Of Blue Violets and Pied Daysey
I do not often stop in Bree. Perhaps it is because I remember the grandeur of the White City...or even the camaraderie of the Mead Halls of Rohan...but I find it a poor place, full of suspicions and fears and men who would sooner attack another with word and sword than offer a salute of welcome. It is not that the Light cannot be found in that place...Barliman, who runs the Inn, is a kind-hearted soul, if overworked...and there is a young carpenter of the city who gives me respite at his home when I travel this way. On this day, though, I rode slowly through the city and stopped at the Inn to take a meal before I commenced my journeys once more.
I could not at first see well when I entered the Prancing Pony. Smoke filled the air along with the smell of ale and meat and unwashed patrons. As my sight cleared I spied a table that had only one other sitting at it, and taking a tankard of ale and a bowl of stew, I sat at the opposite end of the table from the slight figure who was hungrily chewing a handful of bread between long draughts of ale.
I had been taught From childhood that all good things in the world were a gift and a wonder, and out of habit I made the gesture of blessing and thanksgiving over even the poor meal that stood before me. As I straightened up and reached for my tankard, I noticed the figure at the end of the table gazing at me with eyes of intense blue that were lit in that moment by the light of curiosity.
"My mother always said that a proper blessing made the food taste better...this looked as though it could use it.", I said with a smile.
The violet blue eyes widened a moment, then the young woman chuckled.
" I am Lindovor, sometime of Gondor...but known to many places."
"I am Fairlain, of the Dale-lands." As she spoke, a delicate hand reached up to pull the cap she wore more tightly onto her head.
She took another mouthful of bread then made a slight gesture towards me as she chewed, "the Dwarves also say things with their hands...".
"You know the Dwarven folk, then?" I asked, gingerly trying a taste of the stew.
"There are many Dwarves in Dale...those of Erebor who could not bear to leave the lands even though their home was ruined."
I nodded, "I have heard the tale." The stew was rather foul, blessing or no, but I made myself eat it anyway.
Having finished her bread, Fairlain sat bemusedly rolling the base of her empty tankard back and forth across the table. I have seen the what hunger looks like in the eyes of others and have known it myself. With a nod and smile, I rose and, putting down a few coins, returned with a full loaf and several generous lumps of cheese which I placed on the table between us.
"Please help me finish this. This stew cannot stand by itself....or perhaps it can, but then it might walk away!" I tore away half of the loaf and offered it with the larger lump of cheese to Fairlain.
She hesitated only a moment before accepting the food with a nod of thanks. Then she smiled and lifted one finger as if to say "wait one moment" and rose to cross over to where Barliman presided over the kegs. Returning, she placed two frothing mugs on the table, gesturing that the one was for me.
"Nay, lass...thank you much, though. I've nearly done one tankard and beyond that the Ale starts to drink me. I've a journey to make yet and must stay on the horse. Forgive an old man."
She raised an eyebrow, but smiled kindly at me. "Ah well then, but I doubt that this would do much to hinder your journey." She took up one of the tankards and drained it within the blink of an eye. I did my best to hide my surprise.
"This stuff's no better than dishwater...not like proper Dwarven brew." She took up the other and drank it a bit more slowly between bites of bread and cheese.
We both set to the task of finishing our meal, and I noticed that my companion, for all that she ate with as much ceremony as a soldier at camp, moved with an uncommon grace of which she seemed completely unaware. I rose from the table, and told her that it was time to see to my horse and be on my way.
she smiled, and I could not help but wonder if my daughter's smile would have been as sweet, had she lived. "my Daysey needs must be looked after, as well...I'll come with ye." And she rose from the table.
"Daisy?"
"My horse, a special gift from the...Lady."
As we crossed the threshold into the clear evening, the cold night air was bracing as a swim in a clear river, and I felt my energy returning and the journey ahead began to feel more like a pleasure than a penance. Walking to where the horses stood tethered, Fairlain moved towards a beautiful little palfrey, mottled white and light gold. The beast nickered as she approached, and nuzzling her hand, moved a bit closer to snuggle it's head under her arm a moment.
"My pretty Daysey..." Fairlain stroked the horse's face and reached up to scratch behind its ears.
I smiled, "I've not seen such a beast before; its colouring is very unusual..."
"The Lady said that these horses have both the white light of Telperion and the gold of Laurelin...I...I did not quite understand, then someone told me the tale of the two trees...?"
"Indeed...and did you understand then?"
She hesitated, "Yes...though it was a strange tale to my ears. I should like to hear it again, sometime."
"Were I not pressed on my journey, I would happily sing you this tale...but I ask that you remember my name ...Lindovor...and I or those about me will happily speak of these things to you. I do not think this will be our last meeting."
She flashed a mischievous smile and with a deft movement untied Daysey and leapt upon her back.
" No, Sir Lindovor...I know that I shall see you again. Thank you for breaking bread with me...I am...at yer service." She bowed from her saddle, and I saw the flash of a starred brooch that held her scarf in place. I bowed in return, and mounted my grey. We then parted in different directions, but we shall meet again, for the light of the stars guides us both.
