In Twilight

A/N: Chapter 6 is finally up! Thanks to everyone for being so patient. Chapter 7 will probably be up in a few days, followed by chapter 8 a little bit after that. I'm halfway through writing this story, and a little more than halfway through Starry Sky. Don't worry though, I've got more stories in store, particularly a Glorfindel/Ecthelion series. Thanks again for reading, and enjoy!

/ / denotes thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~~ denotes change in scene or POV.

Chapter 6: Traveling to Lil’ Bree
Summary: The year in Mirkwood is up; the children of Thranduil prepare to leave with the Peredhel twins to spend their allotted time in Imladris. But first, a detour to the town of Lil’ Bree to see what humans can really be like.

The mid-autumn day was pleasant and warm. The sun beat down comfortably onto the backs of six travelers. They rode together down the last leg of the Misty Mountains in merriment, their musical voices filling the air as they laughed and talked with one another. To someone observing them from afar, they seemed to appear to be warriors traveling in company, six men either heading out to a hunt or coming back from one. In actuality they were five elven princes and one elven princess, disguised as a male warrior to keep her safe from prying eyes. Rather than journeying to a hunt, they were moving from one elven haven to another, but their path veered slightly away from their final destination, heading towards a small human town instead.

It was Nimriel’s insistence that had prompted the group to make a slight detour. The young princess wanted to see what men were really like having encountered few outside of the sparse villages that dotted Mirkwood’s borders. Her brothers, who had had more encounters than she, and even the twins, had tried to convince her that it was probably not the best of ideas for a whole elven escort to simply enter a human village and wish to stay for the night. To their surprise and dismay the princess had agreed, saying they would travel without an escort and she would willingly disguise herself as a male warrior to keep her identity and gender safe. Much to their loathing, especially that of the twins, Thranduil and Erinien had agreed, stating that it would be good for the princess to know and learn more about the world outside of the Greenwood. Their only condition in the matter had been that the town needed to be one close to either Mirkwood or Imladris so that, if need be, they could take off in a hurry to an elven shelter. The five princes had no choice but to agree, and promise to keep Nimriel safe from harm.

So it was that the group found themselves steadily approaching Lil’ Bree, so named because it looked and felt like a smaller replica of the town on the borders of the Shire. The place had had its own name once, but travelers and its inhabitants alike kept calling it Lil’ Bree; pretty soon, its original name was forgotten. It was a place inhabited mostly by men and dwarves; it was too far for hobbits to visit, and few elves ventured into the city, though Imladris was less than a day’s ride away. The town saw little adventure, its inhabitants mostly farmers, shopkeepers and miners. News of the outside world didn’t seem to concern the inhabitants, as they often felt no need to know what the other parts of Mi-ear-earth were up to. Rangers passed through now and then though they often were not given a warm welcome; it mattered little to the Dunedain, for they tarried only a short while in the town before moving on towards other places and destinations. Other than that, Lil Bree rarely received any strangers from other lands or races. Today, however, would break such ideals.

Nimriel squirmed in her saddle, fighting the urge to push her mare into a canter and into the town. It was difficult for her to keep still and calm during the ride. She was, after all, supposed to be disguised as a warrior; she was well versed in the usage of the bow and knew a little about the sword, able to help her brothers and the twins in the event that a fight should break out. Nimriel indeed looked the part of a warrior. But she held nothing of the poise and composure a proud, weathered elven bowman or swordsman possessed. Instead Nimriel was a princess, a lady, and, above all else, a girl filled with curiosity about something she had never laid eyes on. All she really wanted to do was take off, leaving her brothers and the twins behind and go explore the town that seemed to beckon to her.

Nimriel scowled faintly as her eldest brother reached over, drawing the hood of her cloak over her ears and warrior-braided hair.

“Best to hide as much of our features as we can,” Arondil said calmly, pulling his own hood over his head as the others followed suit.

