~ Entry I - V: From Rohan to Bree-lands ~
In these entries, Swefenclide details his encounter with the Blackwold brigands, a Nazgûl, and a part of his childhood in Rohan.
-- I --
I have finally found a time to start chronicling my travels. I bought an empty journal and some ink after hunting for some wet skins from boars. It has been an eventful three moons? with the recent happenings in Bree-lands. Honestly, I'm not even sure if it has been three moons. I've lost count of days in the cell where those curs holed me in. Those accursed Blackwold brigands had it coming. They forced me to join their ranks. Threaten to kill me if I choose not to within the last dawn of the year's quarter. If not for that ranger, Strider be the name, I wouldn't have gotten out of that prison.
I remember that night clearly. It was supposedly the last night of my "torment". I was to be killed and minced to be eaten by their wolves. They even showed me the other night what they would do to me by setting the other captive as an example. I barely know the man but what they did to him would make one wish a quick death instead. I wouldn't be surprised if those demons took pleasure from what they did. They are no human.
Just imagine the flame of vengeance that I felt in my heart when I was freed from that damned pen. The ranger took a quick work of the guards that were stationed there. I took a dagger from one of the fallen guards' satchel and firmly grasped it. I would've choose to avoid fighting them but in situations like this, it's my life or theirs... I would rather have it theirs. Together with the ranger, we fought the remaining bandits in the Blackwold camp including their leader, Edric. Apparently, they were holding other prisoners... the hobbits Celadine and Mundo. I rescued the two whilst Strider looked for a ranger he is with, named Admir. Celadine, with her wits, form a distraction by setting a part of the camp ablaze. An act that made the ordeal much easier.
On our way to regroup with Strider, we saw Admir and what looked like a hooded man on a grotesque horse. The rider seemed of the abyss if not a being made of abyss itself. My heart was consumed with fear as my voice seeks for help but no sound nor air was released. Admir held his ground against the abyss rider but alas, the rider had striken his right shoulder deep before Strider had even come to aid. The hooded rider looked for a "Baggins" among the hobbits but it seemed that neither of them was what it was looking for. It left shortly, vowing to come back for Admir. When I looked at Strider's eye when he was facing the rider, I saw hate. When he looked at Admir's wounded shoulders, I saw a dim future for Admir. It was when the malevolent creature had left that it was named, a Nazgûl. It's morgul-blade is cursed and apparently, it fears fire. I have never seen such foul fiend anywhere before. I have only heard rumors but what they are is a stranger to me. On the way to safety, I was filled with the thoughts of everything that has happened that night until I drift to sleep.
-- II --
When I woke up the next day, we were in a small village called Archet. I was a modest and peaceful village... perhaps too peaceful to worry about an impending invasion from the Blackwold.
I have heard it way before when I was still traveling along Chetwood, unaware that the group of men I was with were actually brigands. I have a feeling in my gut something wasn't right but your greenhorn adventurer took the benefit of the doubt. Those thugs offered me a job. They said they needed manpower for a "project" they have and they were looking for additional men. Seeing it as a chance for a good profit, I took it and joined them to where they are headed. It was a time where my gains from busking were not really enough to have my instrument repaired nor even afford myself a lodging. I have used most of my funds to travel to Bree by sea. As for the reason why Bree, it is Scholar Lyndys' area of interest. I'll explain this in a later time.
They led me to the place where we will "work". Out of curiosity, I asked them about the details of the labour. It is when the man who offered the job named Edric halted and looked me in the eye with a dangerous glint on his. I can recall what he said like it was said to me just now.
"You see, youngin'", He smirked. "We have some workin' to do in Archet."
"Oh... What kind?" I inquired, whatever twist in my gut I have felt had worsen. "Some sort of barn perhaps?"
The men laughed around me.
"Oh. No, my boy." He rested his arm over my shoulders. "We will take Archet for ourselves..."
Before I was even able to react on his revelation, he choked me with a hold and brandished his dagger against my face.
"... And you will join us. You accepted our offer after all."
On our way I've learned that they indeed needed more men for their plans. They had been offering local troublemakers and desperate indigents to join them in exchange for a good sum. Seemed that those methods didn't bore enough so they decided to use force. It was a day I would have rather meet typical ruffians who steal from passers-by...
