"So, who do you need help finding?".
Furley had said no more at this point, choosing rather to deflect the question. Pouring another cup of wine for the she-elf, he wondered whether it had been his usual folly that had brought him back to the Prancing Pony.
"Are they still here in Bree-Land?" the she-elf had asked.
"Truth be told, I don't know. They left me a note to say that they were" he'd responded.
"Do you need a wolf lady to find them for you?" the elf's companion said.
"No, but perhaps a wolf may be what I need to find a hound" he remarked, before changing the subject.
He'd bought them wine to share, but only drank half a cup, before passing them the remainder of the jug and leaving. He had an errand to perform anyhow, but he hadn't wanted to get into too many details. He dared not. He had told them his name was 'Eoghfur', for that is what he went by now but it wouldn't take a man like the bloodhound much to put two and two together. It was hardly an inventive renaming of himself, though he liked that he'd kept his roots in his new title.
One thing did trouble him, though, more than anything else. The elf had said that she'd come from the borders in the North fighting Orcs. That was no surprise, but what she had then said troubled him much deeper.
"Bree is beset on all sides. There's no travelling out now. Even Cardolan is blocked by half-orcs". He cursed as he walked in the late night air at this news. He'd returned to tie up loose ends, but had he just tied himself to the North once again with no way out?
No. Surely not. Making his way west on the East Road, he made sure to leave deep enough footprints that he could be followed, before turning North. He knew for the time being where he'd hide. The spot was special to him, and he wondered if he'd find her there.
Then he'd make his move, and face the Bloodhound once and for all before working out how he would pass beyond the border for the final time.
