Darn You Pheremones!

October 28

We arrived at Bree. That was probably the nicest place I'd been to, Imladris included. Too many bad memories of Sue One.

I didn't tell anyone this, but I intend on staying in Bree. I mean, I could probably have stayed in Minas Tirith, but to what end? I'd get bartered off to be a dumb wife of some nobleman, end up having his children (which is one of those things I really fear; having the children of someone I don't love) and be unhappy forever. So, the only thing I could think of was to hide out in Bree for eternity, or at least until Mhera dies and/or sails. I can get work as a seamstress' assistant here; I asked the innkeeper about employment in the area, and said that was the only acceptable employment for a young lady in the area. And I will not stay as "Arë" or even "Runa"; I'd be too easy to track. I chose an entirely different name. I'm "Ellie Rue" now. Ellie's short for Elinor which is Common Speech for light. Not totally different from Are, but not suspect.

Before you start going ballistic, I did talk to an adult (Elrond) in Imladris about my plan, and he thought it would be all right, and once it was noticed that I was not under the care of one of the people who had been looking after me, he would say that I had gone away. He promised he wouldn't say where, and only tell them I was safe. My part of the bargain was to stay in Bree and write a letter once a year (at the very least) summarizing how I was, until he had left for Lindon. He also said that if anything happened (meaning I got married or had a kid) he expected a letter as well. Just so he could pass the news on to the people who cared about me.

October 30

I got the job. It doesn't pay that well, but I bunk in the attic and board is included, so I'm fine for now.

I was started working on men's shirts. Mistress Hedge (the seamstress) said that if I was going to prove I could sew, that was the way to do it. If I messed up, the men wouldn't notice. Women always noticed if something was wrong.

Fortunately, the pieces were already cut out, and all I had to do was baste and then stitch. The first shirt I did was for the blacksmith in Archet. I tell you, that guy must be huge. And fortunately for me, shirts in Bree are made from five pieces, one back, two front, and one per sleeve. The dresses that I made in Minas Tirith were fourteen pieces: two per sleeve, three front, two back, and four skirt. Freedom at last!

One bad point: There are buttonholes. Curse you, buttons, for making me sew buttonholes!

I did consider the fact that I'd have to pretend that I'm not an elf, but there's little I can do. For now, it's just rag curls. And did you know that Elven hair doesn't need to be washed over once a season? I love that. It never feels oily, either. So the curls will stay tight for a while (they've been in four days and haven't relaxed a bit), and I won't have to redo them that often.

--

Okay, you're probably wondering how I gave the hobbits the slip. I said I was returning to Imladris, and they actually believed me. It wasn't that hard, seeing as they were worried about what would happen in the Shire. Then I doubled back to town, and tried to find the seamstress. The rest I already wrote down.

November 1

Mistress Hedge said I could work on dresses now. She also said that my work was good, although I still had plenty to learn. But today we didn't work on dresses; we worked on cloaks, seeing as winter is coming and all. I hemmed; she embroidered the ladies' cloaks on the front.

She also broke a fishbone needle. I'm supposed to go see her brother tomorrow (it's nearly dark now) and ask him whether he has any more.

Oh, to clarify. Mistress Hedge has a brother- that huge blacksmith down in Archet who I made the first shirt for. He also had a wife, but she died of a fever last year. He does have a four- year- old son (named Ben) but he lives up in Bree with us. That's actually pretty practical; having a kid around all that hot metal is asking for trouble. And apparently he (the blacksmith- not his son) likes to fish, and turns the ribs into needles for his sister, because she doesn't have a husband who can do it for her.

November 2

Can you die of nostalgia? I wish, almost.

I went to Archet to see this blacksmith, told him I was working for his sister, and asked if he had any needles. He was a bit suspicious at first, seeing as his sister never said she was looking to hire help, butwith persuasionhe finallygave three needles to me.

Then on my way back, I heard a sound I had not heard in a very long time. I couldn't stop myself from tuning the corner to see a gaggle of children sitting around a man tuning a fiddle.

When one hears a sound every day since before birth when one'sinside the womb and keeps hearing it for years, and that sound suddenly goes away, it leaves a hole in the heart. Then, when one hears it again, it's like a new life. My dad had played the violin for years before I was born, and he kept playing it nearly every day until I was old enough to hold a violin and play the melodies for myself. You can't give up on something like that. No, not if you've lived with it for over fifteen years and taken it into your very soul.

I just stood there, staring at the fiddler, concentrating on the sound like my life depended on it; at that point, it probably did. I didn't even notice when I had joined the circle of children listening to him play. After he finished the piece- a simple folk tune- he looked up at me, confused. I guess he didn't get many adult listeners.

"Could I see it?" I asked quietly. "I know how to play it."

"Umm... yes," he handed me the fiddle. "But don't drop it."

