The Shadow Hunter

Chapter 09: Shadow Hunter

- T.A. 2941 -

The seasons came and passed. The world of Arda changed and was slowly destroyed under Sauron’s mad influence. There was no time for peace among the Elves, Men, and Dwarves. Evil constantly loomed over them, threatening to destroy them completely, or rule over them in darkness. Races struggled to maintain their freedom, but some had their wills failing. Arda was facing another brink of destruction, this time being threatened by the possible resurrection of Sauron if the One Ring was to be found. Many fought to prevent this from happening, Men, Elves, and Dwarves alike. Among these figures hid the shadowy protectors, silently battling evil and protecting others.

One of them had decided to take action, or rather, been forced to emerge from the shadows when he heard rumours of Dwarves travelling towards the Misty Mountains. It was late at night when he arrived at Laketown, his face concealed by a black scarf and his body covered with a dark cloak. He glanced around warily, trying to confirm to fears he had held ever since he heard about a wizard travelling with a company of Dwarves.

“Stop,” the guards said when the figure tried to enter the town. The guards observed him head to toe, readying their weapons in case the intruder dared to push his way.

“Let me pass or you’ll regret it,” the stranger threatened the guards with his deep, menacing voice. The guards flinched when they saw a sharp glare beneath the hood that hid the stranger’s face. Fear was instantly casted to the two guards, causing them to shiver slightly, though they didn’t allow him to pass just yet.

“Tell me your name and I’ll let you pass,” one of the guard stammered. The stranger walked past the guards without answering and the guards didn’t have the courage to repeat their question as well.

“Daefaroth,” the stranger finally told him as he disappeared into the town. The guards looked at each other confusedly, having heard the name before in the dark inns of the town. Legends had it that a mysterious figure had been walking amongst Men for hundreds of years, fighting evil from the shadows and disappearing whenever one searches for him. He was known as the Shadow Hunter in the tongues of Men, but most of the wiser and cleverer folks called him Daefaroth. They knew and saw little of the warrior, even after hundreds of years since he emerged to Arda.

Unbeknownst to her yet known to us, however, under the scarf that hid his face and the hood that shadowed his eyes, was the not-aging face of an exile. Varilerin, Daughter of Glorfindel, had wandered for many years and it would be the first time for her to visit such place with a purpose.

The purpose was none other than to investigate Thorin Oakenshild’s strange company and their curious wizard, Gandalf the Grey. She, however, didn’t receive this information from mere rumours, but from Gandalf himself. From the beginning of his journey Gandalf had been sending her messages, telling her not to interrupt with his quest with the Dwarves. She as his good friend obediently followed, though she was confused at Gandalf’s questionable action. Several days before however, she had received a letter from the wizard, carried by a raven which had been their friendly messenger for hundreds of years.

Go to Esgaroth.

There is darkness that dwells in the mountain. I am afraid that my quest will be ill fated.

People there will be danger and I need your help to protect them when I am unable to.

Of course Varilerin knew what danger it was. Smaug had been dwelling in the mountain ever since she last visited Esgaroth 50 years before. Esgaroth hadn’t changed despite of the dragon that threatened them from the mountain. Its buildings nevertheless got older in addition to the city becoming more solemn and fouler. However, one thing that didn’t change from the town was its eerie quietness, and the everlasting silence of its people whenever they came upon a stranger like her, especially when she was fully equipped with her weapons and cladded fully in black.

The tranquillity she had expected ended sooner than she thought. As she was looking around she saw two men leaping over nearby boats, the younger one carrying a strange, long object in his arm. They soon disappeared behind the houses, only to be chased by several town guards who seemed overwhelmed by their uncanny speed.

Suspicious of the object the boy carried, Varilerin followed their chase secretly from the roof tops. She leapt lightly on one of the roofs and began scouting the action from above. With her keen eyes she saw the boy breaking away from his partner with the object, whilst the man diverted the town guards’ attention from the boy. The boy then hid the object beneath a boat, carefully and stealthily, before walking away cautiously.

He thought that he had escaped from dangers, until a stranger leapt in front of him.

“What is in that object, young man?” Varilerin asked with a deepened voice. The boy looked frightened of her, a thing she had expected from all that encountered her. The boy didn’t answer her question and she decided to investigate herself. In a flash she uncovered the object the boy had hastily hidden, revealing a large black arrow. Varilerin widened her eyes, suspicious of the boy’s cause of owning the arrow.

