direct and in the last few months, she had let herself fall into this new adventure.

“I thought we were going out on the lake,” she murmured, breathless.

“Ah, yes…” he cleared his throat as he ran a hand through her hair. “Or we could stay here a little while longer.”

“But isn’t it romantic?” she asked. “The lake and the morning light...you and me together.”

“Isn’t this romantic?” he countered. A wisp of a smile appeared on his lips.

“Well…” she felt her cheeks warm, but didn’t have a chance to reply before he leaned towards her again. His lips brushed hers and she found herself suddenly less interested in the peaceful row they were planning to take.

If she’d known what was to happen, would she have insisted they go right then? Looking back, she wished she had. But she wished a good many other things could have been different, too.

In a single moment, everything changed as the shadow of a woman appeared in the doorway of the boathouse.

[Lailyn]

Lake-town, Fourth Age shortly before Lailyn’s return to Rohan (private)

CW: minor mention of extra-marital affair


Lailyn couldn’t make out the woman’s features in the stark light of the boathouse, but she could tell she had long dark hair. “Davin?!” The woman exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, surprised. Outraged, even.

It sent an uncomfortable prickle down Lailyn’s spine and through her belly. Something here was amiss. She spied Davin’s mouth agape for a moment before he pulled away from her in a quick motion. His absent hand left her own feeling cold and empty.

“I-” he stammered. “I can explain…” His eyes were wide and he was avoiding Lail’s searching gaze.

The woman took another fierce step in so she towered over them beside the boat. Lailyn felt frozen to the bench, unable to move to speak, knowing that something good was about to splinter.

“You can explain?” The woman repeated the words, her voice low and cold. “You better explain what you’re doing with this horse-trollop!” She thrust her finger out at Lailyn.

The insult smarted, but she was still wading through what was happening and couldn’t find words to defend herself. There was a sinking in her stomach as if someone had dug into her insides and pulled something out. Pieces were falling into place while she watched at the pair. But it wouldn't sink in until she heard the words.

“Arna…” Davin began in a patient, soothing voice. He used to talk to her in that voice sometimes. It told Lailyn he was familiar with this woman. This Arna.

“No?” Arna asked. “You can’t? Perhaps you can explain what you’re doing with my husband, then.” She turned her gaze to Lailyn and even in the dim lighting, there was no way she could miss the fire in them.

All it took was that one word. With that one word, husband...Lail felt as if the lake had swallowed her up in its cold waters. In fact, she wished it had.

“...husband?” she asked in a quiet, faraway voice that didn’t quite sound like her own.

[Lailyn]

Lake-town, Fourth Age shortly before Lailyn’s return to Rohan (private)

CW: mention of extra-marital affair



“Yes.” Arna practically hissed with her hands on her hips. “That’s what I said, didn’t I?”

Lailyn looked at Davin, desperate for some kind of answer or explanation. To say Arna was mistaken somehow. He wasn’t her husband. He couldn’t be. Not after the last few months they’d spent together. Not after she lingered in Lake-town longer than she intended. For him.

But he didn’t even give her the courtesy of looking at her. Or attempt to explain why he lied to her or neglected to mention this important very piece of information. Somehow, his lack of regret hurt more than knowing he lied. Because to her, this meant he was never going to tell her. He always planned to keep her in the dark.

Lail found herself staring at his shadowed face and felt like she gazed at a stranger. At this man she thought she knew so well. The face she kissed and looked forward to seeing with flutters in her stomach.

“I’m-” Lailyn began. Her mouth felt dry and she swallowed. “I didn’t know.” It was all she could say. This woman had every right to be angry with her.

“Of course you didn’t,” Arna scoffed. She didn’t believe Lail even though her words were in earnest. If Lailyn had known, she never would have gotten involved. That was when she realised Davin knew that, too. That was when she understood why a married man would not tell her the truth. He had taken advantage of her and she had let him. She had become his prey.

But she asked him the question that burned within her anyway as tears threatened to burn her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Before he could reply, Lailyn spotted Arna reaching beneath her coat with a dangerous glint in her eyes. Feeling a sudden warning, an instinct from her days in the Cavalry perhaps, Lailyn stood up. The boat rocked back and forth with the sudden movement. Flashing a final glance at Davin’s face, which he didn’t even deserve, she felt something in her heart harden. It was not a familiar feeling to her and in that brief moment, she almost hated him for it.

Anger boiled in her veins. Her breath caught in her throat with shame. Disgust at herself, disappointment in him, and a deep pang of sorrow all battled for her attention. It was all too much. Feeling threatened by Arna’s action, Lail did the only thing she could think to do. It might have been foolish, but she couldn’t reason her way through anything right now. She dove into the dark water head-first, hoping to escape it all.

[Lailyn]

Lake-town, Fourth Age
shortly before Lailyn’s return to Rohan, the conclusion to her drama (private)

The water sent a shock through her body and expelled the air from her lungs. It was far colder than she expected. Once she could breathe again, she tried to move fast to keep her limbs warm. Lailyn was not a strong swimmer, but she managed to struggle through the water somehow even with her dress dragging her down. Fear did a good job of pushing her along.

As she pulled herself onto the shore opposite the boat-house, hoping to put as much distance between her and them as possible, she gasped for breath. She knelt for a while on the ground while she tried to slow both her breathing and her racing thoughts. But she still couldn’t quite understand what had happened yet.

When she began to shiver, she forced herself to stand up and move. With wet hair and clothes clinging to her body, she imagined she must be a sight to see. So she skirted her way through town taking quiet streets and hoping no one stopped her to ask questions. Fortunately, none did and she was glad to find herself back at the boarding house where she lodged. She hurried inside and upstairs to her room.

While she pulled off her wet clothes and dried off, she assessed how long it would take to pack and leave. She was certain she could move fast. But not fast enough.

She had just pulled on dry clothes when the lock clicked and the door opened. Her reflexes were slowed either from too much time as a civilian or from the lingering cold. Arna stormed into the small room. Her brown eyes were cold but fiery and it sent a shiver down Lail’s spine. A hand clamped down on her wrist and held it tight.

“How did you get in?” Lail’s shoulders tensed and the pressure on her wrist tightened.

“You gave Davin a key,” Arna replied with a sneer. A flash of metal was visible in her other hand as she held it up.

Of course. Davin, who now no longer wanted anything to do with her. Who she had foolishly trusted and given not only a key, but a piece of herself. She had known deep down that he was not a good person. But she held on with a fool’s hope longer than she should have, refusing to give up on him, sure that she could change him.

“I came to get my things. I’m leaving. What do you mean to do?” Her voice faltered.

“I only want to get what I am owed.” Arna flung the key onto the table and it landed with a soft clang. She drew a long, thin blade from beneath her coat and held it up to Lail’s cheek. “Such a pretty face you have, little horse wench...it would be a pity to mar it.”

Lail’s pulse pounded as the sharp metal kissed her skin. It would take only the slightest pressure to draw blood. “What...do you want?” She managed to ask, suddenly regretting the lack of weaponry she had to defend herself. But who was she kidding? Even if she had something, she wasn’t a fighter anymore. Somewhere buried in her pack was her small cutlery knife which would not be of much help.

“If you don’t want me to leave you with a scar, I want all your coin. And anything else of value. To repay damages to my reputation. Think of it as retribution for my pain. It’s the least you can do, don’t you say?”

“Take whatever you want. I am truly sorry.”

Arna huffed. “I certainly will. Your apologies mean nothing to me.”

Davin’s wife shoved her toward the wall and began rifling through her things. Once, when she was younger, Lailyn might have tried to fight. But now she felt too tired, too weak, too defeated to do anything but give in.

Lailyn’s stomach twisted while Arna thumbed through a small book with a green cover. It contained the last few years of her work: notes and drawings of the plants whose seeds she’d collected while travelling. Mercifully, Arna tossed it on the floor with disdain. The seeds she had catalogued with painstaking care were already in her pack not that they would be any worth to Arna. But they were everything to Lailyn.

“He told me he was in Lake-town for business.” Arna mumbled as she sorted through Lailyn’s meager pile of clothing and found nothing of value. “He promised he would come back to Dale with a lucrative new trading deal, but now I’m not sure there it ever existed. I think it was just you keeping him here.”

Even though Arna was pocketing the coin purse full of her recent earnings from working at a nearby tavern, Lailyn felt her words like a knife twisting her stomach. She was responsible for this woman’s suffering. Arna didn’t hide her contempt as she tore a brooch from Lail’s travelling cloak and plucked two bottles of ink from the table.

Apparently finished ransacking her things, Arna stepped toward Lailyn, who took an instinctive step away. But she backed into the wall. Arna looked down at her through narrowed eyes and gripped her arm once more. Cold metal touched her arm. She tried to pull away, but her efforts proved too weak. Arna dug the knife into her flesh. With a slow, deliberate stroke, a clean line cut above her wrist and down across her palm. Lail winced as blood welled up red upon her skin and her palm throbbed with pain.

“I hope this leaves a scar. So you never forget what you’ve done.” Arna left looking satisfied. Scar or no, Lailyn would not easily forget her mistake.

[Lailyn]

Ljúfa in Laketown
(Open for company)

It was a quiet day on the Long Lake. The sky overhead was grey, threatening a summer storm. A young woman sat on a dock looking out at the water. Her dark blue hat with a golden ribbon around the rim lay forgotten at her side leaving her chestnut curls coiled and untamed. A small rowboat slouched in the water, the sad chips in the faded red paint silently accusing her of neglect.

“I know,” she mumbled at the boat as if it could hear her. “But I’ve got to eat and that’s more important than your looks.” Plunk. There was a finality to the sound as she sorted through her catch and tossed an oyster into a bucket.

Ljúfa sighed and glanced across the murky water to the far shore. All she wanted was to get out from under her parents’ thumbs but admittedly she had not gotten very far from Dale. The price of that freedom was the persistent smell of muck and fish that followed her everywhere she went. Her gloved hands were covered in slimy lake mud that always seeped through and got under fingernails she could never quite get clean. She hated it though not as much as she hated her parents who seemed impossible to escape...

Just the night before, she’d been shocked to see her father here, meeting a woman with blond hair tumbling over her shoulders. She had watched him place his hand on the small of her back and lead her into a house he rented. It had been a small motion, subtle and innocent to most. Even if no one else could see it, Ljúfa glimpsed a hidden intimacy and knew how it would all play out as if it had been scripted. Because it was, in a way, written by her parents. They had done it before, Davin and Arna, playing the lover and the outraged wife.

Ljúfa could intervene, warn her off and save her from being swindled. Crossing her parents was a price she could not afford and in the end, it was not much of a choice at all. She ignored it completely, gone on with her day and here she was...

Even when her fingers grew numb with cold, she kept working with desperate diligence. One of these days, she’d find herself a prize pearl to sell at the Market Pool instead of just measly shellfish. Maybe then, she’d have enough money to get out of here for good. To escape the greed and treachery of her conning parents who cared nothing for the lives they ruined, even hers. Deep down, Ljúfa longed to be wanted, not used. Loved, not valued. These things were hard to come by in a town where gold weighed more than goodness. Right now, her sights were not set so high. She’d settle for anything that would take her far away from here.

[Baphởmet]

Mama Bear
Dale
(Private)

Rehearsal ran long. The director had made it run long on purpose as retribution for some of the cast (not including Ella) showing up 2 minutes late. It was past midnight when his tyranny finally relented, and he released his hostages back into the world. He’d made them do a full dress rehearsal of all five acts. The show was still six weeks out. It had been cruel, but not unexpected. The director was as mercurial and temperamental as he was genius. His reputation for overdramatic theatrics both on stage and off were more than legendary. Ella would still be there now, if she wasn’t the lead and hadn’t decided to forgo removing her makeup at the theatre. It was so dark outside. She went from a world of stage lights and sounds to a world utterly devote of light and color. At midday, Dale was the quaintest city in all of Middle-earth, cobblestone streets, two story buildings lined up perfectly along straight roads, children would run in and out of the lanes, dodging pedestrians and horses alike with amazing agility. But it was not midday. At midnight, Dale was one of the most fearsome, untrustworthy cities in all of Middle-earth. The sounds were all muted and echoed strangely, the buildings loomed in as if they were alive and hungry, the streets were devoid of life except for the occasional dog or cat that growled and hissed at anything that came near it. And it was so dark. A few buildings still had lights on, but none of those lights did more than illuminate the space in front of that building. There was an unearthly glow to the darkness. Fog rolled in, draping Erebor and Dale in a thick cloud of white, further obscuring the city and its layout.

