fëar

Days had passed since tidying of the brigand encampment had begun. Daphne worked at whatever pace she felt like keeping, but it was still nice to have something to do beyond pacing her little cabin with her mind churning over her predicament.

Zeylheim's trembling hand had lingered on the door into the Pony for so long that he held up the line. Someone passed him into it. It was the wakening call to him, to drag him from his frozen state.

The man kicks a pebble down the cobbled street of the market. His frigid, vivid but ancient blue eyes cast their glance over the selling vendors and the eager customers. It had been days, but the hollow and ever growing sadness was becoming all consuming. Like the ringing of a loud and off-key instrument, or a pan clattering in an empty room, it cannot be escaped.

Gondor. How it loomed in the distance. She frantically took step after step away from it, but somehow each step seemed to take her closer to her homeland.
It was not that she hated her homeland. Nay, it was quite the opposite for her. However, now, Gondor simply was associated, to her, with danger itself.

Daphne had never before been so relieved to see the Forsaken Inn. Its dismal walls were now a landmark which told her they'd made it out. She looked behind her shoulder as she released Furley's arm; whether to make sure they weren't being followed or that she wasn't carrying a detached arm, she wasn't entirely sure.

"I should have never shown my face! What was I thinking, going in such array?" Words such as those continued to play through Dru's head as she mentally slapped herself around.

He recognized her. Claimed she seemed familiar.

Another man, Streegan, if she recalled his name correctly, took a turn in watching her. Dru did not hate this one as much as those before him...but she still thought she may need to do away with him to keep Bree safe. It no longer mattered about her safety. If she died, then many others would be better for it, even. But if she lived, she could use herself to protect everyone. Put herself between them and danger.

It is black, just as the nights in which the moon itself hides, and the stars blot from a mass of clouds. At first perhaps that is all it is, just the night sky and air. Perhaps its closed eyelids. Yet, a flame hovers in the far off, and a figure next to it, indiscernible at distance. Stitches tuts his tongue as he stares at the shape the orange light outlines, and steps closer, carefully, as he feels the ceiling may be close to his head. After a long blink, he himself holds a torch in hand, and it lights his surroundings, including him on the secret of where he is.

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.