“What are you doing with a black arrow, young man?” Varilerin asked him. She didn’t want to bother with the inner matters of the town, but considering that the weapon was the only object that could stop the dragon and save the people there, she must involve herself in even the tiniest troubles.

“Da told me not to speak with strangers,” the boy hesitantly answered as he tried to push his way. Varilerin didn’t let him and instead towered him with her height.

“You are going to tell me what happened in this town, or you’ll end up like your old man,” she threatened him. The boy gulped anxiously, questioning repeatedly in his mind of whether he should tell the ranger. The ranger flashed silver eyes beneath his hood, finally defeating his persistent silence.

“Dwarves came here a day ago, along with a Halfling called Bilbo. They stayed in our house, but escaped at night. The townsmen captured them, but they boasted about entering the mountain. My father knows that their intentions will cause harm to our town and decided to take out the last arrow of his father. The town master and his men aren’t impressed,” the boy explained in whispers.

“Then where are these Dwarves?” she asked again.

“Some of them stayed in town, having wounded, but the rest…They…. They have left for the mountain. They left in the morning and now the sky’s darkened….”

“They’ve entered the mountain,” she muttered in horror. “The dragon is going to be awakened…”

Varilerin glanced to Erebor, towering high to the skies and quiet like the night, yet she knew soon would erupt with fires and roars of the dragon.

“Why don’t you stop them?”

“We’ve tried, but the town insists on helping them. They said that they would give the town a portion of their riches if they do-“

“They’ve brought upon themselves and yours doom!” she hissed. “You need to find your father. Tell the other townsmen to escape from this place,” she said as she grabbed his collar. Suddenly she felt foul presences approaching the town. Her heart thumped faster and her senses were cautious. She glanced around to see where the new evils were coming from, ignoring the boy’s confusion of the matter.

“They won’t believe us, not after the Dwarves humiliated us with their arrogance,” the boy muttered.

“You need to try to save your people whatever the cost. Do not give up when you haven’t tried!” she said lastly before she released him. To his surprise, the ranger drew an arrow from his quiver and marched away from him.

“Where are you going then?” the boy retorted. She didn’t respond and returned to the roofs, following the foul presence that had been bothering her heart and ignoring the boy, who decided to find his father as per her suggestions.

They were faint, but she could hear evil whispers not far, in a language that she had long despised. In the darkness of the night, her silver eyes caught movements from the top of the roofs. Black figures crawling silently with weapons wielded.

Orcs, she observed. There are many of them. I might not be able to handle this-

The Orcs moved about, as if following something or someone, and began dispersing into two groups. One of them followed someone, and the other scouting a building. The person she saw, was none other than a lone Dwarf, rummaging the food for pigs.

I have no time for this, she thought as she pulled her bowstring. Before the single Orc could leap at the Dwarf, her arrow had struck his head first, killing it. The Dwarf instantly turned around once he heard the sound of the Orc screeching, only seeing a shadow moving in the dark. The other Orcs heard the dying scream of their comrades and began moving quickly. Varilerin saw them leaping off the roofs and trying to enter one house, whilst the others growled at her.

What have you involved me in, Gandalf? She mused as she drew another arrow. Before she could fire it however, another struck the enemies’ heart instead. Another came, as fast as the wind, and killed another. Varilerin felt another presence that lurked behind her and, after shooting her arrow to the last assaulting Orc, she turned to face the figure. She was greeted by an arrow pointed towards her head, just like hers pointing at him. His fair face was not veiled by the darkness around him and Varilerin easily identified the significant face she had seen two millennia ago.

“Who are you and what importance do you have here?” Legolas Greenleaf asked her.

“I am a friend of the wizard and I am here with the same reason as yours,” she told him. Legolas narrowed his eyes in suspicions. “Shall we continue then?” she said again before she released her arrow to the sneaking Orc behind him. Legolas shuddered when the arrow passed over his shoulder, only to be startled again when he heard screams coming from the house below.

