A Soul for a Soul

By the time I entered the taproom, I had caught myself enough that I was no longer on the verge of bursting into tears. Just in time, because as I made my way toward the counter, I noticed Gimli sitting at one of the tables near the door.

"Lass! Glad you're the first to come down. We have something to discuss." He beckoned me to join him. "Come. Sit down."

I followed his invitation. Gimli had chosen a table as far away as possible from the one remaining person, who slept slumped forward on a chair. The innkeeper was nowhere to be seen. Not unusual, when I thought of the Golden Crow. Although we closed early on some days, on most Girdis allowed our regular customers to stay as long as they wanted. As long as they were spending their money regularly in her tavern, it was the least she could do for them. I wished myself back to the days when drunken customers had been my only problem.

"Are you all right?" Gimli snapped me out of my thoughts, which admittedly were not particularly focused. His gaze bored into mine. "You are pale."

My throat was already getting tight again, and I could feel the tingle that heralded the tears. Once I let them flow, I wouldn't be able to push them down again. Therefore, I swallowed my emotions and replied, "Yes, I'm fine."

That didn't convince the dwarf, I saw that perfectly well, but he decided against opening this Pandora's box, apparently because there were more important things to do, "Legolas was supposed to inform you that I was going to the family home alone, to draw as little attention to us as possible."

"He did." I heard myself how cold I sounded. Gimli frowned. "But you are still here."

"Yes." He pulled something out of his pocket. "I didn't have a good feeling about it. That's why I got to the bottom of it."

"In what way?" I leaned forward, glad to be able to occupy myself with something else.

"Well," the dwarf hesitated for a moment before continuing, "didn't the innkeeper seem untruthful to you, too?"

"Yes, he did." I shrugged. "But I'd bet a person or two would say the same about Girdis. Or about me. The inn keeping is a tough field."

Gimli gave a short laugh before replying, "I forgot you worked in a tavern." Pause. "Still, even among tavern keepers there are honest ones and others like the fine master Winfrid."

"Gimli... What have you done?", I asked with a warning undertone. "Will we still have our rooms at the end of the day?"

"It didn't take much convincing," the dwarf replied, patting his axe. "Be at ease, we are still respected guests of this noble establishment."

Involuntarily, I had to smile. "Now you're exaggerating."

The dwarf raised his eyebrows. "If that makes you smile."

I looked at the wooden table and blinked the water out of the corners of my eyes. "What did he say?"

Gimli pointed to the note he had placed on the table. "When master Winfrid handed me the letter, I already noticed that it had been opened. True, the seal had not been broken, but there are other ways of removing it and then reattaching it in such a way that an untrained eye would not have noticed."

"He was prying?", I asked outraged. "Do you think he…"

"No." The dwarf shook his head. "Usually dwarven affairs are tied to gold and gems - I think that's what motivated our host. But it doesn't matter."

"But wasn't the letter in Khuzdul?" A small glimmer of hope shattered in the same breath as Gimli replied, "Yes, it was, but the people of Lake Town have a lot of contact with my kin. I would stake my life on it that someone in that city knows the language of us dwarves - though not particularly well."

"Crap," I muttered. "How explicit was the content?"

"We don't have to worry about the host knowing about the stones," Gimli said quietly, "but whoever he might have sold the information to knew something about it even without that added."

Yes, probably. And that was terrible news. "What can we do?"

"My relative left another note. The innkeeper kept it for himself because he was unable to figure out what to do with it, but perhaps still wanted to have it looked at by a trusted hand. After some... gentle prodding, he left it with me."

"What did it say?"

"A name."

"A name?"

"Indeed." Gimli looked very proud. "It took me a while to solve the riddle, but I'm sure this person will help us more than a visit to the family." He stood up. "We should leave now, before the others come down."

I looked at him. "Are you sure about this? What if we need help?"

Gimli shook his head. "I don't trust those elves any farther than I could spit, and Legolas won't be able to shake them off. We must do it now or not at all."

For a moment I kept thinking. I realized that Galadhon, Beleg, and Legolas could come into the taproom at any time. While I didn't like the idea of just two of us descending into the confusing jungle of walkways that was Lake Town, Gimli was also a skilled fighter and would be able to defend us. Besides, I didn't know if I could stand Legolas' presence. So I nodded. "All right, let's go."

Outside, a biting wind hit us. The sun, which had at least warmed us a little earlier on the lake, had disappeared. Instead, wisps of mist drifted over the water and through the canals. I pulled the cloak tighter around my shoulders. "The weather has turned."

"Not unusual for this town," Gimli replied. "The elves would say it's the dragon at the bottom of the lake, but actually it has to do with the forest." He nodded his head toward a row of transport barges. "This way. I've already looked around."

