Sirius wandered the creaking wooden streets of Lake-town, or what little remained of it. The once-vibrant town perched on the waters of the Long Lake was now a shadow of its former self. After the reconstruction of Dale, most of its inhabitants had abandoned Lake-town for the safety and prosperity of the restored city.

The lake shimmered under the midday sun, and the few residents who remained in Lake-town went about their business quietly, their gazes wary of outsiders. Sirius had spent the better part of two days exploring every nook and cranny, questioning anyone he came across. Yet no one had seen the symbol etched on his mysterious coin, nor did they speak of any hidden treasures or ancient secrets tied to their home.

He approached a wrinkled old man mending fishing nets by the dock. "Excuse me," Sirius began, pulling out the coin and holding it up for the man to see. "Have you ever seen a symbol like this? Perhaps carved into wood, stone, or marked on a map?"

The old man squinted at the coin, then shook his head. "Nay, stranger. That's nothin' I've seen before. The folk who might've known such things left for Dale long ago. There's little left here but fish and memories."

Disheartened, Sirius thanked him and moved on, his boots echoing hollowly on the wooden planks of the town.

By the time Sirius returned to Dale, dusk was settling over the city. He crossed through the main gates, taking in the sight before him. The contrast between Lake-town's desolation and Dale's thriving streets couldn't have been starker.

Dale was alive, vibrant in a way Sirius hadn't seen in years. The city's reconstruction had not only restored its ancient beauty but had also turned it into a bustling hub of activity. Traders from all corners of Middle-earth had flocked to the city, and the streets were filled with the mingling of cultures.

Elves from Mirkwood, tall and graceful, walked alongside stout dwarves of Erebor who came to buy provisions, their armor gleaming. Human merchants shouted out their wares, their stalls overflowing with exotic goods—fabrics, spices, and trinkets. Children darted through the crowds, laughing and playing, while musicians filled the air with lively tunes.

Sirius found himself marveling at the sight. "It's hard to believe this is the same place that once lay in ruins," he muttered to himself.

He stopped at a tavern on the edge of the marketplace, a cozy establishment built from the same pale stone that made up the rest of Dale. Inside, the hum of conversation mixed with the clinking of mugs and the crackling of a roaring fire. Sirius ordered a drink and sank into a chair by the hearth, the coin heavy in his pocket.

Bard joined him not long after, his expression curious as he noticed the weariness etched on Sirius's face. "No luck in Lake-town?" he asked, taking a seat across from him.

Sirius shook his head. "None. The place is nearly abandoned, and the few people left there know nothing of the symbol. I combed through every corner, every building, and still came back empty-handed."

Bard studied him for a moment before speaking. "Perhaps it's not the place but the people who hold the answers. Dale has grown beyond anyone's expectations. Its streets are filled with travelers, merchants, and scholars from across Middle-earth. If the answer isn't in Lake-town, it might be here."

Sirius sighed, taking a sip from his mug. "You may be right. I just didn't expect Dale to become… this. It's incredible how quickly it's grown. Elves, dwarves, and men walking side by side without the weight of old grudges—it feels like a dream."

Bard smiled faintly. "It's what we've all worked toward. A place where our differences make us stronger, not weaker. Perhaps this city itself is a clue. Whatever that coin represents, maybe it's not just about the past but about building something better for the future."

Sirius leaned back in his chair, staring into the fire as Bard's words sank in. For the first time in days, he felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps the bustling streets of Dale held the answers he sought. Perhaps the coin, with its mysterious symbol, was more than a relic—it was a link between the past and the promise of what was to come.

"Then I'll start here," Sirius said at last, determination creeping back into his voice. "If this city is as alive as you say, then someone must know something. The coin has led me this far—I won't stop now."

Bard raised his mug in agreement. "To answers, then. And to the journey ahead."

The bustling streets of Dale swirled around Sirius as he moved through the throngs of people. Merchants called out their wares, the air filled with the mingling scents of spices and freshly baked bread. But Sirius's focus was elsewhere.

For days now, he had combed through Dale, questioning merchants, scholars, and travelers about the mysterious coin in his possession. Yet, no one seemed to know anything of its origin or significance. Frustration gnawed at him. He had hoped the city's rich tapestry of people and cultures would yield answers, but so far, it had only deepened the mystery.

Then, as he passed a shaded courtyard near the edge of the market, a thought struck him. The elves… Of all the peoples in Middle-earth, the elves were known for their long memories and deep knowledge of history. Surely one of them would recognize the coin.

Determined, Sirius scanned the marketplace, looking for someone who seemed both approachable and knowledgeable. After some time, he spotted an elf leaning against a tree near a cluster of stalls. His silver hair shimmered in the sunlight, and his robes bore intricate embroidery that suggested both age and wisdom.

Sirius approached cautiously. "Excuse me," he began, holding out the coin. "Would you happen to recognize this symbol?"

The elf turned to him, his piercing eyes narrowing slightly before widening in recognition. "You…" he said, his voice melodic yet firm. "You are the one who fought alongside us against the orcish horde."

Sirius nodded. "I am. My name is Jimmy Potter."

A faint smile graced the elf's lips. "I am Farion, of the Woodland Realm. Your courage on the battlefield has not gone unnoticed. But tell me, what brings you to me with such a question?"

Sirius handed him the coin, his heart pounding with anticipation. "I was given this by a wizard. At the time, I thought it was just an ordinary coin, but I've seen the same symbol in Rivendell and Erebor. I believe it holds some importance, though I can't decipher its meaning."

