Chapter V
January, T.A. 3021
Lothiriel had made it safely to Bree. It had taken her nearly a week to do so, and she was amazed that no one had found her yet. Not that she minded; her new-found freedom was a relief after six years of living among the Elves and Dunedain who inhabited Rivendell. She sighed. Had it really been that long since her father had sent her north?
As she entered the town, Lothiriel slid off the horse. The first thing she needed to do was find a place to stay for the evening. She led the horse through the town to a tavern named the Prancing Pony. Lothiriel recognized the name from somewhere, though she could not place the name. She took the horse around to the stables located in the back, where she handed the horse off to a stableboy. The boy stared wide-eyed at the duo, and Lothiriel was unsure whether he was more surprised by a lone female rider or the horse she had brought. She grinned wryly as she stepped inside the inn.
Inside, the place was chaos. There were the locals, a strange mix of Hobbits and Men, and then there were a few others who were obviously from other parts of Middle Earth. Lothiriel noted that several of them were watching her slyly, so she made a point of avoiding eye contact with any of them. She sat at the bar, where she was waited upon by a hulking man: the owner. "Whaddya want, miss?" he asked, setting an empty mug in front of her.
"Your finest ale and a bowl of stew with bread, if you please. I've travelled long and hard these past days and am in need of some good food." The man nodded and went off to fetch her food. He came back and placed it in front of Lothiriel. She ate the stew hungrily, finishing quickly.
Lothiriel turned around on her stool, surveying the crowd. There was now only one man watching her. He made her slightly uneasy, but then he stood and she lost him in the mob of faces. "Lady?" asked a voice beside her. She started and turned. It was the man she had been watching. "I am sorry if I frightened you, miss. I was just wondering what would bring a pretty young lass into a place like this."
"Oh. I...I am looking for work as a barmaid or some such profession, so I stopped in to see what the place was like," she stammered at the man, who was, she realized, rather handsome up close. "I had heard about the Pony from a friend once, so I decided I might as well visit it."
The man nodded. "Barliman could use some help, I daresay. He often forgets things, like that time when he had a message for the Ringbearer and he almost didn't give it to him. Coulda been disastrous, if Strider hadn't been around."
Lothiriel started again. She remembered the tavern now. It was the place where the four Hobbits had first met Aragorn when they set out from the Shire. "I heard that tale somewhere in my travels."
"Where have you been, lady, that you would hear such tales of the War? For you do not look like one who has seen the horrors of such." The man looked at her with a new interest.
"I traveled all over in the past. I haven't done so much travelling recently, but I decided it was high time I went somewhere again." It was true enough, she mused. Before she left home, she went everywhere with her brothers and cousins and their friends. After that, she had made the journey from Dol Amroth to Rivendell when she was sixteen, and hadn't gone outside of the valley since.
"What did you say your name was, miss?" The man shook Lothiriel from her reminiscing.
She smiled. "I didn't, but you can call me Alquayendi."
"An Elvish name!" the man exclaimed. "Swan-daughter, am I correct?"
"Yes. My father gave me that name." The man was beginning to make her nervous with all of his questions.
"I am called Rhavan, or Wild-Man, by the people of Bree. Elsewhere I am known as Thalion." He looked at her closely. "I want you to call me Thalion. It is a more noble name than Rhavan." Thalion stood and made his way to the stairs that led to the rooms.
The owner knelt over the bar. "His kind aren't trust-worthy, miss. I'd stay away from him if I were you," he whispered. Lothiriel turned and nodded.
"Do not worry, kind sir. I expect he shall not remember me in the morning. In the meantime, might I have a room for the night? And I was wondering if I could pay with my services as a washer or barmaid. I am afraid I do not have much in the way of coin."
"Certainly, miss. I'll have one of the lads wake you in the morning. He'll show you 'round the place, and you can start work tomorrow. By the way, I'm Barliman. What might your name be?" He looked at her expectantly.
"Alquayendi."
"Alquayendi," he repeated. "Odd name. Anyway, I'll have Nob show you your room. Hey lad!" He gave directions to Nob, who then led Lothiriel--Alquayendi--to her room. A window faced the west. The sun was setting, so she prepared herself to sleep.
************
In a room on the other side of the hallway was another traveler. He had just finished writing a message to a close friend. He opened his window, which faced the east. A dove was perched on the sill despite the cold. He tied the message to its foot, whispered directions, and sent it on its way. The bird flew east, toward a hidden valley nestled in the Misty Mountains.
