Kennet was walking down the slope leading to the Bree-land Homestead, thinking about his final preparations before leaving. He had arranged to meet Meldanyel at dawn at the guard post on the other side of the stone archway that bordered the outside of the residential area. He had to prepare his luggage, have dinner... and pay a visit to his parents. The young man was deep in thought, trotting slowly over Hawthorn towards home, but Ginny called him back to the present.
Ginny was one of the best known people in the Homesteads, as one of her duties was to be town crier, announcing all the news and novelties of relevance to keep people informed. In these winter days when the Yule festival was ongoing, she was able to tell you about every single concert, dance and banquet that took place in Bree-land. But she was also a very sociable person and people felt comfortable telling her their business, so Ginny was possibly the most knowledgeable woman about everything going on in the Homesteads.
-Kennet, come here! -said Ginny in her energetic but pleasant voice as the young man approached. I hear you're leaving the Homesteads. Is that true? -she asked with a surprised expression.
-Hi, Ginny. I'm going on a trip, yes, but I'll be back -he assured her without getting off his saddle. The woman was silent waiting for more explanation from Kennet, and that silence pressed him to continue speaking. I'm going away for a while to visit the library in Rivendell, on the other side of Trollshaws, but I'll be back here when I'm done.
Ginny had that effect on him, and he supposed on everyone else. Her warm, approachable and easygoing manner and her broad smile made people open up to her and tell her their private business, even if they didn't want to. She was also pretty, or at least Kennet thought she was. Ever since he was a teenager he had begun to feel a certain attraction to her, although he always tried to conceal it. The woman had entered her thirties and the young man never saw any kind of relationship with the vivacious woman as realistic. In fact, Ginny had no husband of her own accord, and the reasons for this were sometimes the subject of debate in one of the Homesteads taverns. So young Kennet, focused on his plants, his pots and his books, appreciated Ginny but felt a certain embarrassment talking to her, so conversations always took too long.
-Ah, it's good to know that you're not moving out for good... You're a smart and respectful boy, it would be a shame to lose sight of you -she assured with a half smile and winking at Kennet.
The young man didn't quite know how to take that reaction, so he smiled gratefully as he felt the heat rise in his face. Yes, no, no... uh... sure, my house will still be here -he said, stuttering a little. But... I'd need someone to keep an eye on it while I'm gone. I leave tomorrow at dawn and I really don't know how long I'll be gone....
-Ah, don't worry. I'll have Sam watch your house, is that okay with you? Since the mayor pays him to watch the neighborhood, let him earn his salary watching your house too -said the woman vehemently.
Kennet hadn't thought of such an idea... he wouldn't even have asked Sam for the favor. But Ginny stated with such certainty that it was within his competence and that she would ask him, that the young man did not refuse the help. Okay, Ginny... thank you very much for the favor -he thanked, which caused the woman to nod her head and stare at him silently with a big smile. Uncomfortable with her gaze, the young man decided to start walking again: I have to... make the last preparations for tomorrow. I hope... I hope to see you soon -he said in a somewhat hesitant voice, raising his hand and urging Hawthorne forward.
The woman wished him bon voyage without taking her eyes off him as he went, and began to hum in a low voice some song that Kennet could not guess. The young man silently lamented the embarrassment of talking to her, but it was something he couldn't help. But before he became engrossed in such regrets, he reached home and got off Hawthorne, tying him to the tree beside the dwelling. As he removed all his purchases from the horse's bales, he heard Kraven's squawk in the distance, flying some height above them.
Once home, Kennet pulled his travel pack out of a chest and some heavy clothing that he kept in one of the closets in his room. They were thick garments, prepared for the inclement weather that could be encountered in Bree-land. And, coming across an old but well-kept and ornate coat he stared at it for long seconds. Memories came to his mind without looking for them: it was the coat of his maternal grandfather, whom he never knew. His mother Lucy had told him that his grandfather Westby was the grandson of a minor nobleman from Arthedain. One who was unfortunate with his possessions and from his meager inheritance Westby only managed to get this coat of excellent quality. His father Cyril never got to wear the coat and Kennet was too young to be able to wear it, so it was always kept as an heirloom in the household chests. This was the first time Kennet had seen it and he felt it was fitting to put it on. The young man slipped his arms through the sleeves and noted with satisfaction that it fit him perfectly. Likewise, it was light enough to wear but thick enough to protect him from the cold. From the deep of his heart he thanked his mother for this gift, and also his grandfather, even though he did not know him. It seemed that fate... or Araw, as his father used to correct his mother when she spoke of "fate," had decided to keep this garment until the ideal time came to wear it.