Farion examined the coin closely, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, he looked up at Sirius, his voice low. "This is no ordinary coin. Its symbol of a gift belongs to a King lost to time— King of Esgaroth."

Sirius frowned. "Esgaroth? But… isn't that another name for Lake-town?"

Farion shook his head. "No, not quite. The name Esgaroth means 'Home of the Lake People.' But what you call Lake-town is not the original Esgaroth. Long before Smaug laid waste to Dale, he also attacked Esgaroth on the eastern bank of the Long Lake. The survivors fled and rebuilt their home on the lake itself, creating what you now know as Lake-town."

Sirius's eyes widened in astonishment. "You're saying the original Esgaroth still exists?"

"In ruins, yes," Farion replied. "Its remnants lie to the east of the lake, overgrown and forgotten. Few now speak of it, for its destruction was so complete that it became a place of sorrow, its memory fading with the generations. But if this coin was found in Dale, it suggests that some relics of Esgaroth may have been carried here before the fall."

Sirius looked at the coin in a new light. "Why would this coin have ended up in Dale? And why have I seen its symbol elsewhere, like in Rivendell and Erebor?"

Sirius stared at the elf, Farion, as he recounted the tale with a reverence that made the air feel heavier, charged with history and wonder. The bustling noise of Dale faded into the background as Sirius absorbed the story.

"Thousands of years ago," Farion began, "Long Lake was not a lake at all, but a mighty river that carved its way through these lands. Then came the day the skies burned. A meteorite, vast and brilliant as a falling star, struck the river with such force that the land shattered, and the river swelled into the Long Lake we see today."

Sirius's brow furrowed. "A meteorite? That's what created the lake?"

Farion nodded. "The impact was devastating, but it also brought change. Over time, humans came to settle along its shores, fishermen who made their living from the abundant waters. Yet it was not just fish they found. Deep within the lake's depths lay fragments of the meteorite—a metal unlike any other, radiant with magical properties."

Farion's voice grew softer, as though the weight of the tale demanded reverence. "The Lake People, as they were called, became skilled divers, plunging into the depths to retrieve this miraculous metal. They called it ithildin, or 'moon-star metal.' Its beauty and power attracted the attention of both elves and dwarves, who were eager to trade for it. They saw its potential for crafting weapons and artifacts of unmatched splendor."

"And what did the Lake People want in return?" Sirius asked, intrigued.

"Their king, a wise yet ambitious man, struck a deal with both the elves and the dwarves. He would sell the precious metal, but in exchange, the elves and dwarves would build a city and a grand castle for his people—a home that would stand as a testament to their prosperity. Thus, Esgaroth was born, a marvel of human ambition, dwarven craftsmanship, and elven enchantment."

"But that wasn't all," Farion continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The elves and dwarves were so moved by the generosity and vision of the Lake King that they wished to honor him further. From the finest piece of the meteorite metal, the dwarves forged a blade, sharp enough to cut through stone and imbued with an unearthly glow. The elves, in turn, enchanted it with their magic, granting it a light so pure it could dispel darkness itself."

Sirius leaned forward, captivated. "A magical Sword," he murmured.

Farion inclined his head. "Indeed. The Sword of Starlight was gifted to the king of Esgaroth as a symbol of the unity between men, elves, and dwarves. It became a treasured relic of the Lake People, a weapon of great power and even greater history. But the sword was lost, its fate unknown even before Smaug arrived in Esgaroth."

Sirius's hand instinctively went to the coin in his pocket. "And you think it could still be in the ruins?"

Farion nodded solemnly. "If the ruins of Esgaroth remain untouched, there is a chance that the sword lies hidden among them, waiting to be found. Your coin," he added, "may very well be a sign. It bears the mark of the Lake People—a symbol of their king's lineage and the treasures of Esgaroth."

Sirius's mind raced. The idea of uncovering a relic as legendary as the Sword of Starlight filled him with both excitement and trepidation. He thought back to the stories of enchanted swords he had heard in his youth, tales of power, responsibility, and the great deeds such weapons could inspire.

"I'll go to the ruins," Sirius said firmly. "If the sword is there, I'll find it."

Farion placed a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Be wary, friend. The ruins of Esgaroth may hold more than treasures. Time and neglect can breed orcs, and not all who seek the past do so with noble intentions."

Sirius nodded. "I understand. But if this sword truly exists, it belongs to the Lake People—or at least to someone who can ensure its power isn't misused."

As Sirius left the elf, the weight of his new quest settled over him. The streets of Dale seemed to hum with life, a stark contrast to the abandoned ruins he would soon explore. He gathered supplies, spoke with traders about the terrain east of the lake, and even consulted a few maps, though most were incomplete or speculative at best.

By nightfall, Sirius stood at the edge of the city, staring out toward the eastern horizon. Somewhere beyond the shimmering waters of Long Lake lay the remnants of a forgotten city—and perhaps, the Sword of Starlight.

As he set off under the light of the moon, the coin in his pocket seemed to grow warmer, as if guiding him toward his destiny.

Author's Note:

Enjoying the story?

Consider joining my to get early access to more chapters and exclusive fanfictions! Even as a free member you will get one extra chapter and you'll receive early access to chapters before they're posted elsewhere and various other fanfictions.Your support helps me create more content for you to enjoy!

Join here: (dot)com(slash)Beuwulf