The journey to Bree was, luckily for the company, uneventful for the most part. The stables at Gondamon were well equipped, and they got themselves a pony for each. Maybe worthy of mention is that a few of them thought they had seen something on the river as they were crossing a bridge. It was close to midnight at the time, so it was hard to tell what it was - only due to moonlight they could briefly perceive some shape moving in the distance but that was about all they could tell, so they decided it must have been nothing - probably just shadows playing tricks on their minds - and soon forgot about it. A keener eye would have maybe noticed that the thing was quite big, and also - it was moving upstream.
* * *
They were all tired once they reached Bree, but the sight of buildings and roofs after a long time gave them new strength: the war was far behind, and a good meal, ale and warm beds were awaiting. Having that in mind they took the course straight towards the tavern, except for Halgrun who bid them a farewell at the stables. He followed them with his eyes until they went out of sight, and then turned to the right where he saw a familiar alley. "Well, this is it. Long enough have you lingered on my mind. Too long." he muttered to himself, and took the path which was leading up the stairs. The lingering thought squirmed restlessly.
He knocked uncertainly on the door a couple of times. After a few moments it went open, and he was facing a balding man who was now observing the visitor through his spectacles with great interest. "Yes? How may I help you?"
"Err... ahem. I am looking for a certain book. I can not remember the name... but I think I may recognise it if I see it."
"Ah, how curious! Please, do come in. I am Dalton Willow, by the way. I do not believe I have met you?"
Halgrun introduced himself and stepped inside. Not much had changed in the room since he was last there. A couple of shelves had been moved around, some piles of papers and other things had increased noticeably, and maybe, if looked at closely, the dust coating was thicker on some of the forgotten, less popular works. "Hmm...", said Halgrun, and wandered around the corner where he remembered to have seen the book he is looking for. The shelf was still there but it was now empty. Halgrun coughed politely and scratched his beard thoughtfully.
The scholar's head appeared from behind the corner.
"Hmm... there used to be books here. And I believe the one I am looking for was among them. Would you be so kind to tell me - where are they now?" asked Halgrun.
"Ah. Yes, I was not here at the time, but I remember. A great amount of our books were destroyed in an act of vandalism. What a tragedy. A few days later the mayor ordered to move those works out of here, I heard he had locked them away in his office. Pity, if you ask me - I was hoping to read some of those myself one day. But I understand, they were too valuable to keep them here, in a place where anyone can just come in." Then he frowned as if suddenly beginning to recall something. "What did you say your name was? Halgrun?" He went to his desk, opened one of the drawers and after skimming through some of the papers he pulled out one of them. The scholar swallowed as he was reading it, and said slowly: "Ahm, yes... I'm afraid I am going to have to ask you to leave."
Halgrun was looking at the paper in confusion. "Leave...? But why - what is that?"
"Regulations from the mayor." said Dalton Willow and cleared his throat. ""I hereby declare the following individuals to be banned from the Scholar Stair Archives due to their involvement in the destruction of the property of the town: ", hmm, ... dwarves... ah - "Halgrun son of Holgur. Allowing those individuals access the written property of the town by a visit into the Archives or by any other means is strictly prohibited, any attempt on their part to breach the regulations will result in being evicted from the town and appropriate actions will be taken to - ""
"Now hold on a minute, I was not the one wh- "
"I do not know how you were involved in that incident, but I do know the regulations say you should not be here and we have to follow them," he said in an increasingly irritated voice, while holding the paper defensively in front of himself and tapping some section of the text with his index finger. "- which means you really need to be leaving now, or... or I will have to call the guards, I will!"
Halgrun hurried out of the archives and the door was slammed shut behind him. He squinted eyes: the sun was blazing high in the afternoon sky. Having a pint of ale now does not seem a bad idea at all.
* * *
Halgrun stepped inside the Pony and went to the bartender to order a mug of Blind Troll Stout. A familiar rattle came behind the corner, followed by a triumphant cry. A dwarf was playing dice by the table; upon a closer inspection it turned out to be Halgrun's cousin.
"By my beard, who is this?" exclaimed Halgrun.
The dwarf stood up. "Cousin!"
"Haldrin! A long time it has been!" said Halgrun, and went closer to exchange some friendly pats on the shoulders.
"Right in time ye come, yer here to see me win!"