“Take care of them,” she told Legolas without further thought and leapt to the house below. Another elleth was there, piercing the Orcs assaulting the house with her knives. Varilerin threw a knife to the Orc across the room, freeing a little girl from danger. Varilerin finally discovered the Dwarves she was searching for, noticing one of them being injured. She quickly finished off the Orc that emerged from the balcony with a swift strike of her sword, and then kicked it to the river below.

“Who are you?” the elleth asked her, not sheathing the knives in her hand.

“We need to get out of this town. The dragon will be awakened soon,” Varilerin incorrectly answered. She approached the three Dwarves lying on the floor and overshadowed them with her figure. “Are you the company of Gandalf the Grey?”

“Yes,” the injured one said. Moved with pity, she knelt close to him and examined his injury. When she touched his leg, her heart stopped.

The vision, she thought as she clumsily stood up and closed her eyes, trying to prevent the vision from being seen although she knew it was useless. Images began emerging in her mind, of war and battle, of death and sadness. She then saw Esgaroth burning in dragon fire, and the townsmen crying for help.

“It is coming...” Varilerin whispered once the vision stopped.

“What is coming?” Tauriel asked, but was interrupted with Legolas entering the house with the lone Dwarf from before. They both looked surprised at the sight.

“There are others, Tauriel, we must hurry,” Legolas told her and quickly strode away from the house. Tauriel seemed reluctant to leave the house, her eyes constantly glancing to the injured Dwarf. She began walking away, but stopped when the Dwarf grunted in agony.

“The wound is poisoned. He won’t last long,” Varilerin explained. She would be healing him if she had the necessary herbs, but for long she had travelled in bare wastelands where even the sparest bushes couldn’t be found.

“I’ve found Kingsfoil,” the newly coming Dwarf said hastily as he handed the plant to the elleth. Tauriel grabbed the plant slowly and examined the plant. Her face seemed to brighten up with hope and she looked at the injured Dwarf. “I can save him,” she said. The other Dwarves looked particularly hopeful of her statement, but doubtful as well.

“Lay him on the table,” Varilerin instructed, not wanting to see the Dwarf die in front of her, although she knew that he would eventually be in the same fate as in her vision. Her vision rarely informed her the false events, and rarely showed her the good ones. The other Dwarves followed and laid him slowly on the table. Tauriel washed and tore apart the Athelas as she began chanting.

“Hold him,” Tauriel instructed as she approached the Dwarf. Varilerin helped the other Dwarves holding him down and watched as Tauriel began applying the Athelas to his wounds. The Dwarf screamed and thrashed in pain, but Varilerin’s strength kept him down for good. She quietly chanted with Tauriel and observed as the Dwarf began to calm down. Tauriel lifted her hands and breathed heavily.

“I’ve heard tell of wonders of elvish medicine. That was a privilege to witness,” the other Dwarf said.

“It is indeed,” Varilerin said, not having seen her kin performing such feat for hundreds of years. “He is safe now.” Varilerin walked to the balcony to look upon the mountain. She could feel darkness emanating from the vacant Dwarven kingdom and her heart glowered in worry. To her relief, she discovered Bard and his son approaching the house. Bard was carrying the black arrow with him and his face seemed wary of her presence, and the corpses of Orcs scattering around the house.

“What in the world happened?” he muttered when he entered his house, seeing it wrecked in pieces. “Dwarves…”

“He is save,” Tauriel informed the others with a slightly flushed expression. Varilerin raised a brow, wondering what had happened while she was not looking. One of the dwarf whispered ‘love’ to her and she finally understood when she saw how the injured Dwarf looked at Tauriel.

“I must go now,” Tauriel said.

“It is now too late to follow him,” Varilerin told her. “And the dragon will be awakened soon. It is more fitting for you to help us.”

Tauriel pondered in silence. Bard, who was reuniting with his children, observed the two.

“Who are you actually?” Bard asked Varilerin.

“I am a friend of Gandalf the Grey. People tend to call me Daefaroth,” she answered.

“Daefaroth? What in the world are you doing here meddling with matters of a small town?” the Dwarves asked.

“Because your company is about to wake a sleepless beast with you recklessness!” she scolded all of them. A roar from the skies continued her sentence, shaking the very buildings of Esgaroth with fear. Their eyes were widened and their bodies trembled in horror.

“It has started,” Varilerin muttered.

“Get him up! We must leave this place instantly!” Tauriel instructed.

