Author's Note and Disclaimer: I still don't own LOTR. Though, I wish I did. Then I could steal Aragorn and give Arwen to the orcs. ...Did I say that aloud? Read and review!

Chapter Two

Footsteps slapped against the rough cobblestones, echoing to the waking town as Alastair came running up the main road, his cloak streaming out behind him like an alerting banner. Without pause, he continued towards the largest house in the humble town; the home of their Lord and caretaker. A few doors lazily opened as he ran by, people only just starting to come awake and mill about on the autumn morn.

"Woah, there, Alastair, what's the rush?" One of the guards raised a brow as the young man came panting to a halt before the door of the Lord's keep. "Did you see a ghost or what?"

Alastair shook his head, catching breath enough to speak a single word. "Goblins!"

The two guards looked at each other, leaning on their spears lightly, then smiled, the first speaking again. "Come, now, lad, aren't you a bit old to be crying wolf?" He paused, then, putting his hand beneath Alastair's chin and tilting up his head, turning it to one side to see the cut on his cheek. "Did you fall off your horse?"

In response, he shook his head again, and pulled out his sword. It was still covered in black blood. "No." He replied, taking in a deep breath. "I need to speak with Lord Kalamar."

"Yes...yes, of course. At once."

Alastair bowed his head politely as he finished his tale, before looking back up to Lord Kalamar. The Lord of Aralda was a reserved man, tall, stately, and rather lanky, really. He was clad in dark brown robes, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the arm of his chair as he studied the young man before him with cool blue eyes. "Well, then, Alastair, son of Lobane, I would count you very fortunate to be able to return to tell this tale to me, if what you say is true."

"Yes, sir." Alastair waited, shifting on his feet a bit anxiously.

"Are you sure there were no more?" The Lord asked, leaning forward a bit.

"None that I saw, my Lord."

Thoughtfully, Kalamar sank back again. "They were probably no more than a band of thieves that thought they had found an easy target. Valdín," he called to one of the guards at the door, "take another and rid the woods of the last goblin. Then we shall have no more incidents such as this. Dismissed."

Frustrated, but polite, Alastair bowed, and then walked out. Valdín smiled reassuringly at him, clapping him on the shoulder as he shut the heavy door behind them both. "Smile, lad, there's nothing to worry about."

Alastair nodded, though wasn't very convinced.

Valdín paused, and then went on. "How would you like to come with me to get that last goblin? Go get yourself cleaned up and your horse saddled, and I'll meet you at the edge of the forest."

The young man nodded again, then walked off towards his house, kicking at a loose cobblestone. Somehow, he wasn't very convinced that it was just a single party of thieves. If that were so, wouldn't they have seen some of like kind before? They didn't act like thieves, either, at least, not the way he had heard of troops of criminals act. Still, he couldn't exactly argue with the Lord, now could he? Alastair pushed open the door to his house, brushing his hair back from his face.

"Alastair, there you are! I was worried sick about you, Bolt came running into town without you, and I was sure you'd fallen off and broken a leg."

The young man smiled reassuringly at his mother, looking down (for he was taller than her, by now) into her worried eyes. "I'm fine, Mother. I just..." He decided it was better not to tell her the truth, "was riding, and he spooked and I fell off. I just got a little scraped up." He dunked a cloth in a bucket of water, taking it to his cheek and cleaning out the wound.

"Alastair...what's that on your sword?"

He looked down, cloth still against his cheek, at the stain on his scabbard. "Just...blackberry juice. I scraped against a bush coming home." He didn't look at her as he spoke, cleaning off his hand, as well. "Valdín is going to take me out hunting...do you think I could ride Nartal, instead? Bolt spooks too much."

"I suppose...just be careful with her."

Alastair nodded, kissing his mother on the cheek. She smiled at him, fixing his cloak and ruffling his hair. "My little boy, the big hunter, now. Just be careful."

"I will," he assured, wrinkling his nose a bit. Still, he couldn't blame her for worrying so, even in such a time of peace. His father had gone off to travel to Gondor five years ago, and had never returned. The trip shouldn't have taken any longer than three months.

The young man walked to the small stable in back of their house, pulling out a chestnut mare, her mane a darker, fiery shade. She had just been a filly, out of his father's mare, when he had left. She had hardly been ridden, supposedly a birthday present to Alastair when he was eighteen, instead of the old, stubborn, and skittish Bolt, but with no one else to ride her...well, she had taken to the lad, anyway. He patted her neck fondly before swinging himself into the saddle and taking up the reins. Valdín was waiting for him by the woods by the time he arrived. The guard had a longbow strapped to his back, and a small quiver of arrows, tipped with white feathers.

"Ready to go, lad?"

Alastair nodded.

"Good," the older man smiled. "Take me to where you ran into them, and we can track them from there."

With another nod, the young man urged his horse forward. They rode in silence after that, the only sound the dull clop of hooves. The stench of the corpses wafted to them on the breeze before the carcasses came in sight. Alastair wrinkled his nose, shivering for a moment in memory.

"Vile things, aren't they?" Valdín commented, pulling his horse to a halt alongside one of the bodies.

"The other one ran off that way," the young man pointed, his mare stepping forward a few paces.

"Well," the guard smiled. "Let's get after him, then. This whole episode will be over and done with before you know it, Alastair. There's nothing to worry about. Just the last dying shadows in the midday sun."