A disgusting place
A truly disgusting place.
This was Roswehn's first thought as soon as she arrived in Bree.
The grumpy guardian who was in charge of controlling the entrance to the city, had asked her endless questions, while he was observing her from a slit in the heavy wooden door.
"Who are you?"
"Where are you going?"
"Do you bring something?"
"Do you have to meet someone?"
Roswehn was about to turn her back and leave, when finally the man decided to open the big doorway.
"You understand that I have to verify everyone's identity , right? ... This village is already full of damn thieves ..." the guardian commented as he watched her from head to toe. "A lonely girl, dressed in elven robes, is something unusual here... what's your story, young lady?"
"Don't you think you have tormented me enough with questions?" she answered back, annoyed. "I told you that I have to go to the Shire, that I come from Rivendell, and that my stay here will be brief: please, show me that inn you told me about, I'm tired. Is there a stable in this place?"
Lord Elrond had allowed her to take one of his splendid steeeds, recommending to take care of it. And it will be better if you think of an excuse for having lost one of Thranduil's precious horses... you know, Elves raise animals with love, and to lose them is a disgrace, the Lord of Rivendell had warned her.
The guardian at the door told her: "A stable ... well yes, there is Arlon's over there. He will take good care of your beast." he added. "Go to the Prouncing Pony Tavern, if you want accommodation. Well, it's not a great place, but it's better than others."
Roswehn walked through the streets of Bree, and she noticed various humanity lost there. There were drunk old men sitting on the ground singing songs of the old days; there were soldiers from some unknown realm, perhaps deserters, roaming the village; there were merchants trying to sell their stuff; there were also a few Hobbits, who wandered around, all busy in some mysterious affairs.
Everything around her exuded degradation, misery, confusion.
Finally, Roswehn reached the dormitory that the guard had called a tavern. It was a kind of old inn, noisy and foul-smelling.
Immediately, the owner spat facts clearly.
"Let's go straight to the point: can you pay?" he asked. "I've enough of people coming here, sleeping, and sneaking out at dawn without giving me a penny!"
"I have some rough gold, I will pay you in grams; is that acceptable to you?" Roswehn retorted. "I have nothing else."
To be honest, she had a ruby that was more precious than a king's crown, and a crystal jewel that was basically priceless, but she didn't mention them. In fact, she completely buttoned up her shirt to hide the Evenstar. She showed the bag full of golden dust to the innkeeper.
"Gold ?! Oh...you are very welcome, dear girl!" the host smiled. "Please, my Lady, take a sit at that table, my lovely daughter will bring you something."
Roswehn sat at a small table in the middle of the hall. A smiling, curly-haired girl arrived, bringing a plate of cheese and a large piece of dark bread. "Would you like wine or water?" she asked, and Roswehn asked for a jug of water. She was thirsty as hell.
"May I give you an advice?" the girl told her. "Do not stay here, sit next to the fireplace, it's a more private area. You can be easily noticed at this table, and it can be quite dangerous...if you know what I mean."
"I do not care, I've gone through far greater trouble, dear." Roswehn answered tiredly.
Looking around, she saw a man staring at her. She felt a little scared, despite the bravery she had displayed to the maid a few moments earlier.
The man had long hair, a wild beard and a mischievous and impious look. He looked like a thief, a delinquent ... he vaguely reminded her of Alfrid Lickspittle, that coward.
Roswehn concentrated on her plate full of sour cheese and stale bread, and after dinner she rushed up the stairs, headed to the room which was assigned to her.
The key, however, seemed blocked in the rusty door lock, and Roswehn cursed. "Come on, you damn thing ..." she hissed, while she was frantically twistin' the key.
"Problems with the door?" She heard a voice behind her. She turned around. It was the guy who was staring at her in the refectory. "Can I help you, honey?"
Roswehn answered. "I can't open it, it's blocked, I'll call the innkeeper."
"Oh, it's not a big deal, leave it to me, honey." the man said, and with a firm movement of his wrist he managed to unlock the door.
"See?" he said with a sly smile. "That was easier that you thought, right?"
"Thank you very much." Roswehn said in a low voice and opened the door. The guy was still watching her, and seemed unwilling to leave. "Good night." the woman said, trying to close the wooden door. But the man pushed it hard against Roswehn. "Not so fast, honey."
He abruptly entered the room, kicking the door. Roswehn stepped back.
"So ... a lonely woman sitting at a table ... what are you, a prostitute searching for clients?" the guy asked, starting to unbutton his pants.
"Get out of here, now!" she shouted at him.
"Or, dear?" he provoked her, "... honey, you should open your mouth only to do what I tell you to do, from this moment on. Come on, get on your knees."
Roswehn felt a thrill of rage and humiliation. "Get on your knees, you filth!" Then she kicked the guy's left leg, and he almost fell on the floor. The man roared with pain. Roswehn tried to run to the door, but the man grabbed her by the hair and threw her on the bed.
He did not notice that the door behind him was silently opening.
"I say you have to calm down, woman, or I'll open your stomach with this." and he showed her a knife, which he kept in his trouser belt.
"I say you have to leave her alone, or I'll open your throat with this." someone said behind him. Lying on the mattress, Roswehn saw a hand pointing a dagger at the neck of that penniless brigand. Then a face appeared.
Young, beardless. That mysterious boy could be twenty years old.
