[Child of the 7th Age]

Guthwine and Andreth:

Andreth picked up the two dinner trays and, balancing them precariously in one hand, grabbed one of the lanterns that hung on a hook in the kitchen, and then walked down the steps. The basement was actually the oldest part of the Inn, the stone foundation on which the original hostelry had been built many years before. The small lantern threw its light only a few paces in front of the Innkeeper, as the dark walls threatened to close in and gave off a dank, stale smell.

Andreth walked across the packed dirt floor and came to the entrance of the cellar where wines were normally stored. The room was now empty except for their two unwelcome guests. The usual stock of wine had dwindled with the onrush of displaced farmers from the outlying settlements and the general dearth of provisions that had resulted from the drought. The few remaining bottles were stored in the upstairs larder.

Three Breelanders stood on guard at the door of the makeshift cell; one was Berilac's helper, the other two were her own people. Andreth nodded to the soldiers to let her inside.

"Don't know if that's wise, Miz Andreth," one of the guards objected. "There's two of them and one of you. Best set the tray here and we'll push it in and slam the door again."

"Nonsense," the Innkeeper retorted. "We've got the big one's boy. He's not going to do anything that might jeopardize his son. Anyways, " she added, "this is my Inn, and you can't stop me from going anywhere I please."

One of the guards cocked an eyebrow, muttering under his breath that Berilac and the Mayor might have something to say about that. A few minutes of bickering back and forth and the guards had agreed to let Andreth go in as long as one of the Big Folk armed with a sharp blade came along with her.

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Guthwine and Rudgar both looked up, listening to the sound of a key turning in the lock. The door slowly pushed open. The Innkeeper walked through the door, imediately followed by one of the soldiers, who had his hand clenched tightly about the hilt of his sword. Andreth set the breakfast trays down. Rudgar came forward to eat, but Guthwine remained stubbornly on the other side of the cell, throwing harsh looks towards the Innkeeper.

'I need to speak with you," she began.

"Then why did you bring your keeper with you?" Guthwine scowled, casually gesturing towards the armed guard.

"I had little choice in that. Anyways, it's not important. I bring news of your son."

For the first time, Guthwine leaned forward intent on hearing what Andreth had to say. "Yes. How is he? Does he live?"

"Your son came through the night well. The fever has broken. He is still weak but this morning he awoke. He drank a cup of broth and listened while I read a story. Guthwine, Kirima and Lilac say he will be fine in just a little while." She reached out and took the Man's hand, squeezing it.

"They have cared for him then? When I was thrown in here, I feared the worst...."

Andreth vehemently shook her head. "Of course, we would not hurt a young child. Do not think of us like that."

Guthwine shook his head, "What else should I think? Everywhere we have gone, we have met with fear and anger. Once or twice, we tried to beg for help but we were sent on our way with curses and howls."

"But Breelanders are not like that!"

"No?" Guthwine countered. "If we had come to you without a show of strength, without instilling fear through the raids, would you even have listened to us?

Andreth sighed and shook her head, "I do not know. But we are listening now. Berilac and the Mayor are good folk. They will not turn you away without help. But you must give them assurances about your own conduct; they are afraid you will turn on us, even if Lotar gives his word. What you say and do could make a difference."

Guthwine turned away. "You're sure Andreth, about Ian and the other children. They and the women have not been hurt?"

"I swear to you this is so. My son Edmund is upstairs playing with the others, showing them his pet squirrel. I am going there now to teach a few of the children, the ones who are feeling better."

"Teach? Teach them what?"

Andreth smiled, "Simple numbers and adding. Few of them seem to know such things."

Guthwine grunted, "When you're struggling to survive in the wilderness, you have little enough time for such luxuries."

"That may be true. But if you're going to have a town of your own, then it's a different matter. You will need to trade and make deals as well as raising crops and hunting down game. Letters and numbers can help."

Guthwine quickly countered, "You think it possible then....that your folk will help us to gain a settlement of our own."

"I believe so, and the Rangers can do much to help."

Guthwine stared off vacantly at the stone wall of the cell, "A home of my own.... I had almost forgotten such a thing was possible." He stared down at the breakfast tray and looked up again, thinking how strange it was that he could be so unmoved by the Men and hobbits who wielded swords and yet the voice of a woman who spoke kindly of his son left such an impression. Should he trust her or not? But then, he had no real choice. And if these Breelanders were honorable, it would be a callous thing to spit in their faces. Part of being a soldier was knowing when to call for a temporary witthdrawal of troops in order to gain the long term victory. And a home and a village, however they were gotten, were indeed a long term victory.

"Alright, then. Do this. Have your Men take me to Lotar in private or bring him to me. Or take me to the meeting itself and I will give you my oath of peace. The young man will do as I do, I am sure." He grumbled under his breath, "I am a stubborn man, but I am not an oathbreaker."

Andreth laughed as she left the cell, "No, Guthwine, I believe you are not."

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Later that evening, Andreth was sitting in her study and writing out a note to Berilac and another to the Mayor telling them what Guthwine had said. Edmund crawled up on her lap and peered over at the page.

"There are a lot of words here!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, not so many as all that!"

"What are they for?"

She thought a minute and looked down at her son and smiled, "Do you remember Ian? The little boy who's been so sick."

Edmund brightened, "I like him, and my squirrel likes him too."

"So do I," countered Andreth. "I'm just trying to make sure Ian gets his family together again, and that one more loose end gets tied up."

Andreth gave Edmund a kiss on his brown curls, and then called for Ruby, asking her to deliver the notes immediately to see if something could be done before the meeting.