Sigrid was scrubbing the front porch when she heard Tilda cried out "Daddy, daddy!"
Tilda ran to her father. She crossed their yard with long strides. Bard held her up on his shoulder and kissed her forehead. "How's everyone?"
Sigrid dropped the scrub brush and rubbed her hands with the apron. "Where have you been?" she asked. "We were so worried about you."
"Didn't you receive my letter? I was in Rohan, working as a caravan guard." Bard wrapped his arm around Sigrid.
She shook her head. "I guess the drunken postman sent it to the wrong address again. I'm glad you're back. There's a lot of thing going on here."
"We can speak about this later but first let me take a nap," Bard rubbed his nose with his knuckle. His watery eyes turned red.
Sigrid pulled Bard closer and whispered into his ear. "But I want to talk now. We found a man in the forest yesterday. He's dead."
"Getting killed by bear or wolf, perhaps."
"No, the wound was too clean-cut. It's probably a long blade," Sigrid said.
"Have you told anyone?" Bard asked.
Sigrid shook her head. "I was thinking to tell the Master this afternoon. But first I need to finish all the housework."
"I'll take it from here." Bard patted her on the shoulder. "But where did you find him anyway?"
"At the river junction, not so far from the edge of the forest."
"Oh, you went there?" Bard grabbed her wrist.
"Is there something wrong?" Sigrid asked then tightening her lips.
"Nothing," Bard said with a stern voice. "I'll take a nap first and—"
"But we need to act fast. We can't just leave him there without a proper burial." Sigrid narrowed her eyes and frowned.
"He's dead. A couple of hours of waiting aren't going to ruin anything. He's already decayed." Bard yawned, stretching his arms.
"It's not his body that I concern. It's his soul."
Bard stared at his daughter for a brief moment. "There are grey Elves in the forest," Bard said.
Sigrid looked away, thinking about what to say next. She sighed before turning to face her father. "I met them."
"Oh." His face turned white as sheet. He wrinkled his nose.
They both kept silence when Tilda ran back. He combed her hair with his fingers then asked Tilda to go inside, leaving them to talk in private. Tilda nodded and disappeared behind the main door. When the door was shut, they started talking again.
"He's one of us," Sigrid said. "This man belongs to the Lake-town. We need to bring him back."
"But where exactly is he? I don't know where you found him,' Bard said.
Sigrid took a deep breath, inhaling a warm breeze to calm herself down. 'I'll go,' she said. "You go telling the Master about the corpse."
"No, it's too dangerous to go there alone. I'll go with you." Bard squeezed her hand. "I'll send Bain to fetch the Master."
Bard shouted for Bain then he fumbled with his pocket. "If we're not coming back by seven, you and Tilda eat. Don't wait for us," he told Bain. "Here're some coins. Buy yourself a nice dinner."
Bard put on his black cloak. "Let's go, my lady." He put his arm around Sigrid and they started walking.
In the forest, the sun hid behind trees. It camouflaged itself in the shadow of the wood. Sigrid thought she heard tree murmured something as they passed by. Trees don't talk, Sigrid told herself while wrapping her arms around herself. It was cold, too cold for the summer. Sigrid shivered.
They hadn't seen anybody around this part of the forest as they walked for three hours, but Bard believed there must be other fishermen who had come hunting for fish here. Those people who were desperate enough to risk their lives for food by moving here might be somewhere near. Bard slowed his pace, waiting for his daughter to catch up with him. "It's getting dark."
Sigrid brushed down her skirt. There were some muddy stains on it. She walked beside him.
Bard kept walking deep in the forest, looking for the body. Surly Bard is not a coward, but too often villagers talked behind his back that all the members of his family were faint-hearted. They had failed to protect the people from the dragon and that was the price the poor family had paid for, being outcasts. It bothered Sigrid every time people told them that their ancestors were losers. She didn't believe in the hearsay story. And she knew her father well that he would do everything to bring the body back to the village.
"You are a brave man," she said and held his hand.
Bard nodded then smiled. Neither of them talked for a while. They crossed a small stream, drenching as they waded into the water.
By the time they reached the border of the forest, the rain had started to fall. Bard took off his cloak and put it on Sigrid. He didn't want her to catch a cold, but it was too late. She sneezed unstoppably. Before he put his hand on her temple, she stepped back.
"Don't—," she said. "I'm all right."
Sigrid pulled up the hood to cover her head. She did not want to worry her father. Her legs started to sour, but she ignored the pain and kept walking. In desperation, she sang a marching song, trying to be cheerful. Birds sang along as the dusk came. And then she heard the rustle of leaves again. Something was moving behind a thick bush, she could see it from the corner of her eye. Her father, too, noticed a figure of a shadow over there. They exchanged glances, but neither of them spoke about the shadow. Legolas, maybe? Sigrid crossed her fingers in hope to see him again. The shadow hid quietly, examining every move they made. Instead of being frightened, Sigrid didn't bother with the anonymous follower. If it were a wolf or a bear, it would have attack them earlier. It made no sense that this creature behind the bush would do any harm to them. Or at least, not for now.
