"Over here!" the guards now behind me shouted as I bolted. "Headed north!"
In another life I would have set out for the roofs again. They wouldn't have been able to easily follow me there. But I didn't have the strength in me for another climb, and particularly not a fast one. They'd be on me and snatch me down in seconds.
"She's going south!" they shouted again, still in pursuit as I rounded one block and plunged down another. "Green Street headed for Clove!"
I knew I could shout for my guards and they would fly in and save me in seconds if needed, and because of that I still felt as though I had the situation under control. The prospect of being captured by the city's guards didn't frighten me-what would men intent on protecting people do to one little girl? Particularly one wearing clothes of the same style as the elves? The only thing to set me apart was my bright green hat, embroidered over with sewn-on leaves-a gift from Runi, since I still hated the short, hand-length of my hair. I'd never seen the elves wear hats before. Perhaps their hair was just a far better insulator than dwarf and human hair. I should ask sometime.
I skidded on the frosted cobbles as I changed directions again. "A child, about elbow-height!" one of the men pursuing me was shouting, but the notice went out a moment too late as a guard lurched out from behind a corner and threw his arm out when he saw my shadow encroaching from ahead of me. His arm, meant for an adult-sized person, caught me across my face and my feet flew out ahead of me as I landed hard on my back, coughing, as my nose immediately began to bleed.
I rolled over onto my elbows and clamped both hands over my nose, wincing and worried. I'd had trouble with bleeding a bit too much for years. Those who knew me knew about it-these people didn't know me.
A hand reached down from the lit gloom above me, grasped me by the upper arm and hauled me to my feet. I was done running so I just blinked up anxiously at him from over my bleeding nose, and he kept his grip on my arm as he held his lantern closer to inspect my face. He'd already shouted for the others.
Dissatisfied by his lack of recognition of me, he scowled, then dropped the lantern back to his side and gave my arm a tug. "Come on. It's to the head sheriff with you."
Now that there was a problem. Who was I supposed to be now? Just another vagrant child or the foster daughter of a king? Pull a story or to come clean?
We gathered on a street corner with six other guards who had been corralling me. "Anybody recognize her?" They all looked down at me then shook her heads.
"Clothes are too nice for a street-muffin unless she stole them," said one. "She started near the mayor's house, didn't she?"
"I don't recognize the make of the clothes either though," said another. He bent a bit to get a better angle into my wide eyes. "Where you from, lass?"
I also entertained the thought of being unable to speak their language, but I didn't know if that would help me or not. It certainly could, if they came to the correct conclusion on where my clothes were from.
He sighed when I didn't answer, and straightened. "We've had too much trouble with thieves lately. Grant, take her to the sheriff. The rest of us, return to the watch."
The man already gripping my arm tugged me forth and I winced-even moving my shoulders would ache by the time the sun came up. I walked with him without complaint though, entirely willing to do away with the thought of making a run for it. He led me down various streets and I wondered where my elven watchers were, and hoped my capture wasn't distressing them too much. But with only one fellow here with me we all knew how little effort it would take them to recover me if they were truly concerned.
We reached a long building at last, and up the stairs we went. The fellow at the front desk looked up from whatever papers he was boredly filling out. "Whatcha got there, Grant?"
"We found the girl hanging around the mayor's house. Carter suggested we bring her in to talk to the sheriff."
The desk man tipped his head toward a back room. "He's in there."
Grant led me through to said room, knocking before opening the door and leaning in. "Sheriff, got a girl here we found lurking near the mayor's house."
The sheriff, who was sitting at his desk and speaking to a burly man who leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, settled his flat gaze on me when the guard holding my arm opened the door enough to reveal me. "What was she doing?"
"Not a clue, sir. Haven't asked yet. With the trouble we've had lately with thieves and the way she bolted Carter thought it best to bring her in."
"All children run when chased, regardless of what they were doing," remarked the man against the wall. The sheriff shot him a dark look and beckoned me forward.
"What happened to your face?" he asked me, as I still held my hand fastened over my dripping nose. I could feel blood on my upper lip and knew some had dripped down onto my shirtfront.