She should have taken her mother’s advice. She should have had an escort from the chateau wait for her. The lack of companion to walk home with was more than palpable. And she hadn’t thought to bring a lantern with her. Ella could feel the fingertips of fear wrap around her shoulders. Still, she put on a brave face. She was an actress after all and if she’d learned anything, it was how to hide being afraid. Still, every echoing step, ever hissing cat, every rustle of wind around her, brought to mind the most terrifying of images to her mind. She just wanted to get home. She hurried down the streets. They looked so foreign and unknowable in the strange glow of midnight. She’d grown up on these streets. She’d been one of the children playing games of tag and hoop between nervous horses and more nervous housewives. She knew them like she knew herself. Yet here, now, she might as well have never seen them before. She took a wrong turn, taking a left turn a block before she should have. The world she stepped into then was… different. It was the same world, to be sure. But it was one she’d never seen all the same. The moon still hung in the sky, full and white, but it seemed somehow changed. The white light seemed ghostly and ghastly, giving off eldritch waves of energy. The buildings leer at her; several of them still had lights in the second stories, they looked like eyes watching her as she passed. There was malice in those eyes, Ella could feel it like an oily sheen. There was an itch in the middle of her back. Something was watching. She turned and… no, it was just a cat. It came forward a few steps, raised its hackles, then darted off, crashing against something in an alleyway. Other than the cat, she heard nothing down this street. It was a strange cross section of city, like a slice of Dale had just been carved off by a giant and hauled away without anyone knowing. Where were all the people? Surely there would be a few drunks stumbling around, a few night owls, a few lovers taking a moonlit stroll? No. There was no one. The silence loomed over her like a hawk waiting to strike. She kept moving though. Whatever was wrong with this street, the moment she left it she would be okay. She knew that, knew it in her bones. There was nothing to be scared of as soon as she was away from this place.

But she was getting so tired. Fear was the only thing keeping her awake and aware. Apprehension sunk its claws into her spine and latched onto her back like a cacodaemoniacal monkey. She could feel the weight of it, sitting on her shoulders, moving this way and that making sure she could never be comfortable. The street wound on and on. How long was this street? Surely, surely, she should have reached the end of it by now. Where was a way to turn? She looked back. How far had she come? She couldn’t tell, the fog obscured anything she could have used as a landmark. Nothing looked familiar. Everything was alien and outlandish. The buildings looked all wrong, their windows were shaped differently, they looked out at the wrong angles. Ella’s stomach tightened.

Finally, she decided enough was enough. She turned down an alleyway. Ahead she heard the clatter of footsteps, multiple footsteps. And voices! She never thought she’d be so happy to hear the drunken warblings of the barfly quartet. She dared to smile. Even if it was just a couple of old drunks, it was someone else. Someone else this strange land of midnight. She pulled up her skirt around her ankles and began to race forward.

Then stopped dead.

There was something off here. She could see the silhouettes of four men, they had to have been men, the shoulders were broad and angular. They were standing in a semicircle, all looking down at something on the ground. Ella couldn’t see what it was. Was it a person? Another man maybe? A dog? She didn’t dare get any closer. There was something about these men, these shades in the city of midnight. She crotched behind some empty wooden crates, too fascinated to run away, too horrified to move closer.

“Look what we have here gentlemen,” a voice was saying, an accent foreign to the north.

“You were supposed to pay us last week. We gave you second chance already. There’s no such thing as a third chance,” another voice said.

There was mumbling, whimpering. She furrowed her brow. Were these men bookies? Usurers? What were they talking about?

“Some say to take a pound of flesh as incentive,” said the first man, his voice metallic and hollow. “But from the looks of you, if we took a whole pound, we’d likely be taking more than you can afford. Where is our money, Ragnald?” Something flashed in his hand, a knife maybe, it was hard to see at this distance. Someone bent low and there was a crunching sound, a slushing gurgle. She gasped. What was she witnessing? A chill ran down her spine, gooseflesh prickled along her arms and the hair on the back of her neck rose.

“I… I… I’m sorry,” sobbed the man, Ragnald?

“Sorry doesn’t pay the boss’s loan,” it was the second man, his voice was lower, gravellier. There was the sound of a hard, dry thump and a coughing gasp. Ella wasn’t sure what she was witnessing, but she didn’t like it. She wanted to escape. She wanted to…

“You know what?” the first man said, “I’ve had about enough talk. We go round and round and round and never get anywhere.” There was a growling sound, like a dog, but it came from the man. What was…

Then came a crunching sound, bone snapping. Ella had to cover her mouth to stop from screaming. Instinct took over, survival. She stood and began to run, as quickly and as quietly as she could. She could barely move for the fear that gripped her. Her stomach was in knots, her hands shook. She turned at the end of the alley and looked back.

Something was looking at her.

--- * --- * --- * ---

Marion was lounging in her alcove, half wreathed in shadows. There was a drink in front of her, half gone, sambuca flavored with elderflower. Tonight’s performance had been wonderful. The common room had been full, full for the first time in months. Her voice had been flawless as well. She was able to hit all the notes she had been nervous about with ease. She felt twenty-five years younger, all the applause and calls for encores and requests for private performances helped as well. IT had been a perfect night.

But as the Gold Dust Chateau emptied, she noted someone missing. Ella, her daughter. Rehearsal must have run long. Dear Cornelius Galashiels must have had his feelings hurt somehow and was exacting his revenge. She remembered when the director was no more than a light monkey backstage. He’d come so far since then. Still, it was getting very late. Even in his foulest of moods, he would not have kept them passed midnight. She’d heard the city bells chiming the hour not half an hour ago. Yet Ella was nowhere to be seen.

Marion was not a pacer, but tonight she paced. Medlimen, behind the bar, noticed her. He was about to come out when she waved him away. She stood in the middle of the empty common room, hands on hips. Something was wrong. She could feel it. Her motherly instincts nearly sent her out the door to begin searching. She was, in fact, about to burst through the front doors, tell her doormen Skylar and Wallach that they were to start combing the streets for her only child when said child burst into the common room, the doormen mere footsteps behind her. They looked worried. They never looked worried; they were a set of seven-foot-tall twins. Marion then looked at her daughter. She was still in her stage makeup but there were long streaks of tears down her cheeks.

She rushed to her child and cradled her against her chest. “Darling, what’s wrong? What happened?” her voice, though thick with concern and worry, still had the resonant quality of a perfectly tuned flute. “Meldlimen, get her something to drink. Now!” the barman jumped and immediately went to his shelves. Marion pulled her daughter to their alcove and set her down. “Darling, what happened? You look as though…” she didn’t have the words. Her daughter looked scared out of her wits. Her hands were shaking, her whole body was shaking.

She cradled her daughter against her skin, wrapping her arms protectively around her. She waved away the twins who disappeared back to their post. “It’s okay now my little emerald. You’re safe now. Momma’s got you.” She could feel her daughter begin to sob. Her heart broke. Whatever had happened to her must have been horrible, Ella had never cried like this, even as a child.

“I think…” she began, sputtering and spilling over her words, “I think I saw something bad…”

Marion’s golden eyes creased with concern. She unwound herself from Ella, wiped the tears from her daughter’s face, and placed a delicate kiss on her forehead. “It’s okay now. I promise you.”

“I think,” Ella began again, pressing into her mother. “I think I saw someone get murdered. I… I don’t know. And…” she began to whimper, “and I think they saw me.”

[Baphởmet]

Mama Bear
Dale
(Private)

When morning broke, it came in the exact same way it always did. The air was still and chilled, and for moment the entire city was blanketed in a golden backlight. Ella stirred. For a moment she had no idea where she was. The world was blurry and her head throbbed. Slowly, though, the world came back into focus. She was in her room in the Gold Dust Chateau. The green painted walls felt a sense of unfamiliarity. Something had happened to her and now her inner sanctum felt as if it was not so anymore. Her head ached and throbbed as she tried to move. She tried massaging her temples, the way her mother used to do for her when she was a child. The pain lessened, but as soon as her fingers stopped rotating, the pain crept back in and, like a cat, sat back on its favorite spot right above her eyes. She groaned and crossed the room. She hoped that everything that happened last night was just a bad dream and the headache was just from a hangover. That hope died when she saw her mother curled up asleep in one of her overstuffed chairs. She didn’t remember them coming up to her room or getting ready or getting into bed at all. Had her mother stayed with her all night?

“Mama…?”

She stirred and stretched out of the sides of the chair. Her eyes were a little unfocused but soon the golden light returned. She stood and gave Ella a sweet, tired smiled.

“Hey little one,” her voice was silk and honey. Ella felt like she could curl up in the sound of her mother’s voice and feel safe forever. “How did you sleep?”

Ella hugged herself and winced. “I don’t know… not well… I think.”

Marion was across the floor in a flash and pulled her daughter into her embrace. “I’m so sorry sweetling. Last night was, last night was so awful. I’m so sorry.”

As if it were an antidream, the memories of the night before began to coalesce and reconstellate themselves. In what felt like an utterly different world from the one that she’d grown up in, she’d witnessed… what had she witnessed? Was it a murder? A kidnapping? A deal gone wrong? Nothing made sense. She remained silent though and hugged her mother as tightly as she could. Her mother held her for a long time, whispering reassurances and stroking her hair. She felt like she wanted to cry but found that it was impossible. Had the well run dry? She was emotionally spent. As much as she wanted to sob and scream, she found that all she wanted to do was stop thinking about it.

“Let’s go downstairs and get you some breakfast, okay?” her mother pulled back and brushed a lock of green hair from her eyes.

Ella nodded. Marion led her downstairs, keeping a motherly grip on her on hand as they descended the stairs from the living quarters to the entertainment portion of the building. Though they would not be open for several hours, the place was abuzz with people, workers and cooks and singers and musicians. Her mother kept at least two score each on retainer for any given night. She’d grown up as a girl in need of a patron to keep herself fed, clothed, and sheltered. She’d become a courtesan to create a sense of independence for herself. Now that she was wealthy and famous, she was determined to give back to the community and foster the arts in the north, where too often it was the first luxury to have to be dispensed. That was in part of why Ella wanted to be an actor. She had heard all her mother’s stories of the great shows she performed, of the arias she’d sung, of the roar of the applause, of the feeling of power at being able enunciate an idea and give it real life. She wanted that for herself. Her mother had been overjoyed for her but said she would only help her as much as helped anyone else. Ella had not been happy to hear that at first, but as time went on and she learned the ins and outs of the business, she was glad her mother had helped her by making her learn.

But she was not a manager or singing tutor or director now, she was her mother. Having Marion Lokesdottir as a mother was far, far better than having her as a manager. They sat in their alcove and were immediately served a plate of eggs, bacon, and cheese with freshly squeezed orange juice. Her mother would spare no expense. Once Ella had told her that orange juice was her favorite in all the world and the next day, her mother had made a deal with a fruit merchant to give her the best oranges each time he came into town.

They ate in silence, neither wanting to broach the subject of last night’s events. Ella could only manage a few bites and a few sips of orange juice before her appetite fled. She wasn’t sure how to feel. She felt numb. Nothing made sense to her. She wanted to go back up to her room and shut the world out. She would have if she did not have lessons with her flute tutor in an hour.

“We should go to the constables.” Her mother finally said, breaking the silence.

“I… but… I don’t even know…” she protested. Ella didn’t want to talk to the constables. Not only did she want to stop remembering what she’d seen, she couldn’t remember where it had taken place. It could have been right next door and she wouldn’t have known. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I don’t even remember much,” she lied.

She knew her mother had caught her. But instead of her brows turning down in anger or annoyance, her eyes welled, and her expression softened. “Oh, my sweet darling. It’s okay, it’s okay. We can try when you are feeling better.” She reached across the carved oak table and squeezed her daughter’s hand. “What do you want to do today? I know you had lessons but perhaps we can just spend the day here, together.”

Ella smiled and winced. “I would love that mama, really, but… but I just want to pretend like it didn’t happen. I want to try and be as normal as possible.”

She could tell her mother was disappointed by understood. “I think that’s fair, little one. However…” she pressed her fingers to her lips and whistled. A man came rushing in from the entry way. One of her mother’s giant doormen. Skylar or Wallach she couldn’t tell which, the two were twins and she’d never been able to tell them apart.

“Yes ma’am? You called?” his voice was young, despite his behemoth height.

“I want you to escort my daughter today. I don’t care where she goes, what she does, you go with her. You are her shadow and her protector. Do you understand?”

He stood at immediate attention, his feature so utterly serious if it had not been for the situation, Ella would have burst into fits of laughter. As it was though, she merely swallowed and nodded to him. She wanted with all her heart to go back upstairs and lock her door and lock out the world. But the sense of duty, that stupid “show must go on” mentality would not stop nagging her. She did feel a little better. She smiled at the boy, Skylar or Wallach. Having someone around so tall they had to duck into doorways had a way of making the world seem a little less intimidating.

“I understand mistress. I won’t let her out of my sight.”

“Good,” Marion nodded and turned back to her daughter. “And now I’ll feel a little better. But promise me, Ella, promise me that we will go to the constable soon. For your own sake.”

“I promise mama,” she managed weakly.

She stood up, unable to finish her breakfast. Both her mother and Skylar or Wallach lurched to attention, both coiled like serpents ready to strike. Finally, she did smile. “I’m just going to get changed.” They both relaxed but her new bodyguard followed her up the stairs nonetheless, waiting outside her door. He’s going to get very doing that all day she thought.

Her headache had not gone away. It still sat and throbbed at her temples, moving around in her skull as she tried to find a way to relax it. There was something unnatural about this headache, but she was on edge and dismissed it as nothing more than that.