"Should we move to Rohan?" Sigrid asked, still looking at the shadow out of the corner of her eye.
"You want to move?" Bard said.
"There's nothing left here," she said. "How long can we live with our saving? A year, perhaps? There's no future in the Lake-town."
"There's a grain of truth of what you said," he replied, "but we can't just run away. This is our home."
"We would die soon from wars, famine or natural disasters. Life around the lonely mountain is savage. I don't know how we're going to survive in a long term."
"War has ended," Bard said sternly.
"There's always a new war out there," Sigrid said. "How many times our village has been looted and burned? Do I need to remind you that humans are greedy by nature? Those warlords will march for wars very soon when their treasury houses run out of gold."
"That's so true," Bard agreed.
"And then what? Another enlistment? Peasants like us, fight and die for our lands while those kings and queens throw parties to celebrate their victories. What a glory!"
"The conflict among humans has never ended," Bard said bitterly.
"What frustrated me the most is it's their wars, not ours, but we're the ones who pay the price of their greed. I'm so fed up, father." Her shoulders dropped. "Sometimes I don't know what exactly we're fighting against."
"Destiny, perhaps."
"Do you want Tilda to grow up here?" She fired the question off. "She might end up being a scavenger," she said, "and for Bain, a mercenary for sure."
"What a miserable dream you have for your siblings," Bard said and he sighed. Partly he knew that Sigrid was right, but he hated to admit it.
"There's no future for us, father," she said. "Let's climb out of hell and start a new life somewhere."
There's no hope, he wanted to shout it out loud, but Bard didn't say anything. His heart felt heavy. He knew that there was nothing out there, but he didn't want to destroy Sigrid's hope. It's too painful for her to deal with the reality.
"So where is the body exactly?" Bard changed the subject as they reached the enchanting river. "If we don't find him, we need to go back before the nightfall."
"I don't want to leave him behind just like that," she said.
"I know, but he's already gone. There's no need for us to chase for the ghost. Let's call it a day."
Sigrid stared into Bard's eyes. "No one deserves to die alone. At least there should have someone looking for him. Cry for him when he's gone. I don't know. Maybe I'm getting mad. Sometimes I imagine of my own death. I would rather die in my warm bed than in the middle of nowhere like this."
"Our beds have never warm so it doesn't matter wherever we die. It's all the same. We're all rotten in our graves, eaten by worms and rats. Lords or peasants, death is the same."
"Yes, you're right," she admitted.
Bard put his hand to her chin, raising her face to meet him. "Let's stop talking about death, all right?"
Sigrid nodded awkwardly. "What should I talk about then?"
"I don't know." Bard laughed lightly.
"How about the downfall of our economics? Or the corruption in the parliament?" She suggested new topics in a sarcastic tone.
"That's also too daunting for a girl."
"Why? Because I'm a girl it doesn't mean that I don't have a brain."
"I know, I know. My daughter is smart and strong." Bard gave her a compliment. "And also gloomy and arrogant," Bard continued.
"Stop talking from now on," Sigrid shouted in Bard's ear.
"Is that the way you talk to your father?" Bard snarled. They burst out laughing for no reason.
"I am truly sorry, my lord." Sigrid curtsied mockery.
There was the murmur of trees again. Sigrid turned back but saw nothing. She kept walking along the river, lengthening her steps to keep up with her father. Behind a wall of spruces, she saw a wooden cottage, which had been hurriedly built just a couple of days ago, judging from the white paint that hadn't been dried. In front of the building, there were haystacks piling up for cows. Logs were abandoned unorganized in the yard as well as an ax on a chopping block.
Bard knocked at the door, but no one answered. They walked behind the cottage and saw a shed there. Several goats were in their pens. They bleated to welcome as Bard and Sigrid walked inside.
A tiny man sat on his knees, showing his back to them. He scraped grayling, removing scales with a filet knife. Several of trout were on a chopping block— waiting to be murdered. After slicing up the fish belly, he licked his bloody hands and the knife slowly.
Bard cleared his throat to draw the man attention. "My name is Bard. This is my daughter, Sigrid. We are from the Lake-town."
The man looked up. When he turned around, Sigrid stepped back and held her father arm tight.
The man's eyes were swollen and wide opened. There were dark circles under his eyes. "S—Smeagol, no, Gollum, no, Smeagol," he said. Gollum chopped another fish's head. He grimaced then combed his thin hair with his fingers.
"Yesterday, my children found a corpse at the river junction. Do you know who he is?"
