Kollem eased upto the door, pressing his ear gently against the old wooden lats. There was a pinch of nerves itching at his spine, an unusual feeling for an old hand of the arts like himself. Mister Bear.. Where art thou.. His mind trailed away, and invisable smirk spreading over his narrow lips. A loud, rumbling snore echoed out of the keyhole and into his ear drums. Sleep soundly, Missus Potts. He inched back his head from the lock, and inserted his selection of picks. Another old Bree lock, maybe even more venerable than dear old Mrs. Potts. Four seconds, maybe less, and he was in.
The door ached gently in protest, but any danger of it's noise was lost beneath the overwhelming noise of snoring. Three doors, each of them closed. The furthest away was the bedroom, judging by the noise. Kollem padded through the main room, the assorted jars, vases and clutter of little interest for the moment. He peered through the keyhole for the closest door, faint light spilling through a window on the otherside made it clear for the rooms purpose. A pantry.. Perhaps she's a good cook, but my fence won't look to kindly if I turn over a handful of pies. He pushed away from the door gently, and made for the other side of the corridor. He pressed his eye against the keyhole, another window meeting his gaze first. The moonlight shone through the dirt-free glass, and onto a work bench. An assortment of tools had been left out, some metals glinting in the nights light.
Kollem felt that familiar smile, and pressed his hand agaisnt the door to ease it open. Hiding something, dear missus Potts? He removed his tools from his bracer, and set to work on the lock. "Int'resting.." He muttered low, his pick scraping along the system within the doorlock. Most definitely not Bree craft. Dwarvern, and from a reputable craftsman too.. It took him a couple moments longer than it should have, but the door finally swung free from it's lock. He eased through it, his legs straightened as he stood up. The room was old. More of a memorial than a workshop. Kollem reached out a hand for the hammer, but paused short. Dusty.. This room hasn't been used for months, perhaps years. Dear Mrs. Potts, you kept your husbands belongings just as he left them those years ago? The echoe of a smile slipped across his lips once more, perhaps a hint less snide than usual. Sweet. endearing. Alas, largely unimportant.
Kollem spotted what he sought. A small strongbox, one a jeweler might store his wares. The box was a tanned leather, and rustic in pattern. What might pass for a Rabbit either side of the lock mechanism. Not a book by it's cover, nor a box without it's contents, lest I be judged a fool.. The familiar light peices of metal found themselves in either hand, and he pressed them into the box. Eight seconds, he counted, before the lit was prised open. Ah.. And for my dedication, come my rewards.. He reached down with long, spindly fingers and plucked an emerald ring before tossing it into his satchel. He could only smile, counting out the contents in his head. Two silver necklaces, one uncompleted. Four golden bands, one of which read "One 'dore opens, another closes". One diamond, three emeralds. An uncut sapphire. Ah.. whats this now.. He held up another golden band, this too had an inscription. One a stranger shouldnt read. A wedding band.. He smiled, weighing it in his open palm before placing it back in the box.
Satisfied, he edged away from the strongbox. A flush of fear ran down his spine. The snoring.. There was no sound, 'cept for a light snore. A womans snore. Kollem felt his head pivot down the hall, so slow it barely looked to be moving. The bear was looming in the hallway, it's snarling face set on Kollem. I'm not your late night snack, you hairy fuck.. He thought, feigning some kind of courage. What do you do? His mind began to race. Make yourself big and scare the fucker! No, I'm a thief.. Can't go round yelling at bears.. I've a reputation, dammit. The bear lurched forward, swinging one of it's great paws straight for Kollem. He dived forward onto his knee, pirouetting awkwardly beneath his foes bulky frame. He felt his knee burn, and winced. Nimble as a rabbit, but age still had a way of catching up to a man. Even those a slimey, agile and down right conniving as Kollem.
He send his palm to the floor, clapping aginst the hardwood flooring, and send himself up and onto his feet. The bear roared, more fierce than he'd seen down the Chetwood, and hurtled around towards him. Quick as a flash, Kollem had jerked open the doorway, and dusted off out into the nights cold embrace. "Fuck'n kidding me!?" He grunting, his heart fighting it's way up into his mouth. A womans voice could be heard, Goodwife Potts most likely, trying to calm down that beast of hers.