I had decided that feigning a lack of comprehension would be my best bet and merely blinked at him, eyes wide, lifting my left hand to layer it over my right when the guard Grant released my arm.
"Before I heard the child warning I accidentally caught her in the face with my arm," Grant said ruefully. "I'll fetch a cloth." He departed, closing the door behind himself.
I looked worriedly between the two men, lips parted to breathe, and wondered how their interrogation would progress when I refused to admit I understood their language.
"What were you doing at the mayor's house, girl?" the sheriff asked, and my eyes jumped back to him. "That house is one of the least possible for an urchin like you to break into, even if you bring your cohorts."
"Based on those clothes I'm not convinced she's an urchin," said the man against the wall.
The sheriff ignored him. "Speak! Or has your broken nose disabled your tongue?"
"Are you sure she speaks Westeron?" asked the man on the wall.
"Hold your tongue, Commander, or leave." The sheriff glowered at me. I was making his already bad evening worse. "I can have you locked in a cell for a week if I find you noncompliant, girl. Do you understand that? It won't go any easier for you than it does on the streets-there will be no pile of rags for you to sleep on."
I took a half-step back from his tone then flinched forward again, whirling, when the door behind me reopened as Grant stepped inside. He offered me a large washing cloth, one half of it wet to wipe my face and the other dry to catch what was still seeping out of my nose. When he held it out to me I warily accepted it, and looked down at myself and my hand, trying to gauge how much I'd lost and when I ought to truly become concerned. Not just yet, thankfully. I wiped my mouth and pressed the dry side of the towel around my nose with a bloodied hand.
"Has she said anything at all to anyone?" demanded the sheriff before Grant left again.
"Not that I'm aware of, sir."
The sheriff gestured dismissively and Grant closed the door quietly behind himself. "Where are you from, girl? I won't be having more ragamuffins than we've already got tramping in from other cities. I will have you thrown in jail if you don't cooperate!"
At the raising of his voice I backed away again. I was tempted to look out the window, wondering if that's where Mirinel and Oloran were, but didn't want them to see they might construe as a pleading glance, so refrained.
The sheriff stood and I hastily put my back to the wall, letting him see the fear I had etched into my face. I heard muted speaking from beyond the door to my left but couldn't distinguish any of it. He slammed the heel of his fist onto the desk. "By all the gods, will I now have foreign brats scurrying in importuning a handout?"
I could feel tears trembling inside my chest if I needed them, and I considered it, pressing myself hard against the wall, shrinking. The commander saw the evidence of a child seemingly on the edge of hysteria and fidgeted.
The sheriff pointed at him. "Don't say a word!"
The door opened and I cowered away from it with a gasp, and the two men looked up with pleased surprised on behalf of the commander and great irritation on behalf of the sheriff. The fellow who had appeared wore a well-made, burgundy coat with gold embroideries over a narrow frame, and kept his white hair combed neatly back behind his ears. He glanced down at me with tired blue eyes, assessing, then tucked his thin hands into the small of his back and regarded the sheriff. "Sheriff, I do not believe this child is the cause of any wrongdoing, at least not tonight."
"What gives you cause to make such an assumption?" growled the sheriff, a stark contrast to the mayor's soft, aged-leather voice.
"Because if she'd stolen something surely she'd have it on her person, which does not appear to be the case, and if she had intended destruction of property there would be damage found in her vicinity, which there has not been. What else might a child have done at night when the only ones who can see are those who carry their lamps with them?"
"Just because she didn't succeed doesn't mean there wasn't an intent to do harm." The sheriff's gaze snapped furiously between the two of us.
The mayor stood beside me and placed one gentle hand on my shoulder, making me jump. "And without proof of such an intent you can neither arrest her nor detain her. Therefore I request her audience."
"For what purpose?" the sheriff demanded, and gestured to me. "She doesn't speak. Of what worth is a mute-for whatever indiscernible reason-child?"
