Light broke through the window and rousing the man from his rest. Eyes squinting against the breaching rays of the sun he tried to roll over for a moment to prolong his fitful sleep. Eventually he gave up as he did every morning about this time, realizing that it would not get any better. Sighing, the large man rolled the blanket off of him and sat up in the small, simple bed, resting in the quarters he had recently begun to call home. It was a plain room, just large enough to house him, his bed, his pile of belongings, and a small table. A single window facing towards the east was his only real decoration, the flimsy white curtains framing the panes of glass ever so cheerfully, a little too much he had muttered on occasion.
The room was a common occurrence in the areas surrounding Bree-land these days. Small, in some cases hastily constructed domiciles to be rented out to all the strangers who had come to town recently. Most over charged and would often kick their temporary residents out for not paying the astronomical fees, especially with such a ready supply of would be tenants waiting to take their place. Some lucked out and found people charging reasonable rates, even if for a closet sized room, as the folks seemed to understand that the long term investment was more worthwhile.
Stretching himself and standing as best he could under the low ceiling, Gwaethor, late of Belfalas on the coast of Gondor, worked to exorcise the weariness from his form. Grimacing as he did most mornings these days at the slight ache in his neck from sleeping wrong, he none the less pulled his clothes on, knowing that he’d dealt with harsher conditions during his exercises. The Swan Knight in training had found himself in the middle of the wilderness with naught but a dagger before, and those conditions should have been far worse if you thought about it. He tried not to because at times Gwaethor wished for them instead of his present bed.
The knight to be eventually made his way out of the house of the old widow woman in Combe who was renting him the spare room. He had helped her to prepare breakfast and clean up after himself and the other renters, feeling like he was taking advantage of the woman based on the other prices he’d heard about the town. She would usually tut him to be quiet and reminded him she simply enjoyed the company again. Today would be different from his other days, though as Gwaethor left his arms behind, albeit reluctantly, in an attempt to relax. He knew they would be safe in the chest he had brought with him from Dol Amroth, and that the old woman seemed at least to be quite trustworthy. Today would be different for the tall man, for he was simply out being a normal person, something he hadn’t done for quite some time.
Bree was such a strange metropolis to the man who had seen the grandest cities of Middle-Earth, at least in his mind. It was a largish village at best when compared to Minas Tirith or Pelalgir, but the attitude of the locals was that it was the finest city in the countryside. With the recent influx of strangers to this strange, as he would argue, land it had grown in a considerable if ramshackle manner. New buildings were going up to house the influx as well as to provide shops for those that sought goods. Vendors and smiths set up next to hucksters and near-do-wells ready to aid the common adventurer.
Passing through the small guard-gate that separated Combe from the path to Bree, Gwaethor strolled at a brisk march, his recent years of training still causing him to fall into step even when he didn’t need to. Today would be the first day he wouldn’t feel the need to accomplish something, at least not as much as he was used to. He had finally finished the first leg of his mission, the very reason he had journeyed so far to the north and to the west. He had found his childhood friend whom he was supposed to return home with; which led to the rub of the woman herself.
“Gwaethor!” He heard the said some woman, his companion from his youth Imraheth calls out to him. He turned quickly to look for the one drawing towards him.

“Gwaethor!” The voice of the eight year old girl called out towards the taller boy. Turning around he looked for his one friend whom he was supposed to meet in the citadel at Dol Amroth. Running up to him the dark haired lass was all smiles, her feet softly padding against the marble floor of the great fortress. Dressed in a simple green dress, her hair pulled back into an intricate braid to keep it from getting in the way of anything. She reached out to take his hand before she’d even really come to a stop, ready to pull him off in some random seeming directly.
The boy didn’t resist the tug, by now used to being lead about on one misadventure after another. He never complained, though, enjoying time with his young friend even if his backside found the wrong end of a switch more times than he cared to admit. His unruly sandy brown hair lay mopped on top of his head, a feature he to this day he could not stand. The other children would often tease him of his heritage, claiming that common blood was mixed into him given his lighter hair than theirs. This too led to the switch as he would often defend his family honor in a rather rough manner.