"I won't," I said, looking the fiddle over before I played it. It was an ordinary dark varnish, but the sound was very chocolaty for a violin, Czech-sounding, and it was more of an introvert instrument... am I boring you? Oh well, onwards, I guess.

I can't express how wonderful it was to put bow to string and play a tune- a simple folk tune that I'd learned in a fiddling book (I think the title was "Si Bhaeg Si Mhor). It was bliss.

Then I simply handed the fiddle back and continued on my way.

I wish I hadn't. The fiddler was cute.

November 4

We just got news this morning about the freeing of the Shire. I heard that Saruman was momentarily distracted by someone in the crowd yelling "You killed Dooku!" (guess who) and he was shot while his attention was elsewhere. If I wasn't in hiding, I'd strangle that girl-err... hobbit. However, I think the story got mangled in translation. I remember reading that Wormtongue killed Saruman. Hmm... seems like the gossips mixed up the two evils.

November 5

I finally got an idea for the brooches! This was bugging me for a while. When you want to fasten a cloak here, you use a brooch. Why not use those hooks that I used in Gondor, only size them bigger? Children would be able to fasten their cloaks easier, and it's got to be less nerve-wracking if there isn't a sharp point near your throat. I told Mistress Hedge about them, and she said that we'd better get some wire and try them out.

Oh, and I found out the name of the fiddler. His name is Jan, pronounced YAN. He's the town carpenter. I hope I get to see him again.

November 10

There's a silly little rhyme that the children have been singing around Bree. What, you think I started it? Whatever made you think of that?

All right, I confess my guilt. I just started saying it when I was sewing since I was really bored. Ben was sitting inside as it was snowing, playing with a doll, and he heard it. It goes something like this:

Oh, what a to-do to die today at a minute or two 'til two:
A thing distinctly hard to say, but harder still to do.
But beat a tattoo at twenty 'til two
(a ra-ta-ta-ra-ta-ta-ra-ta-ta-too)
and the dragon will come when he hears the drum
at a minute or two 'til two today at a minute or two 'till two.

Yeah, it's catchy. I learned it at summer music camp as an annunciation exercise, and it stuck. And now the children of Bree seem to love it, now that Ben insisted on learning it and he told everyone he knew. But I don't think it'll ruin canon that much...

I hope.

November 12

I had to go get more needles today from the blacksmith. I think I lingered a little more than was called for on that street where I heard the fiddle. I probably did not have to turn the rope in the children's jumping games (It's not like jump rope, since the rope has a different pattern. It goes from side to side, then around.) But eventually, he came out. Jan.

He just watched the children play, then took something that looked like it would be a cup and started to smooth it out with a knife. I hope he saw me.

Gah, I'm starting to sound lovesick! It's just a mild crush, right?

Darn you pheromones!

November 18

The hooks are a hit! They just take a little extra sewing to attach them, but they work fine. They're especially big with the parents of young kids. Adults still use brooches, but they seem to think it's a relief that they don't have to pin their children's cloaks. Next project: frogs. I love 'em.

November 27

I was literally shoved out of the shop/house by Mistress Hedge, saying that I need to go meet people, and while I was out, would I find Ben and make sure he doesn't fall through the ice in the millpond? So I went by the jump-o'er-the-rope place (yeah, that's what they call jumprope). Fortunately, the children, including Ben, were there. Unfortunately, they saw me and crowded around, begging for another song like the "dragon one." So I sang this little song about a little porcelain statuette that falls in love with the maid who dusted him. I did change a few words though, like "fender edge" to "mantelpiece," but the rest was the same- I think. The children were indignant that the maid would be "so mean," and immediately proposed making her sit in a corner with no toys for an entire morning. I laughed and explained that this happened a long time ago (if ever) and they would not be able to find her, but I was sure she was "spanked once the cat told the mistress what really happened." Then the children clamored for another silly song, this time about a cat, so I sang, "I Bought Me a Cat," which they loved. Then I was out of songs, so I helped turn the rope.

When it was about noon, I had to take Ben home for lunch. I could have sworn that I saw the carpenter looking out his window when we walked past.

Reviewer responses:

FallenTruth: Believe me; I noticed. You get cookies and hot chocolate. Marshmallows or no? Anyways, you are wrong as for what I hate most. This chapter should help you out.

Cainwen the Warrior: You didn't guess correctly. However, I've got a lot more sewing in this chapter, so that ought to help. And let me guess: your stitches are tiny, even, and straight. I hate you. Anyone who can sew a straight seam is evil.

angeltread: Hey, I never thought of Mordor! But since the tower's out, I don't think I'll have my web access. It's possible to get used to the stench of rotting dwarves 'round here, and I haven't seen a troll yet. And yes, all hail Glorfindel! Poor thing, he has so many mini-balrogs, and he doesn't deserve them... Oh, by the way. Do you think that this Glorfindel has been sent back from the dead by Mandos to help Middle-earth a second time or do you think he's a namesake?