She went out of the house and peered to the skies close to the mountain. Vague but clear, she could see the dragon approaching the town in an amazing speed. “Get a boat!” she told Bard’s son. The unmoved townsmen had started moving in panic, shouting in fear and scrambling their belongings like wild men.

“Da, where are you going?” Bain shouted to Bard, who, instead of following them, ran away to the heart of the city with the black arrow. Varilerin couldn’t stop Bain from following his father and decided that the outmost importance was to save the more people close to her. She instructed them to get in the boat and she took the oar.

“Help me,” Tauriel said as she gave the other oars to the Dwarves. Her ears could hear the dragon getting closer, catching its very wings flapping in the air. “Paddle the boat, quickly!”

Smaug had finally entered the city by the time they did so. He scorched the buildings of Esgaroth with fire, merciless to anyone that came upon his path. People screamed in agony as the dragon burnt through their skin, before they lost their souls to pain. The dragon continued to destroy the town as people tried to save their lives and their belongings. Varilerin’s eyes were struck with pain as she watched the scene from her vision occurring in the real life.

Then suddenly, the dragon stopped flying above them. In the middle of destruction happening in the town, he landed. The dragon’s eyes were transfixed to the tower standing in the middle of the town, as if the tower interested him.

“What is happening?” Bard’s daughters asked. Varilerin squinted at the tower, seeing two figures standing on top of it.

“It’s Bard and your brother,” she gasped as she continued to move the boat through the river.

“Bain? What are they doing there?” the elder sister asked in horror. Varilerin didn’t speak as she observed the amazing feat that unveiled between the dragon and the two Men.

“Who are you that would stand against me?” She could hear Smaug hissing at the two, particularly Bard. “Now that is a pity. What will you do now, bowman? You are forsaken. No help will come!”

“He has run out of arrows,” Tauriel observed.

“But he still has an arrow left,” Varilerin added. Tauriel looked confused, only to understand once she saw the black arrow Bard was holding.

“Is that your child? You cannot save him from the fire. He will burn!” Smaug growled again. Varilerin’s heart beat with anticipation and anxiety as she watched Bard pulling the black arrow.

“Use the arrow, Bowman,” she prayed silently in Elvish. Tauriel noticed Varilerin speaking her tongue, but decided not to question her in such dire situation. Bard aimed the black arrow at the dragon, whilst using his son as a bow. The Dwarves and Bard’s daughters watched in fear. The tower had started crumbling from the fire and Smaug slowly closed in to finish the two.

“Da!” the girls screamed hopelessly.

“He won’t make it!” the injured Dwarf said, but Varilerin saw that Bard was none like other archers. She could feel a strong aura coming from him, and hope emanating from his very hands.

He was destined to kill the dragon.

“Fire,” Varilerin muttered.

In an instant, Bard fired the black arrow from the tower. The arrow pierced through the heating air and pierced deep into the skin of Smaug, dead on the unscaled body of the dragon. Smaug yelled in agony as the arrow started to kill him and flew to the sky, trying to escape his death. The Dwarves in Varilerin’s boat cheered as they watched the dragon falling from the sky, hitting the buildings below and meeting his death.

“He impossibly did it!” the Dwarves exclaimed. The girls cried in relief and embraced each other.

“He did,” Varilerin muttered under her scarf. “We need to get to him! Turn the boat.”

The paddlers complied and they directed their boat beneath the tower. Bard and his son were waiting for them, unscathed but seemingly battered. The tower was crumbling from fire and the couple swayed as their ground started to fall down. “Jump!” Varilerin shouted. Bard grabbed his son and jumped from the tower just before it crumbled, landing hard on the platform beside the boat. With difficult effort he dodged the falling tower and entered the boat, pushing his son just before he did so.

“Da!” the girls said as they embraced their father and brother. Tauriel secretly smiled when she saw the family reuniting once more.

“You did well,” Varilerin praised him as she paddled the boat away from the burning city. Bard nodded sadly, scanning the surrounding buildings with worry. The dragon now defeated, the townspeople began paddling and swimming away safely from the town. “The town is now lost. Its people will need to find a refuge. In this cold winter however, I am afraid they won’t survive long.”

“Yes, they won’t,” Bard said in disappointment. He then turned to the mountain, where Smaug had come and the Dwarves were now currently settling. Varilerin saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “But with the help of the Dwarves, we might.”

