Disclaimer: I have no claim to anything Middle Earth or Tolkien related.
A Tale of Dragonfire.
Bree is a town of hunters. The tall grass of the hills and meadows that surround the place on all sides are full of rabbits, in the Old Forest wild deer and boar roam and, in the height of summer, the wide, fast paced Brandywine river to the West changes and becomes tranquil, meandering its way through the land, its banks and the space between packed fit to burst with the sound of ducks, geese and all manner of waterfowl - plump and delicious - ducking and bobbing beneath the water's surface chattering to each other in birdspeak as they go, while fat silver fish move lazily through the clear water nibbling at green moss which grows on the riverbed rocks, practically begging to be caught.
There is a little house about an hours journey East from the town itself, tucked away only just out of sight to the North of the East - West Road, behind some rather magnificent, rather ancient oak trees. So old they are that they must have lived even when this place, and most others, was at war, hundreds of years ago. The house is also ancient, and always seems to have soft plumes of smoke rising from the chimney - even in summer , according to those old enough to remember, smoke has been coming from that chimney every day for nearly 50 years.
This ancient house and fire smoke belongs to Hunter Kali.
Amongst the citizens of Bree she is known for being a good, if not occasionally aloof, neighbour. Her snares are some of the best in the land, she has impeccable aim with a bow, she sells her meat for a fair price and her garden grows the sweetest smelling herbs for miles around. More often than not in the winter months her little front room is a last stop before the final push home for many, if not all, of the hunters returning from catching rabbits in the Weather Hills. There were many a victim of a hunting accident (an arrow finding the wrong target, a trap not seen and set off by a heavy boot, or wolves starved enough to fight for the hunters for their kill) that would not have made it home were it not for her and the secrets of her sweet smelling garden. She was a distant but ever present part of the town life.
Our journey with her begins on a day in mid May. The wonderful aromas of her garden mixed with the heavy scent of grass have driven her outside to sit in the baking sunshine. For a while she tried to busy herself with work around the exterior of house, cleaning the weeds and climbing plants from her well and drawing up water for the pot that always sits over the fire in her home, there are a thousand and one things she should be doing - not least of which checking the traps she set the morning before - but she cannot for long deny the desire to sit and bathe in the light and simply do nothing at all.
It is like this that the grey bearded, robed and hatted gentleman finds her, sprawled out in a patch half in, half out of the shade, too lazy even to move as sun shifts past the point of noon and the shadows from the oaks edge closer and cover her face. She has removed her boots and wriggles her toes in the cool grass. He stands, leaning on his old wooden staff, for a few moments before she opens one eye. She is hardly surprised to have a visitor, though guests before the early evening are a rarity.
"Greetings, stranger" she says, sitting up and brushing grass from the palms of her hands. "I'm afraid you've found me rather at odds, I wasn't expecting company so early in the day. Please join me if you wish sir, I may not have a chair but the sun is warm and the grass is soft." She smiles at the man, who continues to scrutinise her through his thick brows.
Hunter Kali is built well, and if you hadn't known or been told its highly unlikely that you would have guessed she were a dwarf, though in retrospect she is far too short to be of the race of men. The skin on her face is pale and smooth, without even the shadow of the thick beard dwarven maidens are known for. Equally, her long brown hair is not styled as elaborately as that of her kin normally is, instead tied back into a practical bun at the back of her head with only a few braids, decorated with wooden beads of grey ash and tiny silver feathers. Her face is not as strong or heavy as you would have expected (if you knew many of Mahal's folk at least), but delicate and chiseled with wide blue eyes and soft, full lips. Her cheekbones are strong, as is her jaw, giving her face a square appearance broken slightly by her small, pointed chin, which all together gives her a strange, but not unpleasant, childlike quality, of course she is still very young for a dwarf.
She is of a reasonably stocky build, but still lean and her shoulders and legs wears well the muscle tone that comes from manual labour and long treks, probably tracking some wild animal. All in all the old man is pleased with what he sees. "Sir?" This time her voice breaks through his concentration. She remains seated, with her legs crossed and her hands daintily folded in her lap.
"A very kind offer" his voice is mucn kinder and friendlier than she imagined it would be. "I wonder if, however, we might enter your charming home for a few moments? I would very much like to speak with you, where unwanted ears and eyes cannot pry" Hunter Kali chews her lip for a moment, weighing up the dangers of allowing the stranger into her home. After a few moments thought she makes her decision.
"Well then, my friend" she pulls herself up and brushes blades of grass from her soft leather trousers "you have come out of your way to visit my home and I am failing already in my duties as a host. Please come through and let us enjoy together a small sip of wine" she follows him into her home and cannot help, as she closes the door behind them, but to peer into the thickets, searching for those prying eyes of which he spoke.