The watcher

The great bell rang six times, echoing around the city as the people of Dale cheered with joy. Watching from the walkways, up on the wall, Legolas stood beside Bain, arms folded. The vigilant young man leaned over the ledge, facing the valley and the river as it cascaded below.

"Dale was known for its bells," Legolas told him. "Their sound can be heard as far as Esgaroth, on the Celdwin river. They were meant to warn the valley of the dangers that the lie within Erebor."

"You mean Smaug," corrected Bain without looking. "You can say his name. He's not coming back, you know?"

Smirking at the reminder of the dragon's slaying by his father, Legolas adjusted his speech with respect.

"My apologies, son of Bard, Dragonslayer."

Bain rubbed a hand against his forehead and slowly turned to face Legolas before shrugging.

"Everyone is always so protective of me, like I can't be on my own or defend myself. At thirteen years old I'm not a child anymore."

"And I have seen thousands of years pass," impishly replied Legolas. "You are all children to me."

Mouth gaped, Bain stood silent for a moment before directing his gaze downward where the hills rolled white and orange under the setting sun of the west.

"I see movement. There." His index pointed at the gray spot that glided along the horizon.

"You have good eyes, for a son of man," Legolas remarked. "That is a gray wolf of the northern valley. It has followed me since Erebor."

Legolas paused and held Bain's stare so as to divert him from the animal.

"When I left the battleground I found her wounded and starving as she was a victim of goblin torture. They use wolves to serve them in war, just like they would capture and abuse young people like you and your sisters to become slaves."

Burning embers lit the boy's eyes but no tears came, he only took a deep breath, exhaled and pulled out a dagger from his belt. It was simple weapon without ornaments, but looked very sharp.

"For as long as I live, never will another orc, goblin or troll pass these gates. I promise."

The grim look of a warrior was on Bain as he sheathed his blade and Legolas kept a rebuttal to himself, once again saddened that a soul so young would age so fast.

A voice rose from the foot of the wall, calling Bain's name. It was the oldest daughter of Bard who hurried up the stairs to find her brother. Not much taller than him, she stood confidently and gazed straight ahead of her, dark curly locks escaping her bun as the wind blew.

"Bain," she called again, "you missed dinner time and father is worrying."

She stopped talking to look up at Legolas, her stern face turning aghast, losing her words.

"I'll be right there, Sigrid," replied Bain. "Legolas and I were discussing defense strategies against the orcs."

Her eyes flew from her brother to the elf when she tightened the wrap of a woolen shawl around her neck.

"Regardless, we don't want you to keep father up with your constant roaming. I'm supposed to look after you. Remember?"

"I'm fine," Bain insisted as they both followed her towards the keep. "Besides, Legolas was with me all afternoon. You do know that we would be dead if not for him, don't you?"

Looking over her shoulder, Sigrid let out a short sigh before nodding. "I do. And I thank you, sir. My little brother can be headstrong, if not stubborn, ever since he's been killing orcs and running with sharp objects."

There were soldiers and guards patrolling the streets at all times, it wasn't like he'd been the only example of violence and killing available to the young man. Legolas returned a sideways look at Sigrid, unwavering from her duty as the older sister and lead them towards the dining hall. A plate of food and drink was waiting on the large, empty table.

"Eat," ordered Sigrid to Bain. "Then go to your room as soon as you finished."

The boy did not protest, showing utmost respect towards his sibling despite the harsh tone she used. Letting the family have their matters in private, Legolas exited the keep and stood on the terrasse, night fall was near, and the western sky turned to crimson red.

"He admires you."

Sigrid stood at the large door, keeping her distances behind Legolas. He addressed the young woman a sympathetic nod.

"My efforts to discourage your brother from taking up arms to fight intruders seem vain. He is a warrior at heart."

"And the heir to the throne of Dale," she added to his sentence, arms folded tightly beneath her shawl. "He is too young to be fighting. We'll need a peacekeeper, not a fighter. I fear he may start to believe it's the only way to be if you keep in his company for too long."

Pulling a sandy brown lock of hair behind her ear, she avoided his gaze and fixed a point on the horizon. The setting sun and the past weeks made her look very much like a grown woman.