She came out, dressed in cotton and velvet with a wide brimmed bower hat topped with a green feather (the same shade as her hair as it happened). “I’m ready.” She nodded and he followed her.

“Be safe, my sweetling. If you were but a little younger, I would lock you in your room to keep you safe.” her mother sighed wistfully, clearly still hoping her daughter would change her mind. When it was clear Ella had no intention of doing so, she pulled her in and kissed both cheeks. “I love you more than all the stars and all the stages.”

“And I love you more than all the applause and all the roses.”

It was their customary goodbye.

The streets were packed with people. The world was a cacophonous disarray of sound and madness. There was light everywhere, streaming pure light. There was no mist to be seen anywhere, not even up on the top of Erebor. It was such a change from the night before that Ella was convinced that she’d stepped into another world altogether. Wherever she had been, it had not been Dale. There was no way it could have been. The streets were so packed, in fact, that twice Ella and her shadow had to dodge absent minded people with their eyes on the cobblestone or workers carrying wide loads down alleyways to argue with shop owners about where to put it and how much extra they were going to get paid for the extra time this was taking. She heard the bark and response from a dozen dogs all over the city, from high pitched yips of wealthy gentry to the louder, more feral howls of the strays. She heard bells and street criers, fishmongers and horses. It helped ground her. She had been more than half afraid that when she stepped out of the chateau the world would still be shrouded in impenetrable darkness and silence.

The theater reared up in front of them, her home away from home. Somehow, seeing it made her feel as if the world was suddenly back to normal. More so than the crowds, the sounds, the smells, the sight of the theatre made her feel like her feet were back on the ground. Her headache lessened. There was a spring in her step. Wallach or Skylar had to shuffle faster to keep up until his long legs nearly overtook her.

“I’ll just be inside for a little while,” she said, trying to reassure him. “You won’t have to come in.”

He shook his head. “With all due respect Lady Ella, your mother told me not to let you out of my sight and I don’t aim to disobey her, if it’s all the same to you.”

She smiled and touched his hand. “Thank you. Then follow me, and ignore whatever Mistress Christine says about your height. She’s the most talented flutist in all of the northern lands but she is as crass as a sailor two years out of port.”

He smiled in return, a sort of bashful smile, a dimple appeared on his left cheek. “I will try to remember that Lady Ella.”

“Just Ella,” she replied quickly. “I’m not a lady yet.”

“Oh course… Ella.”

She didn’t hear him, however. She looked behind him for a second and saw something. A shadow. She was almost certain it was a figment of her imagination but… her heart told her that it wasn’t. What was it? It was more than a shadow. In the split second she’d seen and it disappeared, she could have sworn that she saw the face of whoever it had been. Impossibly, she recognized that face, those eyes. She’d seen them last night when she fled the scene of a murder.

[Baphởmet]

Mama Bear
Dale
(Private)

Practice went… well it went. Ella couldn’t focus. No matter how hard she tried the music and her fingers would not agree to line up. She knew the reason: those eyes. Yet she didn’t dare tell that to Mistress Christine. She had no idea if the woman would simply not care (or not believe her) or work herself into a panicked frenzy. She was an odd duck and her reactions were as changeable as the wind. She made enough comments on Ella’s focus though that the young woman knew she was not hiding it well. Her bodyguard (it was Wallach apparently) tried to step in and explain things, but each time she stopped him with a look. They had nice communication system, she would give him a look and he would be still and quiet. It might, in fact, be the best relationship she’d ever had with a man. Mistress Christine mercifully (or unmercifully) ended the tutoring session early. She gave Ella a kiss on the cheek and was out of the theatre before either Ella or Wallach knew what was going on. Her absence left a vacuum within the theatre. Her presence had helped make the theatre less imposing and towering. She had a presence that filled spaces. Without her, Ella felt the overwhelming emptiness. She felt like she was going to be crushed.

“Let’s get out of here Wallach. Suddenly this place feels very…”

“… Overwhelming,” he finished.

“Yes,” she said with a sigh and frustrated expression. Her sanctuary was being taken from her. She practically lived here yet now she could think of nothing but leaving this place.

The theatre, however, was a maze. They were practicing in one of backstage dressing rooms, the likes of which getting out quickly was not a foregone conclusion. Before today, she could have navigated the random hallways and crawlspaces and hidden nooks blindfolded. Now she was almost afraid to face it with a lantern and a bodyguard. The corridors felt claustrophobic. When had they grown so close together? She couldn’t breathe, each breath seemed to only take in half the air she needed. Her hands began to shake, and her vision started to spiral. She tripped over a pile rope some careless rigger had left in the hallway. She felt the world go tipsy for a moment then felt herself caught and cushioned by arms strong but surprisingly gentle. She turned to see Wallach with a half-smile and a blush. She mirrored his expression. For a half moment, they stayed like that, looking at each other awkwardly until she cleared her throat and stood back up.

“Thank you, it’s a good thing you came after all.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Ella avoided looking directly at him but felt a little more reassurance as they walked through the empty corridors of the theatre.

The echoes in the place were legendary. There was, of course, a hundred different rumors as to why. Some said it was the last wail of the first director before he hung himself from the rafters. Other’s say it as a diva’s anguished cry at learning her role had been taken from her and given to some young upstart. Another rumor was that it was an actual bean sídhe haunting the place and whoever heard her wailing cry was doomed to die (or fail to get the part they wanted, which was just as bad in some cases). Whatever the cause, natural or supernatural, Ella heard something now. It was a quiet, almost imperceptible whistle, some tune that she was almost familiar with, a melody that was the tip of her tongue. Where had she heard something it before? She turned back and looked at Wallach. His expression made her stomach twist into knots. He was oblivious to the sounds around him. It was not that he didn’t recognize them, it was that he didn’t hear them at all. Her skin grew cold and clammy. The whistling stopped. Something less musical took its place. The sniffing and snarling of a hound. Her blood ran cold. She just wanted out of this place. She wanted out of the theatre and back out into the light of day. She’d be safe there. There would be people. So many people. It wouldn’t be just her and Wallach.

She turned back to look at him, to reassure herself that she was not alone in this labyrinth.

But he wasn’t there.

Wallach was gone.

Gooseflesh broke out all over her body. She felt cold. Her hands and her limbs began to shake. The echoes in the theatre grew louder. They were mixed now, whistling and hound sounds. She bit down hard on her lip to keep from screaming or crying out. There was no light in this accursed place. She couldn’t see anything in front of her!

She thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye, she swung to her left and looked down the hallway, nothing but emptiness. She looked back, expecting to see a massive hulking figure in front of her, but there was nothing. Empty air all around her.

“Wallach?” she whispered. “Wallach?” a little louder. “Wallach?!” she was whispering so loud she might ought to have just screamed.

There was no answer. Where had he gone? Did he get lost too? Take a wrong turn and end up in some other part of the endless maze? Surely, surely that’s what happened. It was the most logical after all. And the sounds, they were likely just some trick of the theatre’s acoustics. There was no vengeful ghost or bean sídhe. She was going to be fine.

“Wallach if you can find me, I promise to kiss you…” it was worthy a shot.

“I might not be Wallach, but I’d sure love a kiss from you.”

She froze. That was… that was the voice from the night before. She recognized the accent. It was all twisted and loopy. Where was it coming from? She whirled around, her lantern light casting a hundred shadows in all directions. The man laughed from wherever he was.

She wanted to be brave and say something cutting and clever, something threatening. But her words failed her. The actress, singer, and flutist had no words she could utter to form armor around her. Fear seeped in like the icy cold breath of winter. She was shaking so bad the light unfocused.

“Where oh, where has my little lamb gone, oh where, oh where can she be?”

She dropped the light with a gasp and the light was suddenly gone. The world around her was plunged into darkness. That same darkness as the night before. The otherworldly darkness that warped the world around her and sent her into a cackling mad world filled with leering buildings and starless skies.

“Leave me alone!” she cried, unable to think or say anything else.

“Boo,” he said, his voice just behind her ear.

--- * --- * --- * ---

Marion was finally sitting down after pacing and fretting and halfheartedly ordering about her staff. The air of the chateau felt stifling and hot. Her mind was constantly wandering to her daughter. She remembered the first time she’d seen something awful like that. She had someone to rely on back then. Did Ella have anyone besides her? She prayed to the gods of the Lonely Mountain that she did. She could not stand the idea of her daughter alone.

Then something cold came over her. A chill that had nothing to do with a breeze.

“Ella…” she whispered, terrified.

[Baphởmet]

Mama Bear
Dale
(Private)

“Skylar, you are not hearing me. I know something is wrong.” Marion was pacing again for the second time in as many days. Ella was not home. She was not late, yet, but Marion knew something was wrong. She knew. The remaining doorman had tried to reassure her, but she was not having it. He was not a mother. Something was wrong with her baby girl.

“I am going, Skylar, and you are coming with me.”

“Aye, ma’am, but…” he tried to try another argument, to tell her calm down and relax no doubt. She was could have slapped him. She interrupted him instead.

“If I hear another word that is not ‘right away’ I am going to castrate you where you stand.” That cowed him. He had the grace to look shamefaced at least. She was not, by nature and profession, a harsh or angry woman, but when her daughter’s safety was at stake she would cut through a hundred people to get where she needed to be. She was not sorry to se him silenced. The rest of the chateau staff had heard her as well. They all scurried like beetles trying to escape her.

“Are you ready?”

He gulped. “Yes ma’am. Right away.”

She didn’t wait for him. She didn’t care that the decorations were only half complete, she didn’t care that the cellist was late (again) or that candles had not arrived yet. She left her chateau behind and burst into the streets. Again, she did not wait for Skylar to catch up her as she sped through the busy thronging streets toward the theatre. She ignored the burning in her legs, the shoes she’d been wearing were not the most conducive to walking at this pace, but she was not going to waste time finding the right kind of shoe to walk the cobblestones streets of Dale. How could she have been so foolish? She should have told Ella that she shouldn’t have gone. She should have insisted they go to the constabulary right away. Whatever Ella’s initial fears or misgivings were, she should have protected her. Her cheeks burned hot as tears of anger began to slip down from her eyes. She was her mother! What had she been thinking? She gritted her teeth and bite into her cheek. The pain was the only thing distracting her from the overwhelming rage. Everyone in the streets parted for her. Either from her reputation or the visible fury written in her golden eyes, none of them wanted to be in her way. She passed by a dozen shops she had frequented in the past, clothing stores, fruit carts, perfume merchants. Everything was a kaleidoscopic blur, a mishmash of colors that she barely registered.

Her foot caught a wedge in the stones, and she felt the heel snap. Marion snarled and tore off both shoes and began running. Vaguely behind her she was aware that Skylar had caught up, but she was too focused to turn and acknowledge. He scurried after her shoes then, seeing she was nearly out of his sight, tossed them aside and ran after her.

She reached the side door of the theatre, the actor’s back entrance, and tried the door. It was locked. It was not supposed to be locked right now. It shouldn’t have been locked. There was a performance here in just a few hours, there was no way it would be locked. She hissed and slammed a fist into the door. “Open the door!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, a small flock of pigeons nearby hooted and flutter away, leaving in a hurry. She slammed on the door again. It was no use.

“Ma’am, allow me.” Skylar materialized beside her and grabbed the door in two large meaty hands. He jiggled the door, testing it, then slammed his massive boulder of a shoulder into the door. It withstood the first attack, but the second barrage sent the door flying off the hinges. If something had happened to Ella, something very well could have happened to Wallach, his twin brother. He’d realized that on the way over she surmised. She stepped inside, pulling her skirts over the door. He followed. It was dark inside. Aside from the light streaming in from the open door, there was no light inside the building. It was stone cold black. A horrible feeling twisted up her gut, cold and serpentine. There was something very wrong with this place. The air was stale and had a musky scent to it.

“Is there a lantern on the shelf over there?” she pointed a shelf with props haphazardly organized on it. What had happened to this place? She had not performed here for a few years, but the rate of decay and dishevelment would have suggested a much longer period of decline. Skylar came back with a cold lantern. She frowned. Not much she could do with a dark lantern. She hadn’t brought anything light it with (dress and all) and Skylar shook his head, he’d left after her in such a hurry he hadn’t brought a matchbox.

There was a crash across the stage that ripped away their focus. Both of them hurried to the sound, Skylar doing is best to stay ahead of Marion to protect her from whatever was about to appear. The curtains, dark blue when the theatre was properly lit, shuddered and shifted. Something was behind them. Skylar reached for the massive cudgel at his side and brought it bear. The sound of ripping fabric and groaning grew louder. Marion edged away from Skylar but still behind him. She was not so foolish as to try and take on whatever was behind the curtain, no matter how angry she was. The thick fabric screeched and ripped from top to bottom. The sound was horrible. Something moved near the stage floor, an animal on four legs. It was rushing toward them.

Skylar was the first to reach it, his cudgel raised ready to strike. But as he came closer, he dropped it and cried out. “Wallach!”

