I am not used to this Dragon crap at all. This feels all wrong.
I am sitting on a rock out near the halfing Adso's sweet little operation, on the edge of the Bree forest, tucking into a plate of beans and bacon. At least the victuals in this place are passable.
Just on the edge of the wood a wolf is sitting and watching me, while I watch it. Wolf? Bah. These folk call it a wolf and wet themselves when it prowls around, but it looks more like a big dog to me. I should go drag one of those damn Anorien Wargs over here and let them all have a look see at a REAL wolf. Just a bunch of teeth with legs.
Anyway, it ain't the wolf that feels wrong, or this little camp...I rode the Monk too hard, and she knows I did. THAT feels wrong.
I never thought Xanderian would get herself all mixed up in this kind of stuff....menfolk and Noldor and whatever. She was always so snooty about the menfolk or the dwarves, so damn full of herself. I just wanted her to get her arse out and SEE what was happening outside of her gordamned sunlit glade. I figured it would give her a bit of perspective, maybe knock her off her damn high-horse. I never expected her to get all dewey about 'em.
Alright, I know...it was stupid. I should have known she would glom onto a few likely types and hold on for dear fecking life.
I remember when she was a little girl...cradling one of those damn bluebirds of hers in her hands, dead as dreams. She come wandering her skinny arse right into the damn House, straight into the Hall of Fire with it. Lord but she looked like a short orc, hair still thick with leaves from her rambles, face all puffy from bawling. I was standing near the fire, on duty, not allowed to move or even damn blink about anything. She saw me too, I knew she did...but knew I was part of the furniture...a deadly decoration. Anyway, she wasn't there for me...she walked right up to Lord Lindir and dropped to her knobby knees in front of him. He nearly dropped his poncy harp.
"Please Lord" she mewled up at him..."Please save this bird. It has never done anyone harm but fell from the sky afflicted and needs help." She looked up at him, eyes all teary again, like he could make everything better just with a whisper.
Lindir looks down at her, like she's a bug that crawled over his slipper...god thinking about it even now I could shove SilverWand so far up his arse you could open his mouth and sharpen her. He looked down at my sister and his mouth opened and closed like a damn overdressed guppy, then looked up and talked to the damn fire, he wouldn't even talk to her direct...said "This simple creature is beyond my help". Some fancy Lady looked up at him from her wine and laughed...asked "Do you mean that poor dead bluebird, my sweet lord? Seems a sad loss...".
Lindir looked at the Lady, turned his back on Rian and said "La, nay not the bird...I speak of the girlchild...and nay, tis little loss indeed." Then they all laughed and left her standing there...with the dead bird in her hands...and I had had more than enough. I dropped my stupid spear and walked across the hall and picked her and the dead bird up and carried them out and back to her glade and told her to stay there and stop making trouble. The next day I was sent to join the Lord Elrond's forces assisting in Mirkwood and that was that.
She is doing the same damn thing now...holding these dead birds in her hands begging some Noldor to save them...or worse, thinkin' she can do it herself. Sad thing is I can't just pick her up and carry her back to her glade no more. I can just tell her what an idiot she is...and yell at her about it which did no fecking good at all.
I botched that all up royal...the little ninny even drew a blade on me. I had half a mind to draw SilverWand and beat her silly with it just for her cheek, only the damn sword wouldn't let me. Elbereth, I got no idea how to make her see sense..or to make this right. Not yet at least.
Anyway, I got work to do. I couldn't dump the full bag out for the Monk yet but the King seems worried that while the Dunedain have moved to his side, they have left room for the enemy to creep up our arses while the attention of the great and good is on stupid Mordor. He tells Mablung to handle it, but Mablung don't go himself...oh no...he sends a whole pack of people off to Eregion to see what can be seen FOR him, me included. I figured that it was a stoke of luck and asked to come to Bree...I could swing through Angmar to look for the Child, check on the Monk in this twopenny cattle stand AND do my damn job at the same time. Anyway I figured that it was all just busy work to get us out of the camp until the officers figure out what to do, so what the hey.
Now I get here and Rian tells me of a bunch of brigands led by a gordammned Southron, who is so damn dark he likely craps shadow? Furthermore this Southron seems ta have the local hard men spooked right down to their lacy unmentionables. This sounds like just the sort of thing I was supposed to check on...and I don't like the sound of it at all.
Running out of page, and out of beans, so I am gonna toss the last of this bacon to the big dog and get back to work. Leave it to Xanderian to stick her head in an invisible hornet's nest. Maybe while I unwind hacking up brigands I can figure out what to say to the little idiot....or maybe not.
Need to have a word with that runaway daughter, see what she has to say for herself, stupid little kitten. Maybe find out who this damn Ingfled wench is she kept squawking about. The Noldor can wait...don't have any desire to tangle with the likes of her, and right now I couldn't talk without tangling...so leave it alone I say.
At least while I got other things to do.
