[piosenniel]

Berilac

Berilac motioned for Minastan to step away from the group of women, making the showy pretense of having the ‘bandit’ lay down all his weapons. Telling the man to kneel down with his hands in sight, Berilac stepped between him and the women, blocking their view of Minastan. ‘What’s going on here?’ he asked the other Ranger, nodding his head back at the huddled children and mothers.

Minastan explained quickly how there had been an influx of refugees to the encampment; that many of them were families who had fled the persecution in the north. Their food supplies were low, medicines nonexistent for all practical purposes, given the number of ill children. ‘It’s not just the children who are ill and starving. Often the parents forego a meal to keep their little ones fed. But it is just not enough.’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘It’s not the desire for power that drives these people; it’s the want of the basic necessities that forces them to take what they need.’

The Hobbit looked round at the group behind him. Most of them had sat down on the brown, scraggly grasses, weary figures pulling their thin shalwl about them. The women had gathered their children near them, and those without mothers leaned in against older youth who drew them in protectively, murmuring soft words of comfort to those who whimpered from cold, fatigue, and hunger. They were a sorry lot – with their pale skin and hollow eyes set like black smudges in their thin, drawn faces. Berilac’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of one young mother, a little curly headed girl drawn in close to her. A tiny babe cradled to her, nursing. There was not enough milk and the baby gave up in frustration, his thin little wail protesting his hunger. His thoughts were drawn back to his own wife and little girl and the new wee one, who would just have been born a few days ago. They would be safe, and well, their bellies full.

‘What of their leader,’ Berilac asked. ‘Would he be willing to negotiate some terms with the Mayor?’

‘Perhaps so,’ said Minastan, nodding his head thoughtfully. ‘He seems a good man. But . . .’ Berilac waited for the man to continue. ‘There is one who also wields some power among them – Guthwine, and he, I think, would rather plow through Bree, taking what his people need.’ Minastan spoke on for a few moments longer, giving the other Ranger a description of Guthwine and a run down on what he had heard the man say along with his participation in the recent raids.

Berilac stood for a few moments, thinking hard on what he’d just heard. ‘Get the women and children up,’ he said, ‘and move them up to the gate. I’m going to recommend that they be let in. But you I want back at the camp, keeping your eyes on things going on there. Sound out this Lotar if you can.’

The Hobbit strode quickly back to the gate and was let in. A brief huddled conference with the Mayor and Telien, and then Kirima was let out with Andreth and a number of the Big Folk bowmen to bring in the group now standing near the door. Harald ordered the gates locked once more and then addressed the weary group. ‘Welcome to Bree,’ he began. ‘I wish this might have happened under better circumstances. But we’ll do the best we can. Mistress Andreth will see you all to the Inn. I’m sure there are some of our good ladies who will be ready and willing to assist her.’ He paused for a moment, his gaze resting here and there on a number of Breeland women.

‘There is one thing,’ continued Harald, ‘and I regret that I must do this. But since we’ve come to no terms yet with the leaders of your group, you will all be our guests and remain within the walls of Bree now, until we do.’