A quiet night after a busy few days, I am curled up in the window seat of our old rooms at the Pony still, watching the stars, whispering their names to myself as they wheel overhead, penning these words, my mood as changeable as the night sky itself.
Beyond in the half-light of the chamber, Cyndwin sleeps with the innocent faith of a little girl, her head surrounded by a corona of golden hair. She has come so far through fear and danger already, yet she has such certainty that I will guide her through the trials she will yet face when she returns to Rohan..but do I share her certainty? How can I protect my love in the land of the Horselords where the dangers will be subtle and invisible and not easily dispatched with bow or blade?
First of all, her folk will have little regard for me, as I recall all too well from my travels through the Riddermark in the past. I will be distrusted and shunned at best, called "witch" and attacked at worst. In my travels the people of the Mark came to respect me as useful and called me Longtracker, as Xanderian was often too much for them, but they had no love of me. I was tolerated reluctantly as long as I remained out of what they considered none of my business....and they will certainly consider these charges against Cyndwin to be none of my business.
Even if they do accept my involvement, the charges against my love are grave and disturbing. To think that her own kinsmen would accuse her of killing her beloved brother, to the point she had to flee into exile. What sorts of dark emotions would be behind such a foul assumption? No one I have met in many years is as gentle spirited as my Cyndwin, it is impossible to think of someone who knows her intimately thinking she could do such a thing. In addition, poor Cyndwin was never allowed to properly grieve for her brother and no doubt will need to come to terms with that, and then there will be the real killer to expose and hold to justice. I fear I will let her down in some way, when she depends on me to be strong beside her...and even if all comes right, what then? Once she is returned to her kith and kin, who knows what her plans will be then, no longer an exile from hearth and family.
Thoughts of return lead my mind back to my Fille. It has been some days more than a week since her letter saying she would soon be in Bree again and there has been no further word. My initial elation is being replaced with concern...and worse. Perhaps the trip from Thorin's Gate is further than I recollect, or something unexpected has befallen her....or perhaps she has reconsidered her resolve to return to us. So many questions and fears torment me in the chill of the night, and somewhere in my soul I still hear that fell voice from Orthanc, whispering that I will ever be abandoned, doomed to fight and die alone for uncaring Masters (see HERE).
However these pitiful mewlings are not what led me to put pen to paper and I must push them away. I have tried to put my time back in Bree to good use. After spending some time seeking him out I finally came upon Hawke, my sweet urchin. I forget in his absence how young he is, as each time I encounter him he has grown in stature and build. I came upon him in the Pony, practicing his musicianship in the presence of Ynna of the Broken String. He seemed far more gratified to see me then he did when last we met which I must admit pleased me very much. I inquired after the status of the virtue of the Songstress who does not care for me, called Audea. After a strange reaction of laughter and confusion, the urchin confessed that it had been some time since he had spoken with her, which seemed to trouble him to no end. After a time, it seemed there were other matters he wished to discuss in more privacy, and so we withdrew to a back room of the Pony to speak alone.
Once assured we were quite alone, we discussed the fair Audea to some degree and I urged him to seek her out to ply his suit unto her, who as I had recalled would be very gratified to hear it. After he had typically deflected my counsel, the urchin confided in me certain elements of his birth and lineage including the name given him by his mother. None of this will I commit to paper lest it put him under further threat, but the reasons for his Father's enmity and the continued attention of the blackguard called Hilston are becoming clearer to me, and indeed to Hawke as well as I counseled him. As with all such things they have little to do with familial ties and all to do with money and power. The secrets he confessed also made clearer to me why I have always felt so drawn to him, and why from our first meeting I have seen in him shadows of future greatness.
As we were sitting in quiet discussion of these matters, I felt a strong sense of petty malice close at hand. On rising and going to the door of the chamber I beheld a local man of Bree skulking in the hall. By the feminine scent upon his person and his improperly buttoned trousers it was clear a casual and hasty assignation had just completed. As I contemplated this person and wondered why I felt such a sense of banal evil about him, I heard Hawke whispering angrily at my side. This was indeed that same Hilston who had employed thugs on several occasions to harass and injure my dear urchin at his own father's request, under the protection of bribed members of the Bree Watch.
Needless to say both myself and Heartbreaker were of one mind at that moment and would have put an arrow through his eye as soon as breathe, save for the fact I had promised Hawke some weeks ago I would not slay this Hilston. Therefore I let the man depart alive against my better judgment, much to Heartbreaker's dismay. After Hilston had gone his villainous way, I beseeched my urchin to free me from my promise even if just to maim or cripple this Hilston slightly, perhaps just arrows through his knees or skinning the flesh from his right arm...but he felt it best not to for some reason and as these are matters that concern him and not myself and he felt strongly that he should not be "protected", I acquiesced with a heavy heart
With Hilston and perhaps more of his ilk about we both thought it best that Hawke withdraw from the Pony, and after a brief journey we passed the rest of the evening and the quiet of the nightwatch in his hideaway deep in Beggar's Alley, free from marauding thugs and corrupt Bree Watchmen.
The next day upon my return to the Pony, I was struck by a comely figure standing alone, hair as red as flame and armed with a proper bow not of local make. As I contemplated her there, strangely set apart from the other patrons, I had a strong sense of pain and loss in her recent past, and a near surrender to loneliness and doubt that she was struggling to go beyond. Here was a soul in torment, who was fighting to step forward beyond this rift and seek her future free of the tendrils of a sorrowful past. She moved me deeply for reasons even now I do not fully understand and I felt an immediate kinship with her.
I hailed her as Gulfspanner for that was the name that I saw when I beheld her. When she asked me why I called her this, I explained and for a moment she grew anxious, even afraid, and demanded to know how I knew these things. I was quite certain then that she would depart hurriedly or close herself behind a wall of silence, yet perhaps she felt a kinship with me as well, and after a few minutes she eased and told me that she was called Narys.
We spoke some time pleasantly there in the noise and bustle of the Pony of names and titles, and especially after leaving young, brave Hawke sleeping in his anxious, exhausted dreams despite my attempt to ease his mind, her tentative yet tenacious defiance in the face of grief and adversity was like a balm to my spirit. She did not know where her road would now lead her, but she was walking it none the less, though fear made her heart quail. There is great honor in this. When she finally excused herself I knew that should I encounter the Gulfspanner again, she will be a valuable friend and ally.
As dawn arrives I can hear Cyndwin stirring and so I shall bring this to a close. Perhaps this day shall see Fille's arrival at long last, but I do not wish to look too closely upon the near future, as I may not like what I see and feel too fragile for further disappointments right now. I have felt the Banshee calling out to me, and she felt not as far as the Black Land, so perhaps my difficult sister has another unwelcome surprise for me. Therefore I am avoiding her for the moment, though her howls grow louder. Only time and fate will tell, but for now, I seek refuge in breakfast with Cyndwin, to immerse myself in her hope and light, when my own seems to be slowly draining away.
