It had been weeks and one dead half orc since Aallan last saw Dufr in the Lone Lands. On the bright side, now he had a name to go with the motley disguise he cobbled together from scraps of clothing and a fully grown beard. Though the disguise was nearly flawless in terms of blending in and not looking like a blue fop, a name would still be needed in order to complete the transformation. Many options were considered, and just as much were rejected. Something unassuming and bland was required to fulfill his need to not have himself with big bold letters yelling arrest or kill me.
So it was Tuckford would make his way into a well-lit inn in the hamlet of Newharrow. The building itself was rather large, and bright lights acted as a beacon to a weary traveler, guiding those who sought rest and refreshment inside. The Mad Boar it was called, as the sign above the doorway gently rocked back and forth ever so slightly. Stroking his chin, the brown-garmented traveller with a backpack approached the doorway, and cleared his throat. He cracked open the door, and peered around the entrance hall, as small as it was, for anything off putting, such as a prying guardsman, or a seedy mercenary. All he could see here was the warm welcome of paintings and a few stuffed trophies near a fireplace facing the doorway the man had now come through. One more doorway down the hall was all which was between Tuckford and the tavern of what was called the Mad Boar. The welcoming wooden walls were splashed with a jolly green above the cobbled flooring, and bright chandeliers resided above the happenings of visitor and inn staff.
Then, as coincidence would have it, he could see familiar faces among the patrons. A balding man with a stache-less beard, a young blonde haired woman, and a beautiful red haired maiden with pointed ears were the first to be clear in Tuckford’s vision. Clearing his throat to himself, he had to figure something out in order to not be noticed too quickly. He trod his way across to the counter. A barmaid was there to greet him when he arrived. “What can I get you today, stranger?” She asked, wiping the counter clean before reaching over to a tankard.
“I’ll just have a small ale, miss.” Tuckford plainly requested, pulling out five copper pennies from a pocket of his satchel.
She looked at the payment forwarded, and shook her head. “It’s twenty coppers for an ale, sir.” Sighed the barmaid.
“In that case, I probably won’t have anything. Sorry then.” Said Tuckford, as he slowly retreated to the other side of the tavern room, settling on sitting at a bench. He then searched through his satchel for anything he could use.
Meanwhile, the barmaid had seen another woman, possibly her supervisor, considering how she was dressed. That is to say, the serving maids were very sensible to not wear revealing dresses and bodices. The sitting gent could make out what the two were talking about, even amid the chatter of the patrons. “No one should go without a drink here.” The supervisor said to her compatriot as she nodded back.
“I suppose I’ll take it out of my pay.” Sighed the barmaid, as she gave the supervisor the tankard of ale. Moments passed where Tuckford seemed to drift in pondering of what happened to his parental substitute, and what may come for his friends.
“Here you are sir.” Said the woman with the tankard. She was rather lovely, much like the lady behind the counter. Before Tuckford could even reply, she continued. “It’s on the house.”
As she left him to his tankard, he finally had found something in his bag. Luck would have it a silver piece rested at the very bottom of his sack. Pulling it out, he began to drink. The ale had tasted like it would back at the Prancing Pony, only something not even he could put his finger on had made this one taste like it was from a special batch. Once he had cleaned the tankard dry of its contents, he put his sack on his back, and took the tankard and silver piece in hand.
Returning to the bar, he placed the silver coin on the counter, much to the barmaid’s surprise. “That’ll cover it I hope? Keep the remainder as a tip, love.” Said Tuckford, as he slid it toward her. Taking a few moments to comprehend what he was offering, she only blinked at him twice before replying.
“This’ll cover you for a few more visits, sir.” She said, nodding to him.
“Please, keep the change. I’m glad for your service.” Insisted Tuckford.
“I must apologize,” interjected the supervisor. “but he is offering you a tip, good ma’am.”
The barmaid only shook her head, seemingly solidified in her conviction of not accepting the tip.