Gollum kept silence for a few minutes then he shook his head. Bard squatted down next to him and Gollum stiffened.
"Are you sure?" Bard narrowed his eyes, pressing for more answers.
"Smeagol don't know, but Gollum, Gollum." Gollum stuttered and bit his fingernails. "Gollum heard a scream, but Gollum was too frighten of the Elves so Gollum didn't save the man and—"
Gollum spat and got up. He sheathed his knife and began to crawl forward like a rotten worm looking for food. "Follow Gollum, Gollum."
"Who is the man?" Bard asked again, walking behind Gollum
Gollum didn't respond.
When they reached the river junction a dark hair man came out behind a tuff. He had an unkempt beard like a bird's nest.
"Alfrid?" Bard said. Gollum became tensed.
"Yes, it's me. Alfrid Lickspittle." He bowed mockery.
"What are you doing here?"
"Master sent me," Alfrid replied.
"Four or five days, at least," Bard said.
"What?"
"The body, he laid there for at least four or five days. Poor man. Master must be heartbroken."
"Why?" Sigrid asked.
"It's his eldest son," Alfrid said. "So you found him?"
"No, my daughter did."
Alfrid whistled his men over. "Good, we need to interrogate her as soon as we get back to the Lake-town."
"For what? She's not involved."
"No matter you say she must come with me." Afrid shrugged. "She is the only lead we have to catch the killer."
"I saw nothing," Sigrid said.
"Nothing at all?"
"No," Sigrid said, face-harden.
"You brother said you met the Elves." Afrid smiled wickedly. "The wound was cut by an Elven blade."
Damn it, Bain! Sigrid cursed in silence. She wanted to squeeze Bain's neck for his suicidal talkative manner, but she knew it was too late. The boy had talked and now Alfrid would frantically convince everyone that the Elves did it.
"We don't know for sure," Bard said. "And supposing they killed him, what would you do next?"
"An eye for an eye," Afrid said.
"A march to death, I must warn you." Bard stared at Afrid for a long moment. "And don't you ever think to drag me into your fight."
Afrid's eyes blackened as the sun casted a shadow on his face. "We are at war, gentlemen, whether you like it or not. What else can we do? Waiting for them to come and slice our throats at night? We must be faster than them."
"No,not faster, be smarter." Bard frowned. He pressed his foot on the grass near the body. The ground was moil and cold. He stepped back, eyes on his feet. "The rain's fallen down for a couple of days."
"And?" Afrid asked.
"There must be deep footprints if he was killed here."
"There and there! Can't you see?"
"No, not that kind of footprints. Just look at the grass. It laid down as his body was pulled from that direction." Bard squatted, looking closer to the ground. "It's like he was dragged from there." He pointed out to the lonely mountain.
"So what?"
"Elves don't live on that side of the forest," Bard said, "and there has no reason they should move the body. Someone from outside Mirkwood did it. This is staged."
"I don't buy your theory," Afrid said. "Besides, which side are you on exactly? Why are you protecting them?"
"I only speak the truth," Bard said.
Sigrid knelt down to the corpse. She found something underneath the body. There was a piece of metal hidden there. She quickly put it in her pocket while Alfrid looked away.
"Maybe it's just an accident," one of Alfrid's men said, "or maybe an animal attack?"
"How do you know that?" Alfrid tilted his head to the sideways.
"Maybe he fell down on his own sword or he stabbed himself with the knife. Who knows! I have no clue. It's just some silly suggestions," he replied. "Anyway, what do you want me do?" he scratched his head.
"Carry him back to his father, of course. We need to bury him in the church." Alfrid said.
The man grimaced. "Bring me the stretcher," he told other men.
"We need to track them down if it is an animal attack," Bard said, arms folded. "And if he killed himself, where is his sword?"
Alfrid turned to Bard and looked at the man. "Don't take his suggestions seriously. He's dumber than a mule."
The man shrugged while other put the body on the stretcher.
"There's something evil here. Smeagol can feel it. Gollum saw the Elves, Gollum saw them!" Gollum said, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Bad Elves! Bad! Bad!"
"Now, we have a witness," Alfrid said, smiling like a winner.
"They're not bad. They help people," Sigrid said. She had wanted to slap Gollum on the face, but there was no chance. "And who are you exactly? Why are you here?"
"Smeagol came from the mountain. There's fish here. Gollum like it… Fish are good," Gollum said saliva dripping out of his mouth.
"You came from the mountain?" Bard repeated and exchanged glances with Sigrid.
"Let's waste no time," Alfrid said. "It's dusk now. We should get going."
Bard agreed. He passed Alfrid without looking at him.
Sigrid walked behind her father, holding the metal piece tight in her pocket. She looked at the horizon. The sun was red like blood.
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