January, T.A. 3021
Lothiriel had made it safely to Bree. It had taken her nearly a week to do so, and she was amazed that no one had found her yet. Not that she minded; her new-found freedom was a relief after six years of living among the Elves and Dunedain who inhabited Rivendell. She sighed. Had it really been that long since her father had sent her north?
As she entered the town, Lothiriel slid off the horse. The first thing she needed to do was find a place to stay for the evening. She led the horse through the town to a tavern named the Prancing Pony. Lothiriel recognized the name from somewhere, though she could not place the name. She took the horse around to the stables located in the back, where she handed the horse off to a stableboy. The boy stared wide-eyed at the duo, and Lothiriel was unsure whether he was more surprised by a lone female rider or the horse she had brought. She grinned wryly as she stepped inside the inn.
Inside, the place was chaos. There were the locals, a strange mix of Hobbits and Men, and then there were a few others who were obviously from other parts of Middle Earth. Lothiriel noted that several of them were watching her slyly, so she made a point of avoiding eye contact with any of them. She sat at the bar, where she was waited upon by a hulking man: the owner. "Whaddya want, miss?" he asked, setting an empty mug in front of her.
"Your finest ale and a bowl of stew with bread, if you please. I've travelled long and hard these past days and am in need of some good food." The man nodded and went off to fetch her food. He came back and placed it in front of Lothiriel. She ate the stew hungrily, finishing quickly.
Lothiriel turned around on her stool, surveying the crowd. There was now only one man watching her. He made her slightly uneasy, but then he stood and she lost him in the mob of faces. "Lady?" asked a voice beside her. She started and turned. It was the man she had been watching. "I am sorry if I frightened you, miss. I was just wondering what would bring a pretty young lass into a place like this."
"Oh. I...I am looking for work as a barmaid or some such profession, so I stopped in to see what the place was like," she stammered at the man, who was, she realized, rather handsome up close. "I had heard about the Pony from a friend once, so I decided I might as well visit it."
The man nodded. "Barliman could use some help, I daresay. He often forgets things, like that time when he had a message for the Ringbearer and he almost didn't give it to him. Coulda been disastrous, if Strider hadn't been around."
Lothiriel started again. She remembered the tavern now. It was the place where the four Hobbits had first met Aragorn when they set out from the Shire. "I heard that tale somewhere in my travels."
"Where have you been, lady, that you would hear such tales of the War? For you do not look like one who has seen the horrors of such." The man looked at her with a new interest.
"I traveled all over in the past. I haven't done so much travelling recently, but I decided it was high time I went somewhere again." It was true enough, she mused. Before she left home, she went everywhere with her brothers and cousins and their friends. After that, she had made the journey from Dol Amroth to Rivendell when she was sixteen, and hadn't gone outside of the valley since.
"What did you say your name was, miss?" The man shook Lothiriel from her reminiscing.
She smiled. "I didn't, but you can call me Alquayendi."
"An Elvish name!" the man exclaimed. "Swan-daughter, am I correct?"
"Yes. My father gave me that name." The man was beginning to make her nervous with all of his questions.
"I am called Rhavan, or Wild-Man, by the people of Bree. Elsewhere I am known as Thalion." He looked at her closely. "I want you to call me Thalion. It is a more noble name than Rhavan." Thalion stood and made his way to the stairs that led to the rooms.
The owner knelt over the bar. "His kind aren't trust-worthy, miss. I'd stay away from him if I were you," he whispered. Lothiriel turned and nodded.
"Do not worry, kind sir. I expect he shall not remember me in the morning. In the meantime, might I have a room for the night? And I was wondering if I could pay with my services as a washer or barmaid. I am afraid I do not have much in the way of coin."
"Certainly, miss. I'll have one of the lads wake you in the morning. He'll show you 'round the place, and you can start work tomorrow. By the way, I'm Barliman. What might your name be?" He looked at her expectantly.
"Alquayendi."
"Alquayendi," he repeated. "Odd name. Anyway, I'll have Nob show you your room. Hey lad!" He gave directions to Nob, who then led Lothiriel--Alquayendi--to her room. A window faced the west. The sun was setting, so she prepared herself to sleep.
************
In a room on the other side of the hallway was another traveler. He had just finished writing a message to a close friend. He opened his window, which faced the east. A dove was perched on the sill despite the cold. He tied the message to its foot, whispered directions, and sent it on its way. The bird flew east, toward a hidden valley nestled in the Misty Mountains.