I had traveled from Imladris a few weeks ago, or at least I had thought. It was after the troll hunts that had left my disoriented to my sense of time. At last however my brother steadied me as we reached the crossing from the weather hills into what men called Bree-land. Laying on the border of the shire and other more exotic places I have visited, this was both a refuge from the shadows of mordor and a center of commerce for quite a diverse section of the world. Men, hobbits, dwarves and my kin in cloak dwelled here. I kepy my own hood about me as I treaded the stones, though my brother a giveaway as he bleated at passerby and the their hounds.
Still, it was not until I had stabled him along with the other steeds that my body laid weary along the wall before the Prancing Pony. Inside this tavern was a patron that always had admired my skill far beyond my own friends and my knack of finding quality pelts ensured my business with him was absolute. I had in fact stored several sacks of pelts just to see if the keeper wished for more, but I digressed from overburdening myself and headed in the door with what strength I had left.
The Main room was alight with song and fire as I entered. A host of character greeted me, followed my friend who stood there, cleaning some tankards. Immediately, he had pointed to the back by the kitchen to place the furs, tossing a small bag of silver in return. Accepting gratefully, I had also remembered his previous agreement, should these pelts be of sufficient quality, hence the troll hunt and pains. The mountain trolls had a particular notice for quality goods, shiny objects and useful tools that I would find within their hoards. In any case I was relieved that he nodded when I gave him such expression in my tired face to rest for a while.
Reluctant to continue to move, I willed my body forward as it creaked heavily, like stone, up the stairs to the back. I had only just set my pack along the barrels and my previous rugs and blankets I had fashioned from the season before, when I saw sitting on the chair a fair woman. She was looking to the flames with a solemn look. There was an air of familiar noble stance about her, which compelled me to sit and talk with her. She had journeyed from the White City along the eastern roads that I myself had traveled by not a week ago. Why she had came to Bree I would never fully comprehend. All I had gathered was that her family was slain, forcing her to part from Gondor. As I fully recall my past, I know what that is like. It is not the easiest to bear, but to see her here now, having escaped death itself and a pack of wargs, I can only imagine what she will do now.
It wasn't until I spotted the wandering barsmaid that I had to depart from my new friend.. whom I left fit with questions for her own well being and path. I can safely say she will be fine. Back to the problem at hand.. my previous arrangement with Barlimann consisted of refilling of my rations. I had just entered the arch of the kitchen when I gazed at the rosy maid close hand.
Marble skin, golden hair, and a blood red dress, stained with the marks of labor. Even her hands, though worn from the day's work were delicate in their own right. She seemed timid of me as I approached her. Her face, though I am sure she could not tell, blushed at the sight of me. I had thought of her a familiar face, though she had rebutted, telling me she had only started working there a few weeks ago. Truly, I had lost sense of time. Instead, however, I was slightly entranced with such a lady working at the Inn here. She seemed to be looking away to hide her face as I explained to her my agreement with Barlimann. Even so, I had revealed of my intentions to also bring cloth to fashion uniforms for them. Either out of embarassment or an unknown reason, she had nearly slipped her knife, cutting the cheese. With a smile, I reached behind her and aided her slicing, to which she retracted her face with a cute stammer as she marched about the kitchen.
When she had finished, I had offered to personally tailor her a dress as thanks for her help. As she turned to her side, I kissed her cheek just as her friend had walked in, startled. She grabbed her hand as I was packing the sacks onto my back for the next trip.
I cannot wait return next season. Addiel.
