The leaves of Mirkwood were in budding, bringing life and fair greenery back to the forest. In the places closest to the Woodland Realm's great hall, the flowers were in bloom, painting the forest floor in royal purples, sunny yellows, blushing pinks, and pale blues.

Birds flew and flitted through the trees, chirruping and singing, filling the forest with music.

Ah, spring in the woodland realm...when light and life at long last break the dark hold of winter. Fair indeed are the times which are between times, dawn and twilight, spring and fall.

But was I there to enjoy it?

No.

I was in Esgaroth. Apparently, my father's usual emissary to the humans was quite busy with some relations with Gondor, and as a replacement, I was one of four commissioned to go and establish trade agreements with the newest Master of Laketown.

However, as it things turned out, I was not needed in the negotiations after all. But neither was I allowed to return home through the woods alone, for the Woodland Guard had detected dark creatures haunting the wood, and none yet knew for certain how dangerous they would prove to be.

So, here I found myself, waiting for my companions to finish their negotiations, simply wandering about the town, seeing what there was to see. Which was not much, compared to the beauty of Mirkwood in the full, blooming garb of spring.

But I figured I would make the best of things, considering I had little else to do. And I knew not whether or not I would have the privilege of viewing this human city, full of its poor sanitation, ragged appearance, and overpowering (to say the least) odors.

I wandered aimlessly, simply watching the people who lived there.

The women in the marketplace, the little shops and booths lining the streets, the children running around the streets, throwing rocks in the water and chasing stray animals...charming in its own way.

It was nigh on sunset, and the thought entered my mind to find a place to sit and watch as the sun sunk over my homeland.

I rounded the corner of the street, humming softly to myself and imagining what the woodlands would be like at this hour.

Suddenly, a most detestable odor assaulted my senses. My mind came back from my Elven dream with a sudden, rude awakening.

Maybe this wasn't the best street to take...

I looked around, realizing I had strayed into a rather disgusting street, with piles of refuse littering the area.

Ugh... Carefully I began to back away, wishing with all my heart that I was still in my homeland.

Why did I ever come here...?

Suddenly, one of the larger piles of garbage stirred, and a small head rose from the refuse.

A pale, gaunt face with two large brown eyes looked toward me from under a tangle of dark hair, and I sucked my breath in sharply, realizing that I was looking into the eyes of a child.

What is a child doing lying in a pile of refuse on the street?

"Who are you?" The boy, for he was no older than twelve summers, asked, standing up and wrapping his arms around himself. "What do you want?"

His manner was hostile, but still with a childlike innocence and naivety—I suppose not too different than some of my own people come across to humans.

His dark eyes stared up at me, as I stood there, silently taking in the child's sorry predicament.

He was dressed in filthy clothes—hardly more than rags—which certainly would not keep him warm in the chilly spring days that resulted from the great Lake. His hair was beyond tangled, and his body was thin and gaunt. His skin was dangerously pale, showing signs of poor health.

He's spent the winter in this manner.

"What do you want?" He asked, trembling slightly with cold and fear.

Why is he so afraid? I mean him no harm.

I decided to try and find out what was the matter with him, and hopefully find his parents—wherever they were.

"What do you here, Little One?"

He frowned, his dark brows knitting together in a suspicious, yet adorable, manner.

"There isn't any law against me being here."

I was taken aback by his defensiveness, and his rather rude behavior, but reminded myself that if he were lying alone in a heap of rubbish, chances were no one had bothered to teach him proper manners.

"No, indeed. But why are you...here?" Don't be so forward and rude about it! He probably can't help it.

Contrary to my fear, the boy didn't seem to mind my directness. He simply shrugged, wrapping his skinny arms around himself.

"Where else would I go?"

I must confess, I came near to fainting at that question. But, I regained myself quickly.

"Why, with your parents, child." The moment I said it, I regretted doing so.

The lad's dark eyes began to well up with tears, and he turned quickly away so I would not see him crying. His shoulders shook slightly, as he wept silently.

They are dead.

I could hear it, though he did not speak a word. I see it in his eyes. I could feel it in my heart.

Gently, I put my arm around the little child, pulling him against my chest. The filthiness and lack of care that had first repelled me now endeared the child to me, as I understood the cause of his pitiable state.

Lying against my chest, he began to weep openly, as any child would after loosing a loved one.

As any person would. To loose a loved one is indeed a horrific tragedy. I thought, grimly.

I made no move to hush him, for not all tears are evil. Rather, they are what washes our souls and cleans away our sorrows. Rivers that flow from our hearts and minds, bearing away our woes.

Carefully, I wrapped my cloak around his bony shoulders, warming him and doing my best to comfort him. However, I greatly feared that my efforts would not be sufficient, as I had very little experience in comforting children in their grieving. The last time I had even attempted was when young Tauriel had lost her parents to an Orc raid six hundred years before.

I had promised myself then to be her protector, and do whatever it took to spare her further injury. But, she had grown older, and I knew I must allow her to make her own choices. I deeply dreaded the day she would inevitably make one that hurt her, but I knew the only thing I would be able to do was protect her from outside threats. I could not stop her from making choices. I could advise her, I could protect her, but if I tried to stop her, she would only resent me for it.

But this human child. What to do? How does one comfort a young human? I could not simply bring it back home with—

But perhaps I could.

Father would be so angry! He would only have it sent back.

I looked down at the tiny, filthy little bundle against my chest, now sniffing and gasping for air. He returned my gaze with deep, brown pools of sorrow and hurt, eyes that simply begged for my help.

In that moment, I made my decision. I knew what needed to be done, and there certainly did not seem to be anyone else around who was willing to do it.

Gently, I picked him up, standing to my full height.

He can't stay here.

I would take the human child home. And somehow, standing there with a limp, frail child in my arms, I felt as though there was a reason that I had been chosen to come to Esgaroth.

All things happen for a purpose. There will always be other spring days.