Frowning as she bends over the book, Orlenne's face is barely visible in the light of the candle standing on the desk, her eyes glinting as she writes.
I am beginning to think that the Prancing Pony is not quite the reputable inn it is rumoured to be! Especially after today's events. All manner of types seem to hang around there. I was sitting in the main room, finally starting on the dress Eaerthryll ordered from me. I had spread out the material and had cut all the pattern pieces out and was just beginning to sew the first pieces together when a man came and sat opposite me at the adjoining table. I kept my hands working, but my eyes were watching him as he first laid out two daggers and then a sword on the table! I am quite sure I saw some dried blood on them. He started cleaning them, neither of us saying a word. There was a hooded man standing at the fire place. I am quite sure he was the same one I saw when I first arrived and met Eoryn and Eaerthryll. While you may hide your face, it is more difficult to alter your stance when you stand relaxing before a fire for example.
Well, I was busily engaged with my work, now and then watching the man clean his weapons, occasionally glancing at the man by the fire, when a man staggers up to the table and starts bleeding all over the material I had laid out. I was quite upset indeed. He weakly called out for help but as I stood to aid him, he collapsed on the floor. Around six people had gathered around him, when suddenly someone bent over him and cut his throat! I was quite astonished. No one moved to stop the murderer from making an exit and he vanished as quickly as he had appeared. The man who had been cleaning his weapons very kindly but quite misguidedly tried to shield me from the scene. As we stood around the cooling corpse, yet another man strode up, demanding to know what had happened. I think he took me to be the murderer! I nearly laughed at his arrogance. I could not see his features as he wore a hood. As the arrogant man became more and more impatient I became more and more angry. We exchanged some quite heated words. When he finally seemed to realise I had nothing to do with the murder, he started demanding to know what the perpetrator looked like. I couldn't tell him as the man had also been wearing a hooded cloak! It seems quite the fashion in Breetown to wear hooded cloaks, I must look into it. It would be a very good source of income. All this time, Butterbur was cowering behind his counter. His staff seemed to have quite vanished. Perhaps they were on holiday, more likely they had scurried away at the sight of blood and were hiding in a cellar somewhere. People are such weak creatures. With everyone standing around and noone actually doing anything useful, I commented that it might be a fine idea to dispose of the body at least, instead of letting it rot in the middle of the floor. The hooded man from beside the fire was quite obliging and carried it away. Luckily he had dark clothing so any bloodstains would hardly show. If I see him again I must remember to offer him my seamstress services for showing some initiative.
Everyone disappeared or went back to their business after that, the arrogant man went in search of the murderer, the man who carried the body went back to standing in front of the fire and the other man went back to cleaning his weapons. Men are all very well to start something. They will see the big picture, but the details, that is where we women come in. For the body itself was disposed of, but the mess was still there. So I fetched a mop and bucket to clean up the blood on the floor as Butterbur's staff was still nowhere to be seen. When I was done, I looked at my work in dismay. It was ruined. I would have to start from scratch. Bloodstains are nigh on impossible to remove from silk you know. I gathered it all up and disposed of it, feeling quite downhearted. The man cleaning his weapons must have seen my expression for he asked what the problem was. I explained as best I could. The arrogant man had returned, evidently unable to find a trace of the murderer and was listening to our conversation. When the kind man offered me money to cover the cost of new material, the arrogant man stepped in and tried to stop him. I would normally refuse the money, but in the situation I am right now, how can I? It is only by Thryll's kindness that I even have a roof over my head. So reluctantly I accepted. I did say if he ever needed any sewing done of whatever kind, he should come to me. We introduced ourselves at that point. His name is Craign. A very kind, generous man, not only did he lend me money, he also gave me a dagger. That upset the arrogant man even more. I did explain I had my scissors, but he insisted I keep the dagger. It would have been downright rude to refuse such kindhearted offer so I accepted it as well. I immediately left in search of new material.
After having purchased new materials, I returned to the Pony, ready to start working anew. Craign had left the inn at that point, but I am sure I will see him again sometime. The arrogant man, however, was still there and somehow we struck up a conversation. He introduced himself as Welten. I gave him my name and he seemed far more mellow now and became almost pleasant. We discussed the state of Bree and the seeming necessity of carrying weapons. I told him I had my trusty scissors and he knew I had the dagger too. We even discussed the merits of a dagger versus scissors. I think I won a few points with my scissors theory. It was a very interesting conversation. At that point Eaerthryll arrived and we invited her to join us. She was looking quite fine and asked about her dress. I started telling her about recent events and she turned quite pale. A fainthearted type the poor thing. We then turned onto slightly less bloody though no less frightening subjects. It seems Eoryn has been threatened and almost killed by an angirrion or somesuch named Mawire. Welten told us. I was outraged. Such a sweet, innocent girl. But the world is a dark, dirty place and there are evil people in it beyond our comprehension. It was at this point a man in a white hooded cloak (yes another hooded cloak!) walked up to us and told me Mawire would 'take care' of me. I do not recall the exact words, but you get my drift. I was quite astounded. But if he can attack a harmless person like Eoryn, then it doesn't surprise me that he would try to intimidate just about any random person. Then the man just walked off again. It was rather difficult not to laugh, but that might have worsened the situation and I could not do that to poor Thryll. Welten told us he had battled this Mawire already, giving him several deep wounds that seemed to affect him very little. He also warned us he carried a cursed blade that we must never let touch us. Mawire wears red and black armour it seems. The whole situation would almost be frightening if I was not already inured to such things. As it is, I find it bordering on the ludicrous. While I don't seek death, it holds no fear for me after... well let us not remind ourselves. A man came in, wearing black and red, with a blue border. I quietly pointed him out to Welten who shook his head, saying that was Seraile, not Mawire. He did not explain who Seraile is, but did compliment me for keeping an eye out. After that the talk turned to pleasanter things and we ended not soon after. Perhaps not the best of days, it has at least given me an idea about a possible source of regular income.
Orlenne smiles grimly as she checks the ink is dry before closing her book and making ready for bed, her trusty scissors near at hand as always.
