Wet, sodden, tired, stressed, scared, nervous, angry, saddened, but most of all relieved that he'd finally found the passage, Furley trudged his horse through into Imladris, barely able to keep himself up in the saddle. But, alas, he knew he had to sit straight, and make himself look big, for he was about to meet someone who was bigger than he could ever possibly fathom. And she'd be dangerous, and more than likely angry at him.
"If you want your answers, you must find the one who pulls the strings of the puppet", Kristophor had advised; the man who seemed neither friend nor enemy, but rather instead someone that had his eyes set on improving things around Bree. And Bree had precious few of those with that mindset. And that advice had brought him here, to the master of puppets. The Elven General. At least, that's what Furley credited her for being.
There she was, almost at the entrance to the settlement, conveniently for him. Dorvarun. She seemed in a pleasant enough mood, greeting him courteously. Well, that was until he removed his travelling hood, and she saw his face, and he introduced himself. She looked at him, eyes burning with a simmering rage that threatened to leap forth and devour him whole. He locked her gaze with an attempt at steel eyes, but struggled to keep calm.
"What do you want? Are you here to take me in as well? I assure you, my company will be more than a match for your bounty hunters. Perhaps I'll turn you in myself, and trade your life for hers".
Well, that was a good start.
"Hah" Furley scoffed. "You think Bree-Landers value my life over hers? You're deluded. And you can try kill me, but before you decide to cut out my tongue, perhaps first you'll allow it to wag a little?" he asks, hoping she'll hear him out. Looking at her, he knows his life is hanging in the balance of this very conversation, and perhaps he shouldn't antagonise her. After all, past events don't exactly shine in his favour without explanation.
"I gave her to you for ONE MONTH!" she screams at him. "One month! And you betrayed her. Traitor. You set the bounty on her".
Ah, well. In for a penny, eh, Furley? This was all too close to home for him, and he wasn't going to let a comment like that slide, no matter who said it. Feeling his own rage, stress and frustration mount, he let his lips move and out poured his soul.
"Me? Don't make me laugh!" he scoffed. "Didn't you see the bounty posters? Or perhaps they were of no concern to you. Well, in case you didn't notice, they said DEAD or alive. Those posters aren't hung up anymore, because I assured that she was brought in alive. She's wanted for murder, General. But I suppose you're fine with your agent being a well-known thief and killer, eh?"
That didn't go down well. Dorvarun was really enraged with him now, branding him a traitor more than thrice again.
"This was the only way. To get her to talk, I had to corner her. Now I know what I need to know. And the plan goes ahead. And De certainly seemed interested and behind it".
"You don't need to know anything, and she didn't tell you anything because she didn't have to! You have no idea what you've caused. Now what do you want from me, or are you here to waste my time. Go about your plan, I really don't care" she responds, beginning to trot away towards the wilderness.
Cursing under his breath, he follows her, trying to grab her attention. "God damnit! You tell me now why she murdered one of those black magic rangers, and maybe I can get her out this mess! I tried to find answers, to help her before, but I nearly died in that process".
"Get her out!" she laughs, turning to him to shoot him a menacing look, and he sits up a little more on his saddle, warily. "You got her in this! You're no friend to me, or to her, traitor. It'd have been better for her if you had actually died in the process".
That one hit him like a hammer on anvil. Growling under his breath, he followed her for a time, and they exchanged heated words, both angry, both not seeing one another's side, and neither backing down. The only difference was that he needed to know what she did, and like it or not he needed her assistance. She needed nothing from him, and never would.
Finally, she relented a little, and they had an almost reasonable discussion.
"We're lucky that she ended up in the Bree-Jail, General. The rangers were insisting they take her elsewhere. She's being trialed by them, but we all know its fixed. I need your help".
"And I don't need yours. I will help her, but you had better tell me everything you know. You owe me that" she sneered.
"Hah" he grinned. "I owe you nothing. But I owe her everything". His thoughts drift off a little, and he smiles a little, as if recalling some distant memory, before focusing back on the present. "Plans are afoot to ensure the rangers do not get their way. I'll do what I must. I knew she wouldn't have killed that ranger without reason, and if that means that I must go to war with the rangers, so be it".
"Good god, give your head a wobble" she replied, as if disgusted at him. "They're not bad people. They protect the whole of the north, and you don't even know it. The one she killed was, regrettable, but that stopped a chain of events that would've spelled doom for the north, accidental or otherwise. Is that what you want for Bree?"
"Quite the opposite. Which is why I did what I did in the first place".
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, traitor".
Sighing, Furley didn't respond, trying to cast her opinions of him aside in his mind, regardless of how much they stung him. "I'll do what I must, but she's leaving that trial alive, and hopefully a free woman by law. I don't know what you did, nor what orders you gave that meant she had to live outside the law, but perhaps now we can finally vindicate her, and this was the only way to do so".
"Maybe so. What are the names of these rangers? Perhaps I can talk to them".
"I'm not sure. The head ranger was Ithry, but his moral compass means he won't see the bigger picture in this. There is one, perhaps, that may be sympathetic to this. Seek out Kristophor in Bree. He seems to be above politics and warfare, which perhaps is the reason I believe he's the most suited for both".
"What are your contingency plans, so to speak?" she asks him, sternly.
Furley gulps a little, that familiar pang in his stomach returning. "There's an underworld in Bree. One of the groups are pretty much as rotten as can be. They're more than dangerous. And I've paid them to keep her alive until the trial, and to ensure she stays alive afterwards, by any means necessary. It may spark a fire I cannot control or win, and it's more than likely going to go wild and take me down with it, but I have done it regardless. To break her out, I've recruited The Nameless".
She smiles a little, enjoying the fact he had found himself in mortal peril, probably relishing the thought of his death. Furley shrugs again, still trying to not take her opinion personally. Alas, nobody seems to understand his actions, and likely they never will. She turns to ride away, but before she does, he leaves her with a parting word.
"If you need me at all, talk to the barmaid at the Pony. She'll pass your message onto me. But remember, in this mess, those who look like friends are likely enemies, and for a time the usual enemies are like friends. Similar to traitors, eh?" he grins, before looking at her more sternly. "But do not fail her. Because if you do, I promise you I will not, regardless of the consequences it may bring on all of our heads".
She shot him a parting glare, as if considering killing him like one may crush a cockroach under their boot, eradicating a pest from its existence. Instead, she rides away, making all haste to Bree, and away from him. Touching his neck, he prods and strokes it, feeling it still attached to his shoulders, and smiles to himself.
That went well. She hasn't killed me yet, so there's a silver lining. Kicking his heels into his horse, he rides towards Bree himself, albeit at a much slower pace to ensure their paths don't cross again.