Marion squinted in the dim, grey light. It… it was Wallach. He was tied up but somehow managed to gain a semblance of mobility. He was gagged and blindfolded. Who could have gotten the drop of a seven-foot giant and done this? Her stomach soured. Ella was nowhere in sight. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest. Her hands shook. Skylar cut his brother free and stood him up. The man was in bad shape. He looked like he’d gotten into a fight with a wolf. He was bruised and bloodied, two black eyes, a gash on his chest and, from the way he was moving, several broken ribs. Marion had seen men that looked this before. He would be alright, but he was useless as far as a bodyguard or doorman went. He’d been efficiently taken out of… out of what, out of the game, out of the fight? Neither of those sounded good.

“Where’s Ella?” she said once his gag had been removed.

He spat red and winced when he looked into her eyes. He was lucky he could see at all, his left eye looked like it had been nearly pulled from the socket. “I… I don’t know Mistress. Something grabbed me from behind as we...” he began coughing, doubling over as he gasped for breath. “We were leaving the theatre. Ella was spooked. Hell, I was spooked. There was something off about the place…” he paused and groaned in pain as he touched his side.

“Wallach,” she closed the space and put a delicate hand on his cheek, “where is Ella?”

“I don’t know ma’am, I…” he looked like he was going to pass out.

“Who?” she didn’t need to know the what. She already knew.

He reached into his pocket, whimper as he did. “They’d left this note when I woke up.”

He handed her the note. She read it. Her skin went pale and her heart dropped. She crumbled the note and threw it to the ground. She screamed. She screamed so loud and so powerfully that if this had been a performance she would have shattered glass. Someone had taken her little baby girl. Her little emerald was in the hands of some monster.

“Skylar.” Her voice was raw and scratchy, but her eyes were blazing and molten. “Get your brother the to healers. Notify the constabulary. Tell Medlimen he’s in charge for a few days. Then meet me at Redbelt Stables.”

“Mistress?” he asked, confused.

“We are going on a trip south.”

“But why? What’s down south? What did the note say?”

“It told me we need someone more terrifying than a pair seven-foot doormen.”

“Who…?”

“We’re going to Kadar Nînnud. We’re going to get Ella’s father.”

[Baphởmet]

Mama Bear
Kadar Nînnud, on the Confluence of the Celduin and the Carnen
(Private)

They had been riding hard for two days. Marion was tired; her horse was tired, Skylar was exhausted. For two days, they’d been moving in a haze of green and blue. Marion barely noticed the landscape around her as it changed from flat to hilly. Her vision was blurry and grey. The rage of the mother bear had faded and left a hole in her stomach that twisted and hurt every time she moved. The lower half of her body felt numb and lifeless. She could not remember if they’d eaten anything. She supposed they had; she felt hollow on more than a physical level. The first night, once the rage and panic had worn off, she had cried herself to sleep and woke with a pulsing headache. Skylar, the mountain bless him, had tried to comfort her, but he was so clumsy and inexperienced that he only made her feel worse. He didn’t know what it was like to have a child go missing; the greatest portion of her soul was simply ripped away. Marion constantly felt like she was constantly on the verge of throwing up or tearing her hair out. She brought her horse, a dappled grey gelding, to a halt at the crest of a green hill. She could see for miles and miles in all directions up here. She could see where the rivers met; she could smell it in the air. The clear, crisp, cold mountain air had given way to the gentle, subtle smell of meadows and fields. She could see a hundred kinds of flowers of all shades of the rainbow. Any other time, she would have been awestruck at the beauty of the world unfolding around her, but now all she could see was miles and miles of faceless, shapeless terrain. Her lips quivered, her hands shook. She wanted Ella back; that was all she wanted. She wanted her daughter back. She was never leaving the chateau again. Ella was going to stay there until she was old and grey. Marion was going to hire more doormen, someone to watch and attend to Ella so there was no need for her to ever… no, no she wasn’t going to do that. She wanted to, she wanted so desperately. She just wanted her baby back in her arms. She wiped away the tear that ran down her cheek and took a deep breath, trying to push the horrible thoughts out of her head for now.

They were nearly there. She’d never been to Kadar Nînnud; she was not even supposed to know it existed. It was a secret city, a town hidden half underground in the hills around the confluence of the Celduin and the Carnen. He had told her about it was, Ella’s father. He’d mentioned it so offhandedly that she was not sure if she was supposed to have heard what he said. She recalled that evening now like it was just a few months ago, not nearly three decades. He told the story of the place. It was a place the Númenóreans used to escape the gaze of 'Zigûr' and have a measure of freedom. It was also a smuggler’s cove if he was to be believed. That night had opened her eyes to so much about him. He was a man shrouded in darkness, even as he reached out to the light. She didn’t like thinking about him. She missed him; some days were worse than others. She hoped he was here. There was no rhyme or reason he would be; it was more likely he was a thousand miles away in Umbar, sipping wine in the harbor. Why would he be here? There was a tiny shred of hope to which Marion clung. She had to, for Ella.

They traversed the hill, taking what looked like a goat track to the lee of the hill; away from the dark, penetrating gaze of Mirkwood. She’d looked at it once and wished she hadn’t seen it so close. It was still miles away, but it seemed to hover over her. There were eyes in those trees. She shivered; her skin felt clammy and cold.

They followed the goat track until stones (markers?) directed them down a series of cutbacks down a cliff face. She saw the cave opening. It looked so insignificant. That was the point though, wasn’t it? It looked so innocuous and inconspicuous that anyone not looking for it wouldn’t think twice about it.

They entered. Marion could feel her anxiety rising. She wanted to leave, to find some other way. She’d been trying to think of something for two days. There was no better way, not that she could find. Ella’s father had been the most dangerous person she knew. There were nobles and wealthy aristocrats in Dale that thought they were dangerous, but they all carried themselves with a laughable bravado.

The cavern was pitch dark for hundreds of feet. The temperature was dropping fast. Marion could tell they were going downhill. The horses’ iron-shod feet and the sound of distant waters were the only sounds she could hear, the only thing that oriented her. The further away from the light, the more she could tell up from down. The thought they’d gone into the wrong cavern prickled at the back of her mind. The further they went into the darkness, the more the thought grew a voice, building to a crescendo and a scream.

Then there was a light, a faint orange glow. It grew slowly, bit by bit, foot by foot. Another light, torchlight, lanternlight, candlelight. The cavern was soon full of it. There was still a darkness that refused to be ousted from the corners of the cavern, but the chamber Marion and Skylar entered was almost like stepping into a new world.

There was an opening in the cavern’s ceiling where blue sunlight streamed down through the greenery. People milled about, moving as quickly as shadows. She could hear the roar of water above and around them. How deep had they gone?

“Excuse me, do you know where I might find a man, named… Frost?” she asked a decently dressed man sitting in front of a stone façade. It was the first time he’d said his name out loud for others to hear in two decades. It felt strange and familiar.

“Frost? Kinda name is that?” his accent was southern and thick, thick as his mustache.

They asked a dozen people before she began to think maybe that was not the name he used here? She wracked her brain, opened boxes in her mind that she’d kept locked for twenty-six years. What other names did he have? There was his real name, but he’d sworn her to secrecy on it. She could barely even think it. But would he be known by that name here, among his people? She asked the next person she came across, a young man trying to herd goats into a pen. He shrugged and looked at her like she’d just cursed him. Her lips were not used to forming Adûnaic words.

“Heard you were looking for Frost…”

She and Skylar had just climbed off their horses at a stable when they found themselves hemmed in by a half dozen ill-looking men. None of them were as tall as Skylar, but they were all much taller than her, and the way they moved in, silent as shadows, made her skin crawl.

“That’s right,” she said, keeping the quaver from her voice. “Is he here?”

“What makes you think I know who Frost is?” the leader stepped forward, a tall man with green eyes and brown hair tied back in an intricate knot. His teeth were feral and yellow.

Fear began to increase in Marion’s veins, but anger started rising too. She was tired, tired to the point of exhaustion. She was still a mama bear, though. She was not in the mood to deal with games. She snapped. “You just told me so.”

There was a murmur that rippled through the men behind them. Skylar was standing beside her in a flash, a hand on the sword at his hip. The man ignored him as if he were no more than a wisp of cobweb. “That so? Well, in that case, I suppose my question ought to be ‘what are you going to give me to know if he’s here?’”

She could feel his eyes on her. She was used to the way men looked at her. She was a singer, an actress, a courtesan. Having men look at her was a natural part of her life. The way he looked at her, though, she wanted to slap him, or stab him, do anything the make him stop. He looked at her with the same kind of gaze one might examine a horse.

“I know you, don’t I?” he tilted his head and looked at her, taking another step closer. “Yeah, I know you. You’re Marion Lokesdottir, the Snowy Jade of Dale. I saw you perform once in Dale. Didn’t have the money to go upstairs for you after.”

“I doubt you have the money now, either.” She spat back, standing her ground.

“That’s the thing, ain’t it?” he said, rubbing his lip. “Don’t really need money now. I’ve got something you want. How about a trade?” He was just six feet from her now. She could smell the atavistic tension in the air. His eyes gleamed like a wolf. “Sing for me, Snowy Jade. Sing me a song. We’ll see what you can do after.”

She was livid. Skylar stepped forward, positioning himself between them. Still, the man didn’t pay him any attention. “You will not speak to my lady as such!” he drew his sword out and held it across his chest. It glittered in the dozen lights. The man laughed.

“Lady? Don’t you know what you’ve got here lad? The best lay in the north, that’s what some men say. A voice as sweet as sin, especially when you can make her scream.”

“That’s enough!” Skylar took a step closer. The men behind them closed in. Marion felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“I’ll say when it’s enough,” the man cackled, his lips turned in a lurid sneer. “That’s how that sort of thing works boy. Especially here. Especially to uninvited guests. You two are interlopers, you’re welcome is dependent on your service. Sing me a song, Snowy Jade.”

“You want a song?” She steeled herself, touched Skylar’s arm, and moved him aside so she could look this man in the eye. “Fine. I’ll give you a song.” Her voice was harsh, somewhere between snarl and whisper.

Have you ever killed a man before?
Did you see his begging eyes, did you feel the gore?
'Cause you're just like a tease you're getting with it ease, aren't ya boy?
And you didn't even hesitate when the man dropped
When the kill comes
And the screams rage
Shake it off
Shake it off
Shake it off

Find the foe you hate the most and go
Further down the road and now you loathe
Fear is but a fleeting thought you have
Before the kill comes clean and the victim screams in the back

What is a killer like you tryin' to do here?
What is a killer like you tryin' to do here?
What is a killer like you tryin' to do here?
What is a killer like you tryin' to do here?

What is a killer like you tryin' to do here?
What is a killer like you tryin' to do here?
What is a killer like you tryin' to do here?
What is a killer like you tryin' to do here?
What is a killer me gonna do here?
What is a killer me gonna do here?
What is a killer me gonna do here?

She moved closer to him, circled him, pressed into him and sang directly in his ear then stepped back, her golden eyes dripping with violent insinuation. “Well, there’s your song. Now, where is Frost?”

His grin was poisonous and oily. “We can discuss that back at my place after I’ve sampled the merchandise.”

“Al Azif!”

The tension was broken by a voice outside the circle of men, who’d scuttled in closer as she sang. She could feel the rancid heat off their bodies. A horse pushed through the throng, a large cinnamon-colored beast; on top of his back was an older man, grey hairs meticulously groomed and styled. His eyes were dark and fierce. Al Azif, the man in charge, looked at the newcomer with a mix of fear and rage. Marion sighed in relief. She had no idea who this new man was, but if he scared Al Azif, he was welcomed.

“This ain’t got nothing to do with you,” he tried to say.

The man was already leaping off the horse. He was just as tall. They glared at each other for a moment, close enough to kiss. “Are you sure about that? From what I’ve gleaned, the lady never needed your help. She needed mine. And now she has it. Get thee gone, pissant. Or I will tell him how unhelpful you were to someone seeking him out.”

The tension broke as Al Azif laughed. There was fear in that laugh, poorly disguised. He spat at the foot of the man then looked at Marion once more. “When he’s done with you, come look me up. I’ll make it worth your while, I can promise that.” He melted into the shadows with the rest of his friends. Soon it was just the three of them standing in the stable’s courtyard.

“You’re looking for Frost?” he asked, looked both Marion and Skylar over.

“I am.”

“What’s your business with him? A visit from a stranger here is highly irregular.”

“My business is personal,” she said firmly, setting her jaw.

“That’s not going to be good enough, ma’am. I need to know why you’re here.”

“I am here to speak to Frost on a personal matter. That’s all I’m going to share with you.”

He scowled then moved to remount his horse.

“If it helps,” she said after a moment, “tell him it concerns family.”

“Fine. Come with me then. It’s not safe for you out in the open right now. Al Azif won’t have taken this well.”

They remounted their horses and followed him. She could feel the eyes of the denizens on her. They all knew she was here now, and their curiosity would not be sated without a long look. She was grateful for the thick maroon cloak she wore. They followed the man through the remnants of the town, then through another tunnel, and finally into a chamber with buildings wholly unlike the rest of the town. These were older and more grandiose. The lights were brilliant and golden. He stopped them in the foyer.