“Bard, the Dwarves are strange a strange race. I am afraid Thorin Oakenshield have been lost before we plead for help,” Varilerin told him honestly, without paying attention to the Dwarves’ sombre expressions when she mentioned their leader.

“You are telling us that Thorin will refuse you?” the injured Dwarf protested. “My uncle will never do that, not when he upholds high honor.”

“Your uncle? You are Kili then, brother to Fili. Then, let me tell you this, young man, the greed of gold has taken over your grandfather and many other Dwarves. I have lived long and saw them fall, and Thorin is not excluded. However honourable he is, he can fall. Even the strongest warriors can be defeated.”

“The Dwarf was quite stubborn when he visited my king,” Tauriel told them. “He angered him quickly.”

“Still we need not lose hope,” Bard said lastly. Varilerin snorted and continued paddling. She had lived for hundreds of years and had lost so much hope she couldn’t believe in it anymore.

_____________________________________________________

Death seemed to be more fitting for the now dying townsmen. Having escaped their burning town, they now must survive the long harsh winter with whatever they had managed to scavenge. Bard and his company arrived on shore and landed on the wet ground.

“You should be joining your company now,” Varilerin told the Dwarves. “I will inform Gandalf of what I have seen. Hopefully you all will be safe from his anger.”

“Gandalf has told us about you in his stories,” the one called Bofur said as he squeezed his wet hat. “About Daefaroth his old friend who will come to his aid if he calls him. I didn’t think that I will be meeting you directly.”

“I didn’t think that I would be meeting a Dwarf either,” Varilerin replied. Her eyes caught Kili approaching Tauriel, limping but still struggling to meet her.

“Tauriel,” Kili whispered.

“Kili, come on. We’re leaving,” Fili told Kili. Kili seemed deafened and instead looked hopefully at Tauriel.

“Come with me. I know how I feel, I’m not afraid,” Kili told her as he clutched her gentle hands. “You make me feel alive, even when I am dying.”

Tauriel’s face seemed indiscernible as she swallowed the Dwarf’s words. It was a face of reluctance and surprise, yet acceptance and sadness. “I can’t,” Tauriel stammered, trying to turn away from the Dwarf. Kili stopped her powerfully and grabbed her tighter.

“Tauriel. Amralime,” Kili told her. Varilerin, who had travelled among various races for hundreds of years, knew what those simple words meant; and so was Tauriel.

“I don’t know what that means,” Tauriel lied. Kili merely smiled on her reaction. “I think you do,” he said. Varilerin watched the two strangely bonded, whilst her eyes caught a presence coming quickly from afar. She knew him and his intentions immediately, and blocked his path. Legolas looked at her menacingly, questioning what rights she had to stop him.

“Give her a time to rejoice, My Lord,” Varilerin told him, “for it will not last long, not when the future is dark.”

“The present is dark itself, and what rights do you have?” Legolas shot back.

“You have no idea of what is coming, Prince of Mirkwood,” she answered, reimagining the terrifying vision she had for the company and for the people refuging under the mountain. “And this time it cannot be prevented, not when all have started to move.”

“My Lord Legolas,” Tauriel gasped when she saw Legolas lurking behind her, along with Varilerin. Legolas lifted his eyes from Varilerin and glanced at Tauriel in a slight anger.

“Take your leave of the Dwarf. You are needed elsewhere,” Legolas told her. Tauriel nodded and reluctantly turned away from Kili, her right hand clutching an object Varilerin had not noticed. Legolas glanced sharply at Varilerin one last time, before he walked away with Tauriel. Kili seemed disheartened as well, and left the Men to join their kin in the mountain.

“It is a strange thing to see,” remarked Bard once he saw the queer company dispersing. Varilerin was still mesmerized as well, for the scene she had seen a while before was love blossoming between two different races, and it was genuine, not mere fascination. Never she had seen a Dwarf and an Elf bonding in such a short time, yet alone falling in love. “Love is a strange thing,” Bard continued.

“Love?” she muttered unconsciously. She let the word confuse her mind, for she had never understood such emotion before.

“It was Bard! He killed the dragon!” a woman said when she saw the man standing idly on the shore. “You’ve saved us all, bless you,” the people added.

