The Prancing Pony

Friend Wisterhya,

I trust you be well - it was an unexpected delight to speak once more last night, after so long.  Alas, I have recently been occupied with errands in the north, and so have been an infrequent guest of the Pony - with luck, I shall be present again soon.

I have finally made it to Bree-land. It is the twenty-forth of July and I began my journey West to Eriador nearly three months ago now, though it feels as if it has been double that. I suppose stopping at every unique boulder and twisting tree will do that. Finding my way to the hub of the central village of Bree was simple enough. If you listen for naught but a minute, you will hear mention of "The Prancing Pony."

Peace, calm, stillness. Three words that had been removed from Isulril's vocabulary for the past month at the very least. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of activity for her. She had seen so many changes that it had been difficult to keep up. Life was changing, and she was changing too.

The feeling of wishing to run had come to a crescendo for the woman. She had considered leaving everything, leaving Bree altogether, returning to Gondor as a disgrace. The disgrace that she knew in her heart that she was. But she had remained.

In the back foyer of the Prancing Pony, Isulril sat, nursing a pathetic goblet of wine. It had been her third, and she was feeling more than a little tipsy, as she had imbibed so little since her arrival to Bree-land all those months ago. She hoarded the stuff, hopeful, perhaps, of guests. But she had been used, for some time, to taking tea. 

Another rather quiet night at the pony. Egfor's friend fox gave me a sour look, I suppose it came from me still being in Bree. But it took a couple of days to prepare for our trip. Supplies to be bought, and the packing. I hate having to pack clothes, for they become wrinkled and that bothers me. Those who don't know me can call me vain, I care not, but after my years as a street urchin, I choose not to wear shoddy or wrinkled clothing. Another of my birds returned, but her mission did not come to an end. She has not located Jae's body.

My father would be rolling in his bed if he knew where I was and what I am doing now.  After our departure from our family homestead outside of Archet, my father and I settled in with my brother and his family in Bree. I miss the farm and the homestead, my father toiling in the soil and me helping him worok nearby with the farmhands. I miss the long field of flowers that I would pick through, now burned.

Lucey sits outside until she is completely relaxed. Her heartbeat was steady and she felt like she could breathe again. She sighed and began her tap tap tap back inside. She decided to take the back steps through the kitchens. If there were still many people in the Inn she could avoid them all that way and head to her room for a little quiet. She swings her staff back and forth in front or her and feels it tap something as she walked along.

Lucey tapped her way down the hall as she headed for the stairs leading down into the main room of the Inn. She counted under her breath, though to be honest she didn't have to . She has spent the last three month walking around the Inn at the Prancing Pony. She walked inside and outside of the stone building so many times she can walk it in her sleep. No, she doesn't need to make a big show about tapping and counting and shuffling her feet. She doesn't do it so she can see them. She does it so they can see her.