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6 Fourth Age: one of them dunedain; open
Topic Started: 8 Sep 2008, 06:33 PM (674 Views)
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The Prancing Pony was filled up as usual with the same old customer and a few new ones. Nothing especially strange was going on except that the bar man kept shooting glances at the slim cloaked figure in the corner. The figure wasn't doing anything except sitting there but there was something about it that made the bar man's blood run ice cold. He had a good idea why he'd seen those type of people before. They weren't exactly beacons of joy. In fact they seemed quite the opposite even if they didn't do any harm to good people. They were still unnerving to be around. He turned his attention back to his customers just as the figure raised its head.

Haeleana looked out from underneath the hood. It was cold and raining outside and she was glad to be out of it and into the warmth. It was worth the constant glances her way from the barman. She knew she unnerved him and part of her enjoyed that thrill she got when she scared someone. But the other part of her felt kind of lonely. It wasn't like she was going to hurt anyone, the cloak was just so she didn't attract too much attention to herself which was ironic because it was doing the exact opposite in this pub.

The journey from the Misty Mountains had been a long one but not as long as the one from the land of Rhovanion. That had been a difficult journey for the healer to be. She'd much rather be in Gondor now but she hadn't quite finished the final part of her training. She still had quite a bit to go before she could be a full Healer and take her place in the House of Healing. She was quite disappointed by that but she didn't mind that much. Travelling was good for her although truth be told the idea of staying in one place longer than a month was appealing to her.

She took a sip of her water and looked around the pub. Everyone seemed to be engrossed in something today. The only one glancing around was the barman and his glances were still making their way over to her. She looked down again shaking her head slightly.
 
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How in the world did I get here? Milo Brandybuck asked himself as he trotted into the Prancing Pony. He hadn’t meant to stop at Bree. He was supposed to be off east having a sort-of adventure. But no respectable mapmaker went out in this sort of weather. The air was charged and unnaturally humid. A thunderstorm, or worse, a cyclone, was coming through Eriador soon.

So here he was, walking over the threshold of the Prancing Pony after visiting with some of his mother’s family for a few hours. Old Caradoc Hornblower would be down here sometime tonight to keep on Milo about how conservative he’d gotten living in the Shire his whole life. If only Caradoc knew where Milo was planning to go …

“I’ll have a half-pint of the finest,” Milo said to the barkeeper.

This ale was the best in all of Middle-earth. Rumor had it Gandalf the Gray had blessed it for something or other reason. Milo didn’t really believe that. Gandalf was well-known for his fireworks, not his ale-blessing.

Wading through the tangle of Hobbit feet beating a tune against the wooden floor, Milo found a quieter place to sit. He knew if he started talking, he’d say too much about his plans. That was why, when he’d left the Shire, he’d not said a word to anyone, just nodded and waved. If they got started on the strangeness of the Brandybucks (not to mention the bit of Took-ish blood Milo had in him), then he’d never keep his mouth shut.

Problem was, Milo was a storyteller. It wasn’t official. He was a cartographer by trade, but everyone in Buckland and Bree knew he could spin a yarn as well as draw the borders of the Shire on a blank parchment. He slipped into the shadows, hoping his second cousin twice removed, Broderick, wouldn't look up and spot him.

“Oh!” Milo cried, slopping half his ale down the front of his waistcoat.

In the shadows he was, but not alone. One of the Big Folk was there, covered in a cloak. Instinctively, Milo shied away. He’d had some run-ins with the Big Folk who invaded the Shire. Seven weeks stuck in Michel Delving, followed by marching into battle with Master Merry, had cured Milo of his affinity to the Big Folk. Some of them were all right, but some of them weren’t, and this Hobbit was going to keep his space until he knew which was which.

“What’re you doing there slinking in the shadows, sir? The Prancing Pony is no place for that.”
 
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“Oh!”

