Archet

OOC note: This is an old chronicle about these characters, a non canon history. Currently these characters have another background, but we keep this chronicle published because we wrote it with love 

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I left early in the morning to return to my folks and pack. I spoke with them at length, to convince them that it was the right plan for me to go to Combe and look for work so that I could help them rebuild the house and the business. I think my mum felt safer knowing that I was not going on my own, but that Toby and Blake would come with me. My dad however wasn’t quite convinced that a girl like me should travel out of town in the company of two boy my own age.

I have no work for the day, mum and dad are both away with Lizzie to Bree for the big market. Once again dad had said no to me coming along, but I am 16 now and he did said that next time I can go. I can’t wait, I want to see the whole world, but why not start with Bree!

Dear Diary,

So, if I want this to catch the eye of some future Treasure Hunter, it must have a title. Since not everyone in Bree-land knows their letters, and I want it to be clear I do—my dad taught me mine—I've decided to literally alliterate my literacy. Therefore, this dynamic diary of doubts, deliberations, and dramatic descriptions of daring do's shall henceforth be known as: Rarely wRitten Random Ramblings! Of course, being the serious person I am, I may later decide that such a title is simply too silly to keep. But we'll see!

Hello Aallan.

I will not stress formalities, as I wish for this to be brief. I have heard of your plight of late, and wish to help. I have many friends in Eriador that would gladly take you in while this situation gets figured out. If you wish to meet, give a message to Jon Brackenbrook in Archet.

-T

--- This parchment was written by Aallan moments after reading---

We headed for the village, when we took the old east path it was getting dark; the closer we were to Archet the more we could see the glow of a fire, the attack had begun.
When we arrived there were people fighting everywhere, I saw the keeper of the prison succumb under the blows of a brigand, many I shot down but more and more seemed to arrive.

Ted watched as his Aunty Nora cleaned up his little brother. His late mother's sister had taken control of the household in the aftermath of the birth. The new widow, Tom Bramble, took to spending his evenings drinking the “piss-water” of the Mad Badger Inn, coming home drunk and shouting at Ted when told by Nora he had not been entirely useful during the evening. His aunt, to Ted's dismay, ran a strict household.

“Here, hold him while I go fetch some more water. No, not like that, like this”

It had been hours since his mother had declared that the baby was on its way. Ted had been ushered to his attic room and swiftly forgotten about as his aunt arrived at his father's cobbler's shop to deliver his new sibling. He lay now on his straw bed, his head under his pillow doing all he could to drown out the screams.