"Ah, winning you say?"
"Aye lad! Now pay attention, I'm on a roll!"
Halgrun took off his coat and sat down by Haldrin. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he could now have a better look at the folks who had gathered in the tavern. There wasn't many of them - most had just finished their lunch break and returned to work. That does not necessarily mean all those here did not have their own things to attend, of course. It is likely some of them had simply decided now is a good time as ever to take some time off. Responsibility does not usually go away by itself, as much as they would hope it did, so it may as well line up behind the door along with Trouble, Misfortune and the rest of the usual lot, and wait for their turn, because today (and perhaps the day after that as well) those good patrons intend to have a fine drink in a fine company. And then there were others, who were not here because they wanted to weasel out of their daily commitments, but because their work will not start before the sun has set.
A cheer came from his right - Haldrin had won yet another round.
Halgrun was not in the mood to share his joy. He had left his home and friends, came all the way here - and for what? To be officially kicked out of the archives. Not that it matters any more: the book he was looking for is no longer there, and there is no way he could get it now. He fingered a stray coin which had rolled away from Haldrin's increasing pile. Banned.. Hah! If he and Lonvi were not there half of the archives would have been burned down. The ale was taking effect and he began to doze off, but soon was woken up again by a loud bang on the table.
The way Haldrin was staring at the dice on the table next to his fist and the smirk on his opponent's face suggested this roll didn't go so well. "Again! This is unacceptable!" he exclaimed, and emptied a whole satchel of silver on the table, which seemed to be at least 500 in total. "There you have it, the last throw will be mine!"
"I don't mean to interrupt, but... isn't that going a bit too -"
"Hush cousin!" said angered Haldrin, and turned back towards the other player. "Go on now! And I won't take no for an answer!"
His opponent - a well dressed lady - seemed to be more concerned about Haldrin's financial position than her own: "Thinking you'd best hold onto some of that friend." she said, but then shrugged and placed an equal amount on the table.
Haldrin tossed the dice. Time seemed to slow down for him as he observed it with every bounce off the table echoing in his mind, until it finally halted at the edge. His jaw dropped and his expression turned into stone when he saw it - it was only 15.
The woman said nothing; she slowly put all the silver - except for a small pile - away into her bag, and left.
Haldrin sat down and held his head between his hands. "No... no-no-no NO!"
Halgrun was looking for words that could comfort him but failed: "Well, that was some mighty ill luck there.. "
"Ill luck! Mahal has forsaken me! I tell ye!"
"But surely, it wasn't all of your money?"
"It ... eh... wasn't exactly mine."
"What?!"
Haldrin stared at the small pile of silver left on the table. "It wasn't my money, alright?! It is a group of traders... I was supposed to safekeep it. Oh, what am I going to do now? They said they'll shave my beard if it went missing!"
One of the men who was sitting next to their table apparently had overheard his talk, or at least the 'shave my beard ' part: "Ah, going to a barber, aren't we?" he said with an expression which looked like a grin.
Halgrun wasn't sure if the man was intentionally stirring up trouble, or had just drunken enough to dull some of his senses and quieten down the annoying voice of self-preservation instinct, but he decided it was time to leave: "Ahem! Well, what's done is done. I think we better - "
But the drunken man raised his finger and continued, apparently having already forgotten who he is talking to: "Personally, I have always thought them dwarves are a bit too old-fashioned." Then he turned towards Halgrun. "No offense, of course. Don't get me wrong - their long beards look proud and all. But sometimes a man wants a change - move along with the time, so to speak." He turned back to Haldrin and slapped on his shoulder, while trying to focus his eyes on the dwarf. "And I can see from his determined eyes - this chap has made his decision! Going for a new look, ay? Have a little ..."
Halgrun stood up. "Right, time to go. Come." He shook Haldrin from the other shoulder, but the dwarf had frozen still.
"... and snip-snip - trim the edges a bit, or maybe you want to do it proper - all out, Clean Shaven. I know just the right man for it - I swear, once he's done with you, your cheeks will be soft like a baby's -"
Haldrin jumped up from his seat, but Halgrun had prepared for it and held his cousin back with all his strength and weight.
"That's the spirit! Now let me just finish this and we can ... 'ey, where are ye going?" the man shouted to Haldrin, who was now being dragged towards the exit.