Tuckford turned to thank the barmaid’s superior for both of their services, as he caught a glimpse of the red elf maiden’s eyes. The pools of watery reflection shone, as he noticed them were attentive on him. Had Cesistya recognized him so quickly as before? Likely so, but even then, would she be quick to inform the others on who he really was, though no name was given from his end? Would he see her tranquil fury match the red of her hair and garb? Before any questions could be answered, she had thanked the Boar’s staff for their service to her and the others, bowed to them, and gracefully exited. Tuckford knew he could not stay for much longer lest he be discovered as a deceiver. He too thanked them once more and departed.
He returned to the Boar a few times more following these events. Unlike the first, no sight of the group known as his friends could be seen. He’d get a drink, sit for a few minutes, then leave as he arrived: Unassuming yet quickly. However, this would not last, as business still was required with a certain white bearded dwarf.
“Just what could be taking ol’ Dufr so long?” Tuckford thought to himself as he stroked his facial hair and strolled down the paved road from Newharrow. The original plan involved Dufr carrying the bloodied remnants of Aallan’s old red outfit into the Prancing Pony and loudly mourn for the seemingly departed son he took in. It was a rather awkward, yet simple enough task to be sure. Had it worked? How many people would buy it, and was Richard among the believers? These questions however, would have to wait to be released to the old dwarf, as Tuckford was finally approaching the southern gateway to Bree itself.
At an unassuming glance, it appeared the way in had not changed ever since Aallan Scarlet was banished Taking a peek at the entrance in front of him, he couldn’t help but notice something was rather off about these two watchers stationed there. The skin seemed slightly sickly, and one’s eyes were squinted, while the other’s nose didn’t seem right for a man, almost if the nose was jagged. Thankfully, he could walk past them without much of an issue. He made his way through the southern marketplace, and even past the jailhouse, into the hedged grove. There, he found a nice sturdy tree to simply relax under for a time after removing his pack from his back and onto the ground.
However, he was not alone, as he soon glanced over to two dwarves sitting nearby. One of who had a head of hair and a long beard as white as snow. The other was far younger, and kept a shorter black beard, with a full head of hair. The former was in a familiar blue robe, which had tipped him off even more so than the length of the old dwarf’s beard. Could it be truly him? As if to answer that question almost immediately, both dwarves turned to him, as the younger one glared at him.
“Hey, are you spying on us?” Questioned the black haired dwarf.
Tuckford said nothing, as he shrugged.
The older one called him over. “Please, come closer, friend.”
He could only do as he asked, as he picked up his pack and moved towards the dwarves. Before he could say a word, the old dwarf hugged him with his strong arms. “You can’t fool me so easily, lad.” Said Dufr, as he held Tuckford. He was soon released, and Dufr turned to the other dwarf, Rakul. As it was, she was one of his favorite students from Thorin’s Hall.
“Well any friend of Dufr’s is mine as well.” Said Rakul, as she got up with her former teacher.
Aallan could only nod his head towards the eastern town gate. “Let’s talk more about this somewhere not here, shall we?” He asked.
Neither of the dwarves seemed to object, before the three people left to anywhere but Bree. Once outside of town, they made a left turn towards an entrance towards the significantly smaller entrance of Combe.
“I’ll meet you two around from the other side.” Aallan said as he started to split from Dufr and Rakul, making his own path to avoid notice from the guards at the wooden entrance. “Just keep to your right once you get in.” Neither dwarf objected to his temporary departure. It was apparent of how little the guard numbered when he snuck around the rear of Combe’s buildings, as he made his own way to the Comb and Wattle Inn. As hoped, Rakul and Dufr awaited for his arrival, and the once again trio entered the inn.
A hearty drink of ale and beer later, and the group trod up the stairs into the bedrooms. The one they convened at held two well kept beds and a window letting in light from the back of the inn. Rakul had her brow kept up at Aallan’s apparent secrecy of the matter at hand, and cleared her throat loudly as if to demand an explanation.
