Ever the days became more fraught with tension, it was frankly little wonder she still possessed her golden hair for the times she clawed at her scalp in frustration, but of course, beautiful she remained and no matter the turmoil in her mind, her perfectly fake smile hid any sign of it.
The delivery would be late, the coin far too great an amount to risk losing. War brings profit, it is built on blood but the coin shines as bright as any that say belongs to a baker, a tailor, vintner or the like. It was coin she needed, as much of her own was spent of late on those she wished to protect. She spent it upon the sick, those who could not afford medicines. She spent it upon the bard whom she had shared home and hearth with. She spent it upon the merry men that dwelt in the woods, keeping them in ale and upon their bounty. Though of late, she spent it upon herself. Mercenaries, ones used to bring her the more difficult ingredients, to deliver the finished product through lands fraught with danger, and to protect her, but advice..she did not pay for this, yet it was given one eve in the lodge. She told Nellye and Geirdrifa of her intentions. The delivery was late, it had to arrive at its destination, and she would be the one to take it. Much protesting, talk of her sanity and an ale was shared, eventually leaving only Geirdrifa with the task to convince her of her folly. “Never trust men”, the mantra placed in her head since a young child, did not apply to this man. Softer words were spoken and an agreement made, he would accompany her to her destination to help ensure her safety.
She had to leave, she needed to. Life in the mud hole of Bree had become complicated. Viljawyn, a serving woman of the Prancing Pony, wished information from her, and went to unsavoury lengths to obtain it, using men to attempt to intimidate her, but her heart was too loyal to speak of what the woman wanted….information on the men that dwelt in the woods. Every day, poison seeped from Viljawyns mouth into the ears of men all too keen to please a pretty red head; it would only be a matter of time before one took matters too far.
Prior to these events, a queer day occurred. She sat upon the stone bench at the fountain and spoke with the hobbit Tukko beside her. An altercation upon the steps of the pony drew her attention, for one of the men who had threatened her was in talks with a guardsman. A rather comical scene played out before them which led to the guardsman hastily approaching the bench and retrieving a bow from beneath. The woman slapped him for thinking he was initially interested in the contents of her skirt rather than a hidden weapon, and it was at his squeal of protest at being hit, she became curious, hiked up the hem of his hauberk and saw a flash of autumnal coloured clothing. Had he returned? She could not be certain but surely if he had it would be so very soon they would be truly reunited, and her heart sang. No sooner had he arrived had he hastily departed, Tukko soon following.
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***ooc*** A significant chunk of this story has been withdrawn as I was not satisfied with the outcome, by allowing external influences to affect what happened with the character , I gave her an untimely end...perhaps it is time for a rebirth..