The man turned to see who the hell had interrupted him while he was about to do a girl after six long months of abstinence, and in doing so the blade of the knife cut him. He put his hand on the throat. "Damn you...you, bastard!"
But the young man did not seem too sorry. "Go away." he intimated him. That filthy man, staggering a little, left the room. "Bastard!" he repeated, before disappearing down the stairs.
"Thank you." Roswehn said, getting up from the bed, "thank you very much ..."
She was totally shocked: never in her life had she been attacked by a man. After trolls, orcs, dragons and demons, she was about to be violated and murdered by of one of her kind.
"It's not a good idea to come in such a place alone." the boy said. His gaze fell on Roswehn's shirt, which was unbuttoned. He saw the Evenstar.
"Are you under the protection of Lord Elrond of Rivendell?" he asked. He had two big blue eyes.
"Yes! I've been in Rivendell before I came here." she replied, then she rearranged her clothes. "Do you know him?"
"Yeah," he confirmed. "I know him very well."
"Who are you?" she asked, intrigued by that boy.
"I'm someone who's going to teach you something," he replied, handing her the dagger. "Keep this. If you meet a guy like that, stick it in one of his thighs, and turn it over, so he won't be able to move anymore."
Roswehn took the knife. "I could never do that."
"You have to learn, if you visit places like Bree, you have no choice." the boy said. Then, in a flash, he opened the door and disappeared.
"Wait ..." The woman rushed out to thank him again, but the young man was gone. Roswehn closed the door and sighed. Her heart was beating furiously in her chest. She slipped down slowly, sitting on the ground, her back against the door. She gripped the Evenstar in one hand.
Great Eru ... how many times you want to test me ...please have mercy.
🌹🌹🌹
"Did you sleep well, youngin?" the ruddy innkeeper asked. He was cleaning the counter with a rag.
"I would not say so," Roswehn replied, "...that mattress is uncomfortable and there must be fleas in it. I scratched my back all night. " she complained. Apart from the terrible fright due to the aggression, the room they had given to her was the most unsuitable, to rest. The bed was hard as wood, one of the windows was broken, the sound of footsteps on the upper floor was unbearable, and there were some dead insects on the floor. It was scandalous that she even had to pay for the night she spent there.
Roswehn preferred not to talk about the delinquent who had followed her up to the bedroom, but wanted to know more about the young man who had saved her. "Yesterday I met a boy here, he's tall, he's got blue eyes, a pretty face, do you know him? And what's his name?"
"Many people come to this place, dear, but I know whom you're talking about, I do not remember his name, but ..." he turned to the kitchen. "Pearl! Hey, come here!"
The girl who had served her the night before arrived. She was the innkeeper's daughter. "How's that guy called ..." her father asked.
Pearl was drying a plate with a dishcloth. "Which guy, pop?"
"The guy, the young man ... he's always carrying that big sword ... he sleeps here from time to time ..." her father suggested. "Aragog ... Argon ... do you remember that name?"
"Aragorn, pop." Pearl said, "the ranger."
Roswehn did not believe her ears. "Excuse me ... Aragorn son of Arathorn ?!"
"Son of a bitch, you mean! That young rascal never leaves a tip." the innkeeper grumbled.
"C'mon, pop, he's always kind to me." Pearl defended him. "He's handsome, too." She added smiling.
"You'd better go to the kitchen and finish the job, and try not to break another damn pot." her father ordered.
Then he looked at Roswehn, who seemed struck by lightning. "... what's wrong with you, do you know him?"
Roswehn fell silent for a moment. "He is Isildur's heir." She said, trembling. Aragorn ... she had talked to him, and she had not even realized it.
"And who the hell is Isildur? A merchant from the East?" the confused man asked.
Roswehn wanted to explain the story of the kingdom of Gondor, but she decided that it would not be worth it. She could not bear to waste time with ignorant people.
"Where does that boy live? Do you know that?" She asked.
"He's a ranger, you've heard my daughter, he's got no home, he's serving in different armies, so he said once, I know he often goes to the Elves of Rivendell, and sleeps here when he passes by. But he usually leaves at dawn." the innkeeper said.
"Is he gone already ?! Damn, no!" Roswehn felt sorry, she would have liked to talk to him again. That young man who had saved her could become a King one day. King of the most powerful realm of all. Thranduil had told her that it was very likely, if not certain.
"Let's talk about money, beauty: you wanted to pay with golden dust...so where's your gold?" the innkeeper asked, approaching her.
Roswehn pulled out the bag and waved it in front of him. "Here."
The innkeeper then took a small spoon and began to weigh the dust. "I would say that's enough." he said, raising a generous amount.
"I come from the realm of Dale.
Do not even try to cheat me. I know the value of gold...and your accomodation is not worth that much." Roswehn answered, taking the spoon and spilling half of the gold portion back into the bag. "That's the fair quantity, dear you."
The innkeeper looked at her angrily. "Hey, are you joking?" He told her. "With that you do not even pay for our dinner ..."
"Dinner ... a piece of cheese and two-day old bread." she commented, closing the bag and turning her back on the man. "Hey Pearl!" She shouted.
The girl came out of the kitchen again, intrigued. "Next time Aragorn passes by, do not let him go away!" She winked at her. "It's the best advice you'll receive in life, believe me."
She left the tavern.
The Shire was very near.
"And now Bilbo ... it's your turn." she whispered.