“Care to tell me what your deal is, mystery man?” Said in jest by Rakul.
He cleared his throat, and began recounting his tale to the dwarven woman, from the origins of his thieving career, to his misadventures concerning his father of birth. Minutes passed as both she and Dufr listened, before he concluded.
He in turn cocked a brow at the ranting against Richard from the female dwarf.
“That bugger had me shaved after arresting me, damn it!” Dufr yelled out as to clarify the method behind her hate of Richard, even before Aallan could ask anything. However, Aallan clenched his fists as Dufr recounted his stay in the jailhouse of Bree, and at the hands as well as taunts of Richard. Dufr continued, “I still can’t believe all but one of your friends and my kin never bothered to visit me in jail!”
Aallan shook his head and sighed, as he saw Rakul still holding three full mugs of drink in hand, only for Dufr to take one from her hand and start drinking. At least fifty drinks later, and Dufr would soon be blinking each eye at a time while boasting how he was not tired. Neither his student, or his surrogate son could fully understand his inebriated speech. Aallan then had elected to slide under the other bed, chuckling about something. He completely had the bedframe acting as his inside rood, when Rakul shook her head.
“Are you serious with this?” She said, as those words were the only ones to come out of her mouth, though it was clear she had far more to say about the place under the bed.
“Just hiding here for now, until I switch it up.” Aallan chuckled, as he stuck his arm out from the bed to wave at her. “I won’t be staying under here twice.”
Rakul slightly laughed. “Very well, I’ll make sure Miss Honeymeade doesn’t rat you out. She’s a sweet girl after all.” As she quietly announced the last part, she was already starting her way down the stairs.
A few days had passed where Aallan would be staying with Dufr in the room. Each one would almost be similar to one another: Wake up and rest for a few minutes, leave through the back window in the room, scout out whatever needed to be, return to the inn through the rear window, then return to sleep.
On one of these days, Tuckford was crouched in a tree’s branches, keeping him rather hidden to even slightly trained eyes. From the tree though, he could see the ruins of Andrath, which used to serve as the start of a peaceful road to Endenwaith, until it was closed off by criminal southerners. He could see a masked and hooded man riding up on a horse to the inside of their fortress. He wasn’t about to miss out on such an event to break the monotony of nothing occurring at Andrath. Creeping towards the fortress, he saw quite a few thugs acting as sentries at the front gate. Two had clubs, two held bows, and another kept a long sword. Seeing this, Tuckford hid inside the top of another tree nearby. He then took out a rock from his bag, and threw it towards a densely covered spot, full of trees and shrubs below himself. The sword wielder chuckled as he walked over to the source of the noise.
He turned around left and right, scanning around to find out who would be so clumsy to make so much noise in these woods next to Andrath. He soon felt something hit his foot as he inadvertenly kicked it, before bending down to pick it up. This was his mistake, as someone hopped down from the treetop to deliver a blow to the head with a cudgel. He saw nothing more. The next thing which his compatriots could see coming out of the woods was what seemed to be their friend waving towards them. “Don’t worry, the snooper’s dead.” He said. “I’ll be heading inside for a bit.” Nobody around the front gate really argued with him for some reason even he found escaping from him. He walked in to get a better view of the masked rider.
The rider in question wore an all black hauberk with a large white dagger crested on both front and back. The hood matched with the hauberk’s color, as it and a facemask concealed the rider’s identity. He dismounted and handed a rolled up piece of parchment over to an extremely unsavory looking overseer of the fortress. “Keep sending Richard those reinforcements from the gate.” Said the rider. The overseer nodded, and waved the back wooden gate to open up, before ten more southerners marched through. This was all Aallan needed to see, but not what he had hoped. He quickly saw himself out of the fortress, and back to the Comb and Wattle.