I quickly pulled the hood over my head and followed the dwarf. We were not alone on the road, yet there were significantly fewer people than expected. Whether that was due to the weather or the still rather early hour, I couldn't say. In any case, Gimli moved amazingly agile on the footbridges and had I not kept a steady eye on him, he would have disappeared faster than I could have said stop.

"Over here, lass." He turned away from one of the main routes and into an alley with a narrow footbridge. We had to climb over a hay bale that someone had left in the middle of the path. Not a stone's throw away stood a still-filled chamber pot. I tried not to breathe in too deeply, but couldn't help hoping that we would leave this place as soon as possible. Unfortunately, Gimli didn't do me this favor, because after a few more meters he stopped in front of a door that had long seen its best days. Only a silver star in its center betrayed that once respected people had lived here. I glanced at the dwarf, but he was already pounding on the wood with a clenched fist.

"Here?", I asked in a low voice.

"Hmm." Gimli's other hand had tightened around the handle of his axe. "Take a step to the side, lass. Just to be safe."

I quickly followed the request before the dwarf knocked on the door a second time, more urgently this time. Footsteps could be heard inside in response, until the door opened a small crack. Standing on the wrong side, I couldn't see who had opened it for us.

"I was waiting for you to come." A man's voice. "Come in, quickly."

Gimli nodded to me, then we both slipped into the stranger's house.

Inside, only four candles burned. They illuminated a home that must indeed have once belonged to a rich man. Whether that was the one standing in front of us was yet to be seen. In any case, scrolls, leather-bound books and carpets were piled up everywhere. In between, all kinds of trinkets were stored on shelves: from old tin plates to dented helmets, almost everything was represented. Even a harpoon hung in a fishing net that was so full of holes that it would not catch anymore fish. Perhaps this was not a home at all, but a warehouse?

"Your friend did well not to trust old Winfrid," the man said. He turned around and examined us closely. In the semi-darkness, I could only make out his features vaguely: Dark, chin-length hair, dark eyes, about my height. Less slimy than the innkeeper, but that didn't have to mean anything. "He didn't say a thing about a human woman, though."

"She's with me," Gimli said, positioning himself protectively in front of me much like Legolas. Except that I towered over him by several heads. The thought of the elf made me wince. As quickly as I could, I pushed the thought of him aside. "Give us what Grór has left you."

"I see you are in a hurry, master dwarf."

"My friend has already paid you a royal amount for this."

Unwillingly, I had to swallow. Gimli had never told me how much this venture had cost him. That he took on so much just to help me showed me how close Legolas and he were as friends. For without the elf, Gimli and I would probably never have met.

"I must disappoint you. Your friend has not rewarded me, for I have already told him, 'I no longer have the piece of stone which you seek.' It was bought from me, just last week. Bought back, if I may put it that way. You missed each other by only a few days."

Gimli's shoulders tensed. "From whom?"

"It was the son of the family who owned it. He came to me one night and offered me an amazingly large pile of gold. Amazing because his family is nowhere near the rich and powerful of this town."

If I understood the man's implication correctly, we had a problem. The stone had to be the third silmaril piece. And the son or grandson of the woman who Gimli's kin had found in the mines had first decided to sell it, only to reclaim it afterwards. With gold he should never have possessed. Where did a person from Lake Town, who lived from hand to mouth if the man was to be believed, get that much of it?

"The only thing I can offer you is a name. I know it's not a lot, but it is indeed what your friend has paid me for. And I keep my word."

Gimli grumbled something inaudible before saying, "What if I don't buy this story?"

The man laughed, mirthlessly. "You will have little choice, master dwarf."

"Oh, I think I may well have a choice." Before Gimli could grip his axe tighter, I put a hand on his shoulder. Unlike the tavern keeper, the man seemed sincere to me. Down to business, but sincere. "Give us the name," I said, "and tell me under what pretense the son reclaimed the piece."

Gimli again muttered something unintelligible into his beard, but let me have my way. The man tilted his head. "You should ask for Elmer. He is the youngest son of a fishing family. They live at the other end of town - if you hurry, you'll catch him before he drinks away his remaining gold in one of the taverns. He's made that his business since he came to me with his plea."

I narrowed my eyes. Was it really going to be that easy? "Which tavern does he frequent most?"

"He prefers to drown his senses at the Lost Dragon. Perhaps you have met him." He pursed his lips.

"How do you know we're spending the night at the tavern?", I asked, now also tense. It had been less than two hours since we had arrived.

"Esgaroth is a small town," the man said, looking at me warily, "And even though we live off trade - word of an elven delegation from the Greenwood is already making the rounds." He folded his arms in front of his chest. "I'll give you another piece of free advice: you shouldn't wait until night. Word has it that Elmer paid for the gold not only with this stone shard, but a far higher price.