The woman walking across the yard was tall and robust. She was wearing a worn leather vest, tight, too long trousers and dusty boots with worn-down heels. A black, plumed slouch hat adorned her gloomy, soft-featured face. Two one-handed swords hung on a swart scabbard belt around her wide hips, and a sturdy crossbow had been strapped to her back.
Hellrien looked like a wondering drifter – and she was aware of it.
She spotted a man unloading crates from a cart in the back of the yard. He matched the description she had gotten from Taala. Hellrien approached the man, feeling nauseous in her dirty, sweat-soaked clothes. The man pulled a small crate from the back of the cart, turned around, spotted Hellrien and smiled:
”Well, hello there!”
Before Hellrien could respond the man had already turned around and was on his way, carrying the crate on a pile of merchandise by the stairs to the shop. Hellrien cursed quietly as she tried to keep up with his pace.
”Are you Mr. Colewulf?”
The man set the crate down on the patio and turned to regard Hellrien, nodding:
”Aye, that I am. What can I do fer ye?”
Colewulf was about the same age as Hellrien. He had dark, wavy hair extending to his shoulders, small mustache and goatee beard, and athletic build. A pair of very bright, sparkling eyes stared at Hellrien curiously below dark brows.
”Aye, that is me”, he responded shortly. ”What can I do for you?”
Hellrien bowed stiffly. ”Taala sent me. I’m the one who’s supposed to take the caravan job.”
”Oh, aye”, Colewulf brightened. ”Taala mentioned she would send someone. I take it that she explained the contract to you?”
”Aye, a little bit”, said Hellrien. ”I’m sorry for intruding. I can come back later if you are busy now.”
Colewulf waved his hand at the cart, still loaded with a few more crates in the back, gesturing at the workers.
”Good, and no matter!” he said. ”The lads can get the rest… shall we head inside the shop and talk?” He motioned towards the door.
Hellrien felt a little less awkward over her outfit.
”Thank you, sir.”
Colewulf nodded and and ascended the stairs, keeping the door open for Hellrien. She stepped inside and Colewulf followed, closing the door behind them. Colewulf smiled and led her into a very large room with rows of shelves and tables filled with various goods and display cases with all sorts of weaponry, jewelry and trinkets. A few customers were mulling about the store, browsing through the wares. Hellrien let her gaze glide rapidly from one customer to another and came into the conclusion that there were about a dozen in all.
”Well”, Colewulf smiled proudly, motioning at the room with his hand, ”this is my shop!”
”Very nice, sir.”
Colewulf motioned towards a large keg in the middle. ”Sells a fair bit of drinks as well…” he chuckled. Hellrien glanced at the keg and swallowed air. The day was hot, and she was thirsty… the kind of thirst that couldn’t be quenched with water alone.
Colewulf guided Hellrien to a door on the back and used a key from his pocket to unlock it. They stepped inside and Colewulf closed the door behind them lightly. It was fairly spacious, rectangle office door. There was a big stone hearth in the corner that would have kept the room warm through chilly winter nights. The office desk had been placed over a huge bear rug that seemed to stare Hellrien accusingly with it’s black, dead eyes. Colewulf walked behind the desk and flipped through some papers and a few small, black books before pushing them aside.
”Ah, well here we are”, he muttered, pulling out a long parchment. ”Stock caravan…”
”Do you mind if I smoke?” Hellrien asked.
”Not at all… would ye like a drink?”
”Sure”, Hellrien smiled, relaxing a little. ”Thank you very much, sir.”
”What would ye like?” Colewulf grinned. ”I move move most drinks… and a few stronger ones.”
”Some wine would be nice.” Hellrien paused, hesitating a bit. ”Or even brandy, if you have it”, she ventured.
Colewulf stood up and walked around the table over to the door, opened it and shouted: ”Ael… can you bring us a nice wine and a brandy? Thank ye.” Colewulf returned, pulled a comfortable chair by the wall and offered it to Hellrien. He walked around the table again and and offered his hand.
”Ah, well now… I am Colewulf, the owner.”
Hellrien took his hand and shook it, smiling politely. ”And I am Hellrien, of the Bloody Dawn. Nice to make your acquaintance, sir.”
”Likewise, miss.” Colewulf motioned to the chair he had brought for Hellrien and she sat on it, digging up her pipe and a pouch of pipe-weed. An older man walked through the door, carrying a tray loaded with two bottles and two glasses. The man set the tray on the desk.