A day and a half later, he elected to get himself something to drink at the bar room. Upon entry, he noticed a man in a nearly black ranger outfit, minus the hood with a bow, and looking over a map of some sorts with some locations marked. He approached the bar as usual, and peered over to the map on the table beside him. Coming closer, the man in black noticed Tuckford, and the latter nodded towards the door to the staircase. Arriving to the bedroom with no Dufr in sight, Aallan lowered his hood to show the full head of hair on his head.
“I figured you weren’t dead due to the lack of a body.” Aeglorond remarked, lightly smiling at his friend in front of him. “Though it was a good job on convincing the others about your death.”
“True… Though it’s a good thing our friends departed just a few days back.”
Aeglorond nodded. “Then we’ll make it better for them when they return.” Before he could continue though…
“Aye, I saw a few thugs coming through Andrath and heading to the southern end of Bree just yesterday.”
Aeglorond furrowed his brow yet widened his eyes. “You know who’s controlling Andrath right now, do you?”
Without skipping a beat, “Sharkey and the White Hand, I know,” was his reply.
The man in black shook his head and grimly sighed, as they both knew this turn of events would not bode well for Bree-Land. Their conversation continued for minutes on end, until the late watches came upon the sky. Aallan putting his hood back on, nodded to Aeglorond and hopped out through the bedroom window.
Days later, Tuckford rode up on his way to a cottage just a minute’s ride northwest of Bree, where Saeradan formerly resided. Yet another familiar face resided belonged to a green clad redhead with a bow and quiver on her back, as she rested on top of the staircase. He of course approached from the side of the staircase. Clearing his throat, he nodded to her.
“Hello stranger.” Said the young woman, as she turned her head to him.
“Hello. How’s life treating you since last we met?” Tuckford asked her.
The woman, who was called Narys by friend and foe alike, perked a brow at the apparent stranger’s random question. “Have we met before?”
He nodded at her, as he removed his plain looking hood, revealing to her the hair on his head.” Blinking a few times, she sighed with a playful smirk.
“So, why the disguise, Aallan?” Narys asked with a slowly forming grin.
The now uncovered thief invited himself to sit next to her. “Short story, my dad who wanted me to be hung was after me. Not so short is he came to see me dead, because he always seemed to hate my guts.” He stroked his bearded chin as he continued. “Then after sicking the watch on me, he’s now working to replace them with his own goons, or something.”
Narys could only shake her head slightly as she growled a little. “Brigands like him won’t be walking in town as long as I’m here.”
“As long as I’m existing, they won’t be for much longer.” Commented Aallan as he flashed a smirking wink.
Narys raised a brow at his statement. “Are you so sure? I don’t know if you actually would…”
“Of course I would, though I understand because we haven’t met since last time. “ He said as he caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Enough about myself, though. What’s going on between you and Tara?”
“Not so sure how you would know about Tara… “ Narys said with a hint of suspicious disbelief.
“Heard his name when you were with him few times back in the Pony.” Aallan Retorted. “So what’s eating you so lately?” Asked the hoodless thief.
It took a moment for her to reply to his question, as she had her eyes gazing in the distance. “Oh, what about me?” She replied questioningly.
“What’s going on with you, your love life, all that what have you, is what about you.”
She sighed softly, before closing her eyes for a moment. “I already told quite a few people. I can’t echo myself with this forever.”
“Ah, it’s understandable. No reason to exhaust yourself with repeating your story over and over again.” Commented Aallan. She smiled at him for this. It was at this time he noticed a recognizable shadow in his sights.
“Come on out already, Eggy. Get off your horse and join us.” He called out to the mounted figure.
Narys quickly glanced at Aallan for a moment. “I would not call any man that.” She said with a rather playful flair.
The sun finally set as Aeglorond seated himself at Narys’ insistence. It was by this time Aallan looked over at her once again. At a glance, she seemed like her usual plucky self, though not as so. As far as the thief could tell, something seemed rather off since the last time they met… That of course would be told in someone else’s account, though the three eventually parted company.
