Hookworth Village, May 13
Dear Ravondir
I do not know why I write to you, as I am sure that no post will pass the mountains, and the letters I have already written to Ada and Nana will not have reached them. But I need to write down some of what has happened to me; in truth, I would not wish you to read much of this, as I know you will think I bring shame on the family. Nevertheless, I will set it down, and decide later what to do with it.
I am in love with a woman of common blood. She does not love me. The first in itself is enough to shame you, I know, but that I have allowed myself to suffer the humiliation of rejection at the hands of such a person will, I fear, place me beyond the pale. I can only explain how this has come about, by explaining that the situation in the North, and in the area of Bree-Land, where I have found myself, is not what I had anticipated.
The town, and the country about it, has been flooded with waves of refugees, from Rohan, from the North-lands, from Dunland, and other diverse places. At the same time, the same brigands and fell creatures that have driven these folk from their homes have begun to encroach on Bree-Land itself. There is fear here, and it seems there was always great injustice and inequality in the town. When I came to Bree it was as to a crossroads, thinking I would stay no more than a few days before I sought Nana’s kin further to the North; instead, I realised that I could not leave in all conscience, for although there are many armed men and women here, there are few with the training and experience of a Knight of Gondor, hardened on the Harad marches as I have been.
I had not been here long before I discovered that the wealthy here do not understand, as we do in Dol Amroth, that their position brings responsibility with it. I have met many poor people who live without enough food, without a home, without adequate clothing, and many who cannot read or write. Alone, I cannot hope to do anything to remedy this situation, which springs from the avarice and indifference of the wealthy burghers, but I have at least begun to teach the rudiments of writing to some that I have met.
There is much resentment of this inequality, and I was beset by a company of brigands, driven by envy and bitterness, who threatened to kill me for no better reason than my noble birth; it was only my teaching activities which convinced them not to attack me – not that I feared them, even when outnumbered, but I was unarmoured, and any wounds taken at their hands would doubtless have festered. I have heard of a secret group, calling themselves Indignation, which seeks to kill or drive out nobles, and I believe that those who accosted me were affiliated with them. I have recently met a noblewoman from our country, the beautiful and gracious Lady Elodiel Girithlin, called Annsuel, and I believe she is next on their list, but she seems too trusting to heed my warnings. As you can tell, these are dark times in Bree.
Despite this villainy, I have changed much since I came here, in that I do not pass judgement on those who are too poor to exercise the luxury of such fine conscience as we do; I long mistook my privilege for virtue, but no more. I am no better than these people, and sometimes even the lowest and most uncouth of them shame me with acts of generosity or courage that I would not have credited to them.
Now as I have said, I permitted myself to fall in love with a woman; she is beautiful, and for a little while she accepted my suit. But then she changed her mind, and I was so wrathful in my pride that I spoke evil words to her, and I cannot now unsay them. There was another that she preferred, and I brawled with him shamefully, like the lowest ruffian; in the end I regretted my blows upon him, and let him beat upon my head until he knocked me half senseless. And then, to heap dishonour on dishonour, I took another woman, and lay with her without shame to ease my loneliness. She I have allowed to fall in love with me, and given her no reason to think my heart is not entirely hers; and indeed, I feel great affection and tenderness for her, and have no hope that the other would ever do more than tolerate my company. But I know that I do wrong, and that I have forsaken both pride and honour, and even courage, else I would dare to endure the loneliness, and not drag another into the darkness of my heart. My only hope for redemption is that real love for her will grow in my heart with time.
And further to all this, I have sworn oaths to a secret order, the Knights of Eriador. They are honourable men and women, dedicated to the defence of the free peoples, but I know my first vows are to our father and to Gondor. As long as the road home is closed, it matters not, but when they open I shall be in another double blind, and I shall lose what little self-regard remains to me. I will not post this letter. But I wish my big brother were with me to advise me. I am far from home.
Your brother, Deredan
