-3 years, 7 months and 9 days since my departure from Harad.-
Breeland is oddly peaceful. Oddly, as in, compared to my homeworld, these lands are at true peace, despite the troublesome figures that might roam their lands. Yes, Southerners, half-orcs, orcs and other foul things linger around, but it is nowhere near like living close to Mordor. The fact I do not have the stirrings of those dark lands any longer above my head is a great relief and eyeopener.
Harad, while is beautiful and I could sing praises about it for hours, is a rough land. It is filled with violence, fear and is sequestered upon itself thanks to Mordor's doings. No matter it has happened ages past that they truly served under Sauron, the Dark One's minions are still at work there. The guards are cruel, justice is given to those who can pay for it, be it in money or favors. And while most common folk do not get truly bothered by it, the blade is still hanging above their necks, ready to strike anytime.
Here, in Breeland, however, The Bree Watch is fair. I have seen some of them in action and while I do not rejoice for my colleagues to get caught, I can only praise them in their swiftness and fairness in actions. There is no slaughter, no tyrannical responses. And while they are hardly fit to fight against what is coming ( a subject I shall delve upon later) they are good men and women, devoted to a cause that is, in certain eyes, just. For that, Northerners have it easy when it comes to dealing with local authorities. And while I shan't be friends with them, I cannot find myself to mind having to share this turf with them, especially not when I think about the curt but kind exchange of words I've had with Watcher Nessya.
((The page has an inkblot right after this part, as if the writer had been in deep thoughts before writing what comes next))
Today, before having met with another bunch of fellows that are joining our cause, I have encountered quite the event. A bald man that made shivers run down my spine like those hailing from the Dark Lands, had interrupted a friendly banter I had with my friend the Man Shrouded in Mystery (his name shall remain secret, for it is only for me to know of it). He claimed to be Dol Guldurian and sought out a fight, clad in a foreign armor that was unknown to me, but with a blade that made me truly fear for my companion and those around.
While I do not know where Dol Guldur is, from what I understood afterwards, it is a place haunted by Evil. The Man Shrouded in Mystery, an elven friend of his and one of the newer brethren of the Court managed to subdue the man, only to my great frustration, for him to escape after pulling trickery upon the Man Shrouded in Mystery. While I barely understand of what is truly going on, the Stranger in question must have been some Black Numenorian, someone who hunts and kills the Rangers that roam these parts of Arda. I hardly know anything about their history and shall have to ask about it to the Man Shrouded in Mystery, unless one of you could inform me.
I am in possession however of the Stranger's sword. I have been told to deliver it to the Watch and I shall, once I know who to reach for it. I have no wish to keep that thing in my own quarters or that of our brethren. I shall write an official report concerning this, so all will know about it with ease.
After this "affair", luckily good news arose. Well, relatively good news as I am quite angry against Velnath, one of our spies, to have dumped me a "Right Hand" upon me with nothing more but a letter to confirm me about his proposition. And the man had not come alone, no! He had brought a gambler with him, an apathetic guy that in the end did amuse me. However, Baeldric, is going to have to work for me to like him. And Velnath is going feel my foot against his knees and feel them snap once I see him again.
Things followed this, and in the end, we gained third member for our company. Me, Baeldric, Cliff (the Gambler) had started to share a drink when a young woman joined us. The young woman was of no true importance, despite her being oddly naive and painfully innocent upon human interactions. Nighthawk (or Abigail, Abbie as I baptised her until she finally shares us her true name) had joined us - chasing the lass off. We shrugged it off and went back to drinking and merry making, until Haltrid joined us. Haltrid had been recruited the day before. A sweet lass, a bit too easy to trust, but capable.
Shortly after this, a man barged into the room, giving us insult. While we are rather mellow fellows, there are things we cannot let slide easily - we have our pride and truly, we had paid for the room and drinks. Of course, the lad wasn't smart enough to keep quiet and revealed his true reason to be among us. Percivol was a snitch, paid by a Watchman apparently to find if there were any shady folk in the Prancing Pony. The decision that he would not leave alive or without having pledged allegiance had not needed a second to form in my mind.
Abbie and Baeldric held him down, forcing him to remain on his designated seat. It had nearly turned pathetic when he told us he was willing to do anything for his life. But then, self preservation is hardly something we can reject, aye? For all of us are driven by a similar motive, deep down. So of course, the land only received the most sensible offer: to join us. Or to die. I suppose writing down his decision would be rather redundant, wouldn't it?
At last, when the day was finally at it's end, we made the decision to meet up in the future at the Forsaken Inn, so to introduce one another, as well as make sure all and everyone truly knows that their place is indeed well settled in the Court of Miracles.
