I sit high above Bree in the ruins, watching the sunrise while looking down on the quiet, chilled roads, reflecting on a very strange series of encounters this evening.
Having wandered into the Pony as has been my habit of late, I came upon Small Finchley, who I have been growing ever fonder of, as well as my mysterious and taciturn friend Addie and the odd Son of Aule called The Mute One. On another note, it seems that most of the mountain folk who have drifted into Bree of late are quite unusual and complex for their kind, but that is neither here nor there. Hooded Ryn was there as well, but as is her tendency she stayed just upon the edges of the conversation.
From the first moment I arrived, I noted a strange malaise overcome Addie. She had grown pale and speechless as if from a great shock while looking towards the door, and for a moment I feared that she had been poisoned. She nearly fell to the rug before the fire in a swoon, and in a tone of stunned confusion begged the pardon of those around her and fled from the common room as if the Nazgul themselves nipped at her heels, I was left standing with Small Finchley and the Mute One, watching her retreat in shock.
Small Finchley, being ever kind hearted, asked if she should follow the woman and I readily assented, and stated that I would remain behind her to ensure that whatever friend Addie feared did not pursue her. The Mute One then became an issue, as it seemed that for some reason Small Finchley was unsure if it was wise to leave him behind to his own devices. I swore that I would look after him but this seemed to please him not at all, until Small Finchley asked him to protect her hat and mug which remained upon her chair. This seemed to calm his nerves and for a moment he reminded me of those shattered, disturbed Dwarves I had spent time amongst on the Peaceful Path in Moria. Clearly something terrible had befallen the Mute One to break his spirit so.
Small Finchley pursued friend Addie into the depths of the Pony leaving myself, Hooded Ryn and the Mute One behind to plan our next step. Clearly Addie was reacting with terror to the arrival of someone who was still within the Pony and felt the need to flee, the question was...who? This brought to mind the dangers that my dear Ingfeld had faced in the Pony years before and I was not about to allow that unhappy business to repeat itself.
Therefore I put forth the practical strategy that, as we could not identify the specific foe without Addie present, we begin on the far wall of the Pony and slay everyone present until the foe either revealed themselves, attacked us or attempted to flee, thus exposing themselves to our wrath. Hooded Ryn was dismissive of the strategy, perhaps assuming it would take too long, but the Mute One became extremely disturbed to the point of turning multiple colors and making strange noises. It was very peculiar and reinforced my view that in his past lurks a strange horror of some monstrous kind.
Thankfully, before we had to decide upon any strategy, Small Finchley returned with friend Addie who still seemed much disturbed but in greater control of herself yet would not explain what had caused her reaction, save for apologizing for it. The conversation then shockingly turned to Small Finchley speaking with a minstrel while friend Addie seeking wood of some kind, and then she and the Mute One departing to bake pies I believe, of all things. All most confusing.
Hawke arrived then and after some idle conversation concerning the bloody history of the Pony (such as the War of Assassins and Kidnapped Doctors and the landbound corsairs) in which I had not even been able to greet him properly, both he and Hooded Ryn made the strange statement that I was FRIGHTENING people in some way, especially the Mute One. He then departed leaving me most vexed, with Hooded Ryn soon leaving as well.
At that point I was approached by an Elleth who had seen me it seems in Rivendell, attending upon the Lady Arahen some years past. We struck up a conversation and feeling bold, after assuring myself she was as she appeared, I discussed with her a discovery I had made the day before concerning the blue crystal so intrinsic to the mystery of Cyndwin's disappearance.
As Cyndwin and I had relaxed that morning, I asked her if she could remember anything more of her dream-like captivity, and she expressed that there was a wordless song that she remembered hearing at all times that eased her spirit. After pressing her, she hummed what she recalled, and as she did so, the memory became clearer and I was able to write the notes down.
It was not a song, or even a fragment of a song, more an echo of music unheard, just a few notes, appearing to sound almost at random, in repeating patterns, growing more and less complex in waves.
This caused my mind to move in certain directions, regarding how an echo of such a thing could be found in a crystal and one image filled me with a sense of both amazement and dread. Recalling that epiphany, I asked this nameless kinswoman what lore she knew of concerning the Great Lamps and the remains of them which had been buried deep beneath the earth after the cataclysm. She was about to answer when a commotion occurred which I am still unclear about. It seemed that friend Addie confronted the man she had seen, and there was glass smashing, and someone who had been dead but now was no longer, and then they had both bolted into the night leaving Small Finchley and the Mute One to clean up, after which the Mute One departed, perhaps to do more baking.
Small Finchley and I then spoke a bit about being embarrassed, of all things, and I must admit I could not recall such a situation. Humiliation, yes...bitter regret, overwhelming frustration, deep longing...yes. Embarrassment? I do not believe so, which amazed her. It seems that blushing, which I have always thought a very attractive response to tenderness, she viewed as a result of being embarrassed...which is why I asked her why she blushed then when discussing dear Hawke. This caused her to blush more intensely and attempt to explain to me that it was no different then with anyone else she liked, such as myself or the Mute One. If that is so she must be changing colors all day.
I then noted that it pleased me that she viewed Hawke kindly, as I knew my urchin found her attractive as well, which caused even more changing of colors and then she insisted she had to go to bed, and departed.
And so I have repaired to this perch to consider all that happened. Friend Addie is filled with mysteries as she attempts to portray herself as a simple country lass. I do not think that she is simple at all and must question her more closely soon. Also who was this man that has returned from the dead, and what has he to do, if anything, with the swain who so fervently desires her? Why does my dear Small Finchley turn so many colors when discussing Hawke, and why should she think it a bad thing? What exactly is wrong with the poor Mute One and how might I help him regain his wits?
Lastly, and most importantly...why does my mind keep coming back to that echo of music and the Great Lamps of distant history? What does all that have to do with my Cyndwin?
The sooner Fille arrives and we can depart for Imladris, the better I say.