Haeleana looked up to see a small hobbit in front of her. And by the looks of things his waist coat looked very wet. She couldn't help a small smile though it was unnoticable considering her hood covered her face in shadow. She brought her drink to her lips again and took another sip as she considered the hobbit in front of her.

She didn't know much about hobbits only about Frodo and the Ring and the bravery of the other hobbits Meriadoc, Pergrin and Samwise. Apparently they had all been very brave and she could feinitely recall never having known the existence of hobbits before that story. She had often been inclined to visit the Shire but had never done so considering big folk weren't that welcome there. She didn't want to scare them.

“What’re you doing there slinking in the shadows, sir? The Prancing Pony is no place for that.”

"It is if you want to keep yourself to yourself" she chuckled her tone quite light and hearty. She didn't want to offend the poor hobbit by being rude and anti social. She probably looked quite a sight for these people in her dark cloak. She gently pulled down her cloak revealing her long red hair and ivory skin. Her dark eyes observed him with a calm serenity. "It seems you hobbits provide most of the entertainment so other races need do little else but observe" she added with another small laugh.

"Good evening, sir? Might I inquire your name?" she asked with a kind smile.
 
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Milo had turned from the stranger to stare into the half empty half-pint he’d just bought. He looked up sharply when he heard the cloaked figure speak. Either he was just a boy or … The Hobbit’s suspicions were confirmed when the hood was lowered. It was a woman sitting in the shadows.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen a woman around these parts, lest she’s one of the Breefolk.”

Milo struggled to come to terms with a woman belonging to the same group of rugged Northern Rangers who, Master Merry said, kept the Shire safe from wolves and other unsavory creatures. Of course, he’d always known they must have women. He just never imagined them, much like one never pictures dwarf women.

“I’m called Milo, ma’am, Milo Brandybuck of Bucklebury. That’s in Buckland, ma’am, within the borders of the Shire. Well, so as the Bucklanders say, ma’am. The other Shirefolk don’t always think that way, as we’re outside the four farthings.”

The Hobbit had gotten on a kick now, as he usually did when defending the Bucklanders, who were not at all strange to Milo.

“That’s my father’s family. I’m here in Bree seeing some of my mother’s kin, the Hornblowers. Except, I don’t really want to see them at the moment, and that’s my second cousin twice removed over there. The one doing the entertaining, as you call it.”

Milo had now answered the woman’s question, and about the next fifty she may or may not have asked. He finally took a drink of his ale and savored the warmth trickling down his throat. He realized halfway through his gulp how suddenly and unconsciously he’d decided to trust this woman. He didn’t even know her name.

“Might I inquire the same of you, ma’am?”
 
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“Begging your pardon, ma’am. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen a woman around these parts, lest she’s one of the Breefolk.”

"No pardon needed good sir" she replied in a friendly tone. She was quite comfortable chatting with this hobbit. She was still on her guard but she doubted she had much to fear from one of the Little Folk. "I usually travel with my tribe so it is rare to see women on their own out here" she added explanatorily. She took another sip of her drink and motioned for the hobbit to sit. "Sit down please" she said with a smile.

“I’m called Milo, ma’am, Milo Brandybuck of Bucklebury. That’s in Buckland, ma’am, within the borders of the Shire. Well, so as the Bucklanders say, ma’am. The other Shirefolk don’t always think that way, as we’re outside the four farthings.”

"So you live on the borders of the Shire then?" she asked with interest. "I only recently learned of the existence of the Shire." she added. "I've been told it's a beautiful place. And come to think of it I've only recently learned about the existence of the Little Folk. It seems to me that Big Folk seem worryingly unaware about you hobbits" she added with a smile. "That must make us seem quite ignorant"

“That’s my father’s family. I’m here in Bree seeing some of my mother’s kin, the Hornblowers. Except, I don’t really want to see them at the moment, and that’s my second cousin twice removed over there. The one doing the entertaining, as you call it.”

"They are quite the fun loving lot aren't they?" she said laughing a little at them. "I know what you mean. As fun as they are I wouldn't mind a little peace and quiet too" she said with a smile.

