A Peculiar Friendship



Anguish passed over Isulril's face. She thought about what had occurred the other evening. He had long since gone, as he had always done since their first encounter in his home. 

It was a strange relationship indeed. She recalled her moods, his distaste for them, how she had disdained him for a time, but then became more and more pliant as the brief span of time went by.

She was not interested in engaging in any sort of "friendship" with any Man, especially not Men of Bree. There was something about them, she thought, which did not make them palatable to her sensibilities. 

She recalled her time in Dol Amroth, the Gondorian lords and the elegant scholars who had been her particular friends. They had practiced a courtly sort of wooing of her, were delicate in their attentions, and thorough--until they were not. So she had been led to believe for a time that there was a difference between the Men of Gondor and those of Bree-land. 

As her reputation as Ice Maiden increased, however, she came to believe that there were few differences indeed from the desirous Men of Gondor, and the hungry Men of Bree-town. She had believed them all wanting of the same thing. It had disgusted her.

She remembered a time when she had angered a Man with these philosophies, and she had wondered why, at the time. It soon occurred to her, that she had very little tact, and for one of her former profession, this was odd. She wondered, idly, when she had lost her tact, but it was irrelevant now.

"All those evenings in the Pony, or about town, and you've made no friends?" he had asked her, seemingly incredulous.

It was true. But she had not made the effort, had neither the desire nor the energy. But this friendship...it was unexpected, it was interesting, and it had its charms.

Isulril stood from her seat on one of the large rocks near the stream. The stream near her house was everything to her. It was calming, it was thought-defining. She had often listened to its inane babbling, and yet in such babbling there was a sort of primal wisdom.

She thought of her friend, her only friend, and the peculiarities of their friendship. She thought of such things, and she sighed. Was it too late for her? Would she never fit into Bree-town? Perhaps she had been better off in her former circumstances.

But the thought of the man was hope to her, and though their friendship was a peculiar one, she could not help but desire his company yet again.