Kennet picked up the leather bag containing all the scrolls Sue had selected for Bree's Scholar's Stair Archives. They were Westron translations of various historical and botanical essays originally written in Sindarin by members of the guild in Rivendell. Bree's modest research and study centre was slowly growing, thanks mainly to the contributions coming from Rivendell, and this time it was Kennet who was going to bring new knowledge.
-Have a safe journey, Kennet -the woman wished sincerely. And don't be reckless out there. This valley is an oasis in a dangerous world, don't forget that.
In the year the young man had spent in Rivendell among centuries-old elves and fleeting visitors, Sue had become the person with whom he had formed the strongest bond. Though they came from very different backgrounds (she was an aristocrat from Gondor and he a farmer from Bree), the two connected beyond the academic pursuits they both enjoyed. On numerous occasions they chatted as they strolled through the valley about their native places, themselves, or the world that awaited out there. She had been a good friend to Kennet in the absence of Meldanyel, though very different from her.
-Thank you, Sue. I'll be careful; I didn't spend a whole year studying to fall off a cliff on the High Moor -Kennet replied jokingly.
The young man was about to make the usual slight bow to Sue, out of respect and the different position in the hierarchy she held within the Scholar's Guild. But Sue surprised him by approaching and giving him a hug. Kennet responded to the hug by tensing up, his face flushed with embarrassment. Sue sensed this as she pulled away from him and couldn't help but laugh.
-Go on, get going and don't let it get dark on the way. I hope to see you back in the future -the woman assured him, before Kennet nodded and hurried out of the room.
On his way outside the Last Homely House the young man once again admired the magnificence of the interiors of the legendary Elrond's abode. The beautiful architecture flowed with the plants and fountains, making the place an artificial paradise. The soft music of a troubadour and the serene conversations here and there lent peace to the atmosphere. Kennet didn't know when he would see this place again, and he tried to retain as much detail as possible in his retina before stepping out of the large doors of the building.
It was still early in the day when Kennet descended the stairs of the Last Homely House with the intention of collecting his luggage and marching to the stables. He was excited as he had not been for some time. In all these months he had thrown himself into reading and study, especially the geography and history of the extinct kingdom of Arnor. He had learned to read simple texts in Sindarin, and could communicate in simple sentences in the Elvish language (and with a horrible accent). He had met travellers and elves with whom he had conversations that had evolved some of the opinions he had brought with him from growing up in Bree. All of this had been very enriching for Kennet, and it had fueled his desire to learn and learn more. But now he was about to embark on a real adventure, something far greater than wandering the musty stones of the Midgewater Marshes in search of ancient remains. He was going to travel to the abandoned city of Fornost, the majestic capital of the kingdom of Arthedain, one of the three states created after the disappearance of Arnor.
The latest news from the Scholar's Guild about Fornost was that it was abandoned and possibly populated by wild animals or hostile creatures. It was not a suitable excursion to go unescorted, and leader Ethan had approved this venture only after Kennet had committed himself to going there with protection. Checking the state of the city, mapping its current layout, or recovering scraps of knowledge from those years was not worth the Guild losing one of its scholars to do so. So, in addition to delivering the scrolls to Bree, Kennet had in mind to ask the Scholar's Stair for the safest way to get to the North Downs and the abandoned city.
The young man reached the vicinity of Rivendell Bridge, and like every time he passed by, his mind flew back to the memories of the past. It was here that he last saw Meldanyel, riding away on his saddle with a sad face, accompanying Master Frimsi's caravan. In this last year it has been a sad memory that has often haunted him. Meldanyel had been his lifelong friend, and as children they had played many pranks together. Now they were adults and their paths had parted, at least for a time. Rivendell was not Bree, and the young man had missed the ordinariness and complicity of the human settlement as opposed to the majesty and serenity of the paradisiacal valley. As well as Meldanyel's company, conversation and even anger. He hadn't admitted it to anyone, but a large part of the excitement of starting this adventure was the chance to see his friend again.
