AN: Sorry for the long break. I've had many other ideas for stories, people seem to not like this story that much, etc... plus just started in-person college. In fact, I'm posting this at 12:30 in the morning while watching a TangoTek stream recap and The American President. Talk about ADHD/Multitasking or whatever you want to call it. Seriously, if you like the entire series so far, PLEASE tell me otherwise I'll just drop the entire thing.

Thanks.

The road to Esgaroth had put Revan in a dour mood. Days had passed since Smaug's death, and the rush and thrill of adventure and battle had long since left. What was to come, and her plans to stop it weighed on her mind, so as much as the company needed her to be, she still wasn't completely better. She caught herself staring off into the distance at the most random times, caught in thought and remembrance.

Her pocket buzzed, jolting her out of her latest reverie. She pulled her horse behind Dwalin, and discreetly pulled her phone out of her pocket. She hadn't had a text from Eru since… she couldn't remember when, but she assumed that he was mad at her for bringing guns into Middle Earth, regardless of the amount of Lake-Towners she'd saved.

ERU: They're not gone, you know. They're still alive and happy, they merely remain in your world

While she was holding the phone, a new text appeared.

ERU: You did go against my directive with the firearms, but what's done is done. Either way, the fate of Arda will be changed forever, so you are forgiven."

"Oh," she whispered. "Thanks."

ERU: Do not worry for the road ahead. From what you have done here in Middle Earth, your time has certainly not gone wasted. Trust in your friends, and keep them close.

"Thanks again. I do have to ask- Why the mask?" she asked, wondering if it was more than a reference to the name she'd chosen.

ERU: You chose the name. You made the swords. Plus, it lends distinction, yet anonymity to you. There are heavy spells and enchantments on it as well, amplifying your power, and warding off that of others. I would hesitate to use it against Mairon, but against his Nazgûl, it will provide defense enough for your needs.

"Thank you again," she said, putting away the phone. Out of her satchel came the Mandalorian guise of Revan, forged by the Dwarves of Erebor in days long passed.

"Dwalin," she called to the stout dwarf ahead of her, bringing her horse alongside his.

"Yes lass?" he asked, hands still white-knuckled on the reins and cantle of his saddle.

She held up the mask/helmet showing it to him. "It might be best if I am not recognized in Esgaroth. Bifur found this for me in Erebor, so for the duration of my stay, I'll be wearing this in public."

"Can you even see out of it, lass?" he asked as she put it on. It was comfortable, padded so it wouldn't chafe, covering her head.

"I can see well enough," she said, looking around. The wide visor of the mask allowed unimpeded vision, and whatever the substance was that filled in the visor reduced the brightness and glare of the sunlight to visible levels.

"Your voice sounds different, lass. Good thing too."

Cracking a smile under the helmet she said, "Sick of the sound of my voice already, Dwalin?"

The Dwarf let out a roaring laugh, which Revan joined in. "So long as you don't try to sing in Khuzdul again, lass. Your accent is terrible!"

Pulling off the helmet as the pair came upon a rise, Esgaroth spread down below them, foggy and low, Revan halted her horse.

Home is behind

The world ahead.

And there are many paths to tread.

Through shadow

To the edge of night,

Until the stars are all alight.

Mist and shadow

Cloud and shade.

All shall fade

All shall fade.

Still 'round the corner there may wait

A new road, or a secret gate.

And though we passed them by today

Tomorrow we may come this way.

And take the hidden paths there from

Towards the Moon or to the Sun.

Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,

Let them go! Let them go!

Sand and stone and pool and dell,

Fare you well! Fare you well!

She wiped the tears from her eyes, coughed and roughly put the helm back on her head, spurring her horse into a walk towards the gloomy city. She yanked the cowl of her hood over the helm, as Dwalin yelled at her from behind.

"What the bloody hell was that?!" he asked. "Where did that come from? Revan!"

She was glad that he couldn't see her blushing furiously underneath the helmet. The singing Tolkien-ism of this world had caught hold of her, and she couldn't help herself, what with her mood and everything. "It's nothing. Sorry," she said, hoping the helmet muffled her voice enough.

"No, lass, it's not nothing," he said, pulling his horse alongside hers. "You go months without singing, anything, and suddenly you're all about singing a melancholy song. Now, I know about melancholy, and I'd swear on my beard that you're missing someone- or something."

She sighed, pulling off the helmet yet again. "When I was... When I..." she tried beginning, before sighing. "I… saw my family." she said.

"When?" Dwalin asked, voice soft.

"When the dragon knocked me out. I dreamt about them. That's why I've been… That's why…" she broke off. "I'm sorry. I know you all have-"

"Stop, lass." Dwalin said, squeezing her forearm. "Sure, we've all lost some, but somebody else's grief… you know what I mean. Besides, Mahal takes us all in the end." He almost pulled her off her horse in the rib-crushing hug he gave her. "Now, wipe your eyes, lass, take a deep breath, and remember everything will turn out right in the end."

Sniffling, she smiled. "How are you so… You know, you're a real softie for such a gruff dwarf," she laughed sadly.

"Don't tell the others," he said, smiling, and pulling away.

"Don't worry, I won't"

She hoped she was sufficiently intimidating as they entered Esgaroth. They certainly attracted attention, what with him being a dwarf and her with her mysterious mask. He loaded himself up with supplies to take back to his horse while she played bodyguard. She kept an easy hand rested on the pommel of her sword, and her mask intimidated the rest. She didn't even have to worry about the shopkeepers overcharging; they were too nervous between the two of them.

Her mind wandered often, but she made sure to keep close to Dwalin. Too soon, though, they had to part.

"Make sure you keep the lads safe," the gruff dwarf said.

"Of course," she replied.

"And eh… make sure that you don't get arrested, lass," he finished.

"Of course," she agreed, with a slight chuckle. He hoisted his pack onto his shoulder, and then he was gone, and she was alone. She was beginning to think that this was a terrible idea. This was the first time she'd been alone in… quite some time. Alone with her thoughts. About to murder someone.

She chuckled to herself under the helm. "What exactly makes assassination different from murder? What makes assassination different from an execution?"

She made her way to Bard's small house, and rapped on the door.

The gruff bargeman grouchily opened the door. "I have no time for masked strangers," he said, then slammed the door on her quickly placed foot.

Grunting in pain, she answered, "How about someone who killed a specific dragon?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Slowly the door opened. "I've helped you enough. What more do you want from me?"

"It's not what I want from you, it's what I want for, you, Bard. I need your help assassinating the mayor."

"I would love to see the mayor removed, but legally! Assasination is not the way!" Bard hissed.

"If a mysterious masked figure assassinates the mayor, publicly, with you in plain view, then you will not be a suspect at all."

He paused contemplating.

"How would you do it?" he asked.