“Where are we going today?” He asked finally, the girl no longer tugging on his arm and slowing down before to long. Her habits rarely brought about an explanation until it was too late for him to back out. The mischievous streak in the girl was something of a sore point to her parents, who tried to nurture her towards more lady-like endeavors, but these hopes would often fail at the end of an upset servant or fellow nobleman.
“The cooks are baking pies today!” she squealed quietly but gleefully to her friend, the smile wide and beaming on her face. He couldn’t help but smile back at her, the feeling infectious. He knew of her weakness for pie, something her parents were also always on her about. She’d never been caught filching a pie whenever they were being baked, though she’d often been accused. It didn’t surprise the boy she still felt so confident in her ability to claim them.
“In other words we’re going to get you another pie,” she nodded her head, the expression on her face going serious while doing so,
“We are going to claim a pie. But it’s for us! Not just me,” The girl held her voice down despite her excitement. Gwaethor moved to poke his head out and around the corner to get an idea of what was going on inside the kitchen. Beyond the doorway two people milled about, working on the confectionary treats, talking amongst themselves and seeming to constantly look around. Ducking his head back before he could be caught on one of those glances he looked towards Imraheth.
“I think they’re waiting for us,” He said in a whisper, motioning for her to head back down the hall. She refused to budge at first, frowning and thinking he was trying to talk her out of it.
“Move!” he told her, “They’re going to expect us to come through that door,” She then understood and relented to his command, the two of them creeping down the hall and towards near the doors that lead outside. Once they breached the portal the two snuck about down the wall of the building a bit, heading towards the open window of the kitchen.
“So what’s the plan then, Tirdil,” the nickname she’d given him referring to him as her bodyguard in a joking manner on more than one occasion. He wrinkled his nose at that, never getting used to the moniker.
“Well, Lothfalas,” the nickname he’d given her in return meaning coastal flower, “they’re going to expect you trying to get one of the pies aren’t they?” She nodded, her own nose wrinkling at the thought of getting caught this time around, “So you’re going to walk right in and ask them for something to eat,”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she finally said, staring at him in a confused fashion.
“Think about it. While you’re busy asking for a bit fruit or something of the like they’ll be so confused that they’re going to be ignoring the pies as they cool down on the window sill,” a light went on in her eyes as she beamed brightly towards her friend.
“Marvelous!” she said, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug, “Then you can claim it and we can share it later!” He nodded, patting her arm still unsure about the whole hugging thing. The two quietly waited near the window, chatting at one another and throwing rocks against the wall as they did so. It would be some time before the two would be able to enact their plan, but they didn’t want to waste any time by playing elsewhere. The sun was nice outside, with only a slight breeze blowing in from the coast to make the day a pleasant one.
Eventually the time came and three pies found themselves rested on the wooden sills of the window leading from the kitchen. The two children waited a bit longer, knowing that such warm pies would be hard to steal quietly. Eventually the time was right, and the little dark haired girl disappeared back into the building. Creeping along quietly Gwaethor made his way to under where the pies dwelt, waiting to hear inside and know when was his time to strike.
The call came in the form of a cheerful little girl asking for an apple. The adult voices that also dwelt within the room were quite confused, asking her what she really wanted and why she was bothering them while they were baking for the Prince. The sweet voice replied she simply wanted a snack and didn’t want anything to spoil her appetite for dinner later on. The voices continued to doubt her but came no closer to the ledge where the boy waited, knowing he had to pick just the right time to pinch the pie. When the footsteps finally broke, headed for the larder he struck, hands going up to claim one of the pie tins for their uses. The boy turned to quickly beat a retreat away from the window with his new prize.
Sadly he didn’t get very far as he all but ran into the boots of a man, nearly pushing the pie into his own face in the process. Slowly, the boy looked up towards the one who stood in his way, pie in hand with no recourse for safety in this case. His eyes finally settled onto the face of the old knight Engmir. The elder soldier frowned deeply down at the boy, hand resting loosely on his sword hilt.
“You wouldn’t be snitching that pie off from the cooks were you?” He asked the boy hard. The little boy for his credit stood tall and looked towards the knight.
