Nerwen the Green and the Search for the Entwives #wattys2019

Chapter XI: At the Prancing Pony

Chapter XI: At the Prancing Pony

As usual, Nerwen got up early; after a delicious and plentiful breakfast with Tom and Goldberry, she took her leave, accompanied by their blessings, and after mounting Thilgiloth, she headed northward, with Calad flying high above their heads.

Following Tom's directions, Nerwen kept the Old Forest at her left, skirting it at a safe distance, while on her right side she had the mounds of the Barrow-downs.

This was an ancient land, a remainder of a kingdom of Men vanished innumerable years ago, where tombs had been built of past kings who thought themselves so great as to be remembered throughout eternity, and who instead had been forsaken in the ruthless and relentless flowing of Time. It was believed that the wights of these ancient kings haunted the Barrow-downs, but if that was the case, Nerwen didn't fear them for sure.

When they arrived at the northern end of the Old Forest, the Istar and her two kelvar friends stopped for lunch and an hour's rest, then they resumed the journey – terrestrial and airborne – northeast to get to the Great East Road. Finally, as evening drew near, they came to Bree; the town was located at the foot of a hill, rising exactly at the crossing of the Great East Road with the Old South Road, another important track that, from the fallen city of Fornost in the north, arrived far in the south to Tharbad, and then went on through Dunland to the Gap of Rohan and to the Fords of Isen, a road now scarcely travelled and heavily covered in grass, which gave reason fo it being called Greenway.

Before arriving to the West Gate of Bree, Nerwen halted and called Calad telepathically:

My friend, maybe you'd feel uncomfortable in town: would you rather stay and wait for us outside it?

I don't know, the answer came, filled with uncertainty, To be honest, I have never tried to enter a town. Do you think it dangerous for me?

It could: some individual with few scruples could think about capturing you for taming...

Better dead than a prisoner! Calad cried indignantly. Nerwen sent her a feeling of comfort and protection:

Don't worry, if you stay next to me, nobody will dare even to think about it; but feel free to decide on your own if you wish to venture in town or not. I don't want to force you in any way.

Calad seemed to think it over.

I'm curious, she confessed finally, and I trust you: I'll come to town.

Fine, then, Nerwen approved, Better we show up together: I have no falconry glove, but I can use my cloak.

She rummaged in her saddlebags and took out a light summer cape, the colour of moss; she wrapped her left forearm in it and then held it out.

Come, perch here, she invited the bird of prey. Calad came down, radiating some hesitancy: it was clear this was a new experience for her. Lightly, she laid her feet on the offered arm, closing carefully her razor sharp talons around Nerwen's wrist, protected by the fabric of her cloak.

Hold on tight, if you feel uneasy, Nerwen exhorted her, then signalled to Thilgiloth she could go on, and the Chargeress started to pace; the gate was open – the Men of Bree closed it only by night – nor was there any guard to stop those entering town, which proved this was a peaceful and friendly place.

Following Gandalf's directions, the Istar proceeded along the main street, actually the Great East Road; where it sharply bent southwards, ending up exiting the town through the South Gate, and here stood the inn that had been recommended to her, The Prancing Pony. It was a huge building with two wings going backwards from the street, forming an inner courtyard accessible through an arc in the main façade. A large wooden sign, with a small white prancing horse painted on it, hung over the street, next to the entrance door under the arch.