Someone to Watch Over Me

Prologue

Seren heard the arguing long before she made her way along the narrow, rocky path leading away from Dale. She'd finished her chores and wished to get away for a bit before Mama came home. She had to be careful, though, because Mama would be furious if she knew Seren was beyond the city walls alone. It wasn't safe outside of the city. Ruffians and Orcs and all sorts of evils could be found out there and Seren would do well to remember that and never find herself out there at all. Then again. Mama didn't know Seren never went anywhere unarmed, although she would be unhappy to know her only daughter carried steel with her anytime she left the small flat they called home. As far as Seren knew, Mama was blissfully unaware of the small sword in the scabbard at Seren's side, the one that smacked her thigh reassuringly with every step. If nothing, she had sense enough to protect herself.

The voices rose, the speech growing more coarse as she made her way along the downhill path leading down from Dale, to the flat plains between it and the dwarf kingdom of Erebor. Where the path curved, it overlooked the plains, and with all of the boulders dotting the edges of the path, it was simple to remain out of sight and yet be able to see everything. Sometimes she saw dwarves, other times, she saw those who came to Erebor to barter with the dwarves. Sometimes, she would just sit up there, as if at a show, and people watch for a good part of the day. But today's show was different. Today, there were two men, one considerably taller than the other—a blond human and a dark-haired dwarf. She recognized the taller one. Alfryd was always fighting other men. Mama said he lived to cause trouble. All sorts of trouble, she'd say, but she'd never specify.

"I told you to keep away from her, dwarf," he growled.

"And I told you, I answer to no man," came the dwarf's deep-voiced retort.

"Is that so?"

"Did I stutter?"

She eased around the opening, moving closer. They were lower, down where the city of Dale sloped into the rocky plains that led to the dwarf city of Erebor. All that could be seen of Erebor was the massive stone entrance, guarded to keep out anyone not a dwarf, but when Mama told her stories at bedtime, she described Erebor as a city of gems and precious metals, sparkling and filled with the most beautiful jewelry and metalwork created by dwarven craftsmen.

Boulders and smaller rocks ringed the edge of the precipice and Seren carefully picked her way around them to a break in them. That break offered up a view of the entire vista, as far as Ravenhill in the distance. The winds were stronger there, tugging at her braid, which made her scowl as she shoved it into the neck of her tunic. Mama wouldn't let her cut her hair. It was enough she let Seren dress in leggings and tunics instead of shoving her into dresses, but she drew the line at letting her cut her hair short.

The shouts below grew louder. Carefully, Seren leaned forward. But then, the rock crumbled, skittering down the slope and she ducked back just as the men turned at the sound. Her heart beat faster as she counted slowly to thirty, then peered back just as the first punch was thrown.

She moved back to the now-broken rock and stared down as Alfryd reeled back, regained his footing and then drew a sword. "I said, stay away from my sister," he growled, stepped back toward the dwarf.

Seren's fingers tightened about her own small blade. Mama didn't know it, but Mr. Whitestone sharpened the blade for her the other afternoon, and taught her a few simple maneuvers with it. He said it would do her good to know how to protect herself, even if Mama thought she didn't need to worry about such things. She was too pretty, Mama said, and would have no trouble marrying a man who would take care of her, even if she was small for her age of nearly fourteen summers.

Well, she agreed with Mr. Whitestone. She didn't want to rely on a man for anything. After all, Mama did and it seemed nothing good ever came of having one around. They were loud, they drank too much, and they were violent when they didn't get their way, much like good old Alfryd.