A thought came into Kennet's head at that moment, as he passed a pair of elves talking to each other, ignoring the human. For him, this year in Rivendell had been a very important episode in his life, one that had impacted him and that he would never forget, even if he never returned to the valley again. But for the elves, Kennet's time in the valley had been a brief moment, the arrival and departure of a young human in the centuries of experience of such long-lived creatures. Perhaps that was why they were so distant or cold to him. Perhaps that was why his master Idhrenwë had never behaved with the same closeness as his former teacher Alice.
Deep in such musings he arrived at the dwelling that had been his home for the past year. He had said goodbye the day before to Faeneth, the elf who had been his hostess in the dwelling, so he had only to finish packing his belongings and depart. In his private bedchamber, he stripped off his elegant elven robes and folded them carefully. He pulled the travelling clothes he had come to Rivendell in out of a wardrobe, and putting his clothes back on made him feel comfortable, as if he were stepping back a couple of years to his humdrum life as a weed farmer and amateur student in Bree. In fact, he felt like lighting a tobacco pipe, a pleasure he had hardly indulged in all this year. But he decided not to waste any more time and went on with his preparations.
Kennet carefully packed up all the small vials containing different coloured liquids. In this year he had learned to make tonics and potions with fantastic properties, and he was ready to sell them in Bree, which were sure to be very well received. But there were a few of them that he kept with special protection, making sure that they would reach their destination in good condition. He had crafted them with the thought of giving them to Meldanyel as a gift when they met again in Bree. A happy smile came naturally to her face as she imagined that future moment.
Once the clothes, rations, vials, scrolls and pipe tobacco were in his travelling pack, he was almost ready to leave. He pulled out his grandfather Westby's well-kept coat from an elegant wardrobe and dressed in it, as well as the rest of his travelling gear. He checked the reddish colored stone with small bands of white was in his pocket, the gift Nautiel gave him from the bottom of the Brunein. Somehow, Kennet sensed that the stone would bring him luck in his adventures. He took one last look at what had been his room for the past year, and made his way to the exit.
He was barely taking his first steps out of the house, and already he was feeling the heat of wearing so much warmth. But Kennet did not forget that the temperature in the valley was magically influenced, and that out there autumn was fast approaching the cold of winter. So he preferred to be cautious and keep his attire on until he could see what the weather was like outside the valley.
He started walking towards the stables, glancing at the surrounding trees. As soon as he saw that Kraven was nowhere to be seen, he began to call out to him with a few sounds that imitated his squawking. Within seconds, the black raven appeared from a grove of trees, flapping its wings until it landed on Kennet's arm. The young man took some seeds from his pocket and fed him, telling him that they were returning to the road and asking if he too had learned the language of the birds of Rivendell. After a few minutes of petting his flying friend, he lifted him up to flap his wings and set off for Elrond's stables.
Kennet felt both odd and comfortable in his usual clothes. He had grown accustomed to wandering around Rivendell in his exquisite garments of elven quality, and returning to the rough clothes of travel felt good. He caught himself thinking that he was not like the elves, and that despite his passion for lore with them and how much he learned in their company, he missed the outbursts and drunken nights at the Prancing Pony. The routine and banal conversations with the peasants from the neighbouring farms. And the frequent bustle of craftsmen of all kinds in the Three-farrow Crafting Hall. No doubt Meldanyel would be pleased to know that Kennet had such thoughts.
At the stables, he greeted the grooms before making his way to Hawthorn, who was well groomed, cleaned and fed for the journey. Kraven perched on his back while Kennet spent a few minutes stroking his head and chatting with him. The three of them were on their way home, and the young man was sure that his companions would be happy, too.
Before long, Kennet was trotting over Hawthorn with Kraven flying nearby. Rather than exit through the majestic main entrance, the peasant Kennet preferred to take the more discreet path through the wilder, less-travelled forest. In the distance, he took one last look at the Last Homely House before ascending towards the edge of the valley.
