Imladris; late summer; dawn.

“Cowards, all of them. Cowards, oath-breakers, spineless rabble. Let them run, if they will. They will find the dead to be a judge most harsh.” 
 
“Yes, yes, Cardanith. I know.” 
 
Baelor slowly turned another page. He cleared his throat and nested deeper into the bench. It would have been a perfect morning for reading, really, had it not been for the incessant, nearly unbearable whinging of Cardanith Galadnaith.  
 

Bree, a couple years ago

The shadows of the alley were still cover enough to conceal oneself in, though the sun was higher than the smuggler would have wished. From the small nook, she could see any comings and goings from the bookie’s villa.

Dem woke up with his teeth chattering in the pitch black. He reached far to the left to find a candle and flint. It took too many attempts to count to light the thing, but he managed. He wished he hadn’t, for he was still in the room his sire locked him in. His body hurt both from sleeping naked on the cold stone floor and the lashes he’d been getting daily.