[The X Phial]

Bregand concentrated on his food while listening to Rangar gathering companions with one ear. He realised quickly that this was the opportunity he had been looking for to gain companions for his journey south. His first reaction was elation. It seemed a great boon to find such a party so quickly after arriving in Bree. Almost immediately afterwards, however, doubt crept in. There was already someone who claimed to be a guide...would there be a place for him, a boy still growing his beard and none too handy with a sword?

Before he could entirely lose his courage, Bregand forced himself to stand and walk to the slowly gathering crowd around the man Rangar. He put on what he thought of as his most scholarly face and gave a small bow to the assembled people.

"Excuse me, good sir, but I couldn't help overhearing your plan to travel to Harad. I, myself, have business in that part of the country. I know I look young, but I am a master of geography and lore. I could be an invaluable asset on the road, or, at least, my map skills could be. I trained in Arnor with Hilgar, who once taught the Lord Faramir."

Bregand managed to glance around him and was glad his face looked so stern, the others seemed to be laughing behind their smiles. Rangar's face, however, was impassive. He said, simply, "Go on, young man."

Bregand cleared his throat and continued.

"As I said before, I am a master scholar at both geography and lore. I know a great deal of the tales and legends of Harad and could likely sort mere rumours from probable leads. I have credentials upstairs if you would like to see them..."

His voice trailed off. He was certain the noble woman from Gondor at least was laughing at him, though she made no sound. He cleared his throat again and looked pointedly at Rangar, ignoring the others. Rangar gave a small, tight smile and quietly said, "Welcome aboard."

Bregand gave another small bow, doing his best to conceal his joy. His first journey back to the land of his birth was starting well. He remembered small flashes of Minas Tirith in his deepest past, but to him Gondor had always been a sort of fairyland spoken of by his parents. He often thought of himself as akin to the children of the exiled elves, always imagining the Blessed Realm. Now he would be journeying to his Aman.

Realising that he was still standing in front of Rangar and that others were trying to speak to the man, Bregand felt himself blush and murmured a quick "Excuse me" before retiring back to his yet unfinished dinner. It wasn't until he got back to his table that he realised he had had his napkin tied around his neck the entire time.

[ April 26, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]