Post by AWI OF ETERNAL POWER on Jan 3, 2006 19:39:54 GMT -5
The dark, hooded man stood on the hill motionlessly. He was looking down at the small town of Bree, in the almost as small country of Bree. This was only one of the many cities, obviously, but it was the biggest one and center of trade. Many roads went through this land, going east to Rivendell, west to the Shire, or south to Dunland. Lately Bree had seen an influx of many Dunlendings, much to the dismay of the natives of Bree. The people of Bree mainly kept to themselves, but were happy for a good drink with a newcomer every now and then. As for the newcomers, they were usually the aforementioned Dunlendings, hobbits, men, dwarves, and the occasional elf. Most of these were merely travelers, but those who stayed for short periods of time usually stayed at the Prancing Pony Inn.
The man chuckled to himself as he sat back against an oak and ate an apple. The Prancing Pony was run by a blustering man known as Barliman Butterbur. He had gotten fat through the years, but had two hired men, Nob and Bob, who helped him with the running of things. He had good ale, though, and a warm fire every night. Good memories, the man thought. He had once lived in Bree as a blacksmith’s son until he was captured in the wilderness by orcs and taken south. From there he was eventually ransomed with some Gondorian prisoners to the city of Minas Tirith. That landed him in the spot he was in today. He had been put under the service of King Eldarion, son of Aragorn, as an errand-rider. Now he was being sent by Bergil, Captain of the guard, with a message to anyone who looked trustworthy and who was not an enemy of Gondor.
The man walked down the hill, which suddenly became steeper. He clinged to a tree to steady himself and slowly made his way down. Because of the conditions, the man knew that the message must not be very important, only good as a reward to those who did what was expected of them. He had figured Bree was as good a place as any, especially because he hoped he would be able to meet a ranger. He had always respected rangers as a boy and wanted to grow up to be one. Now, he was a ranger in a way, for the people of Gondor were of the same lineage as the rangers.
Pulling his hood low over his head, covering his eyes, he walked into the south gate of the town. The gate-warden ignored him, for it was still early in the afternoon. The Prancing Pony was north of here, about a mile. As he covered that mile, he watched the people of Bree go about their daily tasks. Boys and dogs ran through the streets, chasing after each other and barking. Women hung up their laundry to dry. Men worked on whatever task was theirs, from cooking to brewing to weaving to mapmaking. It was a lively little place, and no mistake. At length he came to the inn, a tall building made of wood. A green and white sign hung above the door, in the form of a pony reared up on its hind legs. He walked into the inn. The lights were off, but sunlight streamed in through the windows. Sitting down in the northwest corner of the large common room that took up most of the first level, he pulled off his boots. He sat down in a corner and bought an ale. The ale still tasted the same, after 20-some-odd years. He scanned the room, though his eyes were covered in the shadow of his hood. The room was mostly filled with hobbits. Not exactly what he wanted, but it could work at need. Then, as he swept the room nosielessly, he saw them in the southeast corner. There, at a small round table, sat a dwarf and two men. The men looked to be rangers. This was just what he had been looking for! A dwarf and two rangers! Dwarves were sturdy, strong folk and rangers were obvious allies of Gondor. He pricked up his ears, trying to catch a bit of their conversation. They seemd to be talking about petty things, such as food. One would say something, then another might make a comment and they would all laugh. They were apparently all drunk or on good terms with each other. He walked over to the trio, cautiously and nonchalant. He ambled close to one of the empty charis and greeted them with a friendly, “How do you do, gentlemen?” He had taken off his hood now and revealed a full head of blond hair.
“Just fine, thank you, sir.” A red-haired man who was the definition of tall smiled as his eyes twinkled. He was quite muscular, and said to the man: “Perhaps you would like to sit with us. We could buy you a drink, if you’d like.”
The man objected with a grin. “No thank you, I’ve already had an ale.” A dwarf asked the man, “What brings you through these parts, traveler? Looking to deliver something?” To the dwarfs astonishment, the man said, “Yes, in fact, I am. A message from Bergil, a high-ranking official in the Gondorian army. It was not addressed to anyone in particular, I was merely instructed to give it to a capable ally of Gondor. You three look capable enough. Perhaps you’d like to read it. “
A dark-haired man smiled and said, “Well, thank you for complementing us, sir. I suppose we might as well read it. We’ve nothing to lose, eh, men?” The other two nodded and agreed. The dark haired man read aloud as the other two read along:
Greetings, brave soul. I am Bergil, Captain of the Guard of Gondor. I have sent you this letter concerning a quest to be performed. It spans nearly all of Middle-Earth, and the going will not be easy. But, if you complete the task, great reward will be in store for you. Your first task will be to go to the ruins of Tharbad in the western part of Middle-Earth. There you will meet someone you did not expect, and they will give you my next clue. Make no mistake, this trip is not for the faint of heart. Mystery and adventure lie around every turn. You will end your task on the island of Tolfalas, though how or when is somewhat out of my control. However, do not perform the different tasks out of order, and do not skip, or the reward will be declared null and void. With this letter comes a necklace that will be used to identify you to the person at the next stop. Take care, and remember: Great reward comes to those who have patience.