“He’s here…” she breathed. Panic began to awake in her. What if he wouldn’t see her? What if he turned her away? They had not left on the best terms, what if he still felt hurt by the things she’d said? What if he denied that Ella was his child? She felt a cold that had nothing to do with the temperature.

“Are you okay ma’am? I did my best to…” Skylar began. She silenced him with a touch on his arm.

“You did fine.”

“You shouldn’t have had to…” again she quieted him with a touch.

“I know how to handle men like him. Bravado is all he has, with an undercurrent of violence.”

The man reentered the foyer and beckoned Marion. “He will see you. Just you.”

“But,” Skylar began, taking a protective step forward.

“No,” Marion said, her tone reassuring. “It’s okay Skylar.”

She touched his arm and nodded. Following the man, she felt her panic grow and grow. It was not okay, but there was nothing to be done about it. He led her to what looked like a library, a room filled with shelves and books. There was a fire going. He was sitting in one of the chairs. He looked exactly the way he had when she’d left him those twenty-six years ago.

“Frost…” she managed.

He stood, crossing the room in a few long steps. He took her hand brought her to the empty chair across from his without saying a word.

“I need your help,” she said, “our daughter is in danger.”

OOC: (Lyrics taken from "What's a Killer Like You Gonna Do Here?" by Zeal & Ardor on Devil is Fine)

[Baphởmet]

Mama Bear
Somewhere Far from the Light
(Private)

Somewhere there was the sound of birds singing, the sound of people talking, the sound of the wind whispering through the trees. Somewhere there was the smell of horses, cooking meat, fish, and beer. Somewhere there was the taste of rich lamb and mint jelly. Somewhere there was the feel of the stage, surreal and divine with two hundred sets of eyes. Somewhere there was light.

Ella awoke and whimpered. The pain pulsed through her skull and threatened to rip it open. She tried to move but every muscle and bone in her body screamed at her, she nearly had to bite her tongue off to keep from screaming. Tears of pain welled in her eyes but the rancid stripe of cloth digging into her eyes soaked it up before the tears could roll down her cheek. How long had she been here? Where was here? Who had taken her? She had a thousand questions, but she couldn’t bear to think about any of them. The last thing she remembered was a voice appearing next to her and an atavistic and feral smell that made her want to gag. She remembered hands like claws as hard and cold as iron wrapping around her yanking her backward. Something slammed into the back of her head just as she’d tried to scream. Her voice had been yanked out of her, yanked so hard she threw up and gasped for breath like a landed fish. A foul-tasting, burning liquid had been forced down her throat.

She could tell she wasn’t in the theatre anymore. The smooth, polished wood floors were gone. She was angled on a slick, oily stone. Ella took a deep breath and tried to concentrate through the pain; her hands were bound up with her legs. The knots were cruel and tight, they dug into her skin, sending bolts of pain through her extremities at the barest motion. She had not been gagged, she could taste copper, though, and something slimy. She wanted to retch. She was so exhausted.

She could hear sounds coming from all around her, but they were so muted, garbled, and faraway she couldn’t identify any of them. Voices? How many? What were they saying? Her head was cloudy; it was hard to think. Trying to get her bearings felt like trying to walk through freezing mud.

“Well, she’s awake at last.”

She froze. That voice. That was the voice! That was the voice she’d heard just before…

She tried to scream. Something big and impossibly fast covered her mouth and forced the scream back down her throat. She tried to bite the hand cutting off her air. Her arms screamed at her to stop but she bit down as hard as she could. The hand drew back momentarily, and, at that moment, she thought she might have done the right thing. She didn’t see the fist as it formed and sped toward her face like a maddened bull. She felt it though. She felt the searing pain as it passed from her jaw to her skull then down her spine, spiking every nerve down to her fingers and toes. She fell back and tumbled awkwardly until she landed on her shoulder. She howled as she felt it shift wrong and pop out of its socket.

“Shut up girl, if you know what’s best for you.”

She couldn’t think of anything to say. She just wanted to curl into a ball and cry, but even that was denied to her.

“You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that. Not great prey, but at least you have spirit.”

“What…?” her voice was thick and drooly, her mouth felt like it was melting.

She heard footsteps come toward her. Instinctively, she shrank back. The light flooded back into her eyes as the blindfold was ripped away. She yelped. The light was dim and filthy. There were torches in makeshift sconces. They were in a cave or something. Beyond the torchlight yawned a monstrous mouth full of blackness. Her hands shook and any strength in her limbs suddenly vanished.

“Where am…?”

“No. That’s not how this works,” the man was standing over her. He was huge, easily over six feet tall, and built like a mountain. His eyes were glowing and yellow like a wolf. His arms were shaggy with thick body hair, the sleeves of a yellowing cotton shirt rolled up past the elbow. “You’re going to listen, girl,” he paused, waiting for her response. She nodded weakly, her mouth still on fire. “You shouldn’t have been nosing around that alley. This is all your fault, really. Pretty girl like you, you should have been home at that hour. Your mother was worried about you.”

“What did you do to my mother?” she interrupted, a vision of her mother bound and gagged flashing into her mind.

He slapped her. The world went completely white for several seconds. “Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking.” He never raised his voice. “It’s a tragedy really, not as good as the tragedy you were going to play in. I would have paid good money to watch you. That play was gonna be the thing that made you a star. You were gonna go all way to the opera houses of Umbar and Dol Amroth. But, because you couldn’t just let things alone, you’re here instead.” His voice was strange and feral, but it still felt bound up in reason and logic. It made her skin crawl. This was not the language he used; she could tell.

“Do you know who I am?”

She gulped. “No, no. I have no idea, please. Please just let me go, I don’t who are you; I know what I saw. I… I don’t…” the words poured out of her, any words she thought might help.

“Well, that’s another pity. I thought my reputation preceded me. I suppose tales of my prowess and legendary acts of defiance haven’t reached the delicate ears of the courtesan’s daughter.”

“No, no, please! I don’t want to know! I just want to go home! Please let me go, please let me go and I’ll never say anything. I promise. I don’t want to know. I just want to go home. I want to go home. Please, please don’t hurt me. Please, please, please. I’ll do whatever you want. Please don’t hurt me. Please.” It didn’t matter how much it hurt to cry; Ella let loose a torrent of sobs. She’d never been more scared in all her life. She could see her death in those strange yellow eyes. They stared at her, bored into her soul. She wanted to get away from them. She began to hack and cough. She couldn’t breathe but she couldn’t stop crying either.

“Enough.” Again, he never raised his voice. “I’m not going to kill you. You’re worth something. How much do you think your parents will pay to get you back?”

“W… what? I… don’t have a…”

“Stupid, sweet girl,” he laughed, it almost sounded like a bark. “You have a father. Dunno who he is, haven’t put that piece together. Your mommy went to get him.”

What? That didn’t make any sense. Her mama had told her that her father was gone, she assumed that meant he was dead. Her head swam, all her thoughts seem to pour into each other. Father… her father was alive? Who…? She closed her eyes, trying to push everything back to where it was supposed to go.

“What did you do to Wallach?” she said, surprising herself.

He laughed dismissively; it made her angry. “Who?”

“The man I was with,” she spat a glob of red phlegm. “What did you do to him?”

“The man you were going to kiss?” he laughed. “He’s not really someone for you to concern yourself with. If you’re going to kiss anyone. It’s going to be me.”

She spat again. “I’m going to kill you.”

His smile turned into a snarl, he crouched beside her and touched her green hair then slapped her again. “Either they’re going to pay more than all the gold in the Lonely Mountain, or I’m going to make sure when you get out of here, you won’t be their daughter anymore.”

[Rillewen]

@Lailyn

Kiaran
Laketown

Kiaran had had a long night. First he'd nearly got caught in a house back in Dale, so he ran. And ran, and ran, because guards were chasing him. The young man made sure they never got close enough to see his face, and soon hed left them behind. Then he'd waded in the shores of the lake to ensure his trail couldn't be followed. Finally, he had swam all the way to the distant town. It was a long swim, after a long run, and he'd been exhausted by the time he climbed onto the dock. There were a few empty boats in the water, so he'd picked one and curled up in it, hoping its owner wouldn't come along and catch him. Not that he was currrently doing anything particularly illegal, just sleeping in a boat. But you never knew about some people.

A voice woke him. Someone speaking softly, nearby. A female, from the sound of the voice. Kiaran opened his eyes, blinking up into the sky, and noted the possibility of a storm approaching. He frowned, then quietly sat up on one elbow, looking around to see who had spoken. He hadn't heard an answer, but... then he saw the girl sitting on the dock, her back to him. Fishing? He couldn't quite be sure but it looked like it. He saw no one at all around that she might have been talking to, and that intrigued him. Running a hand through his hair, the 19-year-old decided to let her know she wasn't entirely alone.

"Who are you talking to?" He asked, watching. She looked close to his age, he thought, and he wondered if she lived around here. Kiaran could've sworn he'd seen her before somewhere, though, but he couldn't place where. Then again, he saw a lot of people who didn't see him, and with whom he never became acquianted. He offered a smile to show that he was friendly, and hoped the girl wouldn't freak out or anything... he hadn't intended to intrude, but he wouldn't mind having someone to chat with. It got lonely sometimes, being all by onesself all the time.

[Lailyn]

Ljúfa in Laketown
With Kiaran (@Rillewen)

Despite her drive to escape, her pace slowed making it more and more likely she was going to be caught out in the storm. Ljúfa was not accustomed to such physical, repetitive tasks and her fingers were beginning to ache beneath the numbness. Honest work was so much harder than laying a scheme for someone to fall into! It would have been easy for her to stay in Dale with her parents. She’d help make money directing foreigners down the wrong streets where they would be robbed or playing the innocent florist identifying her chosen mark with a single iris in the bouquet. After her accomplice pickpocketed them, she would recover the “lost” item and earn herself a reward. There were hundreds of schemes and hundreds of faces she could wear but she only wanted to wear one from now on: her own.

Ljúfa’s daydream of another life far away, maybe somewhere south where the climate was warm, where she could wear silk gowns with floral patterns and pearl earrings, spending her evenings sipping sparkling wine attending grand concerts was rudely interrupted. Startled from her reverie, she did it without thinking, a defensive reaction: the oyster in her hand went flying toward the young man in the boat.

“Where did you come from?!” she demanded.

Ignoring his seemingly innocent question, she sent a frown his way, annoyed that he had caught her unaware. His smile made her instantly suspicious. She knew how smiles could charm people into being stupid, she had done it enough times herself to know. Ljúfa would not let herself be taken in by anyone, especially a rumpled-looking young man whose hair was in desperate need of a brushing (in her opinion).

Worst case scenario, he'd been sent by her parents to follow her. Rather than a lost child, she was a lost investment in their eyes. "How long have you been snooping around spying on me?"

[Rillewen]

@Lailyn

Kiaran
Laketown dock

Kiaran hastily ducked from the missile that was hurled at him, barely avoiding taking it in the eye or something. As the oyster clattered into the boat beside him, he raised an eyebrow at the girl, wondering what got her into such a bad mood. "I didn't mean to startle you." He assured her, considering her question. Where did he come from? He sure wasn't going to tell her the truth. The young man wasn't very well acquianted with telling truth, as he made it a point to never tell the same story more than once about himself, his family, his background...

"Do you mean originally, or recently?" He asked with a teasing smile. "Originally, I came from my mother." He couldn't help a sarcastic reply as he climbed out of the boat, deciding that the storm looked like it was approaching fast, and he'd rather not be caught out in it. "More recently, however, I came from the sea," He informed her, attempting to wring some water out of the damp edge of his tunic. He hadn't been able to dry out much before lying down to sleep, and still felt quite damp all over. "I was raised by merfolk, but I came up here to find out what life is like up on dry land." No one would believe that, of course, and he certainly didn't expect her to. Though, the wet clothes surely made it seem a little more likely.

He offered a grin after he'd told that wild tale, and then offered a more likely one. "I'm only joking about the merfolk, of course. I really come from Gondor," a place he'd never been, "and have come here exploring and seeking adventure. I heard one could, perhaps, find treasure up in the mountains, you know? I always did want to find treasure. What about you? Where are you from?"

He paused, tilting his head at that last question. "Spying on you? I'm not too familiar with spywork, but don't they usually try to avoid being caught spying on the person?" He pointed out. "I was here first, and as a matter of fact, you interrupted my nap... but I don't mind. It looks like there's a storm coming, huh?" He motioned up at the sky.

[Lailyn]

Ljúfa in Laketown
With Kiaran (@Rillewen)

Like many teenage girls, Ljúfa had long ago mastered three essential expressions: the eye-roll, the scoff and the sneer. She let her impeccable eye-roll at Kiaran’s sarcasm speak for itself. His mother, like she’d never heard that one before. How uncreative. His story about the merfolk, on the other hand, was almost, well, outlandish.

“Are you sure you didn’t come from the sea?” She sniffed audibly and wrinkled her nose, eyeing his wet garments. “You sure smell like it.” Returning her attention to her work, she untangled another two oysters from her net and did not throw them his way this time. And a good thing, too, if he was from Gondor. Maybe he knew a way to get her there. She knew she could leave anytime, but she also knew what happened to girls her age traveling alone and that was nothing good.

