Annaliesa sat on the wooden chair, a half empty bottle of whiskey wedged between her skirt covered knees. In the study where she had spent so much of her time in Bree, the papers on the desk meant nothing to her but was who once was there that did. She drank slowly, feeling the fire of the liquor run through her veins, the taste of it reminding her of the flavor of his kiss. The more she wallowed in the short intense memories the more she loathed herself for every being soft enough to feel, to be vulnerable. It hurt too much when the armor was stripped away and the knife of departure pierced her.
He said he was proud of her, when she returned that last time, flush from the rush of adrenaline that came with shooting down their adversary. Billium had lived, she found out later, but just barely and he was weak as a kitten the only thing keeping him alive was that he was under the Watch’s guard now, convalescing at the jail. Two of his men were dead, struck down by crossbow bolts and at the time she reported to Ildrand she was certain Bill Cutting had been killed. He had been proud of her, for her daring and initiative, her cleverness at not being caught. Annaliesa took another drink, remembering the gleam in his green eyes. Why it mattered so much now that Mr. Berrywine would praise her? He was another boss, that was all.
She held the bottle up, the sunlight filtering through the dingy window, amber light shimmering in the liquid. Annaliesa leaned back, her mousey brown hair tousled around her shoulders, hating the answer that fluttered up in her mind. Because she loved him and he said he loved her. He said he had to leave, to go south on an unknown errand and knew not when he would return. That they held each other’s hearts even if the miles and time between them stretched on into the unknown. A bitter chuckle escaped her lips before she pressed them to the bottle once more. One last kiss.
The young woman woke the next morning, her head pounding and her mouth felt stuffed full of wool. She looked around, unsure how she had ended up sleeping on a bench in the small park. The empty bottle lay on it’s side in the neatly cropped grass. Annaliesa rolled off of it, her hair wild around her head as she rubbed the creases the bench had left that criss crossed over the jagged scar of her right cheek. Patting down her skirts, she struggled to tie up the bodice, still getting used to something other than her leathers. Running a comb haphazardly through her tangle of hair, she went down the stairs of the shop, heading out to meet with the woman who would take charge of the loan business that was Berrywine’s cover.
He had warned her that no one else knew what the real objective of Mr. Greenhand’s plans were, that the orders from the mysterious Sharkey were secret. Never had Anna felt so alone in the town, she could not speak of her plans or worries to anyone but her brother who was with their band of raiders up in the hills. She made her way back to the shop, wondering once again how she had managed to weave her way from there to the park. There she met with the bookkeeper and a new recruit.
The hangover was stubborn and she was hardly aware of Sylgmar’s questions, annoyed that so much of the work that needed to be done involved reading and writing. It was a war that needed to be won, the enemy buried under an axe, not a pile of paperwork. With the woman was a young man, fair of skin and hair in a blue hooded cloak, though she could not see his face clearly his mannerisms seemed that of someone nervous and restless and it irritated her as he paced around.
When the tall, rather dignified woman, Sylgmar moved around the room with ease, following what appeared to be her usual routine. She walked to the small room at the back where the sound of tea pot and kettle can be heard.
The young man who had introduced himself as Thurin Eorgrimgar peered at the papers on the table, but did not dare to touch them
Sylgmar poked her head from the doorway to ask, “So about your skills... I am listening.”
Annaliesa rubbed her forehead, her tongue still thick in her mouth as she was peppered with questions. She went over to the dresser, digging around underneath to find another of Ildrand’s stash of good whiskey, tucking it under her arm. Hair of the dog, she thought. Sylgmar repeated her question, catching her attention. She stood still, unsure what to say and then blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, "Oh, well...I'm uh, helping keep track of the farms."
“You're a ... farmer then?” the woman asked, narrowing her eyes as she tried to understand. The sound of the boiling water could be heard where she was making tea, there being a small hearth in the study. The farms that were bought by Mr. Greenhand, some from burned out farmers unable to rebuild, others who took on too much debt and now poured money into the coffers.