“Aye, tis true,” Elladan agreed, turning slightly in his seat to face them, face partially shadowed by his cloak. “I know not how the men and dwarves of Lil’ Bree will react to seeing a small troupe of elves venture into their town. Imladrian elves seldom come here, and in disguise when they do, lingering little.”

“There are dwarves in the village?” Legolas asked, his eyes lifting in slight amazement at the news. His siblings seemed equally amazed as they ed ted to the twins for an explanation.

“Aye,” Elrohir answered. “The dwarves of Lil’ Bree care nothing for the grudge between elves and their kind, however. They mine by day and drink by night and make merry whenever they can. ‘Tis likely that these dwarves have never heard of elves, if so then only in tales.” Celeron snorted in amusement.

“Then it is likely that if we are somehow discovered, Elbereth forbid, we will be revered as beings thought long lost.”

“Or chased out of the village,” Elladan countered. “Either way, this will be an interesting stay.”

“Far better than staying on the ground another night,” the princess said. “I am weary from the journey. Though I will enjoy this adventure, I find myself wishing to be in the halls your father is so famous for founding. Yet Imladris is another half day’s travel, and Arien is beginning to sink.”

“Aye, I agree,” Elrohir said. “Setting aside what may happen, we’ll find crt irt indoors tonight in Lil’ Bree. ‘Tis well we all speak Westron else we draw more unwanted attention. Our appearance, even hidden, draws the attention of far too many eyes already.” The others agreed, their steeds now beginning to enter the streets of the town. They seemed, at first glance, no different than the other men and women going about their business in the busy little town. But, as they rode down the main street, eyes turned to them and lingered for longer than the elves would have liked. Despite their worn clothing, their more regal garments hidden among their possessions, and weathered looks, the six companions seemed to stand out from the rest of the town as if they had walked in with a procession behind them, glittering in gold and mithril.

At Elladan’s gesture, the riders headed to a tavern in the middle of the town just as the owner stepped out. Bowman Butterbur was owneowner of the Trotting Stallion; he was also the cousin of Barliman Butterbur, who operated the Prancing Pony in Bree. He was portly, yet cheerful and kind, not to mention a bit forgetful at times, much like his cousin. Though his was far from the only tavern, even in such a small town, it was one that tended, unknowingly, to draw the most unusual of visitors. His warm smile behind a brushy mustache and stained apron made old friends and new customers feel right at home.

“Good day, young warriors!” he greeted in a cheerful voice, his mustache twitching faintly with his words. His dark eyes widened in amazement at his new guests but he kept his voice pleasant and warm. “Have a good hunt?”

“Yes indeed,” Elrohir replied, dismounting as the others followed suit. “And now we are in need of a night’s rest, for both ourselves and our horses. Can you accommodate us?”

“You are in luck, my young friends.” Bowman seemed not to take notice of the slight twitching of lips that occurred when he referred to them as ‘young.’ As he spoke, he seemed a little preoccupied with the fact his new customers, even the princess, stood almost half a head taller than he. “I have in fact two rooms available that might suit your fancy, nice big and cozy rooms.”

“That is one less than we were hoping for, but it is acceptable,” Arondil replied, handing the man the reins to his steed. “Kindly see to our horses, and that our things are taken straight to the rooms, kind sir. We shall return shortly for the night’s supper.”