The mayor continued to speak softly. "And if you had used your unquestionable powers of observation perhaps you might have noticed that she isn't a child at all, or at the very least she is a very peculiar one. Turn sideways, dear." He lightly turned me with his hands on my shoulders and I looked up at him, confused and still worried to the casual observer, as my turn toward him made the departure of my childhood slightly more evident in my silhouette. Oops. Elven clothes, particularly mine, didn't make as much a statement of a female's chest as did dwarven clothes, but it was still visible to most if they cared to look. "And I have a few things I wish to discuss with said citizen, whoever's citizen she may be."
And with that he turned, hand lightly on my shoulder still, and left the sheriff behind us sputtering in a furious silence, and the commander hiding a smirk with his loose hand beside his mouth as he watched us go.
"We aren't going far," he assured me as he leaned a bit more on my shoulder on our way down the guardhouse's front steps. "Thankfully my home is quite near the central guardhouse. I have quite interesting traffic throughout the week. And I put a pot of cider in the hearth before I left, so we can have mulled cider or tea if you wish once we return." We walked perhaps a block in silence. "Do you speak our language, dear? Or is it simply the language of buffoonery that you are unversed in?"
I couldn't help a small chuckle, which gave me away, but I felt comfortable in the mayor's presence. "I do speak your language. I just didn't know what to do or say to the sheriff." I had to speak around the cloth crusting against my nose, as the bleeding was finally slowing to a trickle.
"Yes, he can have that affect on people. Was I correct in assuming you are not a child?"
"You are. Though I suppose different people see me in different ways."
"Ah. Enjoy it while you can. Once you are old, you are only ever old."
Once we'd entered his painted, bird-carved house the mayor held the door to his parlor open and indicated me toward one of the cozy armchairs by the crackling hearth. He eased the heavy pot off its hook over the small flames and set it on a resting board nearby, then glanced about and realized he'd forgotten the mugs. "I shall return momentarily." When he did so he came also with a small basket of teabags, which he set on the low table between us. "Tea or cider?"
"Does the cider have alcohol in it?"
A smile flashed on his lips. "It does not."
"Cider then, please."
He poured me a mug and I tentatively sipped before setting it aside to cool, then poured himself a cup and added a bag of either tea or mulling spices. We had sat with our drinks in the quietude for a handful of minutes before he spoke again. "Now, my dear, why were you in my office?"
I froze, mouth on the lip of the cobalt ceramic mug, and my eyes lifted to his in surprise. "I'm sorry?"
He tipped his head toward me with a knowing smile. "The rafters supporting that particular floor were built with the intention to squeak, and the study is directly above my chambers."
I abandoned all pretense. "How did you know I was the one in there?"
"Because of how quietly they squeaked-their noise could only be caused by a small, light person, and a small, light person fell off my roof on that side of the house a few hours after they entered it. Then lo and behold, a small light person wearing foreign clothes was caught nearby."
"Oh." Well then. How to explain this so Thranduil didn't look like the mistrustful, underhanded ruler he was? "I was trying to find out why there was disparity in the trade agreements held between you and King Thranduil. I understand you've sent back the difference of the spices you can't send but that difference never makes it to Mirkwood. Thranduil has sent inquiries back asking why his spices are being shorted and they are never answered, so I came to see if I could figure out why. Paper lies less than people do. But I didn't want him to grow any more animosity toward this or toward you so...."
"So you took matters into your own hands."
I dropped my head and fidgeted my mug in my hands, the picture of someone caught in having gone about something perhaps entirely the wrong way. "I'm sure you know how he gets. I thought it better to resolve this before it got any worse. You aren't getting his letters though, unless you've tucked them somewhere separate than all your other correspondence. Someone is taking your money and opening your letters. I'm sorry to have to tell you that but that's all I can guess based on what I know from both sides of the hill."
The mayor sat back in his armchair, rubbing his chin, brow tiredly folded in. "I see. My correspondence with Thranduil has indeed decreased, though I didn't think to suspect why beyond perhaps a period of reticence, to which he is prone...." He sighed. "It would seem there is a presence among my guard who wishes to ruin my good history with your king."
I sat forward. "I have the evidence that suggests your lack of involvement in this; my father will understand what's happened and we'll resolve it. A few months' worth of spices lost isn't exactly crippling."
