Hethan galloped her horse, Gwirith, up the cobble road beneath the circling night. The stars she knew so well lit her path for her and she was glad. Her heart was joyful at the prospect of returing home. Isil shone over the distant hills, reflecting in a nearby lake. She sighed sadly and hoped that maybe somewhere, her parents would be looking upon the same moon. Pushing aside her sorrows, Hethan looked ahead, now moving with a great speed toward the Man's town of Bree.
She was happy to travel on the road that night for Men seldom travel in the Watches. This proved true the whole road, save a Man will an ill-favoured look standing on the side of the road, watching her intently. She slowed to a trot as she came to a mossy bridge. Gwirith was steaming with sweat, though showing little sign of weariness. However, Hethan rode her into a stream flowing under the bridge and let her drink and cool her feet. Water splashed up about her legs, Gwirith snorting and shaking her head.
Hethan then rode up to the gate after having placed her cloak tidily over the back of the horse. Two Men holding spears and standing stiff straight like soldiers (for they were) stood guard. The one nearest the gate looked at the Elf riding silently and widened his eyes.
'You wish to enter Bree, Miss?' He asked politely.
Hethan hesitated, hearing the first word of kindness for many a year. She nodded.
'Ae, hannon le.' Her voice flowed like soft water and her accent was pure. The guards were enchanted, but the first shook his head.
'Sorry, Miss, I do not understand.'
Hethan laughed suddenly, a sound of mirth and joy. 'Forgive me!' The Sindarin accent remained in her voice. 'I have spoken naught but Sindarin for many years. I quite forgot my place. Ye, Bree is my path this evening.'
The Man smiled and reached behind him, knocking loudly on the closed gate with his spear. A Man growled behind and opened a window in the gate. He gasped suddenly and closed it with a /thunk/. The gate heaved open, creaking terribly.
"What business does an Elf have in Bree?" He asked, attempting to sound hostile.
"I wish to stay at the inn." Hethan replied.
"Ah...!' The hostility faded from his voice. 'Good! Ask for Barliman Butterbur, he'll point you in the right direction."
"Hann- Thank you!" Hethan smiled politely and rode through the gate.
The Man heaved it closed and disappeared into the house by the gate, calling behind him, "No more folk, tonight, Will." He blew out the lamp by the door and was gone.
Gwirith walked silently through the streets. Hethan ignored the curious stares and whispers of the Bree-Landers and turned her attention to finding the inn. She clapped her hand to her forehead and leaned down to her horse's ear. "You know, Gwirith, I quite forgot to ask the Man where to find the inn!"
Gwirith nickered and shook her head, making the bridle jangle.
Hethan sighed and wandered the streets for the better part of an hour until she came to another gate. It did not look much like the West Gate, so she called out to the gate warden.
"Sir, where can I find the inn?"
The Man turned, surprised. "Butterbur?"
"That's the one."
"Goodness gracious, m'lady, you're hopelessly lost, aren't you? Go directly behind you for a bit, left under the bridge and right at the town hall. Straight on through the Boar Fountain and it should be there, a little way past Lalia's Market. It's at the end of the road where it sweeps around beneath the hill, a large building with an arch. You can't miss it."
"Hannon le." Hethan said mindlessly, turning her horse and following the Man's directions.
Hethan finally came to the inn, glad to have arrived. She dismounted her horse and looked around, still feeling rather lost.
"Like a stable, miss?"
Hethan nodded at the Hobbit. "Oh, yes please!"
"You look new to Bree." He grinned.
"That I am, sir."
The Hobbit showed her to a clean stable. "You will have to un-tack and brush your horse yourself, there's that much work to be done for one Hobbit around here. The straw is fresh, I'll be back soon with water and hay for your steed. The name's Nob, should you need to call me." He hurried off, seeing to many different tasks even as he went.
Hethan slid the saddle and bridle off Gwirith and, just as she was beginning to brush her, Nob came back and filled the trough with water and the manger with hay.
"Thank you, Nob."
"Not a problem. I must dash now! Don't forget to go inside and get a meal with Barliman!"
Hethan left Gwirith in the stable and entered the inn. The heat was like a slap in the face. A fire hummed on each end of the inn, besides the large number of people in the inn. She suddenly felt very small among the Bree-Landers and travellers, but walked still proudly, as she had always done. With a few polite 'excuse mes' and pushing, she made it to the bar. The Man behind it smiled joyfully at her with big red cheeks and blue, squinting eyes.
"'Evening, m'lady. What'll it be? Strange indeed to see an Elf in these parts. Welcome, welcome! Know what? I'll get something nice for you meself. Wait right here."
Hethan paused, being given no time to speak. She shook her head in wonder and sat on a rickety stool before the counter. Barliman returned after a few minutes holding a tray with a bowl of steaming hot soup, fresh scones, a hunk of bread with butter and honey and a small copper goblet of red wine.
"I've given you the finest wine I have to offer. And don't worry about payment, this one's on me." Barliman placed the tray on the bar and wiped his hands on his apron.
"No payment? For such a fine meal? I think not!" She pulled out a coin pouch and rolled two silver coins onto the table. Barliman looked up, amazed.
"The meal is not worth nearly that much!"
"Keep it, Barliman is it?"
He nodded, open-mouthed.
"I thank you for your generosity." Hethan took the tray with a grateful nod and disappeared into the crowd to find a place to sit.
Hethan finally found a seat, placing the tray on the table. She smiled when she noticed the carvings on it. They were written in Tengwar, with vines twisting and weaving around the handles. Hethan brought the bowl of soup to her lips and drank silently.
'Can I help you, miss?'
Hethan spluttered and looked across the table. A Man holding a mug of ale and a hood cast across his face sat with his arms crossed on the table, looking at her with wide, dark eyes.
'I'm just sitting here.'
'Couldn't you sit somewhere else?' He growled.
'No.'
The Man sat up straight, looking surprised. 'Hmm.'
'Like a scone?' Hethan offered.
The Man laughed. 'I won't say no.' He reached over and took a scone, biting into it hungrily. 'Thanks. Name's Cromgard.'
'Hethan.
After a long while, Hethan sat straightened up and pushed the tray forwards. 'Barliman's a good cook!'
'That he is, Lady. But tell me... What is an Elf doing in Bree?'
Hethan's eyes widened suddenly. 'I... I'm only passing through - making for Imladris.'
'Rivendell? But the paths are a sight too dangerous for a wandering Elf.'
'Dangerous?'
'You must not have travelled those roads for many years, Lady! They are infested with evil creatures that wander down from the Misty Mountains, and other places that need not be named... I would advise you not to go through with your journey, lest you should want to return home in a box.'
Hethan stood up suddenly. 'That remains to be seen. I don't believe your tales of evil creatures /Cromgard/. The roads are too peaceful for that.'
And, without waiting for an answer, Hethan hastily exited the inn.