But treasure? Now it was time for the scoff. “Treasure?” The word dripped with disdain. “You’re going to be disappointed you came all this way. There’s no treasure here. Just fish and the pond scum they feed on.” Much like her parents sucking the life out of the weak and gullible.

She blew a stray curl out of her eyes as she studied him more closely. He didn’t look like he was from Gondor…but she supposed it was possible. The wrinkled, damp clothes suggested he might have slept here overnight. Anyone chasing her would not bring themselves so low and they’d have plenty of opportunity to catch her around town or in her boat out on the lake. Assured he was not one of her parents’ lackeys, she gave him the truth but not her trust.

“Thought it was obvious. I’m from here. Well, actually Dale, but I’d like to live anywhere else...Gondor sounds nice.” Ljúfa sighed and plopped the last shellfish in the bucket before tossing her mud-crusted gloves aside and fixing him with a quizzical stare. “So if you’re not spying on me, then why are you sleeping in a boat? While you’re over there, would you pass me that oyster?” She gestured at the one that she recently chucked his way.

Job done, she retrieved her hat, affixed it on her head and stood tall with her hands on her hips. “Are you afraid of a little storm?” she teased. “I always thought merfolk would be waterproof.” Instead of the sneer, she offered him a smirk. A sign he was winning her over, at least a little.

[Rillewen]

@Lailyn

Kiaran
Laketown dock

Kiaran grinned, observing from her reactions that she wasn't quite so unfriendly as she'd tried to act at first. He shrugged. "Well, more adventure than treasure, of course. But you never know. I guess I left so I could see new places, meet new people, all that sort of thing." He'd practiced telling tales for around ten years now, and it came as natural as breathing by now. In fact, sometimes he wished he really did have the stories he claimed to have, which he told to so many people. The truth was far less pleasant, and he'd resolved early on that he wouldn't ever talk about that nightmare to anyone. Maybe a form of it, sure. As if it happened to someone else, a friend he once knew, or a cousin, a distant relative or ancestor... whatever tale he was telling at the time. But not himself.

The girl's reply as to where she's from answered a lot of his inner questions. Dale. That explained why he thought he'd seen her before, he probably had, and he felt relieved that she didn't seem to recognize him, considering he'd grown up there. But then, he tended to sleep duing the day and come out at night, so that made it easier to avoid most people. Storing that bit of info into the back of his mind, he watched her toss her gloves aside. "Well, it's hard to sleep on the water's surface. Have you ever tried? It doesn't typically end well. Sleeping in the boat keeps me from sinking." He answered with a hint of a smirk, then retrieved the oyster, pausing at the last thing she said.

"Afraid of a storm?" He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Of course not. It's just that we merfolk have this thing... once we're dry, we get legs, see? But if I get wet my legs will change into a tail and then I'd have to go back in the water, and I'd rather not right now." He laughed, pleased to find someone who would play along with the merfolk story even if they both knew it was fake.

He grinned and held the oyster out to her, though snatched it away just before she could take it. "Not til you tell me your name." He teased, only giving the oyster to her once she had done so. "Anyway, Gondor's alright but it gets boring when you've lived there all your life, you know?" He added, going back to that one comment she made. "I was anxious to get out and see the world outside my aunt and uncle's farm."

[Lailyn]

Ljúfa in Laketown
With Kiaran (@Rillewen)

Ljúfa liked his story even though it was complete rubbish. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to hang on to the things that were better than the sad reality that was her life. Stories, stage plays, street performers, music, anything that helped her escape for a little while. Anything that helped her escape town forever was even better. His words about new places and new people resonated with her. Wasn’t that exactly what she wanted, too? She wondered what had pushed him away from home, knowing people didn’t just up and leave a comfortable, happy life...

“Hm.” She pretended to consider his question, continuing to play along. “Can’t say that I have. Sounds wet and cold, not a good way to get my beauty rest.” She flounced her curly hair over her shoulder. “Couldn’t you just sleep under the water where no one would find you or wake you up?”

She stepped to the edge of the dock to take the oyster from him. Her fingers grasped nothing but air! He yanked it back at the last second and she scowled at him. Her name was worth more than an oyster especially if her parents came after her. She had a whole bucket-full of fish after all, but what if it was the one with the luminous pearl of her dreams? And what if...did she dare hope he might leave town with her? He might be a bedraggled, soggy stranger full of wild tales, but he gave off the air of a survivor. Waterproof in a different way, letting life’s trials roll off him. It might be stupid and reckless and it just might be a chance that would pay off...

“I’m Ljúfa.” She snagged the oyster from him and held on to it in case she needed another projectile. Running her thumb over the lip of the shell, she asked a silly question laced with the sad truth. “So...any chance you know how to turn a girl into a mermaid? I could use a way out of town. I don’t just want to leave...I have to.” All joking aside, she stared at him with sudden determination, ignoring the spitting rain that began to fall. Seeing her father in town yesterday had lit a fire under her. The sooner she got away from here, the better.

“You said you want adventure...feel like going on one with me? Have you got a name or should I just call you merman?”

[Rillewen]

@Lailyn

Kiaran
Laketown dock

Kiaran considered the name she gave as he allowed her to snatch the oyster from his grasp. It sounded about like the sort of name one would expect to hear from this area, so he didn't question that. It might be her real name, or it might not. It was her business if she told him her real name or not, he just wanted to know what to call her. After all, he wasn't telling her the truth about much at all. "Ljúfa, hm, nice name." He smiled, showing he was sincere about that.

"You know, if you're looking for pearls," He motioned to the oysters, a teasing smirk on his face, "You probably should know that the freshwater ones aren't usually worth much. I guess they're alright for eating though." He had no idea whether she was actually thinking of gathering pearls from them, but he had a bit of experience in that matter, as he'd once tried to sell some and got laughed out the door, much to his younger self's disappointment. "See, we merfolk kinda hoarde all the best ones for ourselves, so by the time you landfolks find any, there's only the pitiful small ones left." He added jokingly, carrying on with the merfolk story.

And then suddenly the joking turned serious, and he was quite caught off guard. As rain began to patter down onto his shoulders, Ljúfa asked to join him in his adventures. During the brief pause that followed, thunder rumbled in the distance. Kiaran blinked, inwardly alarmed by this request. For years, he had lived by a sort of personal rule; don't get too close to other people, so you don't get hurt. He could tell by Ljúfa's tone and body language she was serious, and he wasn't sure how to reply for a moment. Not only was he only making up the story about adventuring and all that, but if he took her along on some adventure, he'd have to keep up with that falsehood! He'd become good at coming up with fake stories to tell about himself, but he'd never had to stick with one of them for a lengthy amount of time. The young thief easily adopted made-up stories of his life, his family, and background and then shed them just as easily, but to keep to one of them for more than a day? Could he do it? Should he try?

Running a hand through his hair, which was quickly becoming damp again, he considered her last question. "Merman?" He made a face, regaining a little of the joking manner. "I'd prefer Kai, if you don't mind." He glanced up at the sky as it seemed like the rain began to come down a little harder. "How about a hot meal?" He nodded his head toward where there were sure to be places to eat. "I'll buy, and we can talk more about this... is that alright?"

[Baphởmet]

Mama Bear
Dale, 29 Years Ago
(Private)

He’d been at this tavern for the last seven nights. It was not the supply of rich, heady mead or the delicacies from the Sea of Rhûn that kept him coming back. He came back, night after night, for her. The first night he heard her sing he was certain that a siren or a mermaid had come ashore. Her voice was sweet and thunderous, honey and fire. He’d never heard anything like it before. His business in Dale had been completed the next day and he was due back in Umbar, but he stayed. Her voice, her words, her movements, he’d never been so entranced. He’d found a diamond that shone brighter than all the stars in the sky, he didn’t want to let it go. By the seventh night, despite the massive size of the tavern, she recognized him and sat with him after her performance. She introduced herself as Marion Lokesdottir. He had to catch himself before he gave her his real name. They spent the rest of that night talking and drinking, sharing stories and anecdotes until the tavern closed. They spent that night tangled in the sheets, the first of many nights to come. He stayed in Dale despite the many calls for his return. His mother, his master, and the Web called him, and yet he denied them all. He had never been so entranced by a person before as he had been by Marion. Her golden eyes, soft touch, and sweet voice were only the first things he fell in love with. Not Zigûr himself could have dragged Frost away from her. He stayed by her side for years. He grew to know her world in a way he never expected. He watched her performances in the theatre, in the grand tavern, and finally in the chateau she bought and owned. She was magnificent; her smile was brighter and warmer than the summer sun, her touch was electric. She loved him as much as he loved her. All the aristocratic fops of Dale looked on them with unending jealousy at the masquerades and galas. Frost and Marion would have owned Dale one day. Frost watched with pride as Marion sang arias in front of the King Under the Mountain no other woman could have hoped to master. He heard her recite poetic verses in the original Adûnaic with better flourish than the man who wrote them. Frost would have stayed in Dale until he died. He would have stayed by Marion’s side should stars fall or mountains crumble.

--- * --- * --- Kadar Nînnud, on the Confluence of the Celduin and the Carnen, Present Day --- * --- * ---

It was her. At first, Frost was too stunned to speak. It had been nearly thirty years, yet she looked the same. She was beautiful, so beautiful it hurt his soul to look at her too long. He closed his eyes; unbidden images of the two of them wrapped around each other, limbs stretched and coiled, the sounds of satisfied sighs. He opened his eyes again. It was impossible to imagine. Marion was here again; she was standing in front of him the same way she had twenty-six years ago. Emotions and feelings he long thought locked away and buried came to the surface. Marion was here. Marion Lokesdottir was here.

She looked tired and ragged. The journey from Dale to Kadar Nînnud was not a long one, but by the looks of her, she had made it in frantic, desperate need. Then she spoke the words. “Our daughter is in danger.”

The world spun out of control for a moment. Verily, the ground seemed to shift beneath Frost and threatened to devour him. He’d known he had children for a few months now. The revelation had been given callously and maliciously, a jest meant to cut him to the quick. It had. Guilt was the strongest of the hundred emotions he’d felt since then, guilt and anger. They ate at him every day since. He’d escaped Umbar and Angmar and come here to the secret city of the Númenóreans to think. He had children. What was he supposed to do with that knowledge? And it was not just one child, it was a dozen. He had to find them. He hadn’t decided how, but he knew it was something he must do.

A child with Marion? He wanted to scream. That was all he’d ever wanted with her. A child, a family, a home. It had been more than within his grasp after all. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He had a daughter with Marion. Of course, he would have a child with her. Of course. But she was in danger. Marion’s child, his child, was in danger. He’d never had parental instincts before, something that must not run in his family. Yet when he heard Marion speak those words a depthless well of rage filled him. He had been angry before. There were ghost towns and shipwrecks that would attest to his wrath, all those paled in comparison to the feeling that threatened to rip from his skin now. Someone had done something to his daughter. Something so horrid that Marion had sought him out; she’d come to a hidden city with no guarantee that he would even be there. After twenty-seven years, she broke the silence between them. Something truly awful had happened. He made fists to stop his hands from shaking. He wanted to fly away now, to fall on whoever had hurt his daughter with all the strength of the Son of the Morning.

Marion looked like she was going to faint. He crossed the distance, the great fathomless gulf that had existed for twenty-seven years, and caught her as her legs gave way. She fell into him and clung to him. He could feel her begin to weep. He held her as tightly as he could, waving the servant away. They were alone. He clung to her as she to him, his own emotions spilling into tears.

“We have a daughter,” he mumbled, still in awe. “We have a daughter.”

She lifted her head, her golden eyes fixed on his. “Her name is Ella.” Her voice was thick with tears.

Despite the painful well of rage, guilt, and despair, he felt pride, unending pride. His daughter was named Ella.

“You need rest Marion,” he said after a long moment. He still held her as tightly as he could, afraid that if he released her, she would fade into smoke and all this would be a cruel dream.”

“No,” she pulled away from him and looked up at his eyes with measureless pain. “I will not rest until I have my daughter safe.”

“Marion,” his voice was on the edge of breaking. “I will do everything I can. I swear by all the stars in the sky. I will make sure Ella is safe. But you must rest. What good will it do to save her only for her to find her mother died from exhaustion? Please, Marion. Trust me. Rest. We will depart in the morning.”

“Trust you?” Marion’s expression changed from pained to anger. “Trust you?” She scoffed; the sound was like a nail in a coffin. “I’m only here because you are the only one that can help.”

His heart stopped beating for a moment. He felt all the blood drain from his body. The words were fair, but they hurt. All the scorn of Arioch, Hrafnhildr, and his mother could not have hurt so much.

“Are you with me? Are you in or are you out? I’m starting to think that I never actually had you.” Her voice quavered.

He extended his hand, praying she would take it. “You’re not in the dark, far from the light. Don’t give up, no not yet.”

She took his hand and took a step back into him, she placed a hand on his cheek, it felt like fire. He interlaced his fingers with hers. “Are you with me? Are you with me? Are you drifting through the doubt?”

“No matter how hard this gets. We come into the world, worse for the wear…” she touched his lips, quieting him.