“N-no, sir,” his voice trembled and easily betrayed his true intentions. The knight harrumphed and reached down to remove the pie from the boy’s hands. Gwaethor didn’t resist the grip of the knight.
“Fetching it for that lass friend of yours arentcha,” Gwaethor immediately shook his head in response.
“No, sir,” he steeled his voice in the way he’d practiced so many times. The knight continued to glare down at the little boy, but this time the lad did not flinch.
“Speak up and she’ll share your punishment with ya,” Gwaethor knew he was going to get switched for what he’d been caught doing, but he would never let that happen to his friend, his only friend.
“She was hungry, sir,” He began to explain, eyes meeting the knight’s, “so I had her go get an apple. I used it to try and get the pie myself,” For a long moment he wasn’t sure if the man would buy it, even if he had the act down from practice. Eventually the armored man walked over and set the pie back down to where it was supposed to be before dragging the boy off to face his punishment. Gwaethor went along willingly, knowing otherwise Imraheth would face the same.
He passed by his one friend on the way, a look of concern on her face. He just quietly smiled at her, letting her know it’d be all right, that face etching itself into his memory as he soon would face the switch. Imraheth walked after the boy to talk to him once it was over.

Imraheth walked after the man to talk to him once he caught sight of her, the woman’s face beaming at seeing her friend once again. Ambling up she gently hugged the man, Gwaethor responding in kind, finally feeling sure about that whole hugging thing. The two separated and looked each other up and down, it had been a while since they’d really seen one another.
“What are you doing out and about?” She asked, taking his arm and dragging him along to walk with her through the dusty streets of the village. He soon feel instep aside her, escorting the lady as he’d practiced to do so.
“I decided I’d try and accustom myself to this place since it seems it will be home for a while,” The woman chuckled and patted his arm as they walked. Hawkers and vendors cried out towards the passers about the quality of their goods. Fine weapons and stout armor abounded through the town apparently, a fact that the knight-to-be found somewhat bizarre given the farming community he’d found around the village. He tried not to dwell too much on the matter, giving his attention instead to his friend.
One thing that felt most odd to the Gondorian was how easily he fell in along with the woman. They had not walked as such, arm and arm in a friendly manner, in at least a dozen years. Their respective training had kept them from more than a few meetings at official events in that time. Most friendships would suffer greatly under the weight of so much time apart, but the two of them always seemed to fall back right where they were. Gwaethor had relished any time he had seen her, though he always gave her some room due to her position compared to his own. He had always worried such space was seen as a affront to her, though she had never let on if it had been.
“It is a very nice village,” she said, waving off someone trying to sell her a pair of shiny mail boots, “I only wish there was an ocean nearby,” He chuckled lightly at that, the one weakness other than pie that he’d always known about.
“Not enough to convince you to go home?” He asked almost hopefully, drawing a playful swat from the woman.
“Tirdil! I told you, I cannot leave these people!” He sighed and nodded in response. A slight breeze blew in from the east, cooling in the warm sun that stretched out over the streets of Bree. It was certainly warmer here than in their home of Belfalas, with none of the breeze from the mentioned ocean cooling the village even further. He had pondered what sort of winter such a climate might endure, if it was simply cold or still quite heavy with snow given the lack of any true bodies of water nearby.
“I know, I know. But you cannot blame me for trying, can you?” She smiled up at him and shook her head, her dark hair bound tightly in a braid as it was in most days of her youth. The look reminded him of just how much she still looked like the little girl, even if she had grown into a fine woman.
“No, I suppose I can’t,” The two walked down the wooden planks of one of the roads quietly, the walk-way proving much more quiet than the main thoroughfares he’d otherwise primarily found in the village.

“No, I suppose I can’t,” she said as the two walked down the wooden planks of the pier, along one of the quieter stretches since most of the ships were out to sea. Together Gwaethor and Imraheth walked arm and arm towards the loan ship resting at the length of the wharf. It was another clear and beautiful day, a bit chilly in the mid morning, with the wind softly blowing in and the sound of gulls cawing in the distance. Two other children walked behind them as well, Imraheth’s distant cousins Borndil and Falohir, frowning and seeming put out by the whole venture, having threatened to go back and that she couldn’t change their minds.