”Ahh, thank you Ael… oh, and tell the boys when they get here to grab the rest of those crates from the cart, will ye?”
The old man nodded and bowed out of the door.
”Brandy or wine?” Colewulf asked, paused for a moment and added: ”Or both?” He laughed heartily at his jest. Hellrien couldn’t help but grin.
”Some brandy wouldn’t go amiss… that’s a rare thing to come by.”
Colewulf nodded, pulled the stopper from the bottle and poured a stiff drink of brandy into a glass, handing it over to Hellrien. Then he stood up again, snatched a big pint glass from a shelf for himself and leaned over to a keg behind the desk, pouring himself a glass of what appeared to be cider.
”Very well… now… Hellrien, what has Taala told ye about the contract?”
Hellrien lit her pipe and drew in a big puff of smoke. She blew it out, took a sip of brandy and stared at Colewulf expressionlessly through a cloud of smoke. Her thoughts went back in time for about half a year – to that last time she stood before Ranesora in the Great Hall of The Sworn Brotherhood. Was it really that long since she had breathed the stuffy, musty air of the dusty barracks deep inside the Blue Mountains?
And now – six months later – she was sitting in an office in a house some way outside of Bree, waiting for her first assignment as a member of The Bloody Dawn, a sellsword company. Those had been eventful months.
”As far as I understood, the job involves guarding a wagon, sometimes two, to Stock and occasionally to Michel Delving. And back, as there will be cargo both ways. Two or three times a month.”
Colewulf nodded, took a drink from his glass and scribbled something on the parchment. ”Very good… ye’re experienced in combat, I take it?”
”Aye”, Hellrien said wryly. ”I’ve seen my share of it. Is there often problems with brigands?”
Colewulf tipped his head back and forth. ”Ehh, some… though not very often. On occasion some oafs are bound to try something.”
”Has anyone ever managed to rob any of the wagons?”
Colewulf shook his head. ”Had a close one once, but other than that, not yet. Have ye ever dealt with a convoy before?” He rubbed his goatee.
Hellrien sipped her brandy. ”Not really, I’m afraid.” She hesitated as her mind went back to those months with the Brotherhood, trying to come up with a way to describe the type of work she had conducted during her missions in the Lone-Lands and Evendim. ”I have experience with scouting, raiding, that sort of thing”, she summed it up dryly. ”What are the spots where the occasional band of brigands is most likely to attempt something?”
”Ah”, Colewulf raised a brow, ”so it’s likely not very different from defending against a raid…” He downed some more cider and marked something in the parchment in front of him. Hellrien wondered briefly if Colewulf had interpreted her words to mean that she was a former brigand herself?
”I think passing between the hills and the forest… on that strip”, Colewulf continued. ”Or the bridge…”
”Makes sense. Not too many of them usually, I take it?”
”Aye… usually just small packs looking for a quick score.”
”Any other kinds of problems? In addition to brigands?”
”Ah, shouldn’t be”, Colewulf scratched his cheek. ”My officers should handle all the transfers of goods and things of that nature…” He began to scratch something on the paper with his quill, then stopped, as a thought struck him. ”Oh… and if any of my men tell ye some foolish story about ’servicing’ them… tell ’em to shove it.” He chuckled. ”They can be daft like that sometimes.”
Hellrien fleshed a quick, humorless smile. ”I’m sure I can handle all the tomfoolery. How many men you have of your own? Per wagon?”
”Fer one cart I usually have three men and a driver, fer two carts double that plus two horse escorts of my own, on top of any outside hires like yerself.”
”Taala told me to always bring another from the Dawn with me for two-wagon trips, so I guess it’s a double-fee for a double load. When would you want me to start?”
”Aye”, Colewulf nodded, ”that’s what the previous contractor did…” He took a quick swig of cider. ”When can ye start?”
”Right away, I suppose. When’s the next wagon going?”
”In two days. Only one cart trip as well.”
”Stock? Or Michel Delving?”
”Stock. The next trip will be two carts to Michel Delving though… that would be next week.”
”Very well. What’s the cargo, if you don’t mind me asking? I guess I don’t necessarily need to know that information.”