“We’re not equal parts, light and dark; we can be brilliant. Are you in or are you out? Are you with me? I need to know now.”

“Until the stars fall and the mountain crumbles.” Frost whispered.

OOC: (Italicized dialogue taken from "Are You With Me?" by nilu)

[Fane Mordagnir]

The Troublesome Tattooist
Erebor - Open RP

Kurzdun had finally arrived at the Lonely Mountain, it had been a long journey from the Iron Hills but here he was at the famous kingdom of Erebor. His cart trundled along with Squealer his giant hog pulling it up the road to the great gates of the Kings. The gates themselves were wide open and he cruised through into the halls himself. He rolled to a stop in a large plaza which appeared to have a large collection of dwarves and he hopped off the front of the cart.

He unhitched Squealer and tied him up instead to a ring on the side of the cart spreading food and a water bowl all over the polished floor of the giant hall. The pig lived up to its name and started squealing louder than it could be believed with the noise echoing around the halls of Erebor. The creature was if nothing else a good advertisement of his presence. Several Dwarves walked past the scene disgust on their faces. What kind of Dwarf would be so brazen as to let their creature feast on the floor of the Hall of Kings.

Kurzdun dropped the stabilizing legs on the four corners of the cart and then the steps up to the back seats. He started to erect the tented canopy and the tarp used for the door struggling as ever since the loss of his right arm. All the while he was shouting his advert to anyone who would listen. "Roll up, roll down. I the greatest tattoo artist in all of Dwarfdom has arrived in Erebor. The finest tattoos you've ever seen. Come and see Kurzdun Inkmaker for all your needs!"

He stood and ate some salted pork out the back of the cart making sure that Squealer couldn't see him waiting for his first customer to come up on the cart. The Dwarves that walked past all seemed to be in their finest clothes and gave him looks like he wasn't welcome in the kingdom but Kurzdun had no idea why. Didn't they realise he was the best at what he did? After some time he saw a young dwarf stumbling through the hall with an actual jug of mead in his hand. The dwarf wandered over towards the cart and shouted at Kurzdun, slurring some of his words "Are you th' crazy dwarf tattooer wi' th' pig?" Kurzdun looked round the side of the cart checking that Squealer was still there, thought for a second and nodded uncertainly "I want Dain Rules on my right bicep so big that the king can see it from a mile off!" This confused Kurzdun even more because the dwarf pointed towards his left arm but he'd work that out later.

The tattooist turned and ushered the young Dwarf into the back of the cart and pulled the tarp closed behind him. "Now I've got to check" said Kurzdan "Have you had any alcohol that may have clouded your judgement today?" Any outsider would have thought this question was obvious but Kurzdan asked it anyway. The other Dwarf sat in the chair in the middle of the cart and with eyes half shut shook his head. Kurzdan watched the young dwarf's head loll about in all directions and having no doubt that he had been told the truth reached over for the tattoo gun he had fashioned himself.

He spent some time groping about before realizing that he had reached with his right arm and there was no hand below the elbow to grab the gun. He instead reached over with his one remaining hand. He wasn't as good with his left hand but what could he do? The best tattooist in all of Dwarfdom wasn't captive to anything not even being right handed. "How would you feel with it being a bit more exotic? I find written tattoos are much more sophistimacated when they are written in Harad and then people have to ask what they say, talking pointer you know!" The young dwarf in the chair made a groaning type noise which Kurzdan accepted as approval and he started.

He unstoppered his finest black ink and dipped the tip of the gun in and then started peddling his feet on the modified loom base that made the needle move. He hadn't learned his runes when he was young or when he was old for that matter and he definitely didn't know Harad but who would know? Its not like he was lying - he might have been writing in Harad who knew. The hustle and bustle of the busy hall outside continued as he worked and then completed the tattoo.

By the time that he had completed the tattoo the dwarf had fallen sound asleep and was snoring heavily. Kurzdan slapped the dwarf to wake him up right on the top of the tattoo sealing the work, a fine piece "Thats you all done my friend! I can give you a discount on that one as it didn't take long. I'll just take the rest of your pitcher of mead if thats okay?" The dwarf grumbled sleepily and rubbed his arm painfully before being led stumbling out of the back of the card.

Kurzdan smiled as he took a long, deep swig of the mead (it was warm just how he liked it) and flung open the tarp on the back of the cart. He walked round the side and poured some of the mead into Squealers water and then returned to the back steps and sat down waiting on his next client.

[Lailyn]

Ljúfa in Laketown
With Kiaran (@Rillewen)

Freshwater pearls aren’t worth much? It was devastating news to Ljúfa. Just like that, Kiaran snuffed out her hope. No wonder she hadn’t found any yet. Fishing did not earn much money, or as much as she’d like anyway, and she had convinced herself that finding one perfect pearl would be her ticket out of here. She wasn’t about to let him know that, though...

“Then it’s a good thing I wasn’t looking for them since you merpeople are hogging them all.” Shrugging as if she did not care, she tossed the contested oyster into the bucket with the rest. Let it bring her at least a little coin. Better than nothing. “As long as people keep eating them, I don’t really care.” It was a lie. She did-- she wanted that pearl after sorting through the sludge and muck and suffering through the work and now the rain. She fixed a pleasant smile on her face anyway as her hopes were dashed and she felt a sinking feeling. There had to be another way.

But apparently she was not getting anything she wanted today. No pearls, no merman full of stories and tall tales to adventure with and help her go somewhere, anywhere but here. A second wave of disappointment washed over her. Feeling quite put out, she bent down and made a show of focusing on gathering up her muddy, smelly gloves and placing them neatly atop of the bucket of shellfish. She was aware of him watching her, waiting for an answer, and she took her time about giving it. He had hesitated to offer as much as he had and she would make him wait even though she already knew her answer was a roundabout yes. Anything he knew about Gondor, or anywhere else, or anyone who could take her with them was well worth spending her time with. And she wouldn’t say no to more stories, too.

Finally, she stood up and lifted the bucket in one hand, laying a hand on her hat to make sure it stayed put. Not only was it her protection from the rain, but she hoped it would help hide her face from her father until she could leave for good. The gesture offered her some comfort. “Well, Kai, some of us are not adventurers...yet. I’ve got to sell these at the Market Pool first unless you want to eat them all with me.” She gestured with the bucket and raised her brows at him. No one in their right mind would agree to that, would they? “Meet me at the fish stall second from the end, the one with the orange awning, at the end of the day and we can get some food. D’you think you can find it on your own, Kai, the merman of Gondor?”

[Rillewen]

@Lailyn

Kiaran
Laketown dock

Kiaran shrugged at the girl's response about the pearl comment. He didn't know really if she was lying or not. Again, it wasn't any of his business. But, if she had been hoping to try and sell a pearl, he'd saved her from the same humiliation and crushing disappointment he'd endured as a child, when he tried selling a small handful for money to buy food. If he thought back and focused on the memory, he might even connect it with being right before he turned to stealing... but he didn't care to dwell on such memories, and so allowed it to be buried in the back of his mind once more.

That matter aside, the silence stretched on between them while Kiaran watched the girl pack up her stuff, waiting for her to give an answer to his suggestion. Maybe she was thinking about it. After all, it was a bit bold of him, he supposed, to ask her to go eat with him, as if it were a date. He didn't mean it that way, but one never knew with girls how they might take something. Still, he didn't mind waiting; he needed to take some time to think, too. Only the rain was getting a bit heavier, and it was cold. He would very much like something to eat, someplace warm and dry, himself, and so he was a bit surprised when Ljúfa didn't jump at the offer of a free hot meal.

He tilted his head as the girl talked about going to the market to sell all those oysters first. It had slipped his mind that other people actually do that sort of thing; earning money honestly and all that. Having gone so long now, living by his own means of acquiring food and money and possessions, Kiaran caught himself just as he was about to point out, casually, that there are much quicker and easier ways to get a little coin. Best not mention that, he told himself, as she might be one of those people who'd run to the guards and tattle on him or something. "Uh, thanks but I'm not too big on oysters," He answered to her (probably joking) offer to eat them all with her. He grinned, half teasing although he really didn't like the things... too slimy and weird for him.

Then she gave him directions to where to meet her, asking if he could find that. Perhaps because he claimed to be new to this area. "Hmm, I don't know. What makes you think merfolk can see colors?" He teased. "For that matter, what makes you think I'll wait around? What would you do if I didn't meet you?" He wondered with a raised eyebrow, genuinely curious about that. She was the one who'd asked to come along with him, after all, so why should he have to wait around til she was done selling her oysters? Not to mention the fact that this would actually give him a very good opportunity to get out of that tricky situation he'd got himself into... but would his conscience let him do that?

[Lailyn]

Ljúfa in Laketown
With Kiaran (@Rillewen)

The opportunity was slipping through her fingers and her bucket was going to fill up with rainwater if she dilly-dallied much longer. The rain was already snaking its way uncomfortably down her back, making it itch. None of this was going her way. Not this day, not this conversation, not her life. Suddenly, she was overcome with the feeling of powerlessness and if her parents took her back, that would be it. Shackled to the family business, unable to choose her own life.

Talking to Kai had made her forget. His stories and his easy-going manner made her feel like there really was a whole world out there within reach. If only she could get there...and here she thought he might be willing to help. How laughable. Ljúfa should have known nothing in life came for free and without knowing what he really wanted in exchange, she couldn’t steer the conversation back in the right direction. She didn’t know how to navigate it or how to get back to where they were.

So she did the only other thing she knew how: she let her anger, her frustration and her disappointment rise to the surface.

“Look, I need to get out of town but I need money to do that.” She lifted the bucket up and shook it at him, raising her voice. “This is how I make money! This is my life! Unless you know someone who’s leaving town, who’d let me work for them or owe them or something, I can’t just swim away to another world unless you--” she thrust her finger at him “--can make me a mermaid. And I’m not an idiot, I don’t actually think that’s possible!”

The illusion they were playing part of shattered. Her cheeks were pink and her shoulders heaved from the outburst. Beneath her exasperation, she was scared. Could see it, through the rain, in her eyes? Ljúfa looked at him and suddenly felt as rotten as her parents. It wasn’t his fault.

She pressed a hand to her forehead and winced. “Look...sorry. If you want to meet me, then meet me.” Her tone was subdued now, apologetic and frank. “I want to listen to your stories. It’s better than anything else there is to talk about but stop wasting my time if you don’t mean anything you say. If you don’t want to wait, then don’t, but you’d better forget you ever saw me or know my name. And if anyone asks if you’ve seen me...please...just don’t tell them.” She hated how desperate she sounded and how much she miscalculated. She never should have told him her name or hoped he might help a stranger just because he was from Gondor. Because she wanted to go there more than anywhere else.

“I’ll pay you, if you want.”

She hated how that sounded even more. Like she was already defeated. But seventeen years taught Ljúfa that money talked.

[Fane Mordagnir]

The Troublesome Tattooist
All Welcome

Part 2

Kurzdan had had a quiet day, only one other customer had walked up to his cart and he was just finishing up the piece on him. This stout, ruddy faced dwarf had asked for a geometric axe design on his right forearm that was based off of his own axe which he had placed down on the table for Kurzdan to study. The finished article was quite good Kurzdan thought, some of the lines were a bit crooked but that was just because his left arm wasn't quite as good at those yet but it definitely looked like an axe. That you could tell. "Well thats you good now my friend! That'll be two pieces of gold and I'll throw in this Warg Blubber Balm too for you! Rub it on the piece twice a day and it'll last forever!" The customer looked at Kurzdan with disbelief at the cost of the tattoo and begrudgingly handed over the coins and accepted a tiny pot with a crude wolf's head design carved into the lid. He stood up - picked up his axe and was just stepping down off the cart when Squealer began to screech like a pig possessed.

Kurzdan leapt off the cart and hurried round the side of the cart to find the pig being dwarf-handled by two guards in full battle armor and a third standing back watching them. "What do you think you're doin' to my pig?! What has he ever done to you?!" Shouted Kurzdan at these high and mighty dwarves. The two attempting to wrangle Squealer dropped him like a hot stone and he let out another great screech while pawing at the ground looking to charge at them. The third dwarf turned round and looked down his nose at Kurzdan. Then in his best impression of a dwarf with a broomhandle tied to his back he scowled "You! Are you the owner of this filthy creature? Do you know where you are? This is the Hall of Kings and you would let your creature befoul it like it was some mountain path?" It was at that moment that Kurzdan saw a steaming pile that Squealer had obviously left at some point he was in the cart with his last customer.

"Well I didn't know that this was no Hall of Kings did I? He's just a pig he has to go somewhere!" Exclaimed Kurzdan not really understanding why these dwarves were making such a scene. The lead dwarf was clearly incensed by the suggestion that the pig should be allowed to leave its business in the Hall of Kings without even a batted eyelid "How dare you! You will leave this hall and set up whatever this broken cart is somewhere else! If I see you or your creature anywhere near this hall again I will arrest you both and lose the key to whichever cell you are locked in!" His face had gone as red as a ruby and spittle was flying from his mouth in rage.

