The tavern stayed relatively vacant that day, leaving Savina and her mother free to take care of Legolas. They cleaned his wound and put a clean bandage on his shoulder, then left him to catch up on his sleep.

            Gimli slept until on and on, grunting and snoring, as is normal for Dwarves.

            Aragorn chopped wood until it was nearly noon, then he came in, wiping sweat from his forehead, and sat in a booth in the corner of the tavern, staring intensely at everyone who came through the door.

            Around eleven o'clock, Savina's oldest brother, Marc, came to the tavern with the rack of ribs he brought everyday. He had nearly finished cooking them before he noticed the sleeping Dwarf and elf in the corner of the kitchen. He shouted and jumped backward into Savina, who just happened to be coming into the kitchen with a tray full of empty ale mugs.

            "Marc!" Savina screamed as the tray was knocked from her hands and the ale mugs went crashing deafeningly to the floor.

            Gimli jumped to his feet and grabbed his battle-axe, which was almost as tall as he was, and stood ready for battle, his short legs planted far apart and his glittering eyes fixed on Marc.

            Marc ignored the heap of mugs around his feet and stepped backward again, knocking Savina into the stove and causing her to yelp in pain and leap sideways, rubbing the side of her arm, which was turning bright red from where it burned when she touched the stove. Marc looked more like Relinot than she did like their father, he had short pale blonde hair and sapphire eyes, but his face carried some likeness to their lost father. His eyes turned a shade darker as he stared at the Dwarf and groped for his sword, which he had taken off to cook. "Who is that?" He sputtered.

            Savina examined the burn on her arm, tears of pain glinting in the corners of her eyes, "they are guests! Let them sleep!"

            Legolas had awoken and sat up and was looking at Marc as if he were a madman.

            Gimli, realizing there was no immediate danger, had put his axe down and clumped out of the kitchen, muttering about "crazy elves."

            Savina explained, in summary, what had happened.

            While she spoke, Aragorn had materialized at the kitchen door, as silent as a shadow.

Marc turned back to the ribs he was cooking, looking as though he felt particularly stupid. Then he glanced at Savina and mumbled something about needing her to go get basil from the marketplace. He pushed a gold coin into her hand and went back to his cooking as if nothing had happened.

            Savina squeezed through the door, past Aragorn, and made her way through the tavern, which was empty except for a half-orc merchant, a few humans, three elves, and Gimli. She grabbed her long, black cloak from a hook near the door and turned to tell her mother where she was going. She was surprised to see that Aragorn was right behind her.

            "I was wondering if I could come with you?"

            "Uh, sure." Savina turned to her mother, who was refilling Gimli's mug and looking at him with a look of disdain, "Malia, Aragorn and I are going to the marketplace for basil, we will be back soon."

            Relinot nodded and moved over a few tables to refill a human man's mug.

            Savina stepped out into the crowded street and sighed, it felt good to be back in the cool autumn air and sunshine. It seemed like it was so long ago that she had heard knocking at the tavern door and opened it to reveal a human, a dwarf, and an elf. She looked up at Aragorn as he emerged from the tavern behind her and turned to shut the door. Who was he, anyway? Where was he going? Why was he traveling with such an odd mix of companions? She studied his face, thinking of asking him, but decided against it, his face was honest and kind, but it was also watchful and shadowy. Aragorn was a man who kept secrets. She noticed Aragorn watching her and shook herself, "I wanted to stop by my house to change, my clothes are filthy…" she trailed off and gazed at Aragorn's clothes, which were travel-worn, bloody in some spots, and obviously in need of a cleaning, "I…I could wash your clothes for you, and your campanions', of course. We still have all of my father's clothes."

            Aragorn nodded, "thank you, you have been more than kind, someday I will repay your kindness."

            As they walked down the dusty street that was lined with peddlers and carts, Aragorn questioned her, "what city is this?"

            "Dubbin," Savina glanced around, "it's not a bad place to live, I was born in Mirkwood in my grandmother's house, but we moved here when I was almost three. This is where my father became the famous sword-maker; he used to have royalty of all races coming from the ends of Middle-Earth to buy swords from him. Before he disappeared, he was good friends with all sorts of people; I remember a Dragon HighLord named Naheka. He used to come around all the time to visit my father. He spoke Dragon," Savina paused, "I can't pronounce any of it, but listening to him and my father talk, I picked up on quite a lot of it." She was silent for a moment, "actually, I picked up on quite a few languages, some Orc, even."

            Aragorn looked at her, "Orc?"

            "Yes," she nodded, "there used to be half-Orc rebels who had formed alliances with the remaining humans in Gondor, they always in large groups," she laughed, "drove my father mad, trying to make swords for all of them at once."

            "Do you miss him much?"

            Savina looked down at her feet, "I loved my father," she looked up at Aragorn, "I don't think he's dead. I'll see him again."

            Aragorn studied her with his dark eyes, "where do you think he is?"

            "I don't know." She looked up at him again, "he was taken by force, by…someone or something." She looked down the street, a faraway look in her eyes, "but yet…"

            Aragorn touched her shoulder, "a doubt remains?"

            She looked at him quickly, "I…he's my father, he wouldn't just-" she broke off and pointed to a large, stone house that looked more like a fort than anything, "that's my house," she choked out, trying hard to sound as if tears weren't in her eyes and there wasn't a lump in her throat.

            Aragorn dropped his arm from her shoulder, "it's large."

            "It was built almost one hundred years ago for my mother's human father by a Dwarven construction crew, as you can probably tell by the architecture." She made her way to the stout wooden door and pushed it open, "if it's possible, we can move Legolas here so he can have a bed to rest in. We have four extra bedrooms."

            Savina led Aragorn into the front room, up a flight of stairs, to her mother and father's room. She tried hard not to look at her father's favorite sword; the one he said would be the rise and fall of him, as it hung on the wall over the bed.

            Aragorn stood looking at it silently, he moved closer so he could read the name on the silver handle, "Raliayatua?"

            Reluctantly, Savina looked at it, "it's my father's favorite sword, the first one he made; the one that made him famous, really. Then name is a MoonElf word that means, "Evil will fall before the hand of the daughter."

            "Why did he name it that?"

            Savina shrugged, "I don't really know, he never mentioned it's meaning." She turned to the chest of drawers against the wall and pulled open a drawer, "my father wasn't a small man; these should fit you." She pulled out a pair of brown pants and a white tunic and handed them to him, "if you want to bathe, there is a tub right across the hall."

            Aragorn gazed down at the clothes in his hands, "are you certain it's ok to wear your father's garments?"

            "Keep them," she waved her hand, "he would have given you the clothes off of his back, never mind out of his drawer. I'll get some clothes for your companions." She pulled a particularly large pair of pants that would, if they cut the legs shorter, fit the Dwarf. Then she pulled out a pair of black pants and two white tunics. When she turned around, Aragorn had disappeared and she heard the sound of water running across the hall. She made her way to her room and sank down on her bed, tossing her father's clothes onto a chair next to the door. She closed her eyes and lay back against her pillow, a moment later she was fast asleep.

            If she had been awake a few moments later, she would have heard a floorboard creak in the hallway, her door squeak open, and she might have seen the dark figure standing over her bed, a dagger raised in it's hand.