Colewulf waved his hand dismissively. ”Bah! Any information ye would like to have is yers. To Stock in two days”, he checked from a ledger, ”…that’d be a shipment of ten crates, split between raw iron and some jewelry. Coming back from Stock it’s… apples and cloth.”
”Very well, then”, Hellrien smiled. ”So… the shipment’s leaving in two days at the West Gate, right? What time?”
”West Gate at sunrise.”
”Is there anything else you’d like me to know?”
Colewulf shrugged, taking a quick look at his notes in the parchment. ”That should be all… will you ride your own horse or will you be riding in the cart?”
”I think it’s best that I ride a horse, since I have one. Better view, more maneuverability.”
”Right…”
”I live in the Dawnhall, so it’s the best place to reach me if you need anything.”
”I know the place”, Colewulf smiled. ”I will be here… or at the Pony usually.”
Hellrien stood up. ”It’s been a pleasure, sir. Do you need me for anything else?”
”Not for business”, Colewulf said, ”but if you don’t have anything to do at the moment, ye could stay fer a drink?”
Hellrien hesitated, glancing at the bottle. She felt her palms sweating. She should be careful with booze, here. Hellrien had never understood people who could have a few drinks, declare that they’d ’had enough’ and then just stop there. Hellrien could have a drink, maybe two… but pretty soon she would reach that point of no return, and that might not leave the best possible impression on her new client. She had a short struggle with herself and lost.
”Maybe just one more then…” she sat back on the chair and smiled.
”Commonly said”, Colewulf smiled, handing Hellrien the bottle of brandy, ”rarely kept true…” He chuckled loudly, sitting down as well.
Hellrien filled her glass, chuckling. ”They are expecting me back by the evening…”
Colewulf quirked a brow, looking a bit more relaxed now that the business talk was over. ”Still leaves us with quite a chunk of time!” he smirked, taking a swig of cider.
”Very true, sir”, Hellrien grinned. Her pipe had went out. She tamped and relighted it.
”Aye”, Colewulf said with a smile. ”So tell me something unique about yerself.”
”Unique? About me? Well… I guess you could say I have a colorful past.”
”Oh?” Colewulf raised a brow, intrigued. ”Colorful how?”
Hellrien took a big gulp of brandy. ”I was born in Gondor. Shipped off to here when I was about… twelve or so. Fled and went my own way a few years later. Done a lot of this and that since then.” It was an extremely condensed account of her life and didn’t contain much information, characteristically for Hellrien.
”Hmm”, Colewulf nodded. ”Gondor, ye say? I was born there as well, though I was brought to Rohan by my father as an infant when he opened his shop…”
”What’s it like? Rohan?”
”I quite enjoyed it. I still take a few trips back and forth between shops… my father runs the Rohan storehouse.” Colewulf emptied his glass and leaned back to pour himself another one from the keg behind his chair.
”Do you have a good relationship? You and your father?” Hellrien was thinking of her own father, Geoffray. She had never had any kind of relationship with him… She remembered how, when she had been little, she had often dreamed that Geoffray would one day acknowledge her and take her with him to his adventures on one of those great ships, fighting Corsairs of Umbar. Silly dreams of a child… at least Geoffray had cared enough to arrange a place in someone else’s household for her, far away from Pelargir and Gondor. It probably would have been easier and cheaper for him to just arrange for her to have a ’fatal accident’, Hellrien thought, emptying her glass bitterly.
”Oh yes, very good relationship.” Colewulf pointed to the keg behind him. ”Would you like to try some Wulf-cider? I should warn ye though… if ye aren’t used to it, it may be very strong…”
”Sure, why not?” Hellrien grinned. The brandy was glowing nicely inside her. She was feeling relaxed and mellow, all the worries and doubts forgotten now. She wished she could feel like this forever. ”The last time I was offered something ’very strong’ it turned out to be orc draught…”
Colewulf chuckled heartily and grabbed a new pint glass from a shelf. He reached back to fill it from the keg and slid it over to Hellrien across the desk. ”Ah”, Colewulf fixed a challenging gaze at Hellrien, ”well I assure ye it is not orc draught… though I’ve seen many land on their behinds after just two tankards…”
Hellrien accepted the challenge, chugging down the whole pint while staring at Colewulf defiantly over the brim. It was indeed hard cider, but the taste was sweeter than she had expected, with no bitter aftertaste. And it was strong – she felt it going to her head already.