"He will have you as a more lasting impression. I am merely passing by."

While Bain was driven by grief and revenge, his sister was projecting a strength much like that of their father. Sigrid's voice sounded earnest when she approached the balustrade to lean and look down towards the city.

"I would have taken up arms to fight, to the death if need be. I know what sacrifice means. My mother..." Her words faded suddenly and she lifted up wide eyes at him, before straightening her back and clearing her throat. "I still remember my mother and if I die, too, there wouldn't be many left to claim that they knew her."

It had been so long since Legolas had seen his own mother, so long that his memories of her were fleeting like a partially forgotten dream. There were days when he'd come to realize that he no longer remembered the sound of her voice. His father never spoke of her, never celebrated his wife. She was as good as lost forever.

Legolas dared not close his eyes or make a sound for a moment. Thinking of Dale, the snow hills and the wolf made his sorrow light and he was able to breathe normally again.

Sigrid broke his line of thought with a question, looking at him with concern.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No," he reassuringly answered, stretching his lips. "Your words rang true to what I've been struggling to understand on my own. For that I'm grateful, Lady Sigrid."

If it weren't for the light of dusk, he would have said that she was blushing slightly.

"I'm just a common girl from Lake Town, Master Elf. Even if my father is the ruler here, I'm still just Sigrid, and always will be."

"Wisdom and devotion seem to come naturally to you," explained Legolas. "Your mother must have been a remarkable woman."

Smiling timidly, Sigrid turned away again to look at the last ray of the setting sun.

"She was."

The caged fires made shadows dance along the streets and pathways in the night time. Legolas found his way outside the gates of Dale, walking out and into the darkness under the stars. Guards could still see him if they had his own elf eyes, but they were men and he would have to announce himself once returning to the bridge. He'd let them know of any incidents during his leave.

Legolas sat alone on a boulder, finding himself at the top of a rocky hill. He embraced the silence, the solitude. Peace, at last.

But he missed the tall trees of his home, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the constant sound of life as it thrived in the haven of Mirkwood. The homesickness was fleeting, he was familiar with it, and it passed as soon as he focused his attention elsewhere.

In the dead of the night, far across the valley to the east, he spotted a shadow creeping at the foot of a lonely oak. Smiling to himself, Legolas stood and ventured forth.

Only the snow cracking under his boots made any noise as he approached the tree. The brambles surrounding it weren't as thick as to provide cover for anything to hide. His suspicion grew while his heart sunk. Where had the wolf gone?

Eyes widening, Legolas scanned his surroundings for movement, a scent, a track in the snow. He paced around the tree and looked for paw prints.

Boot prints in a single line coming from downhill, they were smaller than his own. They lead to the tree, circled a few times and ended there. Legolas looked up, his chest tightening around his fast beating heart.

The black rubber sole of a boot landed upon his face and he fell backwards in utter shock. His mind raced as he struggled to get up - to look up at his assailant - and mentally listed all of the potential threats known in the region. The absence of smell or sound eluded him completely. But now he could hear the breathing of a person; it sounded as that of a man.

Dressed in all black attire, face masked by dark fabric, they stood a head shorter than Legolas. Another kick flew towards him but this time he was prepared. Dodging back, he replied with a swipe of his own leg and failed to topple the man who leaped and hit Legolas square in the chest. Lungs emptied violently, shaken by the attack, Legolas pulled out his daggers and slashed at another blow directed to his head. He missed again. It was but a shadow that he was trying to catch and it managed to make him fall again, hitting his knee and back. One weapon was knocked out of his grasp.

The snow softened his fall but rage came over him. Legolas waited, seething, a hand hidden in his back still clutching his remaining knife. The eyes of his attacker were visible through a small opening in his mask. They were circled with black and he was sallow-skinned. Easterling. What were they doing here?

Legolas shut down his questioning and took his chance. The man was right over him, he kicked him in the ankle, and as the masked one began to roll forward, Legolas struck with his blade, piercing his side. The man let out a gasp. He fell upon Legolas, accidentally pressing his body on top of his. He - she - had undeniable female attributes. She started to run.

Quickly regaining his balance, Legolas had his bow and arrow ready and aimed at the Easterling.

