I was fourteen when I left Bree. Unlike many of my age who left, I didn't leave because of an awful childhood, or because I was unwanted. My mum was good, loved me, treated me like her most precious possession. No, except the fact children teased me for being fatherless, adults abused me because of the status of my birth, my childhood was easy. No matter where you go, base-born are not accepted, but my mother's love made up for it. I left because Bree did not want me.
Perhaps were I not half Gondarian, acceptance might come easier, but Bree pushed me out when my mother died. They said I was too young to inherit her estate, a small farm and perhaps five hundred silver if I sold all her lifelong goods. I turned to the life of a thief. Being new at it they often caught and finally told me jail for life or leave Bree and never come back. Ten months after my mother died and five months after my fourteenth birthday I left Bree and planned never to come back.
I improved as I traveled in my various thievery attempts. The one I never mastered was that of a pick pocket. Towering over most people, it is not the easiest of aspects to be learned. Being tall makes entering other peoples' homes all the much easier. No need to find ladders or boxes to stand on. And being young...well lets just say it made cons all the much easier with women and men alike. Marks we plenty as I wandered.
I didn't realize subconsciously I headed toward Gondor. If I knew I may have stopped in any of the half-dozen towns where they welcomed someone like me. Bandit towns, made up of those unwanted by regular society, half-breeds, base-born, abused and forgotten, all of us who saw no other way. Most grew up in gutters, orphans or escapees from brutal parents. We all had one thing in common, circumstances led us to the life of criminal activities.
Were my choices good ones? Most likely not, but they were the only ones I saw. When you're young you don't always see things. Who am I kidding, I still don't see things. But back then I was blind, following whatever pulled me toward Gondor and my sire. Perhaps the fates wanted, or perhaps I hoped he would accept me. I still can't answer that after all these years. But my travels made me a better thief than many who stayed in only one place. This is a fact I cannot deny.
By the time I reached Gondor I was at my peak. It had been months since some city caught me at even the most petty of crimes. I passed my sixteenth birthday and heard the name of my father in a small town just inside the borders, and the name of where he lived. I was reluctant to travel there and yet I needed too, something inside me said I needed to confront him.
So off I set for Dol Amroth.