”My my!” Colewulf blinked, quirking a brow. ”Ye can savor the taste a bit, aye?” he chuckled, reaching out his hand in case she wanted a refill.
”I just savored”, Hellrien declared, handing the glass over. Her better judgment had taken the rest of the day off. At least the rest of the day.
The conversation flowed on like that for a time, pointlessly and freely like the cider. Hellrien would chug down three pints by the time Colewulf had polished off one – and he wasn’t exactly holding back either. At some point he asked Hellrien about where she needed to be before sundown. Hellrien stared at him with glassy eyes and addled expression, as if he had just talked in a foreign language.
”Where I needed to be?” she wondered. ”Right! I need to report back in… (hic!) … in… but of course I can always say we had im-por-tant details to discuss. As we do.”
”Like what?” Colewulf smirked.
”Like… I haven’t had a bite since breakfast, and that was, like, in the morning. What time is it?”
Colewulf burst out in laughter. ”About midday I guess… would ye like something to munch on?”
”Yeah. An’ another glass of… midday? Sure it ain’t more than that?”
”Might be a little later… and perhaps ye should slow down a bit?” Colewulf teased, but filled Hellrien’s glass anyway before getting to the door to call for lunch.
”Nah, I’m fine”, Hellrien insisted. ”I never get drunk.”
”Alright, miss ’Fine’”, he chuckled, ”try and walk?”
Hellrien clambered up, managing to grab the chair before it tipped over. They don’t make chairs like they used to.
”I’m walking, I’m walking. Where would you walk me to want, sir?”
Colewulf pointed towards a bookshelf on the opposite wall. ”There and back, add in a little spin on each trip and I believe ye!”
”That booksh-shelf”, Hellrien pointed, ”over there?”
”Aye.”
It didn’t quite go as well as she had intended, on account of her worn-down heels. But still, she felt like she had sufficiently assured Colewulf of her walking abilities.
”No spins?”
”I never spin!”
”Suuure.”
The old man returned, this time carrying a tray laden with a luncheon fit for a king. Colewulf leaned on the edge of the desk, ripping off a bit of bread and chewing on it.
Hellrien slumped down on the chair and began munching a leg of a chicken like she had never seen a meal before. Colewulf walked to the window and cracked the shade a little to peer out. Sunlight hit Hellrien in the eyes, indicating that it was later than Colewulf had assumed.
”Sure it’s just midday?” Hellrien asked, cradling the bread in her arms like a human baby. ”’Cause I could shwear it’s… (hic!) … sunrise. Or maybe sunday.”
Colewulf laughed and sat down. ”Another?”
”I think”, she said, ”it would be irreshponsib… irr-reponsiblib… yeah, I’ll have another.” Hellrien hiccuped and stifled a burp.
”I don’t think I can give you any more…”
”Why not?” she pouted. ”One for the road, eh?”
”Ye’re going to fall off yer horse! Ye can have another but I can’t possibly let you go back… alone at least.”
”I guess I could always go back tomorrow morning, right?” Hellrien reckoned, toying with the bear-head at his feet with the soles of her boots. ”I could sleep on this here beer rug, it looks nice and comfy.”
”Ah”, said Colewulf, ripping off a piece of bread he had managed to salvage from Hellrien’s clutches. ”But if ye’re the guest, ye can take my bed. I’ll take the rug.”
”Iff’n ye say so, sir… I’m at your mercy here”, said Hellrien, already sliding off her chair. She slumped down on the rug. ”Nice and… comfy bear.”
”Ye alright there?” Colewulf moved around the table, pulled the chair off and sat down on the floor. ”I have people coming in to clean up later. I have a better place fer ye… can ye walk or should I carry ye?”
”I can always walk”, Hellrien protested, clambering up. ”Where do you want me to walk you to, sir?”
Colewulf unlocked a door in the back. ”Follow me.”
Hellrien managed to climb up the stairs somehow, sometimes on all fours but never falling down. There was a bedroom upstairs, with another bear rug in one corner and a green divan on the other.
”Your choice”, said Colewulf, but Hellrien had already slumped face down on the divan.
Colewulf lied down on the rug. ”Better not find ye down here with me in the morn!”
”I’ll try to… control meself…” Hellrien mumbled against the quilt.
”Right”, Colewulf chuckled, ”like you did with the cider…”
”…zzzzzzzzzz…”
