Scholar’s Walk Hostel, Bree
33 Tuilë in the Reckoning of Imladris
I had intended to return to Torech Besruth, seemingly by a roundabout and casual journey that is the opposite of recent days. Instead, I find myself tarrying in Bree-land, and am witnessing events of an compelling nature unfold. For now, setting my thoughts and recollections in order are required. First, an account of recent events is on order…
On 29 Tuilë, dear Cutch was found at last, and for him I performed a healing such as I had no idea I was capable of. After a debate with Caladna, Cutch’s erstwhile sister, the next day I consented to allow Cutch to be taken to Pemberth, a hamlet south of Bree, where he might rest and recover enough to make the journey to Falathlorn. Once I saw him installed there, I briefly bade him farewell (he was still exhausted to the point of stupor, and I think he dreamed I was there) and departed for the long road back. I stopped and spent the evening in Bree, securing my customary lodgings at the hostel on Scholar’s Walk, and visiting the Prancing Pony to pass the time.
While I was there, passing the evening with chance-meetings and lively conversation, I was bumped into by a Mortal woman – and was taken aback briefly by her appearance. Clad as she was in bucolic attire, her hair disheveled and uneven in color, something shone through and recalled many Mortals I had met long ago: the air of Númenor was about her. I spoke to her only once, and in my surprise I lapsed into my native tongue: Na-ci Dúnadan!? This plainly shocked her as much as it did me – she recognized my speech, but was instantly horrified that she had, and faded back into the crowd.
I departed Bree the next day after a late start, having dismissed the odd encounter. As I rode back west along the Road, passing Adso’s Camp once more as evening was coming on, I sensed something amiss off the road to my left. I reined up by a set of ruins off the road and beheld the odd sight of someone trying to remain concealed amid the stones and trees; this person had some skill at woodcraft, for few of Mortal-kind would have marked them.
I decided to hail this one, hidden in the shadows – but what followed was certainly unexpected; so much so, that I have returned to Bree, taking up my room at the hostel once again, soon to be headed for a place called the Huntsman and the Stag, to slake my curiosity…