-- III --
Don't get me wrong. I don't have any particular hatred for thieves but that doesn't mean I approve of their actions. Despite my poor conditions in the rivers of Isen, I never turned towards a life of crime. Although, I was indeed lenient of my childhood friends who have done so out of need. I understand them. Living as a vagrant is difficult after all and you can't expect that you will be treated with a silver spoon. In the rivers of Isen, there are but only a handful of familiar faces. Being an orphaned child of the river... more so. The people there, if they haven't moved to search of a greener pasture, they might have died of feebleness or other illness. I'm fortunate I never got anything serious. Just mild colds or fever at most. Rarely, stomach ache from the food we eat. Makes me wonder what kind of fate my parents had there... if they have ever lived there at all. Have they died of illness?
When gained "conciousness" as that wee boy, I just never had one. And only Eru Ilúvatar knows who nursed me on my infancy. None of the vagrants of the river of Isen knows when I asked them, even the older ones. Though I have no resentment any longer for my folks, I cannot rid of the feeling of lack... as if there is a part of me that might forever be unknown. I was fortunate to not be lonesome during my childhood.
Scholar Lyndys was which I considered as someone who raised me. She has helped the orphaned kids of the river even before I end up there. She would teach us every mornings how to read, write, count... mostly general knowledge. Her cold and serious nature was a tad bit intimidating. I remembered being scared of her when I first met her. Thankfully, her emotionless facade hides a warmth of compassion for the least-fortunate. The older "citizens" of the river was even taught by the elf... You see, there is a general consensus in the river that she is actually an elf. In the times she was at the river she wore a hood or a hooded shawl. To whatever reason she hides her ears, anyone's guess is as good as mine. She has always been shrouded in mystery, even for me, someone who have been the closest to her. Elf or not, I was grateful for her even so.
-- IV --
If there was a time that she have ever shown emotions, I can recall two instances. The first was when I was tried to catch mud crabs on a shallow side of the river. It was a lazy summer morning when she visited the vagrant's tents. She called the lads and the lasses to gather round the river bank. We usually group ourselves under a shady large tree near the river when she teaches us. The tree has the tell-tale signs of vandal... mostly our names... in some areas, profanity. That tree had more manhood than the shadiest brothels in Middle Earth.
That day she wanted us to show our talents, may it be in instruments, dance, poetry, and even crafting. I was a very small young boy back then, I haven't even dreamt to become a minstrel just yet. I was just content playing all day. With nothing to show to everyone, I was poked fun of. Out of anger, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"I can catch mud crabs with my bare hands!" I shouted.
Of course, my peers "obliged" me to do it. By gods, even Scholar Lyndys supported it. Perhaps she saw me when did it before but in hindsight, it might have probably been a fluke. Alas, the time came and my eyes are locked on a mud crab skittering towards its hole. It was as small as a palm of a child so I gained confidence that I might be able to catch it. I quickly moved as to grab it from behind but to my surprise, it seemed like it has anticipated my attack and snapped its claws. The pincers barely missed but I was taken aback so much so that I lost my balance and slipped bottom-first on the shallows of the river. The children laughed shortly and boy, did they laugh. It is only until they heard another distinct adult laughter that they halted, Scholar Lyndys'. She looked at the children and towards as she smiled and beckoned me to return.
"That was a good effort." she commented with a sympathetic nod.
And everything continued as intended. If it wasn't for that laughter, the attention after the gathering could have been fully on my blunder. In fact, that laugh had been a talk in the river for the whole day afterwards.
-- V --
The second time was on the day before she left unceremoniously. I was a young man back then. I saw her crying when I entered her abode to deliver some empty scrolls she order from a merchant I was working for back then. I asked her for the reason behind her tears. She then wiped them and looked me in the eye then told me something that had been etched in my mind even up to now.
"If I told you that I have lost my heart in the Bree-lands, would you find it for me, child?" she said weakly. "No man could and no man ever will."
"Leave the scrolls on the table and go."
On the day that I have set out to start my travels as a minstrel, I vowed to reach Bree-lands as soon as I could. Perhaps to shed light to the reason why the only person whom I have considered as family, left that day.
In Bree, I looked for the scholars who knows Scholar Lyndys. They pointed out that she is an author of a scholarly record about the ruins around Bree. The record in question dated almost a century back. The way of writing and the penmanship was no doubt hers.
"So she is indeed an elf..." I thought to myself.
But the record was not only done by her lonesome, she worked with one "Sigfrid". I wondered how it when with him, given her nature... unless...
...Unless she was not like that before. Does this man, Sigfrid, had something to do with everything? I can only speculate. To further investigate, I reckoned to follow the ruins they looked into. This is my only lead after all, at least until I find someone who knows something more specific. It was because of this decision that I ended up in Chetwood and the rest, as you know it, happened. Even up to now, I'm still searching around the ruins for possible leads. Only time could tell if I will get one.
---
Note to readers: The truth behind Sigfrid the Scholar and Archet's fate will be on the next entries.