The cousins were in visiting from Pelargir and none of the gathered youths to happy to have to set up with the other pair. Imraheth had decided that they were all going to head down to the pier and look at the ships since they were given permission to do so. Even though they were all around the age of fourteen they were still kept on a short leash due to the potential dangers inherent in being a noble of Gondor. It seemed like a good idea to their parents as there wouldn’t be any strange ships around to cause issue. The schooner was one of the few naval vessels of Gondor, captained by a man trusted by any that lived near the coast, Captain Aerdur.
Coming up to his ship the four looked up the gang plank to see who was about. The vessel was in port for re-supply and to take on a new crew. Given the overhaul was not planned for another few days only a skeleton company was there at the time. Imraheth knew that the captain would be about, usually preferred to stay on his vessel rather than go through the rigors of official functions. Undeterred the little lady drug her companions up the plank and onto the verge of the ship itself.
“Permission to come aboard, captain!” She called out on the edge of the ship, not pushing her luck that much. The others stopped, really not sure what it was she was up to at this point in time. Gwaethor continued to bear it all in silence, used to this sort of adventure after fourteen years of knowing the young lady. Nothing seemed to happen for a moment other than the stares of the few sailors still there, some muttering about women on ships being bad luck. Eventually the captain emerged from his cabin, a smile on his face.
“Permission granted!” He called back cheerfully, having known Imraheth and her family for quite some time as well. The four youths made their way onboard and walked over to the captain, everyone following the lead of the young lady in their midst. She stopped shy and finally pulled her arm out from Gwaethor’s, dipping into a curtsey to the man. Chuckling a bit he bowed in kind to her causing the other boys to bow as well, still very unsure of what they were doing.
“What brings you aboard my ship, princess?” He asked, his smile as bright as the reflection of the sun on the waves. He wore his uniform even then, neatly pressed with every brass and silver button in place and every thread perfectly sewn in. Few Gondorians had born such noble attire, especially once most of the fleet was lost to the Corsair’s of Umbar. Straightening herself the young woman moved her arm back into her companion’s.
“I have a favor I need to ask you good captain,” she continued, calm as could be as though she were asking for directions, “I need you to perform a quick ceremony for me and Gwaethor here,” Slowly it began to dawn on the lad what it was she was doing, his gaze wandering to look over towards her in some amount of disbelief.
“Is that so?” the Captain responded, amused at the whole ordeal, the two cousins still looking a bit confused and unsure. Sweat began to bead on the forehead of Gwaethor, wondering if he’d finally trusted his friend a little too much, “And this is the young lad you’ve chosen then?”
“I have,” she kept her answer simple, her grip on the boy’s arm tight, and her gaze towards the captain rather than the cousins behind her.
“You can’t be serious!” Borndil finally spoke up, protesting the proceedings. Calmly the young lady turned her head towards him finally and nodded.
“I am,” Falohir snorted in response.
“She’s bluffing. She wouldn’t go through with this. Her parents would tan her hide and Gwaethor’s!” Her gaze was steeled on her cousins as they tried to talk themselves into believing otherwise. Calmly she turned back to look up at Aerdur.
“If you would be so kind, captain,” The man, still grinning brightly bowed towards the young couple, Gwaethor finally remembering to blink and questioning his trust in his friend’s sanity. The two cousins stood there slack jawed and unsure.
“In that case dearly beloved, we seem to have gathered here rather suddenly to see these two young people married on this fine vessel,” he began, voice clear and merry, “If anyone here seems reason these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace,”
“This is preposterous!” One said in response, “This is ridiculous!” the other one chimed in, “I’m going to go tell your parents!” They finally said in unison. This finally snapped Gwaethor out of his stupor, his gaze and rising ire turned towards the cousins.
“You will do no such thing!” He told them, his stance not moving from beside Imraheth just yet, the two cousins seeming a bit uncertain as they knew of his temper.
“What are you going to do to stop us?” Borndil finally asked, edging closer to the gang plank and regaining some of his bravado in the matter. Gwaethor dislodged himself from his friend’s arms and turned to face them, brow knitting as the breeze melted the sweat from his forehead.
