"What a waste of time," Lyfrid thought to herself as she road slowly toward Bree with Adso's Camp fading behind her. The camp is a settlement located within the area of Southern Bree-fields in Bree-land. Athwart the Great East Road and about half-way between Bree and the Brandywine Bridge a driven hobbit named Adso has set up a merchants camp for the weary travelers. This is also the place for his growing trading business ... growing if he could get some help to repel the prowling brigands and outlaws. Many adventurers use the camp as a base for exploring the Old Forest just to the south, and hunters gather for the varied wildlife along the edge of the wood or at the grassy fields along the road and hillsides. None of them took a moment's rest or spoke to anyone around the camp for more than a few moments. Not the place for the young woman to ply her trade, everyone was in a hurry.
It was still early in the day, Lyfrid wandered through the main streets of Bree enjoying the morning sun. She settled down on a bench in the southern part of the town inside a low stone wall, a simple garden of grass, tree and benches. While she moved through the town, Lyfrid had not noticed she had been followed, but she had. A man in fancy armor, who she later learned was named Roljoam, had apparently spotted the young woman that morning and followed her to the little garden to strike up conversation. It was a pleasant enough conversation though the Man was exhibiting quite a lot of turgidity, he was polite and a gentleman. They discussed the weather, the condition of Bree and other equally boring but civil topics. Another Man stopped by and joined in the conversation but never mentioned his name nor did Lyfrid care enough to ask.
The three conversed in the garden as the sun continued it's climb and just as Lyfrid thought she might be able to attempt to convince Roljoam to pay for a noontime meal, he walked into view. Brulk grinned that snarling grin of his at her then wandered over toward the gathering, perching himself on the top of the wall nearly behind the bench where Lyfrid was sitting, enjoying the sunlight until that moment at least. The eye-patched man had nothing pleasant to add to the conversation, on the contrary, he began is needling of the witch Lyfrid. Not surprisingly, the gentleman, Roljoam, suggested that Brulk mind his tongue or move along. The blonde cook calmed her newly met protector but Brulk persisted. The demand was met with more insults for both the gentleman and the seer and just as the temperature was rising with the sun, so was Lyfrid's temperature with her rising anger.
Rising from her bench in a huff she and turned to face Brulk. If one could produce steam within, it surely would have been escaping her ears by this point. Having had all she could stand, Lyfrid instinctively lashed out and gave Brulk a violent shove, with both of her hands, to his shoulders! The hot tempest in a teapot had finally boiled over. Probably a stroke of luck, at least for the one-eyed, one-eared man, Brulk reached up and snagged Lyfrid by one wrist and closed his fist tightly around her slender arm. The two of them went sailing over the back of the wall until they were a pile of metal, leather fabric, flesh and bone in the street! Patch quickly got to his feet, still holding the young woman by her arm, snarling and spitting curses then pushed her face with a booted foot into the dirty cobblestones! Roljoam, in a fit of rage, drew his sword and placed it across Brulk's neck until he let Lyfrid's arm go free.
Doing a good deal of her own cussing as she manage to get back to her feet, she dusted off her gown, pulled back a piece of loose hair out of her mangled face then saw the gleam of that blade across Brulk's neck. It would have been very easy for Lyfrid to urge Roljoam to slide that blade along Patch's jugular and end things but what she did next likely even surprised Lyfrid. The Cook sauntered over to her hero and placed a gentle hand on his sword arm and convinced him to forget Brulk and buy her a glass of wine, instead. Lyfrid's champion sheathed his sword and she slipped her arm through his and the two of them walked to the Pony. As the walked, the dirt-covered woman looked back at Brulk with her grimy, bloodied face.
As the two new acquaintances arrived at the Pony, Lyfrid excused herself to Roljoam and asked for him to wait for her while she tidy herself. Her gentleman friend agreed and Lyfrid heard him order a bottle of wine and two glasses as she walked toward the back of the Inn. She didn't stop, however, to wash up or re-comb her hair, she ran out the rear door of the Inn, never looking back, she had made a clean, but still filthy, getaway.