"I don't think I will be going anywhere how else will my clients know where to find me? They all know that I'm here in this hall - if I were to move how would I get any repeat visits?" Kurzdan was genuinely shocked at the idea that he couldn't stay here and was worried for the state of his business if he had to move. Over the next fifteen minutes there was much arguing back and forth between the Tattooist and the Guard and at one point the two other dwarves actually managed to loose Squealer and let him run wild around the hall before recapturing him and securing him to the harness at the front of the cart in an attempt to get Kurzdan to move on. This particular endeavor had caused one of them to fall and sully his armor with the filth that they had all been so offended by at the beginning of the encounter. The third guard had finally had enough and pulled his axe from his belt and was about to hit Kurzdan over the head with the blunt end when another raised voice echoed out from the other end of the hall.

Kurzdan looked over his shoulder only to see his first customer from earlier on. The young dwarf had clearly sobered up and was storming towards the cart cursing and flailing his arms about above his head. "Liar! This isn't Harad! It isn't anything! It's just nonsense!" All of a sudden as if out of nowhere a small hatchet appeared in his hand and was thrown across the hall towards Kurzdan narrowly missing several bystanders who had paused to watch the scene before hitting the wheel with the blunt edge and clattering noisily to the ground. The three guards rushed the young dwarf like dragons to plunder and tackled him without much grace to the ground. "I take your point about this hallowed hall gentle dwarves and I think you might be right about moving myself and Squealer here to a different part of your fair city!" said Kurzdan quickly and with a bit of a quaver in his voice. He leapt into the drivers seat without deconstructing the tent at all and quickly spurred the pig on and left the Hall of the Kings faster than anyone could have realised.

After much struggling and subduing the three guards and the young dwarf extricated themselves from each other all now being calm and all as one turned to set about the dwarf who they all had realized was the target of their communal frustrations only to be surprised by the disappearance of dwarf, card, pig and the hatchet that had been thrown at them. All that remained was the hay for the pig and the pile of droppings that had been squashed under the guard earlier on. The only clue that hinted at the direction of the escape was a trail of dung that the cart wheel had obviously been driven through but even that only lasted a few hundred meters before it too ran out. The hunt was well and truly on for the Troublesome Tattooist!

[Rillewen]

Kiaran
Laketown dock

Kiaran was mildly surprised at her frustrated reply, and blinked as he listened to her. It dawned on him that this girl was really, truly desperate to get out of here. It baffled him, though, why she wanted to stick around long enough to sell all the oysters if she was in that big of a hurry to get out of here. But then she explained, and he reminded himself, again, that not everyone operated the same as him. He barely remembered, when he was very young, that he'd been like that. Telling himself all the time he shouldn't steal, mother wouldn't approve, but over time it got harder and harder to remember why, until it just came naturally. Ljúfa hadn't reached that point, obviously.

He put his hands up in a sort of 'calm down' manner as she ranted a little faster than he could respond. "Hey, don't get all upset." He really hadn't meant to upset her, and felt bad about that. "I didn't say I wouldn't help you. I guess I just wanted to know what you'd say... I'm sorry." Frowning, he tilted his head. "Is someone after you? Are you in some kind of trouble?" He asked, suddenly concerned about the girl. He couldn't imagine what sort of trouble she might be in, but he felt sort of sorry for her, for some reason.

"Look, I'll meet with you. I just thought you might be hungry, and standing out here in the rain isn't the most pleasant place to talk and discuss plans..." He paused, catching the last statement, and rolled his eyes. "You don't need to pay me, don't be ridiculous." Something else she'd said captured his thoughts for a moment, and he considered. "Hm. Someone leaving town?" He muttered, thoughtful. "I might know someo-" The realization of who that someone was, and what he was like, suddenly flashed through the young man's mind and he realized what a horrible idea that was, quickly cutting off his sentence. "No, nevermind, forget I said that... That's a terrible idea. I'll... I'll think of something else." He frowned, realizing there was no way in this world he'd trust HIM to transport an innocent young girl like Ljúfa anywhere.

"Don't worry. I'll do whatever I can to help you," He promised, wondering why he'd given his word on that when he hadn't even completely decided if he ought to get so involved here. Then, before he knew what he was saying, another idea struck him and he spoke before he'd had time to consider it fully. "In fact," He grinned, reaching to take the bucket from her, "I'll even help you sell these. How much you figure they're worth?" Only after he'd committed himself, did Kiaran begin to wonder just what he'd gotten himself into...


@Lailyn

[Lailyn]

Ljúfa in Laketown
With Kiaran

"Is someone after you? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Ljúfa’s shoulders pinched together. She had given away too much in her panic. She should have known better. Her parents taught her how to lie and cheat and steal and here she was, practically telling her life story to this stranger who didn’t quite feel like such a stranger anymore, though he was certainly no friend yet, either. Scowling, she debated how much more to say before finally settling on something vague. ”It’s complicated. Depends on what you’d call trouble, I guess.”

He reached for the bucket but she kept her hand firmly on the handle, squinting at him, sizing him up, suspicious of his sudden change of heart. Rain continued to pelt them and she did not budge an inch. “Why do you want to help me? What’s in it for you?” She demanded, her voice low and urgent. “Who do you know? Tell me. Tell me and I’ll let you help me sell them. I’ll let you have the bucket if you want. You can wear it as a hat.” She grinned, her mood changing faster than the weather. “You could use one, you know, and if you decide to come with me, you’ll definitely be wearing one. That’s non-negotiable.” It was only as she said it that she realized how inappropriately he was dressed and how maybe he was wet, cold and hungry. Maybe in a bit of trouble himself? “You’ll probably need a coat, too. I can help with that if you like. Make it a fair trade. I don’t expect something for nothing.” He could say whatever he wanted, but she’d never believe anyone would give anything away for free.

Ljúfa ticked off the things she did know about Kai. He was full of stories and wanted adventure. He was from Gondor. So he claimed. He seemed to know something about oysters. His rumpled clothes, his disheveled appearance, his sleeping in a boat were all clues...maybe he was running from something, too. What if he couldn’t go back to Gondor? What if something or someone there was waiting to snatch him up and lock him in chains? If so, his hesitancy to join her was fully justified. Maybe instead of coming with her, he could help her with something else...she could get a bit of revenge and some money, more than enough to leave.

“Then again…” A glint of mischief appeared in her eyes and she smiled, stepping back and releasing her hold on the bucket. Stuffing her hands in her coat pockets, she turned toward town and tilted her head. Her father had more than one hideaway and while she took pains to avoid them, she knew there’d be bountiful coins and valuable stolen goods lurking inside. “There is another way if I really want money fast…far more than those are worth.” She nodded at the bucket. “You could take a cut if you help me. It might be trouble but you did say you wanted adventure.” Casting a sly sidelong glance his way, she waited to judge his reaction...

[Rillewen]

@Lailyn

Kiaran
Laketown dock

Girls sure do act strange, Kiaran thought, puzzled by her sudden suspicion of his offer to help her sell the oysters. He wondered why she demanded to know who he knew, and frowned, with a genuinely confused expression when she wouldn't let him take the bucket. Honestly, he only meant to be chivalrous and carry it for her. It must be getting heavy, with all the rain pouring down and all. Just when he was about to back off and say whatever, she changed her mind and let go. Kiaran was truly baffled by this female. Having not ever gotten too close to them, he didn't know quite what to expect. After a short hesitation at her insisting to know who it was he knew, he finally answered, "There's just this guy I met, but he seems like a suspicious fellow and I don't think I'd trust him." He tried to give her the vaguest explanation possible. After all, if he let on that he knew Tarric, there's a chance that she might have heard of the merchant as well, and that might be inconsistent with his present story.

The young thief made a face at her mentioning a hat, that it was non-negotiable. "A hat? What for?" He laughed, finding that a strange requirement just to travel with her. Having been given the bucket to carry, he took it and poured a little of the excess water out to lighten the load. Seeing she had turned to look toward town, Kiaran motioned for her to come along as he set out toward some restaurants not too far away, curious as she revealed a side of her that she'd yet to show til now. In fact, Kiaran thought, glancing at her with curiosity, perhaps she wasn't as unaccustomed to the idea of theft as he'd first thought. He couldn't quite tell what was going on with this girl, but she had changed her attitude rather quickly, and that made him raise an eyebrow. "Sounds interesting..." He commented, intrigued what she had in mind, but one must be careful.

"Let's get rid of these, and then we'll talk." He added with a nod toward the bucket of oysters. "You never said what you're asking for them... seems, last I heard, they were going for around...uh," He had to stop and think hard to recall what the going rate was when he'd last tried to sell them. "Thirty-something Castars? Sound about right?" He glanced at her for confirmation before opening the backdoor to the restaurant. The cooks were busy about their work, and none-too-happy to find two wet, probably smelly teenagers intruding in their cooking space. The head chef quickly chased them out, but Kiaran shrugged as he exited the place quickly. "Oh well, next stop, better luck maybe?" He grinned and made for the next place.

Pushing the back door open a bit, he was just in time to hear the cooks talking in a near panic about running out of this, and then out of that...
"What'll we do?"
"Well someone is going to have to go to the market and buy..whatever they can get! Anything! We have to have more food to serve or we'll have to shut down for the rest of the day!"

Kiaran looked at Ljúfa and grinned. "These are as good as sold, just follow my lead, alright?" He whispered before stepping in further, clearing his throat to get their attention. "Good afternoon sir, I hope we're not interrupting, but I wondered if you might be interested in these delightful, fresh oysters?" He spoke quickly before the man could order them to get out. Catching the head chef off guard, the man stared at him in confusion for a second before looking at the bucket, then a look slowly dawned on his face as if he'd just had an answer to prayer fall in right his lap. "Oysters!" He paused, then frowned thoughtfully, a bit suspicious. "How much you want for them?"
"Well, let's see... fresh out of the water, all in excellent condition, quite uniform in size... Priced at a very reasonable 55 Castars a dozen."
"Fifty-five!" The man looked like he'd been physically attacked, recoiling in shock. "Fifty per dozen? The going rate is 30, young man! Off with you, I'll just send someone to the market to get what we need."

Kiaran shrugged, as if it was no concern of his. "Well, good luck. The market is closed for the day." He had no idea if that were true, but neither did the chef.
"Closed?" The chef looked a bit horrified at this news.
"Well, it's pouring buckets out there, hadn't you noticed?" Kiaran pointed out. "Did you think we got wet by swimming to the bottom of the lake to gather these things by hand?"
The man frowned. "Closed..." He eyed the bucket of oysters a bit differently, now. "I don't know..." He hesitated. "I can offer you...35?"
Kiaran shook his head, making a 'I don't think so' type face. "Sorry, we're asking 55. I can go to 50..."
"That's far above the going rate, and I'm offering you an excellent price at 35!"
"As I recall, the "going rate" tends to fluctuate according to availability... and these happen to be the only ones available... unless you want to go catch some for yourself." Kiaran pointed out.

The man looked torn, glancing back at his kitchen as yet another cook called out to inform him they'd run out of something else, then back at the oysters. "I'll pay you 40..."
Kiaran frowned, taking a good long moment to look like he was thinking hard on that. "40...per dozen?"
"Yes, per dozen."
He looked at Ljúfa and gave a subtle wink, trying to indicate she keep playing along. He turned back to the chef with a heavy sigh. "I really shouldn't do this, my boss might not be too happy, but... how about 45? That's the absolute lowest I can go."
"45?" The chef frowned. "No, forget it, I can't do that price."
"Alright, sorry we couldn't help you." Kiaran turned with a shrug, and started for the door, but took his time going.

Just then, a server entered, frantic. "A whole group of important-looking people just came in, and they're very hungry! Should I tell them they'll have to go to the place next door?"
"To the competition? Are you out of your mind?"
"We've nothing to serve, though..."

Kiaran grinned at Ljúfa, counting in his head as there was a brief pause, waiting for what he knew was coming.
Sure enough, the chef called after them just about the time they reached the door. "Wait! Come back...I'll take the oysters."
Kiaran turned, feigning surprise. "At 45?" He asked, as if suspecting a trick.
"Yes, at 45." The chef said grudgingly. "It's robbery, of course, but I'm desperate." He grumbled, motioning to someone to get some money to pay them.
Kiaran shook his head in disagreement, holding back a grin. "It's merely chance, sir. That we happened to come here, right as you needed us, with exactly what you needed." He turned over the bucket to one of the kitchen hands and watched them count out the oysters to see how many there were, then as the money was offered to him, Kiaran indicated with a motion of his hand that it be given to Ljúfa.

Having concluded that business ordeal, Kiaran couldn't get out of there fast enough. "Well, what do you think? Did we get enough out money of the horrible, slimy things?" He asked her, grinning with satisfaction. "What do you say we get some real food, and talk about this 'other way' you have of getting money. While we're at it, maybe we can figure out a few other things, like where you want to go and how to get you there." He suggested, rather hoping to get someplace warm and dry, and hoping she might be more receptive to answering a few things he wanted to know, now that he'd helped her get rid of the oysters. "Oh, and...I'm not afraid of trouble, by the way." He added with a grin. "Some have said that should've been my name."