Uhtrric lifts the glass to his lips, he lets it linger there for a moment without taking a drink before lowering it to rest in his lap again. He casts a quick glance to the dark man in the chair and before resuming his watch of the flames.
The wooden chair creaks slightly as Malureon shifts, he sets his glass down on the table and lets out a long sigh, “I am generally a patient man…but you are testing my patients Uhtrric.” He turns his blue eyes to look at the side of Uhtrric’s face and he twirls the knife in one hand, the blade glints as the metal reflects the light of the fire.
Uhtrric feels Malureon’s cold gaze on him, his skin crawls from the intensity of the gaze. He turns his face to meet it and immediately looks away. He audibly swallows and takes a steadying breath, “She has fled to Rohan, seeking the protection from the Thane of Aldburg, Arcil.” He turns to look at Malureon again, regretting it immediately, “She knows that she is being hunted…”
Malureon narrows his eyes as he considers Uhtrric’s words, a sly grin forms on his face, “Pray, what would a lady of Gondor find in Rohan? Surely, there would be safer places to…” he tests the tip of his blade with one finger and pauses dramatically, “…run and hide.” He looks again at Uhtrric, “What do you know that I don’t?” His voice is icy and holds a trace of boredom, he knows his prey is no longer in Gondor, he needs more information and would do what is necessary to get it.
Uhtrric’s hand begins to tremble, the whiskey in his drink slops over the rim of his glass. He sends up a silent prayer that she will forgive him his loose tongue, “Rohan…she…” another nervous swallow, “…er, her cousin married…” he takes a sip of the whiskey, hoping the alcohol steadies his nerves and helps to clear his head.
Malureon waves the knife in the air, indicating Uhtrric should continue and soon.
“Her cousin married the sister of the Thane…” he glances at Malureon, hoping his words will satisfy.
A long, low sigh escapes Malureon’s lips and he lifts the tip of the blade, placing it at the base Uhtrric’s neck, drawing a small bead of blood from his skin. He watches the crimson droplet make a slow trail down the fuller of his knife, “Uhtrric, you disappoint me.” His blue eyes lift, and he meets the older man’s frightened gaze, “When did she leave Pelargir? Hmmm?”
Uhtrric is immediately afraid to swallow and jar the knife blade. He hisses softly as the metal presses into the sensitive skin on his throat. His Adam’s apple bobs and is eyes look directly into Malureon’s, “She…” he blinks rapidly as the blade digs into his neck as Malureon presses slightly, “…two days…she has been gone for two days.” He gasps as the blade is withdrawn.
“Very good, Uhttric…what, pray, is the name of this cousin and his wife?” Malureon calmly wipes the blood from his knife using the corner of Uhtrric’s coat.
Uhtrric is trembling and a tear slides down his cheek as he gives Malureon their names in a near whisper. He looks over at Malureon and speaks again to make sure the man has heard him. The last thing he sees is the wicked grin that fills the dark man’s face before his world goes dark. Unconscious, the whiskey in his hand drops to the floor, crashing into a sparkling shower of glass and liquor.
Malureon wastes no time, he drains the last of his whiskey, tucks the half-empty bottle into the pocket of his coat, slides his new gloves onto his hands, and strides from the room, barely noticing the obnoxious squeak coming from the door hinges. His booted footfalls make a soft sound as he heads to the main tap room, he tosses another gold coin toward the surprised barman, steps through the door, and out into the bustling street.
