The sun shines warm on the water, determined not to abandon its grip on the summer sky just yet. I sit with my bare feet just brushing the light waves that set the docks to creaking, and the small boats bobbing placidly about. The small dock-cat sits pressed beside my legs, paws folded possessively over a piece of fish she has stolen. I run one hand rhythmically through her fur, feeling the rumbling vibrations of her purr as she stretches out more lazily, content to sit in the sun and be loved. Soft voices occasionally reach me – laughs and exclamations, or daily conversations from those who work and live around the docks. I simply sit, enjoying the peace, away from the troubles and tensions of the valley, and of the House. Seagulls call as they fly past, the cat lifting her head in sudden interest as she watches them fly down-river. She looks almost as if she might attempt to run after them, if only they were a little lower in the sky. I watch them until they are nothing more than dots on the horizon, feeling something of the cat's desire to follow them in my own heart – wondering where they fly to, and what they will see.
It is as though leaving the valley somehow stirred me awake from a long sleep. I had almost forgotten the smell of grass crushed under eager hooves, the taste of the wind at the beginning of sunrise, when it brings promises that set all the trees to dancing with joy. I almost did not dare to believe that we were truly free – even as we crossed the ford and went on further, to the very edge of the moors, I found myself looking at the dusty road behind us, waiting for the word that would call us back. But there was nothing. This time, not even an escort directs our steps. A part of me whispers that none of the house know where we are, or care – we have travelled to the lands of Lindon, as planned, but none would notice to stop us if we went elsewhere. For now, we stay where we were bid, more than content to enjoy the peace and beauty, and the friends we have found in these lands. Nonetheless, this whisper of freedom stirs at my restless heart, awakening in me feelings I had thought long-buried.
We travelled slowly at first, through the deadened lands that men have claimed, a world of yellowed grass and dusty, broken stone roads. We avoided the settlements and ruins alike, although the remains of grand structures made me wonder what sorts of forts or towns had once stood there, in the past. I was glad nonetheless to reach the greener lands around the town of Bree, and the Shire, following the old routes of our kind towards the West. It seemed almost no time at all before we had reached the quiet, still lands of Lindon. We have stayed here ever since – and whenever Galdorion is occupied with his art and decorating, I have been exploring the surrounding areas. Even though I have been here before, everything seems somehow more new and exciting this time.
The cat stands and stretches, prodding at her fish with a disdainful paw, before sauntering off down the dock in search of something better. Mimicking her, I draw my feet up and stand, intending to go to the market to collect some food to take back with me. The scents of fresh-baked bread and other delights are already drifting on the wind, and home, and Galdorion, are calling.
