Brito couldn't have asked for a better evening. The setting sun cast golden light on the hills surrounding Bree; the light breeze played with the trees and teased the tall grasses. Days like this almost made the elderly hobbit feel young again.
She was settling into a routine at long last, and the strangeness of the Breeland surroundings had started to give way to a kind of normalcy. She'd never admit that Breefolk could do anything better than the Shire, but the shock of differences and the ways of big folk had started to give way to curiosity.
But one part of her routine had not changed since she left Michel Delving, and that was her evening walk.
She walked until the roofs of Bree receded in the distance, and only small farms dotted the distant hills. Why if she just kept walking, she might just make those impossibly far places she kept hearing tales about, places with outlandish ways and (she was sure), a lack of quality recipes. Just a little longer and she'd head back to the Pony. There had been a new group of strangers, and Brito was absolutely certain they needed some good sensible hobbit advice. Good Barliman was a fine bar-keep, but he was a big-person, and couldn't be expected to give his guests proper advice. And based on the queer ways of some of his guests, (keeping their hoods on indoors of all things!) they certainly needed the hobbit's wisdom.
A gleam on the horizon brought Brito back to the landscape in front of her. There looked to be a figure in the distance, and so she hastened her step. Coming closer she saw the figure wore clothing of brilliant red and gleaming silver, and looked impossibly tall even for a big person. Well, this was strange as news from Bree and no mistake. Brito called out a cheery greeting and waved to the stranger.
The figure turned swiftly, frantically gesturing at Brito. My eyes aren't what they used to be, thought the old hobbit, continuing to walk forward until she stood within easy talking distance.
"Well how do you do?" asked Brito politely, although now that she was closer she could see that this person was very strange indeed. She wore strange armour, and a tall helmet out of which eyes that seemed to glow with a light of their own gave an almost menacing stare. Brito almost felt the urge to apologise and leave, but even the menace of Mrs. Amelia Puddlefoot, her grandmother, a matriarch who had terrified all the young hobbits, (and especially the turnip farmers,) within miles of Michel Delving, hadn't scared her, so she nodded politely.
"Get down you fool," said the tall woman, gesturing harshly to a nearby rock, "If by some miracle you haven't already been heard."
Curious, the hobbit looked down into the valley, and saw a large group of ragged men. She'd been hearing rumours of brigands, and realised that they must be camped out here. So close to Bree!
Indeed, she heard shouts from below. They'd been heard. The woman thrust Brito behind the rock hissing at her to stay put and run when she got a chance, which Brito nearly pointed out were contradictory orders. But the woman had already gone off to confront the brigands.
"What do we have here?" The brigand looked almost surprised, "An Elf spy?"
The Elf replied almost casually, "I was merely taking a walk in these parts. There is no law against that."
The brigand laughed, "Well you surrender that shiny sword of yours nice and easy or I'll take it from you."
Well now you've gone and put your foot in it, Brito thought. Nothing for it. She took a knife out from under her skirt, and ran out to join the Elf.
"Now listen here you over-ripe, under-salted carrots! What are you doing harassing a lady taking a walk? Now let us go on back, we don't be wanting trouble, and I'm sure your mothers would be very ashamed." She waved the knife in front of her, giving the brigands her very best, "don't step on my peas," glare.
"I told you to run," hissed the elf, but the brigands laughed. "Oh ho, the Elf has found herself reinforcements I see!"
Another brigand came running up the hill, and Brito saw with surprise that he looked very familiar.
"Amlawd you should be ashamed," she called out, "I thought you were better brought up than this." She'd seen the young man in the Pony a few times, and he'd always seemed like such a good boy.
Amlawd look sheepish, but didn't respond to her, instead turning to the Brigand leader, “Sorry sir, these are two prisoners who escaped from our camp. If it were up to me I’d just dump em in the river and be done with it, but I should take them back to boss.”
“What! You good-for-nothing piece of rotten moth-eaten grain! You are old enough to know better young man!” Brito found herself cut off, as the elf cupped a hand over her mouth, and held her rather indelicately down.
“I’ll send some of my boys back with you to talk to the boss. Want to make sure everything is in order before the Trestlebridge assault.”
At that, Brito stopped kicking the elf, and went quiet. Well this was news and no mistake! She’d heard that the brigands were getting increasingly bold, but she had to get out of this and warn them!
The brigand and Amlawd went back and forth, seemingly unconcerned with the armed elf and hobbit. But at last, they turned their attention back.
Surrounded by almost thirty brigands, the elf surrendered her sword, giving Amlawd a glare.
“Make sure to gag them, especially that sharp-mouthed hobbit,” said the brigand leader.
“No mistake about that,” replied Amlawd, as he obliged, avoiding Brito’s eyes.
Amlawd tested their ropes, and he and three other brigands dragged the captives off towards the west.
Once they got out of range of the camp, Amlawd turned with a dangerous suddenness, and cut the elf’s bonds, thrusting her sword back into her hand. Now free, the elf moved disconcertingly quickly, and before Brito could squeal through her gag, the three brigands lay unconscious on the ground.
Amlawd moved to Brito, cutting her free, “I apologise Miss Brito, I’m afraid you rather came in on an attempt at infiltrating their camp.”
“No offense taken young man,” replied Brito rubbing her wrists, “I’m glad to see you’re a decent sort after all.”
The elf was fuming, “What were you thinking, I told you not to interfere with my mission. Am I correct in smelling Gelilthor in this stupidity?”
“And I distinctly remember her telling you not to interfere with us. You destroyed my cover and ruined our plan!” Amlawd replied, glaring at the elf.
The elf sighed, and wiped off her sword. “And now what are we to do with these brigands? I think they’re still alive.”
“Well, this is your mess,” said Amlawd. “I need to get back to Gelilthor and let her know what I managed to learn before someone derailed our plan.”
“Like I’d leave someone as incompetent as her to make plans! No, you deal with them, and I’ll go get some real help.”
Brito raised her hand, stepping forward until they noticed her and stopped arguing, “I’ll go get the Bree town watch if you like. They can try these brigands,”
The elf’s voice became softer, “Would you do that? That would help a great deal.”
“And find Randir,” Amlawd put in, “Tell him we’re headed to Trestlebridge.”
Brito ran off and was huffing and puffing by the time the Bree rooftops came back in sight. Well that had been an adventure and no mistake. Why, her neighbours back in Michel would never believe it! As soon as she’d notified the watch she needed a good beer, her knees were far too old for this sort of nonsense.