"Don't move!" he warned.

But he was compelled to fire an arrow into the woman's leg to make her stop. Before he released his bowstring, a blur of gray and white made her topple over. The wolf caught one of her forearms and shook its head vigorously, strong paws holding the Easterling to the ground. Legolas caught up with them and aimed his arrow at her.

"I said," he growled, "don't move."

As if answering his command, the wolf let go of the female and stepped back, still growling. Dark eyes looked up at Legolas, pleading silently.

"Who are you and what brings you here?" he asked.

She gave no response. Pulling her up, Legolas realized his clothes were covered in blood. He used the pummel of his sword to knock the female unconscious.

The gates opened when he was seen carrying the inert body of the Easterling female. The guards shouted for Bard to be awakened for an emergency. The Lord of Dale wasn't asleep, luckily, and arrived promptly in an annex of the keep's war room. Still soiled with the blood of his attacker, Legolas tied the stunned woman to a solid chair for interrogation and soldiers circled the perimeter. Having caught a spy meant absolute containment of the information. The city was placed under lock down in case more foes lurked.

Physicians helped clean up the wounds and bandage the prisoner. Bard looked angered as he paced around the Easterling. Her mask was removed so they could see her darkened eyelids over pale sallow complexion. The woman's hair was jet-black and straight although tied to a bun in the back of her neck. A splash of cold water woke her up and she gasped, eyes blinking before she looked around her. Her surprise turned to rage and disappointment.

"Where is the rest of you?" Bard asked pressingly. "Where is your outpost?"

Narrowing her brown eyes, she eyed Legolas, then slowly blinked before setting her gaze on Bard. No word came out of her mouth.

The bowman took a few steps back, holding the handle of his sword at his belt.

"How long have you been here? Two? Three days?"

Still no answer.

"Open your mouth," ordered Bard, "so that we can see if you still have your tongue."

She did nothing of what she was asked.

"You will speak," Legolas calmly said, deciding to step up.

Unsheathing one of his daggers, he stepped behind the woman to lock her head against his blade. She barely resisted, almost leaning into his weapon.

"Legolas," suddenly intervened Bard. "This may not be necessary."

He pointed at the woman's neck, then leaned forward to pull down the collar of her tunic.

Turning around to face her, Legolas parted his lips before sighing through his nostrils. He put away his dagger. The woman had had her vocal chords ripped out and the scar was a thin red line on her neck.

The look in her eyes was not exactly defiant, and not pleading either. It was an expression of both hatred and submission.

Once put away in an iron-barred cell, the intruder was placed under guard and isolated while Bard and Legolas conversed in the war room. The large oaken table had carvings of a map of the region. He had his tunic taken for cleaning and stood with the Lord of Dale in his chain mail and shirt.

"There hasn't been any men of Rhûn in the west for countless years," muttered Bard, pacing along the table with his hands clasped in his back. "Do you think they're coming after the gold?"

Legolas, standing aloof across the room, let his attention wander over the map.

"Easterlings never leave their realm unless driven by war against Gondor. They avoid the mountains and forest, out of fear or caution. My kin has never been merciful towards the Men of Darkness." His gaze traveled towards the prisoners quarters. "We caught one of their spies, but that doesn't mean another will come. Rhûn is a long journey away."

Shaking his head at him, Bard frowned pessimistically.

"We are not ready for another siege."

"A siege is what you would have if you respond to their provocation." Legolas paused to consider what he could tell about a prisoner that couldn't speak. "A lone, unarmed scout, rendered speechless and sent far from her country during the harsh season. How is this not a suicidal mission?"

Bard, evidently intrigued by that line of thought, folded his arms against his chest.

"They're expecting us to come to them."

"It's been too long since the Easterlings have fought the Free People. They're itching for war."

And so were all armies of the darkness, down to the spiders in Mirkwood. If danger was closing in from the east, then they would be caught in an ambush of unprecedented scale. Legolas wondered about Tauriel. Had she come in contact with the Dwarves of Dun, she would be facing even more pressing matters if the Men of Rhûn were on their way.

"You seem familiar with them," remarked Bard. "Would the King of the Woodland Realm gather his forces to oppose the Easterlings?"