“I shall be awaiting your return with a hot meal and ale aplenty.” Bowman watched as the six slung bows and quivers to their backs, strapping knives in their boots and swords to their hips. As they journeyed down the main road, he couldn’t help but wonder that there was something distinctly different about the group. Shrugging it off, he led their steeds into his large stable, the majestic beasts seeming less weary than the other horses already in holds, despite the long journey. Bowman then took their things, remarkably light contrary to their size, up to the designated rooms before preparing for the evening meal.

~~~~~~~~~~

“The town seems lively enough for one so small,” Celeron said in Westron as the group roamed the streets, killing time before returning to the tavern for the evening meal. The elves spoke in the common tongue so as not to draw more unwanted attention to themselves; occasionally, they would speak in low whispers in elvish that only their keen ears could hear.

“It is fascinating!” Nimriel nearly exclaimed before lowering her voice at the slightly reproachful look her brothers gave her. “It is nothing like the villages on our borders. They were always small, mostly just a few families and homes. But this is different. Are all human towns and cities like this?” Arondil laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Calm yourself, sister,” he said in a calm voice. “Yes, they are all like this, and no, they are all different.”

“Aye,” Elladan agreed. “Most towns of Rohan are much the same as the villages you have seen, maybe just a little bigger. But the cities of Gondor are said to be large and majestic with colorful banners waving from high white towers and twisting streets between buildings. In the north there are few cities, but they differ little from Lil’ Bree. I have not seen the towns of the fabled Shire, nor the little people that inhabit it, but they are told to be a cheery place.”

“How I would love to visit the Shire,” Nimriel said. “But it is too far to travel.”

“I am afraid that, even if we were to make it that far,” Legolas interrupted her musings, “we might startle the little people. I doubt they have ever seen men and dwarves, much less elves.”

“Aye, ‘tis true,” Elrohir agreed with a nod. “The stories told tell us that the Halflings are cautious of men, whom they refer to as the big folk. None know much about dwarves, and even less of our kin. It is not far from truth to say that if we were to stroll into the Shire, we would scare the Halflings witless with our presence. Thouldould tell stories of such an encounter for years and generations to come.” The group stopped walking as a dozen children, all much shorter in stature than the elves, ran across their path, disappearing around a corner only to poke their heads out a moment later to gape at the strangers in awe.

“It never ceases to amaze me how human children and elflings can be so different,” Arondil said, smiling at the wide-eyed children who ducked away from his gaze before appearing again. “They mature quickly, reaching their majority much earlier than we. I remember Ada not being able to cease calling me elfling until I had reached my one-hundredth year.”

“Aye, I remember that as well,” Legolas said. “Even after majority, he still referred to us as if we were children for a while longer. It would annoy me to no end at times.”

“And yet a human life is so fragile,” Elladan mused. “We feel no cold, no heat, little pain and little fear. Yet they feel it all heavily, and reach the end of their mortality quickly. ‘Tis a sad idea to ponder.” He smiled wistfully as he felt a hand grasp his own, a flash of gold and sapphire from the corner of his eye confirming Legolas’ presence. The elves continued on down the street in silence for a few moments, always aware of the curious children who followed in their steps.

“It is getting late,” Arondil announced. “Did you find this excursion to your liking, gwathel-nîn?”

“Very much so,” Nimriel replied. “Yet I feel the need for rest, for now I am anxious to arrive in Imladris tomorrow. The valley intrigues me, as we will be staying there a full year. I almost wish we could ride there tonight.”

“The paths and forests are not safe at night, as we all well know,” Legolas pointed out as the group steered back towards the Trotting Stallion, their shadows still following, much to their amusement. “Though I do not know about the rest of you, I would not want to spend tonight worrying about Orcs, Wargs or Easterlings attacking us during our sleep. We have spent plenty a night worrying about such things already on this trip.”

“Aye, and father does not expect us until midday tomorrow,” Elladan said. “He will be ill prepared to receive us, especially in the middle of the night. We should rest and refresh ourselves in the meanwhile.” The others nodded as they entered the already bustling tavern. The door shut behind them with a faint thud, leaving the children outside and away from the smoky and ale-filled place.

Undaunted, the dozen little ones made their way to a nearby window and packhemshemselves around it. The fair strangers had grasped their attention on the street, though the children knew not why. As they lingered at the window, the elder ones holding up their younger counterparts, they kept their attentions focused on the six riders who seated themselves in a dark corner away from the rest of the tavern. They were hoping for a show, and would not leave until they got what they wanted.

Translations:
Gwathul-nîn-My sister
Ada-Father