“Might I inquire the same of you, ma’am?”

Haeleana nodded. "Of course....My name is Haeleana" she replied. "And I am simply visiting this cosy town" she replied sipping on her drink
 
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Milo accepted her explanation of why he’d not seen many women here before. It was also true of Shire Hobbits. Although they were free to roam wherever they pleased within the Shire, it was quite another thing to have them wandering around in foreign parts alone. (Although it was an ordeal for any Hobbit, male or female, anyway).

He took a seat a little back into the shade and slightly obscured by a bend in the wall. If Broderick Hornblower did see him, Milo didn’t want it to look like he was hiding (although he was).

“Not quite as ignorant of us as we’d like, to tell the truth. Plenty of Big Folk came to the Shire with Sharkey, or Saruman, as Master Merry says he’s really called. We figured he was all right at first, being a Wizard like Gandalf. But we learned quick, Wizard though he was, there wasn’t nothing like Gandalf about him.”

Milo frowned into the mug of ale. Everything had changed then, when the Big Folk found out about the Shire. His old dad said things were changing back now that there was a King on the throne in Gondor. Milo wasn’t buying into it for one second. Once things changed, they never went back to how they were. Too few Hobbits realized that.

“It’s not exactly peace and quiet I’m looking for,” Milo went on. “It’s a lot less questions than Hobbits normally ask of each other. I’m going East tomorrow,” the Hobbit said stubbornly, “and there’s no Hobbit in Middle-earth as can talk me out of it.”

Haeleana. Milo let the name roll around in his head. One day, and not long from now, he would sit around a camp fire with his nieces and nephews and tell them stories of the great woman Ranger called Haeleana with hair burning brighter than the fire who bravely left her people to … Well, Milo didn’t know what he’d make up on the spot. But he knew she had a good name for a heroine.

“A pleasure to meet you, Haeleana. Might I ask you, you being one of them Dunedain and all, if the road from here to Weathertop is still guarded by the Rangers?”
 
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“Not quite as ignorant of us as we’d like, to tell the truth. Plenty of Big Folk came to the Shire with Sharkey, or Saruman, as Master Merry says he’s really called. We figured he was all right at first, being a Wizard like Gandalf. But we learned quick, Wizard though he was, there wasn’t nothing like Gandalf about him.”

Haeleana growled. She remembered Saruman, she remembered him very much. She was very surprised that he had ended up in the Shire. Somehow that angered him even more. She glanced at the hobbit taking in his words and trying to figure things out in her mind. She nodded along and then shook her head. "The only two wizards left and the only one was Gandalf. But they're both gone now. Saruman is dead and the White Wizard has gone to the Undying Lands" she said solemnly.

"It’s not exactly peace and quiet I’m looking for,” Milo went on. “It’s a lot less questions than Hobbits normally ask of each other. I’m going East tomorrow,” the Hobbit said stubbornly, “and there’s no Hobbit in Middle-earth as can talk me out of it.”

"East? Where exactly are you headed? I have no mind to talk you out of such an adventure but even now in times of peace it is dangerous to cross the lands of the Big Folk as you call them and on your own is even more perilous" she added with concern not minding at all that she travelled on her own although she had been trained how to survive so that was a different thing altogether.

"I hope your travels do not carry you to the Dark Lands" she said calmly but sternly. "There trouble continues and they are dangerous places to explore" she added a hint of warning in her voice.

“A pleasure to meet you, Haeleana. Might I ask you, you being one of them Dunedain and all, if the road from here to Weathertop is still guarded by the Rangers?”

"I believe the Rangers have other important matters but I have been keeping watch over Weathertop these past few nights. Occasionally the place is guarded." she added.
 
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Milo turned a defiant frown at Haeleana when she asked why he was going East. He dropped the expression when she said she wouldn’t try and talk him out of it. Good. Because she couldn’t. Milo was sick of staying in the Shire and Bree, drawing the same maps over and over again. He nearly fell off his chair when she talked about the Dark Lands. Milo did choke on his ale. It took a couple minutes of coughing and sputtering before he was able to respond.

