Another day dawns upon the Bree-lands. Some late-night wanderer, clinging to the ale or company acquired in the night past makes it through the streets of the Brougham neighbourhood, where elsewhere, in Fountain Street, at number 3 to be exact, the front door opens, allowing a figure to slip into the shadows cast by the house from where it came. Dutifully, it moves to the back of the house, avoiding the right side of the house where the curtains are still drawn, doubtlessly to avoid drawing attention to itself from the occasional dry twig that might snap.
Once behind the house, the first light of dawn greets the figure, revealing a Woman in her mid-twenties, who straightens – possibly as a sign of relief – to a reasonably proud posture. The posture of a soldier, it seems, trained through many a year of battle. Unusual, certainly, but true nonetheless.
The sun has only just begun to climb up on its journey along the ridges of the hills surrounding the settlement’s valley, causing the edges of the aforementioned hills to be bathed in a bright golden hue. For all its sin and arguable corruption, the lands of the race of Man, when viewed in those lights, truly does hold untamed beauty…
Thus is also the thought of the Woman, who, struck by that moment of awe, gazes at what seems for all intents and purposes, her own private sunrise. A smile haunts her lips, tugging at the corners of her mouth almost involuntarily.
“Ah yes, sunrises… how well I remember them…”, she mumbles to herself, her words almost instantly lost on just the slightest of breezes. And with it, that same breeze seemed to reawaken in her memories of times past, now seeming a lifetime ago…
Some five years prior, she had begun to spend significant time in the South, and had been a regular at the Prancing Pony. Though mostly keeping to herself, avoiding the drama that so often unfolded there, she had made some friends. ‘Wulfy’ being the most significant. A Man from Rohan, with a fierce temper to boot. Often shunned and always getting himself into perpetual trouble, she had found herself growing fond of him, like a sister would grow fond of a brother who always seemed to stumble from one brawl into another, but despite that, was always the same, good-hearted oaf at heart. How she missed him now. Last she heard, he had moved with his wife, and was leading a secluded, family life. She hoped and prayed to what good spirits she could think of, that this was true. Since her return, she had no proof as to any possibility.
Memories last, though, when carefully stored within the mind and frequented on quiet times, such as those early morning hours. In so doing, she imagined, she was able to make those she cherished immortal. But it was not merely as a result of peace and quiet that she so enjoyed those moments, oh no…
With her ‘brother’, she had enjoyed many an hour spent debating about life, and she had found the best philosophies were created in those hours just after the passing of the night, when the stars slowly faded, to make room for the sun. In itself a philosophy, as the new took over from the old.
And then, there had been Valec Valexian… how she had loathed him. The odd Elf and his even stranger ways, aggressive and so unlike his kin. He had not blemished at the thought, or even the act, of attacking those he did not like. An Elf frequenting the Prancing Pony, he was an unusual one indeed. And yet… Later on, upon returning to Bree a year or so later, she had once found herself talking to him late one night. At the ruins near Staddle Lake. A meeting of chance, and she had found that she had to admit to herself, that there was more to the unusual Elf than met the eye. That conversation too, and those that would follow, spilled into the early hours of a new day. As though somehow, the dawn brought not merely with it a rejuvenation of the day, but also new points of view to be considered. Views that had previously been unheard of.
Light pours in over the hills, filling the valley of the Brougham neighbourhood with its golden hue, and awakens the Woman from her daydreams. With a slight jolt, she looks up at the sky overhead, which promises another beautiful day. Her lips once again curl into a smile, one that lights up her face in the same manner the sun had done to the valley. And with a sense of renewed wonder of what this day would bring, she returned to the house to set about her tasks.
