Now mind you, I knew someone belonging to a Noble's retinue visiting a Breeland noble's home took my mother violently. She never told me the name of the Breeland Noble, but I have my suspicions. She told me of the night she conceived me. My mother said he was the only man she slept with in her life, and no doubt existed to her, who my father was. Only thirteen years older than me and seeing her shy from men, no reason existed to doubt her. She lost her job when they discovered her pregnancy, but her folks helped her and when they died she took possession of the family farm.
When I arrived at Dol Amroth, I could not believe my eyes. A city such as this I had never seen, nor do I care to see one again. Everyone dressed in what I call finery, even dock workers dressed better than an average person in Bree. I could not believe the good fortune of these folk and set about listening for word of Hirgon Alcarien. I visit the local tavern and felt many glares thrown my way. My finest clothes seemed tattered rags compared to them. Money talks, especially in Gondor, and the barkeep took my coin as readily as the lowest of any Gondorian.
Three nights I drank, they beginning of my love affair with whiskey. Each night I heard no word of my father. The forth night, I heard his name, and turned as several men walked past and headed toward the back rooms. I saw my father for the first time. His clothing seemed more splendid than the common workers, so I figured he now worked as some Noble's lapdog. I waited, I drank, and I followed Hirgon home.
He entered a Noble's home, I'm not sure if that pleased me because of a chance to blackmail him or scared me. The next day, hungover, cleaned and in my best outfit, I approached the house. I asked the man who answered the door to speak to one Hirgon Alcarien. The man led me to a study. I should have known then, but I didn't.
When Hirgon entered and sat behind the desk, I nearly lost my nerve.
“You wanted to speak to me?” Hirgon said in a cruel voice.
“I wanted to meet my father.” I watched his eyes narrow. Even then I felt the cruelty in him.
“And who would that be?”
"You.”
He laughed, and it definitely did not sound merry. It took everything inside me not to cringe. “And what makes you think I am your father.”
I explained to him, leaving out the word rape of how I came into this world, and I waited for him to deny it. After all, I figured, a man like him has many base-born children all wanting a part of his fortune. I finished with, “Well, I have seen you, met you, and I will be on my way elsewhere.” I turned to leave.
“What no demands for money, title, lands?”
“No.” I continued toward the door.
“Wait.”
I stopped but did not turn around nor say anything.
“Perhaps you will do.”
I turned and raised my eyebrow. He seemed unnerved by my silence. But still I kept my thoughts and questions to myself.
He stood and circled me, inspecting me like one would a cow or horse. He nodded, “Aye, I see me in your face, and certainly in your height. For once a true son has come.” He slapped me on the back, it hurt but I did not flinch or wince. That seemed to make him even happier.
I should have left and not stopped. But instead I stayed, hoping for family once more, I suppose.
