My sincerest thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story so far! I hope you continue to enjoy my work, and please remember that all comments are very welcome. Thank you all!

The dawn of the next day came swiftly; entirely too swiftly in Mena's humble opinion. After nearly half of an hour of shouting and shoulder-shaking, Frerin finally yielded, and quite literally picked the human up, dragging her away from her bedroll, and then dropped her bodily on the ground. Groaning and grumbling as if she had been stabbed, and not merely abruptly awoken, the human finally rose and packed up her things, glaring daggers at the dwarf. As opposed to Mena, the dwarf was decidedly a morning person, and just grinned at her.

They left shortly after partaking in a bit of lembas, which was surprisingly filling, and made good time as they approached Lake Town. Frerin's deep blue eyes were shining brighter than his hair in sunlight, as he laid eyes upon his home for the first time in decades. He was glowing with excitement, extremely eager to be home once again. Mena smiled contentedly, grateful that they had made it all the way with only minimal danger.

"Frerin, have you any family in Erebor? You spoke once of your elder brother, and a younger sister? Will they be here?"

"I hope so Mena, although I cannot be sure. It has been many, many years since I have seen my family. Rather like ye and your sisters, from what you've told me. Ye must miss them as much as I miss mine."

Mena smiled sadly, and replied, "Aye, I miss them a great deal, and worry for them every day. Ismira would be nearly 20 now, and Amy and Tamina 12 and 13. However, I know that they will be safe in the White City, so long as our aunt lives, and I have every confidence in Ismira's ability to protect the little ones. Perhaps, after you are safely home and with your kin again, I will travel the Brown Lands and make my way to Minas Tirith to pay them a visit. I do miss them greatly."

The dwarf nodded in understanding, and then went back to nearly bouncing upon his toes, very overeager to finally, finally be home once more. Would Thorin behave differently now that he had been ruling as King Under the Mountain for some time? Had Dís remarried after Víli's death? What did Fíli and Kíli look like after so many years? Would he even be remembered by his young sister-sons?

What seemed like an eternity later, the two finally stood gazing upon the great main gates of Erebor. Frerin took the lead then, beginning to sprint in his excitement to enter the mountain. Mena fell behind, smirking good-naturedly at his enthusiasm, and followed at a more sedate pace. The gates were open, a steady stream of men and dwarves going in and out, proof of Erebor's flourishing trade with Dale, and Mena lost sight of Frerin for a moment as he ducked and wove like a child, as he hurried through the crowds.

Mena paused for a moment, letting a large group of Men pass by on their way out of the mountain, when a young man came running up to them from the direction of Lake Town, and spoke urgently, "Excuse me, but do any of you know of a human woman who goes by the name of Mena? I have an urgent letter that I was told to give to her." Mena's eyes widened in surprise, as the group of men who were asked all denied any knowledge, and continued on their way.

The lad's shoulders drooped in defeat, and he glanced around, looking as if he were about to head back. "Lad!" she called out, stopping him before he could leave. "Forgive me for eavesdropping, but did you say you sought a woman named Mena?" He nodded quickly, "Aye, do you know her?"

"I am she" Mena replied, "From whom is this letter written?" The lad reached into a pouch at his side, and pulled out a well-worn piece of parchment, partially torn. "The man who gave it to me said it was from a young woman of Gondor, named Ismira."

At the name, Mena's eyes widened in shock, and she nearly snatched the letter from his hands. "Thank ye, lad. You may tell whoever sent you that your letter reached its intended recipient." He nodded, bowed slightly, and departed, looking eager to head back into Lake Town. Mena turned, glancing forward at Frerin, who seemed to have become engaged in a lively conversation with one of the guards at the gate, before turning her attention to the parchment in her hands.

Mena,

I write to you in an hour of great need. A sickness has come upon many families in the lower levels of Minas Tirith, and our aunt has succumbed to it. Amy is deathly ill as well, and is barely holding on. The medicines required to cure this sickness are extremely expensive, and I had no choice but to sell the home we were staying in to keep Amy alive. Tamena seems to be unaffected, although that could change at any time. We have no place to stay, and with Amy as ill as she is, I dare not take them North to you and Bilbo. Please, sister, we need your help. I have lost my job, and I cannot feed all of us. Our neighbors are as poorly off as we are, and none of the nobility can be bothered to help any of us. Without your aid, our family will perish. I cannot do this alone. Please, leave Bilbo for a time and come to the White City to save us!

Your sister,

Ismera

Mena went still, the letter falling from her hand to hit the ground, unnoticed. She stood completely frozen for a moment, then turned on her heel and sprinted, unheeding of anything surrounding her, her mind completely blank of all thoughts except for those of her sisters. She didn't spare a thought for the letter Bilbo had sent to her sisters right before they left, explaining that she would be leaving Bag End for a time, going with Frerin to Erebor. She didn't find it odd that Ismira referred to Aunt Tira as merely 'our aunt'. She did not even think of how strange it would be that Ismira would misspell Tamina's and her own name. Mena was completely fixated on just one thought. My sisters need me.

Mena ran blindly, focused only on reaching Minas Tirith, uncaring of the hundreds of miles of possibly hostile territory between her and the White City. In this state, she ran for many hours, until darkness covered the land and the sun rose again. Late in the afternoon of the second day of her desperate flight, she tripped, and found herself unable to rise again. Her body had finally collapsed from sheer exhaustion, all reserves finally exhausted.

As she lay panting in the grass, she barely registered the shadow that fell over her, and she was instantly surrounded by hooded men on horseback. She struggled to rise, trying desperately to get to her feet, but was struck across the back of the shoulders by a heavy fist, and fell. Blinking rapidly, her vision blurred in and out, and she gasped desperately as she saw familiar gray eyes. The old slave trader who had sold Frerin to her so long ago stood leering over her.