Morithelion gently tugged the mane of the horse, whispering to him in Sindarin. His words were gentle, the beast being but an animal and one who he knew would never judge him. He sighed as they came to rest, and peered out over the open stretch of land. In the distance, he noted a clustering of lights shining in the darkness. The elf cocked his head, for he knew this city, though only in tales and by word of mouth.
"Bree," he said thoughtfully to himself, "A city of Men, former Dunedain nonetheless..." He smirked at the thought of those mortals. They were inherently ignorant and could not fathom the depth of the wisdom of the Eldar or the depth of their own stupidity. The Noldo shook his head, pondering: Worthy to enter for respite? Worthy to observe?
At length he decided that he would indeed enter the domain of the simple folk, even if only for a day. Their fickle demeanour would amuse him no doubt, and perhaps bring merriment to his aching soul, even if they were not worthy to be in the presence of such a great being as he.
Turning to the city, the Elf contemplated the fate of of the City of Men and how it could ever possibly influence his own...
((Morithelion's adventures in Bree can be found in his personal Profile))