The mayor's bushy white eyebrows sprang up. "Your father?"
"My foster father. Thranduil has been inordinately kind to me when the rest of the world hasn't always been able to."
He slowly nodded. "I see. That explains your attire, about which I was baffled until now."
I looked down at my blue, embroidered tunic. "Yes, I suppose it would." I looked back up. "Should I mention your sheriff's relative ineptitude or not? I don't know if you find it useful having him where he is or would rather he step down but need more firepower...."
The mayor chuckled and waved a light hand. "Just leave him where he is if you could, Miss...."
"Mabyn."
"Miss Mabyn. On occasion inept he may be, but for the most part he does his job well, and more importantly, he obeys, even if he complains about doing so. It is very useful for a man in my position to have guardsmen who do as they are told."
I nodded. "Most agreed. Mum's the word, then, Mayor. And I am sorry to have broken into your home and gone through all your things."
He drifted his hand again, sitting back comfortably with his steaming mug. "Public knowledge, most of it. Did you happen to damage the window on your way in?"
"No it's perfectly fine. You might want to find a way to better secure it than just a hook and eye latch though. All you've got to do is slide something thin up through the gap and the hook falls out."
"I shall indeed, thank you for the insight. That's an impressive climb you made to get up there."
"Years of practice."
"Breaking into homes?"
I laughed. "No! Climbing. I don't believe I'd ever broken into someone's home before. Gone into my friends' homes when they aren't home and the door's unlocked to either take back something they've borrowed or leave them something, yes. But breaking and entering is new to my list of skills."
We stayed beside the fire and chatted about small or amusing things until dawn arose, and the Mayor deemed it safe enough for me to go. "Are there any of your people nearby to escort you home?"
"I believe there are a few in town trading who wouldn't mind," I said, contemplative. "And Thranduil has probably sent people after me by now." I hopped down off my armchair. "Considering who he's likely sent, it would probably be best if you and I could both go speak to them to explain the situation. Would you mind?"
"Not at all, my dear, not at all. First, however, let me find you something to put on your feet. Did you honestly come all this way barefoot?"
I sighed. "No. But I took the boots off one night and they ran away."
"I see. Well I believe I have a pair of my granddaughter's boots still here from the last time hers ran away. They should be about the right size, if a bit small."
The mayor and I left his house together. Oloran and Mirinel did not approach because I was clearly in little danger or distress, and when we neared the edge of town I shrugged when he asked where my trading friends were.
"They must have left already. I saw Thranduil's guards' horses from one of your higher windows though when I went to the bathroom." I had not. But as I was pretending to be an elf I doubted he wouldn't believe me.
I was glad for elves' ability to wear an impassive, locked-away face for endless lengths of time on our final approach to my guards' camp just outside the town. It meant I could tell my story and they could adjust to match it, instead of me having to find a way to adjust my story. I adopted a contrite expression as we came within conversational distance and Legolas stepped out to meet us. "I'm sorry I left. Seeing as I was caught, I don't expect I'll be doing my own reconnaissance again anytime soon." I hung my head.
Legolas lifted one brow down at me, then as I had known he would, matched his response to my prompt. "And this is why you are not permitted your own horse."
I snickered down into my collar, which had been mostly dabbed free of the blood that had dripped onto it. I'd had the chance to wipe up my face, too, and ascertain that my nose was not broken, simply annoyed. "Well."
Legolas brought his attention to the mayor and dipped his head. "Well met, Mayor Yarlan."
"Well met, Prince Legolas. I hope that aside from the obvious trouble you and your father are well?"
"We are, thank you. I take it my thieving foster-sister was unsuccessful in her venture?"
The mayor shook his head, eyes alight with amusement. "Oh no she quite was."
This was where my information was due, so I sent it forth. "Mayor Yarlan has no records of Thranduil's letters regarding the spices. Their crops had a blight this year so he's been keeping some spices back for their own people, and sending the difference in coin with a written apology and explanation with every export. However as that explanation and that payment never makes it back to us my uneducated assumption is that whoever takes Thranduil's letters is also taking them, but I'll leave that for you adults to sort out." To the mayor I brightly said, "Thank you for the cider, and for not yelling at me. You're very kind and I'll let Thranduil know that I like you. And thank you for the boots." I sat and removed them, then sat them next to his feet. I patted Legolas's hand as I passed him to find some food. "Thanks for coming to retrieve me."