“You don’t want to find out,” was his low response. The cousins gathered themselves obviously getting ready to make a break for it. Finally they did and ran for their one hope of escape. The tall, sandy-brown haired youth chased after them as quickly as his unsure legs could carry him across the weaving deck. Gaining exit first the two fought their way on and attempted to do so down the incline towards the dock. Unused to the movement of the sea as well as the lack of space the two jostled one another on the way down, pressing and pushing their way. Just as it’d seemed they’d make it to safety they shoved each other just one time to many. Quickly the two plummeted into the sea, crashing into the water and falling sharply. Gwaethor waited on the edge of the ship, watching below to make sure they made their way up. At last two dark and sopping wet heads breached the surface.
Laughter drew his attention back to his friend and the captain who seemed to find the whole matter rather amusing. Looking at them quizzically before frowning towards the young lady as it dawned on him what he’d just partaken in.
“You set this up didn’t you?” He finally asked. The young lady shrugged her shoulders quietly towards him.
“Tirdil, do you really think I’d do something this elaborate just to make my cousins look like fools and not tell you in order to make sure it went through?”
“Yes,” He stated flatly, laughter returned in answer.

“Yes,” He stated flatly, laughter returned in answer. The two continued to walk through the town together sharing memories of time past. Those same stories proved to be a point of small contention between them, with Imraheth asking him if he really believed she’d share some of the misadventures of their youth. He’d slowly started to relax in her company as they walked about, something he truly hadn’t done in some time.
“Where have you been keeping yourself these days, Tirdil?” The woman asked, curiosity working its way into her voice. He shrugged his free shoulder gently in answer at first.
“A widowed woman in Combe has taken to renting out rooms for a reasonable rate,” He answered, ducking a bit to avoid an open window he hadn’t noticed at first. Imraheth giggled at his action, though he ignored her amusement, “There are a few others that rent from her as well, though most of them seem to act as if they own the place,”
“And I’m sure you go out of your way to help take care of her don’t you?” He nodded a bit, more cautious of his surroundings as they passed through some alleys with deeper shadows than most of the other streets. He could see a handful of forms talking to one another in the recesses between buildings, though few seemed to even notice the pair.
“Where I can. As I said, her rates are quite reasonable compared to what she could charge,” A moment later he glanced to look towards her, a beaming expression of pride radiating from Imraheth’s face.
“What?” He asked, now a bit guarded that she was up to something. She laughed merrily and patted his arm as if to ease his concern.
“Nothing, Tirdil,” she assured him though he wasn’t completely convinced, “You have done our people proud to offer such nobility in such a foreign land,” He nodded slowly, guarded not about what she might be up to but against the praise. While he was proud of the man he had become, he was still leary of accepting praise about his actions when they were what was expected of him. Even if he was not yet a swan knight, he still sought to do the order proud.
Quiet fell between the two friends after another long moment, their journey taking them back into the main streets of Bree-town and looping up towards the western gate. A slight change of direction brought them again towards the east, with nary a word echoing between them. Both seemed a bit lost in thought as though their time together had been healing, but also breeched questions from the past.
“You ever wonder,” Imraheth finally asked, “If things were different and there wasn’t the growing Shadow what would have happened?” He was slightly surprised at the question.
“What do you mean, Lothfalas?” Came the reply as they passed under a bridge, the stones above offering a bit of shade on the warm day. Clothing hung overhead along a line, drying in the same light.
“Well, we haven’t exactly kept the best contact of late,” she admitted, shrugging gently, “If I hadn’t needed to leave Dol Amroth to find help to face it, would we have spent more time together?” He returned the shrugging gesture in his own answer.
“You yourself have expectations about you because of who you are. Ones that do not involve me,” he said with his voice a bit low as he began. The woman lost her smile for the first time since they had started their venture through the village. He gave her a little bump to try and distract her from the shadow that had crept into her mind with his initial response.
“My training also has kept me quite busy. Engmir is a hard master, even if he has helped me to become a better person and knight. Or…when I become a knight,” A hint of regret hung in his voice with the words. She caught it fairly quickly, the smile returning to her soft face in an effort to reassure him.
“You will get there someday, my friend,” she encouraged him.

