Bree was without a doubt the grandest city in all of Eriador. Located at the heart of Bree-land, at the cross-roads of the Great Eastern Road and North-South Road, it was a place where all merchants, adventurers, messengers and travelers eventually had to pass. And one of the most renounced, oldest, and most popular of it's many taverns was unquestionably the Prancing Pony. ”The Pony”, as it was commonly known, provided all the essentials for weary travelers, adventurers, mercenaries, locals and visitors of Bree, from food and lodgings to news and trade. It's clientele was typically a checkered mix of men, hobbits, dwarves and all kinds of strange and wondrous races from all over Eriador and beyond. Clamoring noises, laughs and cries, colors and smells, everything was an integral part of the atmosphere in the Pony. The inn was regularly so overbooked it was often difficult to get a room there, unless one was willing to share it with someone. From the stairhead in front of it's main entrance opened a charming view over the hustle and bustle of the tavern's courtyard, and Hellrien enjoyed standing on top of the stairs, looking at people and listening to the many dialects.
As she was standing on the stairhead dressed in a light, colorful summer dress the nearest passersby might have spotted the dark bags under her eyes - last traces from her mission to Haragmar and Harloeg. Even the wound to the back of her head had healed up nicely.
Hellrien lit her pipe and pulled the smoke deep into her lungs. She was thinking about the recent events.
After they had returned to Ost Guruth, Ranesora, Aaverie and herself had parted ways. Ranesora, seeing how Hellrien had been at the end of her rope, had mercifully given her leave to 'spend a night in Ost Guruth before heading to Archet to get the last artefact'. He had been of the mind that it was safe for Hellrien to go about it on her own, because the assassins had by now heard of their deeds and likely wouldn't dare another attempt. Talking about assassins had made Aaverie strangely nervous, and the Beorning woman had left in a hurry, leaving Hellrien to wonder what was going on with her. Ranesora had offered to accompany Hellrien into Archet for the final part of the mission, but Hellrien, afraid that Ranesora would put her through yet another wringer, had quickly asserted that there was nothing to it and Ranesora probably had a lot more important things to do and places to be somewhere else, what with the Brotherhood now retreating from Angmar and all.
Then Ranesora had taken Hellrien by surprise by telling her she had done 'very well', that he was 'proud of her' and that from 'this moment on she was no longer an apprentice anymore, but now a novice within the ranks of the Brotherhood'. Getting any kind of praise out of that gritty old ranger was so astonishingly unusual Hellrien completely disregarded the fact that she had already been promoted to this rank weeks ago, at least according to Burwod.
Hellrien felt like smiling as she let the balmy wind caress her face. They had served an utterly wonderful dinner in the common-room of the Pony, and three pints of Barliman's finest ale gave her a nice, warm buzz.
Ranesora had ridden out of Ost Guruth straight away, leaving Hellrien to wonder when and if that man ever rested. She had rented herself a tent and slept in it on the street, like so many others in the streets of Ost Guruth. Utterly exhausted, she had rested far longer than Ranesora would have allowed her to. She had slept and slept, through the night, through the next day and yet another night. Sometimes she had woken up into a gnawing hunger and growling of her bowels. Then she had gorged herself on cold, hard rations from her bag, ravenously like it was the best meal she ever eaten. After she had filled her stomach she had immediately lapsed back into a deep, dreamless slumber.
When she had finally woken up, she had gotten a move on, unable to fathom how could she have slept through two nights and a day in between. One word kept reeling in her head - Archet. She knew that she was in a rush, and that Ranesora would make her feel it in her skin if she tarried with her task for too long. She had almost killed her horse while rushing into Bree, where she simply had to allow poor Half Pint some rest if she didn't fancy having to get another one. She had taken a room in the Pony, and decided to carry on to Archet tomorrow.
Hellrien went back to her room, opened the door and stepped inside. She sensed the danger immediately - so clearly that she recoiled. Without hesitation she threw herself on the floor. At the very moment she heard a thud on the wall behind her, saw a figure in the darkness, a bare foot stepped on her back and then the attacker was already out of the room. Hellrien bounced up just in time to see worn, white trousers disappearing around the corner and into the stairs and ran after him.
It was hopeless. By the time Hellrien had reached the stairs to the common room she realized she had lost him. The room was full of people. The assassin could be any of them, or he could have ran outside and disappeared into the streets of Bree. Hellrien stood there a moment, looking at the bustle in the common room. She took out her pipe, clacked the mouthpiece against her teeth ponderously, shook her head and returned to her room.
The knife had sunken almost an inch deep into the hard oak wall. It had an interesting-looking handle made of twined leather. Maybe somebody with the Brotherhood would be able to identify the design. Hellrien jerked it off and examined it. The sharp blade was ten inches long and razor sharp. She shrugged, dropped the knife in her bag and locked the door to her room, stretching down to the bed to smoke her pipe.
It looked like Ranesora had underestimated the resolve of their enemy, whoever it was, to prevent Hellrien from completing the mission.
In any case there was an assassin amongst the guests of the Prancing Pony. Hellrien decided it was not worth the risk after all to try and get the final artefact from Archet alone. She hoped Burwod or somebody from the Brotherhood would be in Bree and free to help her out. Whatever the case, she had instructions on how to contact the Brotherhood while in Bree if she needed anything. She stood up. It was time to go meet the contact.