“Where is the master then?” Bard asked the townspeople.

“Half way down the Anduin, with all our coin, I don’t doubt,” a woman answered. “What should we do now, Bard? Long winter awaits us, and yet we have nothing!”

“Then act. Those who can stand, tend to the wounded, and those who have strength left, follow me. We must salvage what we can,” Bard instructed the townspeople. They nodded in agreement and began moving about, helping those injured and weak. Varilerin approached Bard, who was collecting able men to his aid.

“We need to find shelter,” Bard told her.

“The City of Dale is upon you. We can get there before the day grows dark,” Varilerin suggested. Bard agreed with her and began moving the people to the abandoned city. Varilerin advanced further to scout the area, in case she discovered several enemies or even Gandalf wandering alone, waiting to be scolded by her annoyance. The sun was high on the sky when all of the people finally arrived. The buildings of Dale were covered in dust and snow of the winter, wreckages laying on stone roads and on white snow. Varilerin watched as they took shelter in the city, pitying them for the city had once been so glorious in its golden days; until a certain greed took over and destroyed its people.

She noticed Bard ordering the townsmen to gather the remaining supplies they had and distribute them to the women and children. She walked to him with a struggle to break through the crowds, now all homeless and starving.

“You’re still going to negotiate with the Dwarves?” she asked him.

“If it’s only the way for us to get food, so be it,” he said determinedly. Varilerin was less impressed with his determination, fearing that the Dwarves would have been taken over by the greed that had once brought doom upon them. The sun finally settled down and the cold night greeted them. Varilerin took the night watch with Bard’s men and spent the night watching the people sleeping in pain. The mountain was silent, just as she had expected, and it seemed that the Dwarves didn’t pity on their sufferings.

Morning came longer than people had expected. Bard again ordered the men to tend the wounded and distribute the scarce supplies.

“The night is quiet,” she informed Bard.

“Thank you for your help, Daefaroth,” Bard said to her. She accepted his thanks sincerely, knowing that even though she didn’t like getting in trouble, her help was needed by the dying people. Just then there was a horn sounded from afar, ringing loud and clear in the air. She knew the sound too well.

“Elves,” she informed Bard, who quickly rushed to the direction where the sound came from. Varilerin didn’t follow him, instead climbing a broken watchtower to watch from far. She didn’t want to be discovered by her kin, not after she had failed her vow and disgrace her friends. She had expected to see mere Wood Elves carrying supplies for them, which turned out to be true, but not Elven archers fully equipped with arrows and armours.

“What in the world-“ She caught a familiar figure riding in front of the lines of the Elves. Thranduil led his people gracefully on his ride, fully armoured as well, and was talking to Bard, who seemed surprised of the sight. Bard and the other townsmen discussed something with Thranduil, about terms of agreement she guessed, and then Thranduil called forth the supplies he brought. Bard let the Elves distribute the food to the townspeople and followed Thranduil to the abandoned city hall as if the two were already comrades. Varilerin climbed down the tower and approached Bain.

“What did the Elven king told your father?” she asked the young man while helping him distributing the supplies.

“He said that he doesn’t come here on our behalf. He came here to reclaim something,” Bain informed her plainly.

“Reclaim something?” Varilerin looked towards the town hall, not guarded by Elven guards, and gulped in horror as she slowly understood Thranduil’s intentions. Not long later, Bard and Thranduil emerged from the broken doors of the hall. The Elven King immediately left him along with his army, passing the grateful people who didn’t understand a glimpse of his intentions.

“We’re going to reclaim our claims from the Dwarves,” Bard told the people. “After midday, we shall ride to Erebor, and demand our share.”

“The Elves are demanding their share as well, aren’t they?” Varilerin guessed accurately. “The Dwarves won’t give a single coin in this circumstance. Something tells me that it is the reason they have not yet returned from the mountain.”

“Then we are going to take them by force,” said he.

“You want to risk war and the death of your people?”

“Promises broken are heavier than deaths, Daefaroth, and people need food. I cannot stand idly here as I watch them die. If it is war they want, so be it,” Bard said lastly before he left Varilerin. Varilerin stood alone among the people, disheartened with disappointment and disbelief. She stepped back from the fray, leaving the town slowly as she cursed their decisions in her heart.

