Bree has proven thus far to be the ire and bane of my very existence. I thought Dale could be unfeeling towards those in urgent need, but this place - suspicious and wary of outsiders - is clearly much worse about it. They look upon my clothes and hear my accented words and turn me away. They care not about the story I have to share; the siblings trailing behind me with a look of desperation in their eyes.
The caravan was to leave the next day, and we would no longer have a camp outside of Bree to stay in. I needed to find somewhere for them to stay - and myself, while I think of it - until I could find a way for myself and Mercwri to make coin to keep us afloat. Against my better judgment did I make my way to the local tavern; The Prancing Pony. As soon as I pressed the door open, I was met with harsh voices, and the rank scent of alcohol flooded my nose.
I pressed myself away from a group gathered in the entryway by the hearth and retreat to a table in the back of the tavern. There I examined my maps and counted out what little coin I have; if I needed to I could rent a room for the siblings there, but I feared exorbitant prices may come out of our notably foreign demeanor and language. My map was not as detailed on the lands west of the Misty Mountains. I was not surprised by this, being a Dalish map, but that left me helpless when trying to decide if there was anywhere else we could go. I had heard rumors of a town up north known as Trestlebridge, but the rumors were bad - Orcs and the like.
In the end, I rose from my seat to order a drink from the bartender - and owner, as I would later come to find out. I ordered the weakest (and therefore cheapest) spirit I could. Before I could even take a sip of it at the bar, my attention was caught by a man staring back at me. He was quick to offer his own hand and to introduce himself.
“Gregwald,” he said. “And you are?”
“Swanhildr,” I replied, “but ‘Swan’ is acceptable if my tongue is too difficult to speak.”
I was thoroughly surprised when he repeated my name perfectly. And, secretly thrilled. I had always hated the nickname Swan. I was not just a bird with an awful squawk to its name.
Gregwald introduced me to his companions - Kimbell, Catalinna, and an Easterling girl who left quickly. They all seemed to know each very well, so I was granted the opportunity to sip lightly at my drink and think. This method didn’t seem to last long as the night crawled on, however, and soon only Gregwald and I remained.
Another man from the Dale-lands; the second one I had met. Once a few days prior I had run into a man named Theothar who pointed me to the Hammer and Harp Inn and told me to see about putting the siblings up there. After speaking with Gregwald - who warned me against the dangers of staying in the city or in Beggar’s Alley - I decided I would do that the very next day.
“Do you always wear flowers in your hair, Swanhildr?” He asked me before we parted ways. I had forgotten that Mercwri had woven them in for me that morning before I went scouting the city. She said that they would bring me good luck. I don’t believe in those sorts of things, but who was I to turn the girl down? A nervous chuckle escaped my lips before I said;
“Only when I am attempting to make a good impression.”
Something about the grin on his face made me think that they had worked.
William Bouguereau; "Child Braiding a Flower Crown" | Ernest Herbert; "Ophelia"
