The figure sat quietly on a stump, not moving, just blending into the darkness around it. It was watching and listening to a small group of Men at the campsite found outside Bree.
"I tell ya, there was a whole lot of 'em!"
"Whatever you say, Brennick. That large of a gathering would have been noticed and broken up by the mayor."
"The mayor allowed it!"
"I doubt it, Brennick. Especially if there were wagons with women and children as you say."
The figure moves it's gaze to land on the one called Brennick. It would follow that one when he left.
~~~~~~~~~~
Brennick whistled as he moved through the lamp lit streets of Bree, not noticing the figured that tailed him. Sticking to the shadows, soft leather boots covereing its footfalls on stone, the figure kept a safe distance but noticed when the man stopped to fish a key from his pocket. Putting it into the door, Brennick turned the key and pushed the wood open.
The figure was quick, moving to the wall as Brennick was half inside the doorframe, gloved fingers pushing a small ball of substance into the lock mechanism. When the door shut, it did not lock. Now, the figure outside waited.
A candle was lit in a window to the right of the door, and the figure slipped behind a bush. The glass made what was happening inside difficult to make out, but it seemed that the man was readying himself to retire for the night. The candle was put out soon afterwards, and the figure moved to the door.
Carefully, a gloved hand gripped the handle and lever latch, pushing down and forward. The door opened easily, and the figure removed the ball from the latching mechanism to fully close and lock the door. Letting its eyes adjust, the figure moved along the floor, careful to move around anything in the way, and ended up in Brennick's bedroom.
~~~~~~~~~~
Brennick stirred slightly. He had a strange feeling someone or something was looming over him. Groggily he opened his eyes and started to shout, but a gloved hand clamped over his mouth tightly. He struggled, but the figure had the advantage.
"Stop."
One word came from the figure, gruff and angry. Brennick stopped moving, panting and whimpering slightly. He watched as the figure changed position until a pair of eyes were staring into his.
"Tell. Wagons."
Brennick felt the glove leave his mouth, and he licked his lips. "I don't ... I don't understand w--" He was cut off as the glove clamped over his mouth again.
"Tell. Wagon. Story."
The words sounded difficult to his ears, as if the figure who held him quiet could not speak Westron. Once again the gloved hand moved and he swallowed hard.
"Yes .. the ... the wagons. Uhm ... well ... I saw this large group o' Men, see. In and around the camps we here in Bree use for readying to Skirmish around the land. And they had a number of wagons with them. Women and children too. Like they were readying to go somewhere."
The figure moved slightly, and Brennick whimpered. It was too dark to see what was going on. Instead the figure spoke again. "Where. Going."
"I - I don't know. They didn't say! B-but they had to have gotten those wagons from Bree. Maybe someone in the city knows!"
Brennick felt his breath catch in his throat as the figure did not move or speak for some time afterwards. Then suddenly, it was gone as fast as it appeared out of the room though the nearby window. The man let out a long moan, hands covering his face in the dark. He won't be sleeping anymore that night.
[TBC]
