((Follow On of Events from "Finally: the woman, parchment and a messenger come together" > http://laurelinarchives.org/node/13281 <))
Seraile whipped round when he heard steps behind him, only to find a very weather beaten man, walking up to him, warily.
Seraile himself was ragged, worn, his clothes partly tattered; he had been away again, in search for what always evaded him, death, the release from the pain of the world; the slaughter of the North Downs had driven him to madness.
His quest in Rohan having failed, travelling down there only to find the Thanes quarrelling between themselves over petty matters of land and the king; he had no time for such things.
Every moment of every day, he kept eyes and ears out for any sight or mention of Tucona, but nothing had come of it, just the sound of the people of Rohan falling further and further into desperation and decay. The war had been terrible down there, many of the farmers outside the towns forced to abandon their houses, famine and disease ripped through the villages and towns, work of the dark powers drove Rohan to its knees.
Now back in Bree, wandering the streets like a ghost, often-spending nights in the bottom of a tankard; waiting, waiting for what? He did not know, something, he guessed. Maybe this boy carried it? He stood up straight, trying to look his old proud self, the stranger stopped a few steps from him.
“What?” asked Seraile, in a commanding voice, “Seraile?” Replied the voice of the man, “I was told to listen to rumours and follow the shadows, not sure exactly what she meant by that but, are you Seraile?” elaborated the man, looking at Seraile up and down and smiling, obviously happy with himself.
“Yes, you have found me, and who is ‘She’?” asked Seraile, looking at the man closely, wandering what he wanted, and “I have a message for you, sir!” The man said, holding out a roll of parchment, a bit heavy for its size.
Seraile opened it and quickly scanned it with his eyes; holding a small phial in one hand, he looked up at the messenger his eyes bright and said “May the Valar bless you my friend, you have brought me what I needed to live!”; with that he tossed a pouch full of gold, the messenger caught it and looked inside, bowing deeply, “Thank you very much sir!” and set off.
Seraile felt his heart burning again, he felt, what he had not felt in many months, hope, hope and happiness, a willingness to live! He read the letter carefully again, one rare tear of joy running down his face, he jumped in the air and cried out loud in happiness, disturbing a sleeping dog. She was alive, Tucona was alive and happy, and the news could not have been more encouraging. Though, he still couldn’t see her, he did not know where she was, but the thought of possibly seeing her again one day, made his heart burn with purpose. He had a reason to live, a reason to fight to end this war. Of course he could not do it alone, but he must help to end it, once and for all.
