The Diary of a Conman,
More of the Beginning Bit.
So I woke up. Lying down on a bed, all happy with myself - Finally a day where I hadn't woken up in a pool of my own blood, or a puddle of ale. Staring up at the roof of the room, I tried to remember why I was so happy for some odd reason - I mean, just yesterday I met some charmer, a strange man called 'Cobb', and had my head to ache and worry about... Strange watchmen in Red.
Seriously. What was I happy about? 'Oh aye...', I thought silent to myself, '… It's today, aint it?' - Still not entirely sure about what I was telling myself 'today' was. I sat up, and ran my right hand through my hair. It was bushy, ruffled and wrought with dust - I was in dire need of a bath, soon. Perhaps waking up on the floor of an inn, drunk as ever, yesterday was an indicator to this. Looking to my right, the small table that came with the room had atop it, my hat - Tattered and dreadfully easy to fold, as ever.
Then it all came to me, in a flash of sorts, a jolt of thought. "Ah yes.", I said - Aloud for some queer reason, "Ferren." - I don’t know why I was so happy, because now I was actually quite sad. No. Depressed? No. Angry, yes.
Ferren, being my mother, was to have her birthday today. I didn’t know what date it was, exactly, but... I could tell. Today was the day. Now, I would of course be joyous and happy, I mean... Bah, but there was only one problem.
Ferren. She was dead.
It had been about four years since her death, four years since the day 'they', the healing-men and herbalists of Bree-Town, said that it would be far too late to cure such... Horrific. Burns. My father, the oh-so-mighty Baelkharvh, that cunning dog, decided it would be a good idea to set the cart my mother was on, travelling to a nearby farmland to get some work - Me still in my stupid days, not knowing how important a job would be - Afire. From what I know, he shot the flaming arrow himself, but later escaped... How...? How could the damned farmers, guards, watchmen, hunters... How could they not see...? I found her later. The cart burnt to a cinder, she was dead. I could tell. But ofcourse, the pity of my idiocity couldn’t accept that. 'No.', I thought at the time, 'No. No. No. NO, No, No!', naught was in my mind but 'No'… And... Him. For some reason, I couldn’t take my mind off that shadowy figure, lurking at the back of my head... He was dressed in all sorts of queer clothing and colours... 'Him'. 'This was his doing.', my mind raced from topic to topic with great fury, I didn’t know what was happening at the time - But I definitely knew what -would- happen. 'I'll kill that...'
I stood up, not wanting to continue thinking about times-long-past. I didn’t know who I wanted to kill, either that or I've forgotten over the years. But today happened to be the birthday of a dead woman, whom I happened to know and respect. And love, ah yes - Love with all genuine senses, which is quite rare in this world.
Looking in the mirror, I smirked at myself, ready for another day, anything else that the world could throw at me - More guards, another charmer, anything. And so, I took my slow steps outside of the room, making for the main hall of the inn - Of course, wearing my tattered hat. I wouldn’t want anyone to presume I'm some rich snob who can afford to buy them all drinks, and if that charmer happened to be out there. Well, I don’t want to be beaten at my own game...
Noticing that so few had decided to drink themselves to unconsciousness, or so it seemed - The Pony was a great deal more empty than usual, I made my way out of the Inn, not much caring to drink any more for the next few hours. Looking at the sun, it must have been... Mid-Day? Yes, the Noon-sun was high in the sky, staring down, blindingly mocking me.
Remembering that I needed some kind of a bath, I made for the Western Bree gates - The local stream, of sorts, would provide me with all the water I needed to wash off my face and hair. The journey was quite uneventful - I saw but a single fight on the way, which I did well to avoid. There were three men dressed in mail and chain-links, and one - Probably being teamed on by the other three, dressed in naught but rags. 'Another thief caught', I told myself, not staying to look for too long.
So I left out the West gate, and took the six-step walk to the nearby stream, sat down besides it and... Oh. I forgot. I needed some kind of cloth to make life easier for myself... 'Bah.', I thought silently - Simply throwing my hands into the water, as I slowly washed my hair, face, hands and arms. It would have to do, for now, and I made my way back to the Inn to collect my hat, and such. The way back was just as uneventful, save for that same group of four. No. Sorry. Three, above one. The men were apparently winning, 'Ofcourse. Poor sod on the ground is hopeless.' I said, strangely aloud, as I passed onwards to the Inn.
So I head in, and pass my room, thinking I need a bit of ale, and there was this other man beside the bar-top... I just passed him at first, again going to my chosen-position at the far left, before I overheard him talking to another man... The name "Fiontann" came up, which made me wonder. I had heard the name spoken before, and apparently this "Fiontann" happened to be infamous amongst the Bree-Folk. Else I wouldn’t have even known the name. But, then was when I decided I might have a bit more fun, remembering what happened the last time I got into such a trio. Putting on my beggar-accent, I approached the two in a joyful way, shouting out, " 'Ello t'ere lads!", the two simply stared at me bleakly. So I though I might introduce myself. Or - Wait. No, "Welcom' t'er t'ah inn!", ah yes. "Now, as it 'appens, I be thirsty, now which on' o'ye'hs is goin' t'er get me a drink?" - The two simply acted as though I was non-existent, turning and continuing their conversation. Something about the location of this "Fiontann" person. But, anyhow - So the one who asked about this "Fiontann" just left abruptly, as though he was avoiding me perhaps? I don’t know. And the other one just turned to order up another ale, so I thought I might aswell oblige.
" 'Ello.", I said - I think. He just replied by staring me down, asking me who I was and such. Growing up in Bree-Town has taught me quite a lot. Involving, to -not- give out your name freely to any old stranger, and so I simply took the name of an old, dead, friend. An ode to him as it were...