“You will get there someday, my friend,” she encouraged him as they walked through the fields near Dol Amroth. This was where they escaped when they wanted solitude and quiet; when they wished to escape the constant stream of events and social requirements that stretched out to the nobles of the Prince’s court. Each had attended more social functions accompanying their parents than either cared to admit. Much dancing was involved, something neither was particular bad at, but neither were they fond of the forced pairings that would often happen. Imraheth herself often endured the lurid advances of would be suitors. Some stopped after a glance of warning. Others would soon find themselves wishing they had once the lady forcefully told them they were unwanted.
It was a clear night, with the stars shining brightly down on them. Even in the warm summers of the coast a slight breeze blew in from the ocean causing a bit of chill at night. The two had gone on their walks more often in the past few weeks, though less and less was being said between them, at least out loud. They were not angry with one another, nor saddened even as they were still close as they ever were. Instead words failed them in these days, the looming of the future hanging heavier over head than any clouds could.
The young adults were pushing the tender age of twenty knew their carefree days would be coming to an end. Soon, Gwaethor would begin his training as a squire under the knight Engmir. Imraheth, for her part, would soon have to realize what was expected of her as a lady of the court and would also be trained for her future. The two tried to spend as much time as they could with one another as a result. Words weakened their bonding on these ventures as the comforts they tried to bring to each other were almost hollow.
“I know,” He said finally distractedly, still thinking about everything. It was obvious to anyone that would see him that his mind was very busy. Imraheth tried not to stir him to much or distract him at all. She had known him all his life and understood his need for puzzling through things on her own. He had always been thick skulled, as she would often tease him, though in the last year she learned it was deeper than that, it was a desire to truly understand his place in the world about him.
“Promise me something, would you Tirdil?” This brought him out of his reverie and his gaze towards his friend. The two stopped shy of the nearby cliffs, the sound of the ocean working its music in the background. The moon was barely a sliver as it prepared its next venture through the cycle, leaving the two without much light about them. Through the darkness he could still see the face of his long time friend and the pain she worked so hard to hide from him.
“Anything, Lothfalas,” He said, turning to face her fully. The woman stepped up closer to him, one hand reaching out to take his. The man didn’t stop her, comfortable with her touch now, her lack of hesitation in such displays of affection common throughout their time together.
“Always be my friend,” She said quietly. He nodded in agreement.
“Of course,” He responded confidently, his own expression solemn as he hide any other emotions that might wish to leak out.
“Always remember what we’ve been through,” she continued. Again, the man nodded.
“Were I tortured for a thousand years I doubt I could ever forget what it is you have put me through,” She smiled finally, her quiet expression broken by one of the rare jokes Gwaethor would crack. He finally smiled in return to continue to assure her everything would be all right.
“Always be there for me,” Her hand reached into her pocket and pulled something out. His head tilted a bit, a bit confused at her line of requests. Surely she should know that he would do such without her having to ask him.
“Anytime you ever need me, I will find a way to be there,” She reached out and put a piece of cloth into his hands, a kerchief that bore her initials embroidered on it. He took the token, blinking a few times at it and knowing what implication it has had in the past, that of champion. He gazed back at her, their hands still together as if neither of them wanted to break their grip. Eyes meeting they watched one another quietly, the finality of the moment settling in between them at what tomorrow would hold for them.
“I have to get going,” her voice suddenly became melodic again, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two for many moments, “Be safe, Tirdil!” She reached up and kissed his cheek. Turning to dash off to her destination she smiled cheerfully at the man. He stayed where he was for quite some time, hand gripping the kerchief she had betowed upon him as if letting go would suddenly cause the world to fall apart. Eventually a smile broke out over his face, his steps quietly starting up back towards his home.

“I have to get going,” Her voice was melodic as they finally reached the Prancing Pony, “Be safe, Tirdil!” She reached up and kissed his cheek. Turning to dash off inside the building she smiled cheerfully at the man. He stayed where he was for quite some time, hand reaching into his pocket to grip the kerchief she had bestowed upon him so long ago, that he still always kept on his person. Eventually a smile broke out over his face, his steps quietly starting up back towards his new home.