Out From Bree
The Tale of the Brothers Hamel and Bernus
Part Two
Boom! Boom! Boom!
came three resounding knocks on the east gate of Bree. The thuds, which were so
loud that they could very well have splintered the gate’s wooden beams, woke
the slumbering gatekeeper, Bernus Wendling, from a deep midday sleep.
In his dream Bernus had been scaling a great mountain when
his footing was lost and he stumbled backwards into a great void. He awoke just
as he reached the dense forest floor far below. Of course he had not landed in
a forest beneath a mountain, but in his tipped-over chair on the wooden floor
of his small green gatekeeper’s shelter.
With a shrill gasp he sprang up, and for a moment could
hardly believe he had survived the fall. As he stood motionless staring down at
his chair, bleary eyed and breathing heavily, his mind eventually wandered back
to reality. He dusted off his sleeves and looked up the road that led back into
town, hoping that no one had witnessed the embarrassing scene (this time).
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The knocks came faster this time, reminding Bernus of the task at hand. “Oh
right!” He rushed to the gate and opened the window slot in the door. He nearly
toppled over backwards again when he saw a fierce gigantic grey-bearded face
staring directly back into his from an inch away. “Ah!” blurted Bernus,
accidentally letting go of the slot door, which quickly slapped shut once again
right on the great grey face.
“Sorry! So sorry!” Bernus opened the slot again. “Startled
me there, ya did! That’s all, so sorry. Uh, hello. Hi. Uh, right, could I get your
name sir?”
“I’ll give you much more than my name if you don’t open this
gate sometime today!” The old man’s voice was gruff and impatient. “My name is
Gandalf, and I have been knocking on this blasted door for the better part of
five minutes!”
As grumpy as Gandalf sounded, Bernus was quite used to
people losing their patience in conversation with him, and as such was not
quick to notice such things. “Well then, Mr. Gandalf, let me open up for you
then, shall I? Just one moment, if you please.” The slot slapped shut again,
right on Gandalf’s nose. “Sorry!”
From outside of the gate Gandalf could hear the quick
scuffling of feet, the clank of a large lock, then the rattling of a latch.
This rattling stopped and started, stopped and started, and then was joined by
grunting and sounds of strain. “If you’d prefer I could knock the gate over
myself to save you the trouble,” Gandalf called from outside.
“I’ve got it here, I think,” came the voice from the other
side. “Oh, wait, no I haven’t. Umm.” More grunting and rattling. “This, uh,
this happens sometimes. Just a moment. Usually if I…”
After a few more groans and rattlings of the latch, Gandalf sighed
and raised his staff. Touching the end to the gate, it swung open with a whoosh! and knocked Bernus, once again, onto
his back.
“I got it!” Bernus sounded triumphant.
When the dust kicked up by the commotion had settled, Bernus
got a good look at Gandalf. It felt to him as though he were looking upon a
weathered statue of a great hero of old. Gandalf stood tall, much taller than scrawny
little Bernus. He seemed all the taller
as he wore a high grey pointed hat, a long grey robe, and carried only his
staff and a small leather tobacco pouch, which hung at his side.
“Master Gandalf, sir,” Bernus said as he raised himself to
his feet, both excited and nervous to be standing in the presence of such a
figure, “Welcome to Bree.”
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