"I'm t'er poores' o'all'ter beggars in Bree-t'own!"' I said, he replied solemnly with something... I didn’t care to remember, but it was something along the lines of "Everyone has a name." - As though he wanted me to give him my name. Pff. Fool. So I took my chances with the friend's name, as I said, and simply stated "Jon. Jon Riverside", before putting out my right hand to shake his. He hesistated, I could tell he was suspicious, something perhaps about the name, but he shook my hand - And just as soon shook it free. "Obliged. Wit' all genuine senses!" I shouted out, happily, as he remained silent.
After a few moments of buggering the man, I got an ale out of him - Downing it there and then; Being sober is a curse. And so I decided I would reveal myself to him, as much as need be, and get something out of his walking-corpse of a silent man. Slowly putting my hand in my right, lower pocket, I began speaking all articulated, as though a noble of sorts would. "Right. You're a fool, an honest fool perhaps, but a fool." - He just sneered at me, questioning what I just said: "Did you just call me a fool...?" he asked, his voice wrought with the innocence of his namesake.
"Aye, be it I did.", I stated, quite amused with him, wondering if he dare do anything. And dared he, indeed. He lifted his spear - Damned person thought he could try and stab me in the middle of an inn, full of patrons... Foolish idiot. So I simply took my hand out of my right pocket... Heh... The look on his face. He must've thought I was going to shank him with a dagger, or something - I took out... An apple! Was offering it to him, but he just remained all military-like, anger clearly shooting through that blood of his. But, ofcourse, he tried to assault me. Or atleast meant to. And so some lady came along to break us up, but I just acted all kind with her. She left soon enough, either picking up on my charm, or realising it was completely empty and meaningless. But by then, the fool didn’t realise just exactly what happened. I had lifted a dagger up to him, in my left hand - Discreetly avoiding notice with my body positioning. "Heh. Now lower the spear, and calm down. You're making enough noise as it is.", I felt like breaking into a wild fit of laughter... He was scared, I could tell - But he was in the first stage of fear. Denial.
"I couldn’t care less", he said - Or something along those lines. To be perfectly honest, I haven't the slightest care as to anything the fool said. So, pinning him backwards against the bar, I put on my happy-face and began asking the questions. At first, though, he just went on about how he was oh-so-great and such a skillful warrior. Little sod didn’t realise that he had a spear, and I was pressed up close enough to him for it to become useless. "All you can do now is flail that piece of wood now. Spears arent good at short-ranges. While I'm close enough to stab you and make off before anyone even realises you're dead on the ground. Lying in your own blood. So, now. I'm going to ask questions - And oh, you -are- going to answer them. Or else.", I felt such a motivating feel rush through me when I realised just how full that threat sounded, even though I had no plans to harm the person. He looked far too well-thought-of for me to dispose of him - Literally or figuratively.
And so, my first question... "What's your full name. I always like to start there...", I asked with all my grandeur. He paused - And this was what gave it away, before he said "Henrey Pickett." - Wait. What? Did the fool honestly hope to get away with it? There are -no- "Picketts" in Bree, and he would prove that later on. And besides, "Pickett" isnt a well-known name, so how did he happen to chance upon affording more than a few ales, and happen to be wearing armour of a good-looking craft? No. But I said nothing, waiting for the end to tell him I realised.
Then, I asked, "What is your father's name?", hoping that he would actually tell the truth this time and I could happen to use the information to my advantage. "Roystan", he said - Quick enough. I wasn’t sure about this, not a single "Roystan" alive in Bree. But I followed his word true enough, he lied the first time and I didn’t expect this was a lie either.
"And where are you from? Exactly. I want to know where in Bree? Here? Combe? Details.", I asked as my final, 'actual', question. "Bree-Town.", he said - before rambling off into something that basically meant "Ok, can I go now?". So I just smirked, sheathed my dagger, and smiled at him, saying "Well thank Dog that's over."; He asked me why I said that, saying it was better to say 'Thank God'. So I just told him the truth of it. "God. Dog. Both are the same to me, only I can actually see one of them.", he simply stared bleakly at me, fear and anger was what I saw, returning the stare - Poor old sod got himself into quite the poorer-yet position, the second he wanted to raise a spear to me. Then again, it was caused by a joke on my part - But heh, he left alive and in-tact, and I stayed joyful enough. Flipped a silver coin over to Barliman, buying the man a drink. I didn’t want to be an enemy of his, you see. And bought my own, too, drinking it just as quick as the one he bought for me - Returning a favour and such. He soon stormed off, probably running to cry in some bush, or to ask his father, or some friends, to help him catch me and teach me a lesson. Well, if that's true - I'd like to bloody well see them try.
There I stood, for a while, contemplating the whole event. It must have been well into the night, by now, surely. Soon, I just bought myself a few more tankards of ale, watching intently on the other patrons. Three other men were here by now, two shouting out too loudly - Found out they were Gondorian. And two ladies, one looked rather shifty and the other was far too uptight, probably some rich noble fed on a golden platter. Not even a silver one.
Headed back to my room, deciding I would stay at the Inn another night, and rested my head down - Thinking. Ever thinking. With all honesty, I doubt I got any sleep that night... It was all ale.
Infact, I remember singing to myself. Again. 'Ale, ale! All hail ale! Ale, ale! Hail be to ale!' - Something along those lines. Yes. 'I really, really have to stop drinking... No. Wait, just one more.', I thought - Waking up in the middle of the night with a great deal of pain in my head, and soar arms. Bones were aching, head was throbbing, and in the end.. I just thought.
'Oh thank Dog, for this all.'