Annaliesa scratched at her hair, "I take care of them, make sure everyone's working."
Sylgmar replied, “'A supervisor then?”
Annaliesa grinned crookedly, her eyes hooded with the pounding of the headache, "Yeah that."
Sylgmar walked out of the little room holding in hand a delicate porcelain cup. Steam comes out of it and she blows over it gently. Eogrimgar nodded approving Annaliesa words as if they were directed for him.
“'Very well then, will you be the one doing the monthly accounts for the farms then Miss Annaliesa?”
The raider glanced up, "Uh the accounts?"
“You know... what is spent... wages due... goods sold,” she said.
Annaliesa shrugged, already wanting to be away from the clueless woman, "Yeah sure, whatever you want."
Sylgmar gave Anna an incredulous look, taking a small sip from her tea. Sylgmar said, “I have taken a new apprentice, if it serves you I can send her over to note down the needed figures.”
Annaliesa glances away, moving the bottle from under her arm and clutches it loosely between her fingers. "That'll probably be best. I gotta lot of farms to ride to and you know, figure out what they need."
Sylgmar replied, 'Very well, I believe mister Ildrand has left instruction concerning your ... compensation... now what of you mister Eogrimgar.”
As they spoke, Annaliesa groaned inwardly at the idea of some tagalong following her around, watching and listening as she pretended to give a shit about the farm output. She was more concerned with the activities of the raiders that hid in camps in the hills surrounding some of the occupied farms. Her attention came back when she heard the young man speak, “I am more of a scholar, but I would help as I can.”
Sylgmar asked, “Do you have any skill with a blade sir?'
“Little and I rarely take a sword with me,” he admitted but then added eagerly, “'But I know how to defend myself.”
Annaliesa grunted slightly, rolling her eyes to look at Sylgmar. The older woman simply sipped her tea in thought. Sylgmar told him, “That might prove useful, so you may assist me with the trade I suppose.”
Eogrimgar replied, a hint of a smile in his voice, though his hood was still up, “'It will be a pleasure.”
Sylgmar looked at Annaliesa, “And your brother, he said you had one and he is a collector?”
She nodded once, it was the first she had heard of it but they had to list Elluf as something on the payroll. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“'Collector? Collect what?” Eogrimgar asked impatiently, peering at both of them from under the blue hood.
Annaliesa looked at Sylgmar, her patience running thin with the boy, "I'll let you take that."
“We run a moneylending business here Mister Thurin,” Sylgmar replied, “But some people might encounter problems when time comes to pay back the loan. So we need to have people that deal with collecting the payments.”
Eogrimgar seemed surprised, "Oh, sorry, I thought you would send me to the farms, to collect crops or some other things!"
Annaliesa rubbed her chin,"I can always help out in a pinch as well, with collecting payments."
Sylgmar nodded, “It would be appreciated.”
Eogrimgar looked to the floor trying to hide his embarrassment at the misunderstanding. Sylgmar turned to him, asking once more for him to remove his hood, “It would also be appreciated if you'd show us your face, Mister Thurin. I am not usually that tactless, but I believe at this point it is needed.”
Eogrimgar hesitated while his hand grabbed the hood.
Sylgmar looked sideways at the young man, maybe aiming to embarrass him further with this request sipping her tea cooly.
Annaliesa watched his uncertainty, canting her hip to the side, the bottle dangling from her fingers, “You can't be that ugly.”
Sylgmar caught the his anxiety, “There there...”
Eogrimgar took down the hood laughing nervously at Annaliesa’s words, “That’s... that's alright?”
The boy was really no older than she, about twenty summers but he seemed so much younger by his naivety. Blonde hair and pale blue eyes marked his heritage as well as his height though he was slender and lean of body. Another man of Rohan, apparently the place the mysterious Mr. Greenhand hailed from. Anna was not from the Mark, nor from Dunland though likely held the blood of both in her veins as well as the Breelander, her home to the south of the Breefields, forgotten by most as the people were poor and under constant pressure of the outlier Dunlendings.