“The Dark Lands!? Who in their right mind would go there? I know Frodo did, and Mayor Gamgee too, but they were sent, as it happened, by Gandalf. And Master Baggins was always a little strange, mind you, growing up as he did with Mister Bilbo.”

Despite Milo’s words, each time he mentioned one of those brave Hobbits’ name, a note of reverence entered his voice, as if he wished he could be as unnatural as they were. He had always wanted to have a great adventure like the ones he made up, but he was always too scared to do it in the end.

“I’m heading as far east as Weathertop,” Milo continued. “I’m a mapmaker by trade. There’s never been a Hobbit cartographer who has mapped the outside world. I’m going to map all of Eriador one day.”

It wasn’t one of those projects that would earn Milo any respect in the Shire. He wouldn’t be able to display that map on the wall, but that wasn’t why he was doing it. He only wanted to say he had created something unique. He wanted some kind of legacy to leave behind him.

Milo’s smile fell a little when he heard the Rangers weren’t guarding the road anymore. He’d taken it for granted that they’d keep doing what they’d always been doing now that they were back in the North. At least someone had gone that way not too long ago. It was probably the best he could hope for. He felt a wriggling in his stomach, the kind he always felt before turning back from something important, and he tried to fight it away.
 
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“The Dark Lands!? Who in their right mind would go there? I know Frodo did, and Mayor Gamgee too, but they were sent, as it happened, by Gandalf. And Master Baggins was always a little strange, mind you, growing up as he did with Mister Bilbo.”

Haeleana breathed a sigh of relief and tried not to laugh at the look on the hobbits face. She bowed her head a little and pulled her hood up again. Before the hobbit could say anything she glanced outside. "I'm being careful, I don't want to draw any more attention to myself than usual" she added before turning back to Milo. "It soothes my mind that you do not intend to go to those lands" she added with a smile.

“I’m heading as far east as Weathertop,” Milo continued. “I’m a mapmaker by trade. There’s never been a Hobbit cartographer who has mapped the outside world. I’m going to map all of Eriador one day.”

"Eriador? That is quite an accomplisment for a hobbit." she added. "Are you going to wander around aimlessly til you find Weathertop? Without any sort of direction you could get hopelessly lost out here?" she asked. "I should know I got lost when I was younger"

She took another sip of her drink and watched him for a moment. "Might I suggest an escort? I know this area better than most"
 
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Milo offered the woman a little smile. The Big Folk needed all sorts of disguises to become unnoticeable. A Hobbit just had to remember not to talk. No one could scamper off or pass silently like a Hobbit, except maybe an elf.

His amusement was replaced with a good deal of pride. Haeleana was right. Mapping Eriador would be an accomplishment for a Hobbit. It wasn’t worthy of songs and tales, but certainly a story by the fireside.

“Well, I’m not younger than you, am I?” Milo sassed. “I reckon you’re just a girl among your people. I, however, am an adult Hobbit.” He said this with a little flourish, much like a Hobbit still in his tweens would have done. “I’ve seen maps of this part of the world. Weathertop is just due east.”

Milo had no idea if Weathertop was due east or if he’d have to go a little north or south to get to it. He also had no idea what sort of terrain lay between Bree and Weathertop. He recalled something about marshland, which couldn’t be so bad. The Marish in the Shire wasn’t always pleasant, but not terrible to cross.

It took the Hobbit a minute to realize what Haeleana was suggesting. Could it be true? Might Milo be on the start of his very own adventure, with one of the Big Folk, just like Bilbo and Master Merry?

“That sounds like a fine idea!” Milo exclaimed, drawing a bit of unwanted attention. He quieted down at once. “I’ve a pony in the stables and supplies that will last a Hobbit a fortnight. Should we set out tomorrow if the weather clears?”
 
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