Bergil, Captain of the Guard of Gondor
The red-haired man, whose name was Arcthundus, said, ”Sir, what does your master mean by a great reward?” But the man had vanished. “Hmm, he must have left already.” the dark-haired man, who was called Celegal, assumed. “Well, “ said Tifir, the dwarf, “are we going to go on this quest or not?” Celegal was not so sure. “I don’t know. Tharbad is a nasty place. We may need some more help. Let us go to Archet!”
The man chuckled to himself as he sat back against an oak and ate an apple. The Prancing Pony was run by a blustering man known as Barliman Butterbur. He had gotten fat through the years, but had two hired men, Nob and Bob, who helped him with the running of things. He had good ale, though, and a warm fire every night. Good memories, the man thought. He had once lived in Bree as a blacksmith’s son until he was captured in the wilderness by orcs and taken south. From there he was eventually ransomed with some Gondorian prisoners to the city of Minas Tirith. That landed him in the spot he was in today. He had been put under the service of King Eldarion, son of Aragorn, as an errand-rider. Now he was being sent by Bergil, Captain of the guard, with a message to anyone who looked trustworthy and who was not an enemy of Gondor.
The man walked down the hill, which suddenly became steeper. He clinged to a tree to steady himself and slowly made his way down. Because of the conditions, the man knew that the message must not be very important, only good as a reward to those who did what was expected of them. He had figured Bree was as good a place as any, especially because he hoped he would be able to meet a ranger. He had always respected rangers as a boy and wanted to grow up to be one. Now, he was a ranger in a way, for the people of Gondor were of the same lineage as the rangers.
Pulling his hood low over his head, covering his eyes, he walked into the south gate of the town. The gate-warden ignored him, for it was still early in the afternoon. The Prancing Pony was north of here, about a mile. As he covered that mile, he watched the people of Bree go about their daily tasks. Boys and dogs ran through the streets, chasing after each other and barking. Women hung up their laundry to dry. Men worked on whatever task was theirs, from cooking to brewing to weaving to mapmaking. It was a lively little place, and no mistake. At length he came to the inn, a tall building made of wood. A green and white sign hung above the door, in the form of a pony reared up on its hind legs. He walked into the inn. The lights were off, but sunlight streamed in through the windows. Sitting down in the northwest corner of the large common room that took up most of the first level, he pulled off his boots. He sat down in a corner and bought an ale. The ale still tasted the same, after 20-some-odd years. He scanned the room, though his eyes were covered in the shadow of his hood. The room was mostly filled with hobbits. Not exactly what he wanted, but it could work at need. Then, as he swept the room nosielessly, he saw them in the southeast corner. There, at a small round table, sat a dwarf and two men. The men looked to be rangers. This was just what he had been looking for! A dwarf and two rangers! Dwarves were sturdy, strong folk and rangers were obvious allies of Gondor. He pricked up his ears, trying to catch a bit of their conversation. They seemd to be talking about petty things, such as food. One would say something, then another might make a comment and they would all laugh. They were apparently all drunk or on good terms with each other. He walked over to the trio, cautiously and nonchalant. He ambled close to one of the empty charis and greeted them with a friendly, “How do you do, gentlemen?” He had taken off his hood now and revealed a full head of blond hair.
“Just fine, thank you, sir.” A red-haired man who was the definition of tall smiled as his eyes twinkled. He was quite muscular, and said to the man: “Perhaps you would like to sit with us. We could buy you a drink, if you’d like.”
The man objected with a grin. “No thank you, I’ve already had an ale.” A dwarf asked the man, “What brings you through these parts, traveler? Looking to deliver something?” To the dwarfs astonishment, the man said, “Yes, in fact, I am. A message from Bergil, a high-ranking official in the Gondorian army. It was not addressed to anyone in particular, I was merely instructed to give it to a capable ally of Gondor. You three look capable enough. Perhaps you’d like to read it. “
A dark-haired man smiled and said, “Well, thank you for complementing us, sir. I suppose we might as well read it. We’ve nothing to lose, eh, men?” The other two nodded and agreed. The dark haired man read aloud as the other two read along:
Greetings, brave soul. I am Bergil, Captain of the Guard of Gondor. I have sent you this letter concerning a quest to be performed. It spans nearly all of Middle-Earth, and the going will not be easy. But, if you complete the task, great reward will be in store for you. Your first task will be to go to the ruins of Tharbad in the western part of Middle-Earth. There you will meet someone you did not expect, and they will give you my next clue. Make no mistake, this trip is not for the faint of heart. Mystery and adventure lie around every turn. You will end your task on the island of Tolfalas, though how or when is somewhat out of my control. However, do not perform the different tasks out of order, and do not skip, or the reward will be declared null and void. With this letter comes a necklace that will be used to identify you to the person at the next stop. Take care, and remember: Great reward comes to those who have patience.
Bergil, Captain of the Guard of Gondor
The red-haired man, whose name was Arcthundus, said, ”Sir, what does your master mean by a great reward?” But the man had vanished. “Hmm, he must have left already.” the dark-haired man, who was called Celegal, assumed. “Well, “ said Tifir, the dwarf, “are we going to go on this quest or not?” Celegal was not so sure. “I don’t know. Tharbad is a nasty place. We may need some more help. Let us go to Archet!”