After answering some of Sylgmar’s endless questions, he spoke up, “And who is going to tell me what and to whom collect from?”
“I will sir, but we will start with more simple stuff,”Sylgmar said, “I don't think you are ready yet to ... collect... what do you think Miss Annaliesa, does he look ready to you?”
“That seems good Madam, “ Eogrimgar replied, his embarrassment over the hood forgotten and he was eager once more, “Also, I'm fast with the horse, if you ever need a messenger...”
Annaliesa looked up at her question, her flint blue eyes running over him. She set down the whisky bottle and stepped up to him, not speaking and suddenly reached up, slapping him hard across the face.
Sylgmar watched the two, sipping her tea, slightly amused. Eogrimgar watched Annaliesa approach unconcerned until her hand cracked across his stubbled cheek. His head snapped back, his eyes wide as saucers, “What...?”
With a blank expression, she peered at him, "I thought you could defend yourself."
Eogrimgar gasped, indignant, “You bloody lady, you can't come and slap me just like that!”
Annaliesa said nothing and slapped him once more, harder across the same cheek, this time hitting his nose. Her hand left a red mark on his fair skin as he staggered, looking up at Sylgmar waiting for her reaction. He glared at the woman in the worn patched dress, reaching for his bleeding nose, “If you try to slap me one more time, I swear I...”
Sylgmar watched without a word, not appearing to be alarmed. She sipped her tea as if nothing is going on. At his almost threat, Annaliesa flashed a grin at him and reached to grab his shoulders, her knee rising sharply to hit him in the groin. She felt the knobby bone make contact with the soft pulpy tissue of his manhood and he sucked in air sharply, falling down with a squeak and groan.
Annaliesa looked down at him and back at Sylgmar, raising her eyebrow, "I think he needs work."
Sylgmar watched him on the floor, replying, “I must agree, if he wants to collect debts.”
Eogrimgar laid on to the floor and stared at Annaliesa in the eyes, trying not to react. She looked down at him, "Get up, you said you could defend yourself, then do it."
Sylgmar set her cup on the table. She moved over to the young man to offer him a hand but he refused her hand. He struggled up, still hunched over as he dusted his robe off.
“Your nose is bleeding sir, would you be needing a handkerchief?”
Anna left her to tend to the pouting young man as she watched, rolling the whiskey bottle in her hands. “You know, people aren’t always so nice when you want to collect their money.”
He ignored her, allowing Sylgmar to tend to his wound and then left in a huff of ruffled dignity. “I’ll return tomorrow to know my duties.”
Once he was out the door the book keeper said, “I miss Mister Ildrand already.”
Annaliesa nodded quietly, her eyes shifting away, "I do, too."
Sylgmar reached out to place a gentle hand over the girl's shoulder, “He will be back though, no?”
Annaliesa looked at her hand and bit her lower lip, her steel blue eyes shimmering slightly. She blinked hard and shrugged, hunching her shoulders, "He said he would...be it six months or twenty years." She swallowed hard, "I think I'll go find a place to sleep now that the study is...occupied."
“Well, Miss Annaliesa, he saved my life once, I keep that in mind. So if there's something you need. Do not hesitate to ask. For the time I will bid you a good night,” Sylgmar let her hand drop back to her side and bowed her head politely.
Annaliesa brushed a lock of hair behind her ear as she headed towards the door, "Sure."
Sylgmar followed the girl with her gaze until she gets out of sight. Annaliesa walked until she found the little park and the bench that was out of the way, perhaps it belonged to someone that lived in the building next to it but she did not care. She uncorked the bottle, her thoughts dark and she stared across the square. Bill was still alive but untouchable, even so, his leadership was shaken and the whispers around town was of volunteers deserting in ones and twos, afraid to be targeted by unseen assassins in their own town. It was time to strike a blow that the Bree Defense would not recover from, just where and how was the question. She drank, alone with her thoughts and plans, she would need to see her brother soon. It was time she took charge of the farms.