"What have you done to yourself?" Soviel asked, planting a hand on my shoulder and bending before me, cupping a hand beneath my chin and tipping my head back.
"I smacked my nose on someone's arm and it bled a bit."
"A bit?"
"A bit!" I said defensively. "I'm fine. I didn't crunch anything, just bruised it a bit."
"Hmm. Let's get you something to eat and put your boots back on."
"Not until the mayor's left-I told him I lost them."
She rolled her eyes at me.
As soon as we returned I made my report to Thranduil, hands folded comfortably behind me as I did so, standing before his desk. Legolas then made his, as we had walked back up to his home together.
Thranduil was silent for several long moments, something to which we were all accustomed. At last he brought his chin back down and appraised me again. "What have you done to your arm?"
I regarded the deep bruise I'd gotten trying to catch myself between the two roofs as I fell. "It was in the line of duty. No trouble." I smiled. He too rolled his eyes.
I had no distinct plans for going home other than that I wanted to do so after the bruises on my arms and knees and nose had vacated the premises, so some weeks later I sent word back to Dain and Bard, awaited their soldiers, and off home we went.
Gimli met me at the gate as I was seeing off my elven and human guards with smiles thanking them for their time. He gifted the elves with extremely disapproving glares and I socked him in the shoulder when I caught him doing it. The elves didn't mind though-they were used to this sort of treatment from the dwarves, and many of them gave as good as they got besides.
Knowing it did no good to express more than once his opinion on my giving of assistance to people he didn't believe needed it Gimli put out his arms and smiled instead. I leaped for him to wrap my arms around his shoulders, making him chortle when he stumbled.
"And how is your regard, Mabyn?" Oloran shouted back to me as he and Mirinel were already walking away.
Gimli released me so I could turn and holler back at them, "Put a cork in it, you fools!"
"Eh?" Gimli wondered.
"Inside joke," I said, lifting one of my satchels and permitting him to take the other. I threw mine over my shoulder. "So I miss anything particularly uproarious while I was gone?"
"Byrnhild's baby came, a girl."
I grinned. "That's wonderful!"
He nodded. "Aye. I swear all the dwarvish lads grow up disappointed because their mothers bestow more warmth upon the lasses."
"Well considering how few you have I'm not surprised. Is your family still coming over for supper tonight? You promised you would when I got back."
"I'm having supper with a few other boisterous bachelors tonight, how's tomorrow for you?"
"Don't see why not unless a crisis arises. You bring the cucumbers. Multiple cucumbers, the canned ones-not the one you were born with."
"Lass, you astonish me." He shook his beardy head. But thankfully he was accustomed to such language from me by now. He had to be, or I'd astonish him right into an early grave.
My brow leaped into cliffs of concern. "Wait, where's Bofur? He knew when I was coming; he's usually here."
"Ah, your stubborn da went and dropped a hammer on his foot and broke four of his toes, so he's on enforced leave until he can walk like a young man again instead of an old one."
My worry evaporated into laughter. "Oh he would. Wait how big was that hammer to hit four of his toes at once?"
Gimli indicated with his hands something roughly the size of a small rabbit.
I rolled my eyes. "Dear gods above."
As soon as I let myself in I threw down my satchels-Gimli having gone back to work himself-just inside the door and danced across the floor to sit myself on the arm of Bofur's armchair. "Boo!"
He jumped, having been sleeping. "Mabyn! What did you have to go and wake me up for?"
"To tell you how silly it is to throw hammers at your feet." I shrugged. "Duh." I popped back up and went into the kitchen. "You eaten yet? I've got a new recipe I want to experiment on you with."
He threw his head back in a groan. "Dear gods above."
(pg450)
(Dedicated to ILoveLordOfTheRings for the same reason as the last dedication--DAMN girl. You read fast.)