I wouldn’t take any part of his blasphemy, she thought. Gandalf, you have made such a poor decision this time that I should throw you to Mount Doom when you return.

However, when she Bard and Thranduil returned from the mountain and bearing orders that they would wage war with the Dwarves, Varilerin finally knew why Gandalf had sent her to Esgaroth. Gandalf, you are really paying me a visit when all this ends, she mused as she approached the Elven camps. She couldn’t stand being ignorant, not when she could actually prevent her horrifying vision from happening. With furious steps she sneaked into the encampments of the Elven army under the starry night, and barged without permission into Thranduil’s tent.

The Elven King was standing beside Bard and gaped when they saw a dark figure emerging from the tent flaps. Before Thranduil could call his guards, the stranger had stood and inch from his face. He couldn’t see the stranger’s face, for it was veiled with a black scarf. A Haradrim? Thranduil thought as he tried to draw his sword. He cautiously studied the stranger glaring at him.

“Daefaroth?” Bard exclaimed.

“You need to stop all this madness, Your Highness,” Varilerin told him furiously. “Your meddling with Dwarves are useless! Darkness is growing stronger outside these lands, waiting to engulf you in death, and yet you are here fighting over gold and jewels?”

“You don’t know anything about our concerns. Years the Dwarves have broken their promises, promises that should result greater than death!” Thranduil retorted.

“Don’t you understand? The evil in Mordor is growing! I have seen it with my own eyes, not yours. Do not destroy yourselves just like Sauron wants you to!”

“Sauron has fallen-“

“The Ring still exists. Sauron will return when the Ring returned to him and you will be undefended!”

“And who are you to judge me, stranger?” Thranduil shot back, his eyes burning with anger and annoyance. Varilerin didn’t shudder or cower under those cold blue eyes, flashing her silver eyes in response.

“One who’s seen the world more than you for the past millennia, Thranduil!” she hissed back.

“I shall not take any words from a random, lowly ranger that defies propriety when he’s talking to a King!” Thranduil reasoned.

“But he’s no lowly ranger, Thranduil, Elven King of Mirkwood Realm!” a coarse, wise voice came out of nowhere. Varilerin knew the voice too well and instantly smiled under her cover. From the flaps of the tent emerged a bearded old man cladded in grey. He was wearing the same pointy hat he had used a thousand years ago. His face was dirtied by dust and sweat, a clear evidence of him travelling haste.

“Gandalf!” she exclaimed in relief. The wizard spared a small smile for her, before looking at Thranduil as if he was a spoiled son. “This is Daefaroth, the Shadow Hunter, the walker of Middle Earth. His experience has made his words worthy to be heard even to an Elven king.”

“And what is a wizard doing here? Truly, he still wants to meddle with the problems of the Dwarves that he himself caused?” Thranduil said sharply.

“I do not deny that this quest is ill-fated, but it is not the Dwarves that are causing such fate! You must aside your petty grievances with the Dwarves, all of you! War is coming. The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You are all in mortal danger!” Varilerin finally understood Gandalf’s intentions of sending her, though it proved to be useless as observed.

“What are you talking about?” asked Bard, who, until that point, had never been involved in the evil matters of the world.

“I can see you know nothing of wizards. They are like winter thunder on a wild wind, rolling in from a distance breaking hard in alarm, but sometimes a storm is just a storm,” Thranduil remarked.

“Not this time! I have seen them, armies of Orc fighters moving swiftly towards the mountain in full strength. We forced him to do so when the Company of Thorin set out to reclaim their homeland, for the enemy wants Erebor and all its treasures!”

“The enemy? Do you mean Sauron the Deceiver?” asked Varilerin. Gandalf nodded reluctantly, pulling his hat off and swept his forehead from sweat.

“And then leads to my final question,” Thranduil said in mockery. “Where are they?”

“A wizard rarely lies. They will come, in stealth. I’ve seen them and you’ve seen it too. They move quietly, waiting the time to strike, and attack us. All we have to do by then is to die, or survive.”

“However convincing your words are, both of you, your words are not with proof,” Thranduil said firmly. Varilerin sighed as she watched the king ending their negotiations, and Gandalf followed her actions as well. “We’ll attack at dawn,” Thranduil continued, turning his attention to Bard. Gandalf looked at Varilerin with the same look she was giving to him, and grunted in disappointment as he took his leave from the tent.

