For the past few days I have felt myself being watched. I dislike that feeling immensly. My privacy is of utmost importance to me and the thought that someone seeks to invade it by spying on my movements and conversations is deeply disturbing.
More than once, I have seen a masked man in green and brown standing at a distance. His hood is often turned in my direction and though I could not see his eyes from my vigil by the fountain, I knew that it was he who stared so. Intrigued, and more than a little vexed, I rose from my seat and walked away. I found, as I suspected I might, that he followed. A quick duck around a corner on the High Stair made his movements very plain as he walked past me not a moment later - his vision impaired by his hood, he had not seen me.
After I surprised the man by stepping out behind him to demand his motives, he revealed himself properly. I have, I realised, seen him before. Many times, in fact, as I passed through Esteldin on my way to Bree or Aughaire. He was one of those who had watched me come and go, travelling between the two lands with frequency and now he wished to know why I had seemingly decided to settle here.
We went to Halecatch lake to speak further without prying eyes. I know only too well the price for being an Angmarim in Bree-land. Were the locals to learn the truth of me then it would not be long before suspicion alone would see me lynched. Out of the town walls, where none could hear our words, I was able to speak openly to the man and he to me.
It took surprisingly little to convince him that I had not been sent by my tribe to spread subversion and destruction to the "good" people of Bree. In fact, he seems to be under the impression that I settle here because I wish to do so. I wonder if it may be a mistake to correct that assumption when next we meet?
We spoke at length, he and I, but all the while I stood there with him, my mind was drawn elsewhere and to another problem entirely. The bench in Bree has its uses, not the least of which is as a seat, but there must be another choice. I shall continue to hold vigil there by day in an effort to keep those who know the truth behind my reasoning believing that I have yet to hear anything of him.
Given that I tend to make camp in the wild areas rather than retire to the Homesteads, however, I wonder if I should not take up a more permanent residence in Far Chetwood once more. Cyfier knows that I used to call those woods home and that I still visit the place on occasion. I recall him once telling me that he too used to stay there. Perhaps, then, that is where the answer lies. By day in Bree, by evening in Far Chetwood. He will find me there if he wishes to. I can only hope that he does.