"If presented with compelling evidence of their plans to attack. I would have to investigate."

"Please, Legolas. If help is what you've come to provide, this would be a great aid to us... I'm afraid our men wouldn't find courage at the thought of fighting again so soon."

The request he heard made Legolas question his allegiance with the people of Dale. His father and his kin had fought alongside them, yes, but that didn't mean the elves of Mirkwood could become their devoted soldiers.

"Let them hear reason when the time comes," he told Bard. "They pledged their allegiance to you, did they not?"

Bard furrowed his brow at him. "We are healing and rebuilding. These are not times for warmongering."

Legolas narrowed his eyelids before turning away.

"The prisoner may not have a voice, but she can still give us information."

He'd interrogated plenty of enemies before, sometimes using extreme measures to obtain answers. Easterlings spoke their own tongue, scarcely knowing Westron, and were averse to elves. Getting an able-bodied Rhûn man to talk was enough of a struggle. Legolas approached the iron bars of the cell without a plan. The woman lied on her wooden cot, a hand resting on the bandaged section of her abdomen. Her left forearm was patched, too, because of the wolf's fangs as it held her down. She opened her eyes and slowly sat up.

"Would you like to eat?" asked Legolas.

She nodded, once.

Deciding that an individual should be judged for their actions, Legolas asked a guard to provide drink and food. The Easterling hadn't acted unprovoked, she would have been armed if killing anyone was her intention.

Some water, bread and hot vegetable stew was provided after a few minutes. The portion was large, as if the cook expected the meal to be for him. He gave the bowl and jug to the prisoner instead, and watched as she eagerly drank the water, and used the bread to eat the stew. She wasn't going to speak anyway, he thought.

She returned the empty jug and bowl and went back to sit on her cot. She held her side again, wincing.

"Were you spying on me?" Legolas asked.

She shook her head before looking at him furtively.

"So, were you spying on the people of Dale?"

No reaction, which told him enough to continue on.

"Are you from Rhûn?" No. "The Dunlands?"

A hesitation, and she nodded. Beyond the Blue Mountains, east of Mordor, were the Dunlands. The people who dwelt there were wildlings, savages, brute men who associated with the men of Rhûn under Khamul, carrier of a ring of power given to him by Sauron. The corrupting forces of that evil spread far across the lands and pushed people into submission.

"Are you scouting for an attack on Dale?"

Sad eyes lifted up and she looked at him, imploring. Slowly, she motioned "no" with her lips and looked at her toes again.

Legolas felt tension in his legs as his gut told him to keep his distance, focus on something else and maybe leave that town for a while. When he'd observed someone talk to another elf through prison bars, it had been a dwarf who entertained romantic feelings towards his interrogator. Crossing his arms he skeptically cocked an eyebrow at the Dunlending.

"Did you come here alone?"

An affirmative response. She clutched at the bed, nails digging idly at the wood. If he believed her he would have to risk the safety of his new haven. There was time and protection to be gained by keeping her restrained for now.

As he had hoped, Legolas found Bard eavesdropping in the anti-chamber of the jail, a concerned expression on his tired face.

"Do with her as you please," he told the Lord of Dale. "She doesn't seem very consequential."

"Then why was she made unable to speak? She couldn't tell you of her secrets."

"She came here unarmed and alone. Pity is what one would have towards a female shunned from her lands. Do not fall for that trap."

"So, you admit there might be foul play. What would Lord Thranduil do?"

Legolas felt his jaw muscles contract at the thought of his king, his father. He still felt the sudden weight of the orc's head as his neck was severed by Thranduil's blade. Legolas had gotten angry, but soon understood why his father needn't waste more time on a prisoner.

"My father would tell you to keep training your army, to stay alert and not hesitate to send word to Mirkwood if you suspected an invasion from the East."

Throwing a look back at the Easterling, Bard mulled over a thought before giving Legolas his answer.

"I will release the prisoner. Since she won't speak, we'll have to figure out what she does next." Before Legolas had time to protest his plan, Bard pointed a finger at him. "I will have her followed, of course."

"You would misplace your trust in me for that task."

"Why not? With all due respect, Master Elf, have you not proven your abilities in combat and defense?"