Carefully, Kennet removed the neat garment with one thought in his head. He decided that he would go visit his parents that night. It had been a while since he had done so. It had been several years since their death, and in that time Kennet had managed to get ahead and become a fine young man. He didn't forget his parents in his day to day life, but he didn't feel the need to talk to them lately. At least, not until tonight.
The young man opened the travel backpack and began to pile the rations he had purchased inside. He estimated that it would not take him more than two or three days to reach Rivendell, but just in case he had bought enough food for a week's journey. Then he began to prepare a couple of blankets to keep warm at night, in the unfortunate event that he had to camp outdoors. He was not a professional explorer, but he knew how to light fires and was sure he would survive if he had to sleep under the stars.
Doubts came to him about whether he would have to take some of his studio-related possessions with him. He cursed himself for not remembering to ask Edwin if he should. Would he have to take the ingredients with which he made her preparations? Well... some were hard to come by in Bree, but surely the elves would have everything in Rivendell. After all, they were... wizards. They could get whatever they needed, Kennet reasoned.
And their books and scrolls? Well, most of them didn't have much scholarship, but some of them were little gems to Kennet. Although... surely there would be much more and better in Rivendell's library than he could have in his small but proud personal "library". No, he decided not to take books.
What about his maps? With this question he thought for a while longer. Although the elves would surely have scouts and know the lands of the ancient kingdom of Arnor better than he did, it would be an ideal opportunity to update his own maps. One of Kennet's greatest pleasures in recent years had been to make maps by region and, as he read a new book, listened to a traveler's tale or came across some ruined remains, to complete his own personal maps. Taking these maps with him ran the risk of exposing them to the elements or, even worse, losing them. But to be able to complete them with all the wisdom of Rivendell would be a wonderful thing. Yes, he was determined to take the risk: he would take his personal, incomplete maps with him to Rivendell.
And so the night closed in over the Homesteads. Kennet already had all his luggage packed and had dined on some fruit, for his stomach was closed with the nerves of the journey. Although he was a little tired, he was not at all sleepy: if he got into bed he would not sleep a wink. So he put on some more clothes and took some grains in his hand, going out into the cold outside of his home.
No sooner had the opened door creaked than a squawk sounded from the branches of a nearby tree. Kennet said "Here", dropping the handful of grain next to the stairs at the entrance to his dwelling. In a few seconds Kraven flew up beside him, also answering "Here" and beginning to peck at the deposited grain.
Kennet smiled at his winged companion, and marched down the path toward the center of the Homesteads. There were hardly any people about at this time of night, but a few musical instruments and the sound of laughter and revelry could be heard in some of the nearby houses. The end of the year was near and Yule was a cause for celebration for many. The young man walked through the streets, listening to the activity of each house as he passed, until he reached the slope of Chestnut Street. At the top of the slope, hidden behind the hill overlooking the main square of the Homesteads, was a place of great importance to Kennet.
It had been some time since the young man had come to this place. It was the fairly well preserved remains of a great monument of homage to an ancient king of the High Men. Kennet did not know who he was, but it was a place he had always found ominous and mystical as a child, far from the popular bustle of the Homesteads. Sometimes he would come alone to this place, and think about the legends he heard of ancient kingdoms and heroes, of legendary evils, of the Valar who protected them, especially the patron of men, the Vala Araw... And when his parents died together in that accident, Kennet began to come here to talk to them. He did not expect to hear any answers, but he was sure that in this place they listened to him, wherever their souls were. It gave him peace and comfort in the difficult time of that loss.
Kennet climbed the time-worn stairs, which could be many centuries old. What great historical personalities of the past would have climbed these same steps before! Kings, princes, generals... And now he himself was making this path, respectfully approaching the great statue that watched him in the silence of the night. As every time he came here, Kennet bowed his head in greeting to that king, whatever his name was. After paying his respects, he went to his side and sat down on a small stone mound to the right of the ruler. He looked up at the sky, free of clouds and full of stars. And, after a sigh, he greeted his parents and began to explain to them everything that had happened to him in the last few weeks...
