Post by anormorn on Feb 19, 2009 21:52:33 GMT -5
*written in a very plain, regular script without flourishes and sealed with a dark green wax without signet*
My Lord Captain F.,
I hope this letter finds you hale and healthy.
I have arrived in the Northlands as you instructed and established my identity here. The trip was uneventful, save for once passing close to Isengard unintentionally (Though I've much to say on what I witnessed there, to be included in a secondary missive) and an encounter with a small band of orcs as I came into the Bree-lands, as the locals call it. In the second case, I was able to deal with the situation as you had me trained to do some years ago. Please send the Weaponsmaster my regards.
I have yet to witness the insurrection of Great Enemy in any number, yet there are numerous incursions of a lesser type. Goblins, Brigands, Orcs and what I have come to believe are some strange breeding of Orc and Man have made their presences known in the region. Rumors also abound of some creatures haunting old burial grounds, though I've yet to substantiate these. Most disturbing are reports among the brigands I have had the opportunity to interrogate of a greater force behind their own, sometimes called "Sharkey". I have some few leads in this direction. More as I develop these.
The above situation has made it easy to convince the local population that I number among the many hired blades and farmboys-in-search-of-adventure that now haunt the wilds of the region. Indeed, the Bree-lands are as well suited as any place for the defense of their own. Some few of the locals would rank well with our own guard. We may yet find our salvation in the people of Arnor.
Of news of your brother, the few elves I have encountered tell me that he has arrived in Imladris and awaits the council of Gandalf there. The path is indeed perilous, and I dare not travel there by the noted roads, yet. It is my hope as well as yours that he returns with aid for Gondor. I keep a scout's eye to the East all the same.
Had we guessed, low these few years ago, when a hungry youth was found with his hand in the rations satchel, that he would become your eyes and ears in far off Arnor? Was it foresight that caused a Captain of Minas Tirith to stay the weapons of his company and welcome the youth at his camp? To send the same lean young man off to study under the most feared and intimidating weapon trainers and sages?
Or were you just trying to get rid of me quietly?
May the White Tree bloom again!
A.
My Lord Captain F.,
I hope this letter finds you hale and healthy.
I have arrived in the Northlands as you instructed and established my identity here. The trip was uneventful, save for once passing close to Isengard unintentionally (Though I've much to say on what I witnessed there, to be included in a secondary missive) and an encounter with a small band of orcs as I came into the Bree-lands, as the locals call it. In the second case, I was able to deal with the situation as you had me trained to do some years ago. Please send the Weaponsmaster my regards.
I have yet to witness the insurrection of Great Enemy in any number, yet there are numerous incursions of a lesser type. Goblins, Brigands, Orcs and what I have come to believe are some strange breeding of Orc and Man have made their presences known in the region. Rumors also abound of some creatures haunting old burial grounds, though I've yet to substantiate these. Most disturbing are reports among the brigands I have had the opportunity to interrogate of a greater force behind their own, sometimes called "Sharkey". I have some few leads in this direction. More as I develop these.
The above situation has made it easy to convince the local population that I number among the many hired blades and farmboys-in-search-of-adventure that now haunt the wilds of the region. Indeed, the Bree-lands are as well suited as any place for the defense of their own. Some few of the locals would rank well with our own guard. We may yet find our salvation in the people of Arnor.
Of news of your brother, the few elves I have encountered tell me that he has arrived in Imladris and awaits the council of Gandalf there. The path is indeed perilous, and I dare not travel there by the noted roads, yet. It is my hope as well as yours that he returns with aid for Gondor. I keep a scout's eye to the East all the same.
Had we guessed, low these few years ago, when a hungry youth was found with his hand in the rations satchel, that he would become your eyes and ears in far off Arnor? Was it foresight that caused a Captain of Minas Tirith to stay the weapons of his company and welcome the youth at his camp? To send the same lean young man off to study under the most feared and intimidating weapon trainers and sages?
Or were you just trying to get rid of me quietly?
May the White Tree bloom again!
A.