Just when Gandalf lifted the tent flaps, a wind gusted in, and Varilerin knew it was not an ordinary wind. She felt a presence coming past Gandalf, small yet strong. In a flash, she unsheathed one of her swords and thrusted it towards the hiding figure approaching them.

“Reveal yourself, spy!” she hissed. The others observed the strange scene unfold.

“No, I am no spy!” a voice came from nowhere. Suddenly, a small man appeared from the air, and lifted his arms high. Gandalf lowered Varilerin’s arm and helped the Halfling get to his feet.

“What are you doing here, Master Baggins?” Gandalf scolded the Hobbit.

“You are Bilbo?” Varilerin guessed. Bilbo brokenly nodded, frightened by the blade that had almost cut his neck. Varilerin sheathed her weapon and bowed to the Halfling. “Forgive me, little one, for your arrival is truly unexpected.”

“Bilbo Baggins? If I am not mistaken, this is the Halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards,” Thranduil accused the Halfling.

“Yes, sorry about that,” Bilbo replied shortly. “Anyway, I came…. To give you this,” she said, unravelling a bundle of cloth from his pocket. From the folds of fabric came a light Varilerin had never seen before, a stone shimmering under the darkness.

“The Arkenstone!” Gandalf gasped. “Bilbo Baggins… What are you planning?”

“First of all, this will be my fourteenth share,” Bilbo said.

“The Arkenstone worths more than all the gold there, Master Baggins,” Varilerin intervened. “You stole it, didn’t you?”

“I said, it’s my fourteenth share. Well, anyway, I’m giving this to you and in exchange, Thorin would give your ransoms. That way, there will be no need for war.”

The other four looked at each other with the same thought. The Hobbit seemed suspicious enough with the Arkenstone, yet alone offering them freely like this. Bilbo was sure that they would hardly believe his words, of course, but he would do anything to avoid unnecessary deaths of his friends.

“Farewell then,” Thranduil said, taking the Arkenstone from the Hobbit’s hands. “But remember this. If the Dwarves are to retaliate once more, war will still be the result.”

The Elven King’s words caused indescribably fear to Bilbo and he quickly bowed so he could leave the tent as soon as possible. However, it seemed Gandalf didn’t want him to leave just yet and grabbed him outside the tent. Varilerin followed behind the wizard, watching the Hobbit with her silvery eyes.

“You need to leave, Bilbo,” Gandalf said in whispers. “Get as far away from here as possible. There is no more company. Imagine what Thorin will do when he finds out what you’ve done.”

“What do you mean?” Bilbo chirped.

“The dragon gold corrupts all, Master Baggins,” Varlierin answered in Gandalf’s stead. “I would follow Gandalf if I were you.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but who is he actually?” Bilbo asked Gandalf.

“He is an old friend of mine. You can call him Daefaroth,” Gandalf told Bilbo.

“Nice to meet you,” Bilbo said awkwardly. Varilerin merely nodded in reply. “Well, I will follow your suggestion then, Gandalf. Until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again, Bilbo,” Gandalf said lastly before the Hobbit left the two. Gandalf sighed and turned to Varilerin, who was folding her arms and tapping the ground with her left foot.

“Where have you been?” she asked him furiously. The wizard sighed once more and took out his pipe weed.

“I’ve been investigating the evils that I am afraid now have remerged. Sauron as you may know, has returned. The White Council managed to drive him out of Dol Guldur, but now armies of Orcs are coming. Things are getting more complicated, I am adraid. Their battle tomorrow will be their doom.”

“Let’s pray that they will come to their senses before the evil comes,” she said to him.

“Will you aid your kin in their battle?”

“No,” she answered shortly and surely. “I have done what I can, but I will not help them enter doom itself. Even though they may be my kin and I have chosen to become them, I am wise enough Gandalf. If they’re fighting the wrong side of truth, I shall become their enemy.”

“You haven’t changed ever since I met you hundreds of years ago, haven’t you?” remarked Gandalf. Varilerin merely scoffed at his words.

“I haven’t and so have you. Now, the only thing I can do is to warn these people if the army comes,” Varilerin said.

“It is for the best then,” Gandalf said. Varilerin nodded and strolled away from the encampments, facing the dark shadows that would soon be striking them.