I had camped near Bruinen for the night after days of leisurely riding. A few travelers aided with petty troubles along the way but overall I found the road to be surprisingly, almost unnerving peaceful. I have become used, it would seem, to rabid Corsairs, mad-eyed Angmarim and other miscreants hiding behind every wildflower so was therefore expecting to travel through an entire blood-crazed Orc army to reach Eriador. The fact that such an army did not muster to stop me after all was more encouraging than I could possibly say. My mood therefore lightened considerably as I came upon the familiar trails of the Trollshaws.
I kept my fire low none the less by the tranquil banks of the river I know so well, and settled in for a night gathering my thoughts before entering the valley of my birth once again...but that night I dreamed. I dreamed of my brother, of youthful Xanir wandering the filthy precincts of a Goblin encampment menaced from all sides by howling monsters. I knew the blood-red banners he cast aside as he sought freedom from such vile creatures...the Stonehold. Ever did they circle him in a twisted dance, and as he drove one back two more reared up in its place, leering at him, bone white stripes painted on their sickly faces. Finally one stepped forth, fully two heads taller than the other goblins, who must have been their petty chieftain of some kind.As he gibbered in his wretched patois, beating his club against his shield to signal the final assault and Xanir was about to be overwhelmed, the dream faded, replaced by the voices of a hundred Men at least. Crying, begging, screaming as if besieged. One word rose about the others....Trestlebridge...and I woke in a cold sweat.
Trestlebridge. A minor village near Bree as I recall, barely noticed as you ride through toward the Ranger's fortress of Esteldin...if Xanir faced danger from Goblins near such a vulnerable encampment of strangers he would make for Bree seeking aid. Bree at least had a few of our people mixed amongst the farmers and shopkeepers of men that he could turn to. Upon the road, he would be isolated utterly.
The moon was still high as I washed my face in the river and hurriedly broke camp, Rivendell and the proud haven of Imladris were forgotten as I road hard through the night towards Bree, expecting who knows what ahead of me and something worse behind. My mood set Heartbreaker aflame, practically growling across my back.
However upon my arrival I found the city of the men of Bree-land not under siege as I feared, but tranquil and bustling as I remembered it. The Prancing Pony was not in flames, at least not yet, so aching from the ride and too little sleep with too much fear I steered my steps towards its welcoming fire. Xanir knew the Pony, perhaps he would be there already, awaiting me, having felt my anxiety.
He was not awaiting me.
I spent the evening nursing a pint of Ale before the fire, listening to the hustle and bustle of the normal crowd. A trio of local siblings fought by the bar, quarreling over the future and the lack of coin, but in the harsh tones that only come from loving concern for one another...tones I knew well. The two brothers near came to blows in their passion while their sister awkwardly stood between them, both physically and emotionally. A pair of seafaring rogues did not help their tension, catcalling and seeking to goad the men into a brawl of some kind before they retreated to a room to continue their relaxations. The siblings too soon parted, the grievance between them unabated.
As the night rolled on with no sign of Xanir I began to doubt my choice of Bree...perhaps I should have gone directly into the North Downs and sought out the camp of the Stonehold and wrung news of my brother from the creatures who wallow there in their own reek. Had I taken the safe course when to save Xanir I would need to go into the teeth of the storm? Had I betrayed my blood from a surplus of caution? I had no answer as I grew more desperate.
I noticed a fellow huntress, working on a clever little carving of a bear, and out of that desperation ventured if she had seen my brother upon the road. Beyond learning that she was of the Mark, had seemingly left there due to troubles of some kind and understood the pressures of family though she had no siblings of her own, she had no news for me. Rennie she said her name was which seems an odd name but then the children of men often carry odd titles into posterity.
Our conversation was pleasant enough but as I retired to a rented room I was no further along then I had been when I arrived at Bree...armed only with a dream and a dark foreboding.
When I find Xanir...I will kill him myself be he unharmed.
If I do not find hin, woe be unto the Stonehold for they will be my prey until none walk beneath the sky.
