Memory

There is a thick and daunting darkness beyond the layers of spaced trees. Trunks that reach up, and the further back from sight they are, the more their canopies join in the void of night, dancing softly unseen in the twilight breeze. Oh, yes, indeed it is dark here. 

The weather of the morning light sets a dreary and sorrowful rainy backdrop to the scene before the quiet Bree-Land house. Reidun leads her horse up the steps of the moderate abode carefully, not trusting herself to carry him all the way up. "I wish Kael were here..." she mutters to herself as she tries to offload him onto the top of the stairs.
 

Hope? Fear? Anticipation?

Daisy wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel. She had waited for so long to learn anything new about her past or identity that she had almost given up hope; and now, everything was happening so fast. First that crude woman “Susan” showed up yesterday, claiming that if Daisy met with her “friend” he had a “present” for her. The woman's refusal to offer any details was suspicious, but the opportunity to meet someone who apparently knew her from before she lost her memory was too intriguing to pass up.

It had been eventful day. Likely the most eventful day since the weeks following her arrival in Bree. What started as a relaxing and joyous evening with her new-found friends Rowena and Lowenna at the Prancing Pony soon turned into a moment of earth shattering proportions. A strange woman calling herself “Susan” said she had a friend with a present for Daisy, urging her to meet him at his camp outside Bree to receive it. It took considerable convincing, and a sketch showing the likeness of a younger-looking Daisy, but the women agreed to meet him the next morning.

It was beliveed... believed... that the knigdo-- no, kingdom of Ar... Arnor... even... eventually broke.... up... into there... three sep rate kingdoms, which weer-- were, were... named Cardolan, Rhudaur,andArtha... Arthedain.

"Ford."

The young boy's eyes continued to trail over the parchment with strenuous effort.

Ford was smiling to himself.

Anymer had noticed a change in the boy. It had been subtle, at first anyway. He swung the splitting maul again, sending two halves of a log splintering in opposite directions. His body was well used to this chore – he had, after all, been doing it since he was a boy; and even more so since he married Frae. This thought brought a smile; it had easily been the happiest thirteen years of his life.