I must admit, whilst on my second trip into the mysterious settlement of Bree, I came across a Tavern named the 'Prancing Pony', in which boisterous men sit and drink their ale, recalling battles of old, however something else was catching my attention. There were curious whispers on the wind. "The Council of Middle-Earth? I hear they go on Adventures to help those in distress, be it an infestation of slugs in your farm, or a damsel captured by ghastly Orcs!"
Would that not intrigue you? ".. Quite."
And so I approached a small group of men and elves alike, recognising the leader as Etheldar, whom I had seen just once previously, inside the Prancing Pony, dressed in a glorious, fitting Champions apparell. I must admit I appeared to be a little out've place, mainly due to the fact I was wearing a pristine white dress, with but a blunt sword to defend myself with, surrounded by hardened adventurers and wanderers -.. Or perhaps the fact I appeared to be the only female present - It does tend to catch an eye or two.
"Are you here to join our fellowship, ma'am? A hobbit has been taken captive by a group of brigands, we must find him soon!" A polite voice perked from the group, with a smile i nodded, and came closer to listen to the booming voice of the commanding Elf clearly leading this small group of misfits.
..
With a flourish of cloaks, the glistening shine of the sunlight bouncing off of the metal blades, the sound of cheers as we set off on our way, the adrenaline pumping through our bodies, as a fight was surely up ahead..
It took but a few mere seconds before I found myself alone, in lands I had never set a foot in before. I desperately searched the horizon for the heroic group, yet saw nothing, just the sun beginning to set behind the lush green hills. And so I set off, in search of this encampment of rascals..
As the suns rays were slowly dimming out, I had indeed managed to drench myself in mud from (quite embaressingly) falling over in a farm's courtyard whilst searching the haystacks for a Hobbit. Yes, it seems ridiculous now, but.. Well. Do Hobbits tend to hide in haystacks? I would.
And then I heard it.. A triumphant, victorious shout coming from my right, with a smile I bounded, ran with all my might to a scene I will never forget. Corpses of dwarven brigands lay on the floor, still, blood dripping off blades and splattered on the Adventurers clothing as they proudly lead the way for a rather terrified looking Hobbit, who was later named as the Sherriff of.. Some place or another. I yelled with glee, following the troup to the nearest dirt pathway, leading towards Stock.
Our Hobbit companion stopped for a few moments to rest (And eat a muffin, of course.) Before our leader strode up to us with worry clouding his eyes.
"I sense Orcs are near, we must hurry and get this little one to safety!"
It took no more than that. With fear striking our hearts like the mighty blow of a Dwarves axe, we sped up the pathway, panting and our legs begged us to stop, but we soldiered on, the promise of safety and a cold ale drawing closer and closer..
Soon we were sitting in the Tavern, the men & elves alike sitting around a large-.. Well, Hobbit-sized table, drinking ale and laughing happily, the sweet, soft sounds of flickering embers and the light clash of wooded mug upon wooden mug was indeed a beautiful sight.
And so is my tale, of my first quest. - The Resue.
