Sitting here in the oh-so-familiar window seat of my old rooms in the Prancing Pony, the moonlight illuminating my view, I admit I have trouble putting into words how being back in sordid, sorry Bree has affected both myself and my company. It has been worthwhile, and hopefully will advance our cause...but all the same I will be glad when I am gone from here again.
All of my fellows are out and about save for one, and she and I passed the night in conversation as the world continues to appear anew before her like a beautiful, lurid sunset. She is so very old and yet so achingly young, having been hidden away from life for so long so barely remembers how to live it. Behind me, I hear her soft, smooth breathing and am moved near to tears...Calidis Nighteye finally sleeps peacefully. She has barely ventured out of this chamber since we arrived, forced into hiding by the teeming, brutal activity of the manish town around us, so unlike either Imladris or Tol Lochul. I was much the same when first I came here all those years past I think. I wished to do good, yet all I saw was so strange,and my cautious eye was met by harsh stares from the locals. Looking back to check on her I see her raven hair cast loosely across the white linen. I have a forceful memory intrude of Cyndwin's golden locks strewn across the same linen...and force it away. I have no time for such things now, and my friends do not deserve for me to be morose and heartbroken any longer....besides, the game is afoot.
Coming to Bree has been good, I think, in many ways. I have missed Hawke since our arrival, but know that he is seeking to clear his name of false charges as well as work towards our goals from the shadows of begger's alley and the city beneath the city. I trust in his skills and acumen, but fear for him all the same. Nethrida and Eduwiges both have enjoyed the time to be amongst strangers again, as well as the plethora of ales, stretching their limbs as if they have been restrained for too long. They have both been making friends as well, which pleases me, and have seen first hand how distant tragedies affect far flung refuges. As for these new friends, both quiet, curious Ryn and bored, questing Ani feel the weight of great and terrible events around all of us, and that sensation both attracts and repels them. Whether the attraction or the repulsion proves dominant has yet to be seen.
As we had hoped, we have indeed encountered the company of Dwarrow recently from Erebor and I have had occasion to speak with the sons of Bourr, Maurr and Bild as well as the Mute One called Bryge, who continues to create delicacies past compare while preserving his adorably dour silence. The Mute One broke my heart with his pleasure at seeing myself once again after so long, freezing in mid conversation and then practically racing to me in glee. Fortunately I was there to embrace him else he may have tumbled down the stairs in his haste. His soft noises of happiness as I held him in my arms were truly touching.
Seeing the Dwarves has been an absolute tonic for Small Finchley and my heart has danced to behold her pleasure in their company and their love towards her. Seeing the Dwarrow has also been a great boon for Addie, despite her worry and reticence. I felt her fear of their approbation and rejection for what she sees as her unforgivable deeds clearly as we traveled, and rejoice that, as I expected, they have been nothing but supportive of her. Perhaps if enough forgive her with open hearts, my often melancholy sister will find the strength to forgive herself. I know that Xandilif has intensified her teasing of Addiela while here, yet has also been watching over her closely, deeply concerned. The Rohan woman holds a special place for the Champion of the Azure Faithful...while not as Finchley does, I still do not understand it's nature or depth as of yet. However, Lif is very worried about Addie...for her own reasons.
Speaking of my sister, Xandilif has had a difficult visit, as she and I both continue to struggle with the recent past...and the near future. We have had deeply emotional discussions of Xanir's end, and how best we can preserve those we love so dearly from harm, while helping Small Finchley seek her destiny. She has had several violently emotional conversations with myself...and I know she has had similar with Small Finchley. The sheer number of empty grog bottles she has left littered around the Library attest clearly to her time spent there, but Small Finchley will say nothing on the subject save that she and Lif are "taking care of each other".She has also done what she has always done when in Bree....annoy people. I am pleased that she has had the chance to pursue her hobby so freely the last few days. She has also been able to have a full measure of her other chief hobby...tormenting the Kobold Nik.. I know poor Nik has been run ragged shadowing people to keep them from harm at the Banshee's command, and along the way has no doubt had his usual "adventures".
Soon we will see to what we can find at the tomb of Finchley's Gram, and speak with what living acquaintances she may have left behind for clues to Finchley's birth and the Angmar Slaver's brand in her flesh. In the meantime however, our arrival in Bree has not gone undetected.or without response. The most recent member of our company, Asmalinde, has been keeping watch over the Greenway and reports movements of bandits as well as Dourhand disguised as merchants towards Bree in fair numbers. If we remain too long, they could rapidly become a nuisance, but I feel at the moment they are simply keeping an eye on us. I do not know how much control Mans still has over his former Clan, now that his new form may not be Dwarrow...but I imagine they still owe him some allegiance, not to mention that they are sworn to the masters of Angmar.
A storied warrior of Imladris called Aamu came upon us earlier in the night in the main room of the Pony, with sadly harsh words for Calidis Nighteye and insults against my sister Xandilif as well as Addiela. She also bore warnings of the displeasure of "higher authorities" and hinted that she was sent to "rein us in". Being already of short temper that evening for reasons which I will soon explain, I took exception to both her manner and her message and told her as much, sending her back to Rivendell with the knowledge her herald had been heard, but was not met with favor,. I sent her away, perhaps too roundly, with some warnings of my own towards the Lord of Rivendell. The fact of the matter is, my brother's head was wrapped in Elrond's banner and the chest it was within bore his seal...until I have reason to be certain that these flourishes were meant as baseless taunts by our foe, I cannot know that the great and good of Imladris whom he served are entirely blameless in his demise. Beyond that, I will NOT accept threats against my kin or loved ones...from anyone, be they called friend or foe.
In addition, tonight a woman whose name I do not even know was attacked, and she was left with a hatchet in her shoulder among other wounds. She seemed to have been hurt near the Old Forest but somehow managed to make the distant Pony for aid, and sister Addie did her best for her. In her delirium she whispered that "he is coming", again and again..and the crude axe taken from her flesh had clearly changed hand numerous times, but was once forged in Angmar, and beneath the paint and blood and rust bore the red circle and three lines of the symbol of the Guild of the Unsealed...the same symbol that is burned into the flesh of Small Finchley's hip. My fellows wondered how she could have gotten to the Pony so wounded, and I did not have the heart to tell them...because our foes helped her do so, of course. She clearly was always meant to stagger half dead into the Inn to collapse before us, and likely was chosen near at random for that role. She is without doubt a warning to us, or a message, or both. When she is awake, if she awakens, I will try to learn more. But for now, her appearance is linked in my mind to the person I am watching from my window. He stands in the shadows below, well hidden, watching the doors of the Pony. He is likely unaware that I am watching him in turn, as I doubt he knows that I remembered him.
Soon after we arrived I spied him, and recognized his sorrowful features and bald pate at once. Long ago, on our last day in Bree, Eduwiges caught him spying upon us and beat him soundly, after which he confessed he was there to watch us, on the orders of Erach, the Necromancer of Angmar that we faced in Kheledul and who nearly proved my end. She spared his life then on my request, as I simply wished to put Bree behind us on that day as quickly as possible, but perhaps my mercy was misplaced. Erach serves the Guild of the Unsealed...whose weapon was in the woman's shoulder and whose brand is borne by Finchley. I have never believed in coincidence.
The Guild of the Unsealed know we are here, and may even know why, and bide their time...but will not for much longer. Soon it will come to blood once again.
Seeing Calidis's dark hair on the pillow, I am reminded that much about Bree may be in a state of constant change...other things change not at all. I have never been in Bree without bloodshed.
The only question is whose blood it shall be this time.
