Things were getting more complicated each passing day. Lyfrid had to be so very careful now. Even though Lyfrid believed she had the upper hand over Brulk, one never knows what a man might do nor say given the right circumstances. She and Patch argued every time their paths crossed, ugly, violent arguments. What if the day came when he no longer held his tongue about what he knew? It wasn't as if she could be seen with or around him, it was much too risky. He now wore the amulet again, too.
"Hmm I need a way to be close without putting myself in danger..." the witch mused to herself as she walked to the Hall to fix the poultice of virgin mud for the Hillman. While rounding the bend in the cobblestone street near the Beggar's Alley, an idea came to her like a bolt of lightning on a clear day. She giggled with delight at her sudden realization, her clever plan. "Hah! Keep your friends close, your enemies closer they say! Hah! I'll send this poultice along with his very own "hillwoman" to look after him! Hmm.. That shouldn't be hard, there are plenty of women, forgotten women wandering around Bree." she thought to herself. Lyfrid wrung her hands together gleefully as she prepared the treatment for Brulk's infection. She finished the poultice, put it in her satchel then reached in and pulled out a few perfectly cut gems. "These will hold an enchantment nicely."
It didn't take but a few hours and a good deal of coins of the realm to find everything she would need to send Brulk just what he needed, that being a cure for his ailment and a cure for a man's loneliness. A happy man was a distracted man by her thinking. Within a few hours of "collecting" what she needed from the seedier part of town, Beggars Alley, Lyfrid finished dressing the "Hillwoman" in convincing tribal clothing including a headpiece which now bore three enchanted gems. "Now what shall we call you?" she asked as she looked with narrowed eyes into the hillwoman's own narrowed eyes. "Ah I know, I've heard this name many times, you will be known as Gwiddon!" The woman dressed in deep blood red sackcloth repeated the name, Gwiddon, slowly over and over, practicing the name to capture the Creoth accent. Now bedecked in hillman clothing, carrying the mud poltice, Gwiddon walked through the south gate out of Bree on her way to Arrowhaven. Gwiddon would wait for the man, Brulk, on the steps of his house.
