The figure stopped in front of the Town Hall. The mayor was the next person that needed to be seen, but sneaking in to do so would be a bad idea. Instead, the figure entered the hall in the light of day, moving to stand in line with other people to see the mayor. A few turned to look at the figure, uneasy, and left the line. It did not mind, moving up until it was face to face with the mayor.
"Ah! Well met young ..." the Mayor looked over the strange figure before him "uh ... woodsman! What can I do for you?"
"Tell. Story. Wagon. Rohan"
The mayor blinked, turning to the man beside him who just shrugged. The figure frowned behind it's masked hood.
"Tell. Me. Story. Wagons. To. Rohan." It was difficult, the Westron tasting bitter to say. But the mayor's face lit up as realization came to him.
"Ah ... you are interested in that large party who are on their way to Rohan, hm?" The man rubs his chin, eying the figure. "I do not know how you found out that information, friend, but I will tell you ... if you do a few things for me."
The man grinned, and the figure knew it had no choice. A small nod, and the mayor clapped his hands. "Wonderful!" Ruffling through a stack of papers, he brought out a number of them and placed them on the table between the two. "It is very simple, my friend. I have some problems with creatures and brigands around Bree. You take these tasks up for me, cull their numbers, kill their leaders, and I will tell you what you need to know."
The figure said nothing, but it knew the longer this took, the farther the caravan to Rohan would be. Grabbing the small stack of papers, the figure turned on a heel and walked out.
~~~~~~~~~~
The twang of a bowstring hailed the end of the brigand's life, and the last in the camp. Ninety brigands lay dead around the landscape, each one having an ear cut off to prove as such.
The figure already took care of the spiders, wiping out three nests and collecting heads for the mayor.
Trudging towards the swamps outside Bree, the figure now searched for the sickle flies and neeker-breekers. The sun already was setting on the first day of this hunt and time was ticking away.