Legolas shot back a lethal look at Bard. It wasn't often that anyone would so easily provoke him.

"Perhaps I should make my intentions clear for your mortal mind," he responded, letting the man slowly back away from him. "The Easterling wouldn't last long under my watch. I have more pressing matters to tend to."

"Then the woman stays here," calmly said Bard, lines forming upon his forehead. "If pity and compassion are what makes men weak, then I'm glad I'm not as strong as you or your kin, Prince of Mirkwood."

Troubled to the point of silence, Legolas took leave of Bard, accepting that he, as an undying elf, would have time to witness and learn from the fall of men. Eventually he would find solace in having stood his ground in the face of adversity. Recovering his cloak, Legolas strode off into the sleeping streets of Dale.

"Lord Legolas."

Not completely asleep, to his displeasure. Legolas turned towards the short-haired, bearded young man running up to him, holding a short sword. It was the soldier who had opened the gates for him when Legolas brought the spy into town. He was panting and spoke quickly.

"Our guards spotted a wolf over the eastern hills. They're waiting for it to come closer so they can kill it... I told them not to, but they wouldn't listen."

Breaking into a run, Legolas climbed up the stairs to reach the top of the wall, immediately spotting two archers looking in the same direction. It would be light soon, beyond the eastern horizon, and they would be able to get a clear shot of the wolf.

"My Lord," said one guard, a crooked smile on his lips, "joining us for the hunt?"

"You will do no such thing. That wolf belongs to me. Stand down, or I will see that you take its place with nothing but your hair to keep you warm."

What cheer the two men shared suddenly dissipated and they froze in disappointment. The other guard wrinkled his nose with scorn.

"Then have it leave our lands," retorted the first guard. "We won't have no mangy dog causing distress to our townsmen."

All three men looked at him, expecting a reprimand or threat. Legolas made no such remark and simply headed towards the stairs. His arrival at Dale coincided with that of the Easterling and now a wild predator. Staying any longer would be frowned upon. The friendly soldier walked at his side and waited to be out of earshot of the guards.

"I can't promise they won't attempt to hunt your wolf," he said with a cynical tone. "These men crave the high of battle. They've waited years to have something to kill and defending this city wasn't enough, it seems."

"What is your name, soldier?"

"Aered, my Lord," diligently replied the man.

Legolas made a conscious effort to remember the name, pushing back the nagging thought that he might never see or hear of that man again.

"You have my gratitude, Aered. But I've lingered too long among your people. I must be gone by daylight."

He found the way back to the keep where Bard's people were tending to his tunic and prepared a room for the night. The guard stood by and waited for his moment to speak.

"For what it's worth, Lord Legolas, your presence here gave me hope. All of my family now believes we can have a future with the elves as our friends, and not just during a war. You see, my wife tailors fine clothes and makes pottery. My father died at the hands of a troll... I don't want my sons to follow in my footsteps, or his."

Trying to soften his painful smile, Legolas faced Aered with what little honesty he could offer.

"Hope is good, Aered of Dale. Keep your family hopeful but not blind to dangers that come from the east. Dreaming of peace comes at a cost."

"I won't forget your words of wisdom, my Lord." The soldier nodded sharply before straightening his back. "If you must leave so soon, it would be my honor to provide you with anything you need on your journey."

Legolas didn't want to enable so much reverence towards him or abuse of their hospitality, but the people of Dale had been given much help and assistance in times of need. Perhaps one change of clothes and one horse was payment enough.

He had gotten no sleep that night, and by sunrise Legolas rode the eastern path towards the hills. The guards atop the watchtowers could see him disappear into the morning mists, riding a black steed and wearing the brown attire of the Dale rangers.

The sun rose orange and bright, shedding light and warmth upon his skin, its reflection upon the snow blinding him. Legolas turned his head to look over his shoulder. Dale was illuminated in daylight and the bells rang six times. Soon, people would notice his absence and they may not wonder why he'd left.

Snow crunched and the horse blew its nostrils in distress, drawing his attention back on the road ahead. He found his smile when a black nose and clear brown eyes were directed at him, attentive to his next decision.

"Good morning, wolf."

To be continued.