So this is far from my best work. But I needed a filler. It could be better, but I'd like to flatter (*ahem* lie to) myself into thinking it could be worse too. Enjoy!
Mena allowed a small, shaky smile to come across her face at that, even as nervous as she was, as she thought of her friend and hoped he was happy back in the home of his youth. "I could not answer that honestly, your highness, without knowing many dwarves myself. For my part, I hope that arrogance is not strong within me, but I wouldn't know. Sir." He rose at that, and glided closer impossibly smoothly. It seemed as though the wood elves didn't walk, they floated. After he had come full circle, he gave a small nod as though assuring himself of something, then spoke once more. "Lieutenant Túrolas informs me that you have some knowledge of my people from your father, who was among the rangers of the north. You should have known better than to enter my lands uninvited and unpermitted. Especially considering that this is the second time you find yourself within my walls, taken by one of my patrols."
Mena paled and would have tried to explain, but the king spoke again before she could. "I have also been told that you did not trespass here by choice, but you were taken and wounded by slavers traveling through the southern reaches of my forest. You may continue to rest and heal in my halls, and when you are recovered I shall provide an escort for you to the human town of Dale. From there, you may make your way back to your home, wherever it may be. For now, you are welcome in my halls, Mena, daughter of the Dúnedain."
She breathed a sigh of relief, and bowed again, a bit lower this time in respect, and thanked him. He nodded a brief dismissal, and then turned to speak with the Lieutenant once again. As he began to speak, the guards who had escorted her to the throne room led Mena back through the twisting halls, until they reached a room not unlike the one she had stayed in when she and Frerin had been in Rivendell. It was nothing fancy to the elves, but to Mena after so long living as a slave in the wilderness, it seemed as though it were Valinor itself.
As her wounds were no longer life threatening, thanks to the talents of Sawen and other elven healers, she did not require any further treatment, and after joyously partaking in the bath generously provided, Mena fell deep into a much needed healing sleep in record time.
The next morning when she woke up she was provided with food and water, and three changes of clothes nearly identical to that which her father had worn. The unofficial 'uniform' of a Ranger of the North, forest green tunic, gray leggings, and a sturdy dark gray cloak. She thanked the elf who had brought it, and he told her that he had personally met few of the rangers himself, but over the years whenever he had visited his distant kin in Rivendell and there had been a ranger or two there, they had always seemed to be the very best of all Mankind.
Mena agreed heartily, thinking longingly of her father and sisters, and disgustedly at the opposite- scum like the slavers who were, for all she cared, feed for the giant spiders said to inhabit the forest. She hoped their filthy corpses made the unholy spawn of Ungoliant sick.
The next morning, Sawen came to the room Mena had slept in, bearing breakfast and good tidings. The cheerful scribe happily announced that Mena would be as physically healed as possible and ready to travel by the next morning. The human was beyond grateful, for though nightmares had plagued her sleep, and she had woken with a silent scream more than once, believing herself to still be under the hand of the slavers, she still wished to return to Erebor. The girl knew that it was likely unhealthy to be repressing her emotions regarding her captivity, but she could not travel alone while breaking down and trying to deal with what had happened. Bravely, she held to the hope that whatever repercussions occurred from her repressing as much of that time as she could, could be resolved with time, when she was truly safe.
For now, all she could think of was to once again attempt to get into the Lonely Mountain, and to reunite with Frerin. Perhaps speaking with her old friend could help her, both in her struggles coping with being tortured and raped for so long a time, and sharing in her grief at the loss of her sisters. The golden haired dwarrow, of all people, would understand what enslavement and the loss of family felt like. It seemed a good way to start, at least.
One thing, though, that puzzled the human, was why the elves would so readily release her, especially into a town of Men so close to Erebor, where her most recent masters lived and had so recently returned to. What if, on her way into the mountain, she ran into Fíli and Kíli? Would they not attempt to reclaim their slave? They had paid good gold for her, after all, and while she would never speak ill of Frerin, even he was straightforward regarding the fact that most, if not all, dwarves are very fond of the yellow metal. The only explanation for the elves' seeming apathy was just that; apathy. Their pride and sense of ego would not permit them to leave her enslaved to two dwarves of all creatures on their land, but they didn't care enough to try to control her actions once she was free. Mena was only grateful that she seemed to be in full control of her faculties, and had no messed up desire to return to slavery or some such.
As she chatted idly with Sawen, the scribe began to sketch out a drawing of the forest view from the window, and Mena was only half paying attention until the elf mentioned Dale, which was apparently where she would find herself the next day. Again. She felt herself drifting a bit as she listened to the scribe's musical voice, re-telling the story of Laketown, and how King Bard, once a simple bargeman, though descendent of the noble, wise, and fair Lord Girion, had become the 'King' of the city of Men on the borders of the great lake.
The city of Dale had long stood upon the shores of the great lake, near to Erebor, and the city flourished, for they had an alliance with the mighty and prosperous dwarves, and there was peace in the lands of Men. Then, a cruel, foolish, greedy soul took office, calling himself the 'Master of Laketown'. 'Laketown' had become a nickname for Dale, as it stood so near to the great lake, and was often referred to by either name.
Three years past, the then-'Master of Laketown' and several of his traitorous men, blinded by unnecessary and poisonous greed, had formulated a plan to betray the long-standing alliance with Erebor and attempt to get a spy or thief inside the mountain to steal gold for the men loyal to the master of the city. Bard, at the time a mere bargeman, discovered the plot, and rallied the people of the town against the master. He had mistreated them liberally for years, unchecked and unchallenged, but the people were finally prepared to stand up to him and overthrow him for this treachery.
The men of Dale had no desire to bring down the wrath of their mighty dwarven neighbors upon them, and quickly implemented a swift and effective coup, executing the master and the ringleaders for their crimes. Some of the townspeople got carried away with power, and wanted to put to death everyone even suspected of having played a part in the crimes, but Bard stepped up and demanded mercy for any who would admit to being part of it immediately.
Several stepped forward, and when they weren't immediately killed, all others who had been involved save for four also admitted their guilt. Bard commanded that they be put on a sort of 'community service', working to rebuild homes and barns for those too poor or physically unable to do so themselves. Although most of the criminals were content, and grateful for the merciful conditions of their punishment, one muttered loudly, "And who do you think you are, the King of Laketown?"
Immediately, a man in the crowd shouted out "Hail Lord Bard, King of Laketown", and the cheer was taken up unanimously. The people of Dale accounted their continued safety to Bard, and were grateful and overjoyed to now have a leader that was pure of heart and generous of deed. Although the humble man tried to protest, it was decided all around that he would take the place of the now-dead traitors.
As for the other four criminals who did not step forth immediately to admit to their guilt, they were discovered later and put to death quickly and mercilessly. Since that day, the town has flourished under Bard's hand even as it had under his ancestor's.
Mena blinked a bit as Sawen's tale ended, and smiled gratefully at her friend for the telling. The next morning, she was indeed healed enough to depart, and she made tracks for Dale with no delay, mercifully arriving without further incident. She entered the city with little trouble, and was able to rent a tiny room at a filthy inn for the night with a small sum of gold that Sawen had gifted her with right before her departure from the Woodland Realm.