I looked around helplessly, the music in the Green Dragon sounded faint and far away as I seemed to go in and out of consciousness a few times. I had to force myself to stay with it, to face what I had found just now. I had been so happy to find a person, in Stock, who had actually known my real mother Yola, although she could not tell me where I could find her. But now this! I stared at the Bramblebury Gazette’s page in disbelief and horror: Yola was supposedly missing in a war-torn land called Angmar! I read the article for the one hundredth time:
Our editor missing in action
By Peppy Bristlebrush
While on an extended tour of duty in war-torn Angmar, the editor of this Gazette, Miss Yola Plumblossom has been captured by the enemy forces and is now officially declared "Missing In Action" by her superiors.
This explains why we never heard from her anymore, despite the many letters that were sent to her. We can conclude nothing about her fate: is she a prisoner, is she still alive, where exactly is she?
Her boss wrote me this letter, stating that she is missing in action, and stresses one point very clearly: No one is to form a raid or rescue party to try and find her. This would only lead to more war victims, be it fallen in action or more prisoners of war and could even endanger Miss Yola's present state whatever that may be.
I hope that you, our readers, will obey to the above. As her brother I shall keep making the Bramblebury Gazette in such way as to uphold the standard of quality she has always maintained.
I started crying and felt miserable and hopeless. More then ever did I want to meet Yola now. I felt so close to her and yet I was so distant. I felt she needed me, her daughter, to come and get her out of trouble. No raids or rescue parties?! We’ll see about that! How could they say that? How could her own brother agree to that? Resisting the urge to burn the paper in the fireplace, I turned another page.. Oh!! Her picture! Yola and some lad were in a picture together. My father?? No, no, let’s not jump to conclusions, I thought. And there was an address, an address in Bramblebury. I grabbed my belongings and half ran, half stumbled towards the exit. Some of the partying hobbits looked up and one followed me outside, where I was already doing my third attempt to saddle my pony Francesca. “O, but you are in no state to ride, Miss!”, the lass said in a friendly, but determined and authoritative voice. I looked at her, saw she meant well and could not but agree. She led me back inside and arranged sleeping quarters for me with the innkeeper.
I fell down on the bed and tried to sleep. A million things were running through my mind now and sleep would not come. In the end, it was pure fatigue that caused me to black out until the following afternoon.
Next: Getting closer to Yola.
