A baby brother. He was going to hav a baby brother. He scampered along his familiar paths through the wilds to the nearby grove. He waved to the blue birds in their nests, scared a pair of rabbits with his joyous proclamations, and in general, spread his childish humor to all his usual friends. Finally he lay breathless, staring up at a picturesque blue sky, speckled with white fluffy clouds, framed by the green boughs above his head. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he had woken up in Valinor.
And, they are going to let me help name him! Technically, they kept reminding him, it could be a girl, but he knew otherwise. He just knew it would be a brother. He snatched up a branch, and began whittling it smooth with his little knife, as he was wont to do. What would a good name be… he snapped the branch, now smooth and white, into a hand sized piece. *Snap* Ah ha! He had it. Leothross. He didn’t really know where it came from, but somehow, it just felt right. They would be quite the pair.
He sat back, tossing the knife aside, and rolling the stick carelessly in his hand. Bregoàn and Leothross. Leothross and Bregoàn. A thought struck him, What if he turned out like all the other kids, who didn’t like or understand him? He brushed it away as quickly as it had come. He would make sure that didn’t happen. He would teach him to learn from the rabbits and the foxes, and listen to the thrushes and ravens – Suddenly, he sat up, his reverie snapped. The birds. They were not singing anymore. In fact, he couldn't see another living thing anywhere around him. He stood up slowly, looking and listening all the while.
A faint sound of chanting drifted through the trees. It sounded like a human voice, which was strange, not many folks bothered to wander out so far. At least, not if it wasn't a hunt, or something. He crept through the trees, heading in the direction of the sound. It grew louder, until finally he could make out words. Words, but what words? It was no language he had heard before, and its harsh syllables were bitter in his ear. The source of the voice had to be close now. He peered around every tree, till finally he saw it.
The figure knelt motionless in a freshly cleared patch of earth still chanting the coarse syllables. It appeared to be a man clothed in leather and animal skins, a hood pulled over his head. A Dunlender, no doubt. It was the first one he had seen in person. Suddenly, a shadow covered the grove, and Bregoàn looked up quickly expecting to see one of clouds passing over the sun. Instead, he saw darkness. It was as if a black cloud had descended on the area. His blood ran cold, and he began backing away, hoping that he had been unnoticed. His fear grew and finally he turn and broke into a run.
He ran back along his familiar paths, this time no joyous cries broke the stillness. He kept right on running through the gate of the village, and up the path to his home. He leaned on his knees just outside, panting. That didn’t really happen. Just a dream. A crazy dream.
