I now have spent enough time in Bree-land’s reaches to know that I am truly, properly settled for this moment - how strange it be, then, that my errands should be taking me further and further afield! It was my assumption when I first came here that Bree, assailed as it is by foes both secret and known, would demand my undivided aid, that my blade would be needed even within the city walls near-constantly.
Now, though, I see that I was mistaken. Bree and its people are daily threatened at close quarter, it is true. But the true threats, the great enemies that need to be driven back, lie further afield, and until they be quelled, Bree will be in danger. ‘Tis better to plug the leaky roof than to mop the water that falls upon the floor.
It may be that my journeying must take me as far afield as the Trollshaws, scarcely believable though that may seem. Yet so it must be, in order to root out the dangers and perils that daily creep ever closer toward good and free folk.
In any case, I wander afar from my point, which be to record my impressions of the strange, lonely people in these lonely lands, the wandering Eglain.
They are a hard folk, used to suffering and death, and seldom moved by grief or joy. Yet they are not blinded to either, and still hold dear life and all good things. It is a sorrowful, hard existence, but one well-lived, ever aware that even the meagre comforts today enjoyed may pass forever come the night.
I find them very unalike to the Bree-folk, though they must be of near kin. Indeed, though their make-shift settlements lie not more than three days hard riding from Bree-town, there be little love or friendship between them. I do not believe there is any especial enmity either, for there is some trade and correspondence betwixt both - the Eglain are explorers and pioneers, and the strange and rare materials they uncover are valued in Bree, whilst the industries and craft of Bree are of great use to the Eglain. Yet the Bree-folk seem to see the Eglain as strange and uncomfortable, and the Eglain in turn view Bree-landers as slow and foolish. Perhaps they are none of them wrong.
Indeed, the Eglain be as insular as the Bree-landers, if in their own different manner. They are slow to trust strangers, and even once respect is won they show little regard, though I have come to realise this does not make their respect less genuine. Nonetheless, it makes them a hard folk to love - I like them well and willingly do what I can to aid them, but there is little time for true joy or peace in their struggles. Further, I do not believe that they could or would come to regard an outsider as one of their own. Again, the Bree-folk be like them in this respect, yet Bree is (for all its faults) a meeting-place for peoples from Dale to the Blue Mountains, and this rich tapestry of varied peoples makes it strangely homelike for one such as I. I do not believe I could ever be at home amongst the Eglain, though I were to dwell with them for a score of years.
Yet though I love Bree-land more, I like the Eglain better than the Bree-folk. Though they be sad and solitary, they be also keenly aware of the wider world, and their place in it. They are not “cultured” as a Dale-lander would understand it, yet they are also by no means unlearned, though their learning springs from exploration of long-lost ruins and the change of the seasons, rather than from study and scholarship. They cling to a land that neither welcomes nor despises them, surviving by virtue of not more than their knowledge of the ebbs and flows of what passes about them. They are an old people, but the land is yet older, and both people and land know this - and yet they remain.
The Eglain are also a people that dwell on the borders of this world and another, stranger realm. I may seem to speak as one addled by superstitions, and would have believed this to be so once upon a time. Yet now, having seen the things I have seen, having met the…..things….that I have met, I am less sure on many matters. The world is vast and strange, and I have seen far less of it than I once imagined - and now, far more than I ever had hoped.
The Eglain know this well, for them, they live side-by-side with creatures and bogemen that should not, could not be real - and yet here they are. Perhaps this, more than anything else, explains the Eglain, for they are not blind to the truths that I previously believed wholeheartedly. They too, know that such horrors be impossiblities, and yet these impossibilities walk among them, wither their crops and steal away their children.
How then, could any sane man react other than they do? To accept that these things be impossible and yet they be, must surely terrify the spirit even as it fortifies it.
As for me, I once believed that my quarrel was with creatures of flesh, monsters and animals that prowl beyond the dark. Now….I be not so sure. How is one to understand what threat such fell beings may pose to free and good peoples? They show no inclination of marching upon Bree, of uniting under a banner - and yet I doubt not that they have the strength to do so. Further, what use be my blade when set against such eldritch powers? Every goblin, every wicked man I slay is one less evil creature to threaten those who be happy and free - even if I stand against such spirits beyond mortal ken, and drive them back for a spell, can I ever truly make some difference when faced with them?
…..It is no matter, the answer is the same as it ever was. Every little I do is a little more, a little that no other must do. Should a host of goblins march upon Bree-land come the morrow, and my blade were the only weapon that could be set against them, still I would draw it, still I would strive til the last no matter how futile.
It matters not what I am able to do, nor does it matter if my efforts bring peace for merely a day or a year. All that matters is that I do what I can. And this be true, whether I slay goblins, or walk among fell spirits, or simply labour in Staddle’s green farmlands. When my end comes, far from friends in some desolate land, I will have done what I can.
