The man in black rose, his face covered almost entirely by the shade of his hood. He approached the other man, each of his steps a smooth flowing motion. ‘Welcome,’ said he, in a tone as queer and unsettling as it was genuine, ‘I trust you bring good news.’
The other man, whom was wearing leathers, with his head uncovered to show thick brown locks of hair, gave a slow shake of his head; indeed he dreaded being near the man in black and he quickly rose himself. ‘I bring news, yes,’ he began, his voice almost breaking midway, ‘though it is not good: the task was failed. Thistlemead’s company were near-destroyed in the marshes.’
The man in black’s lips crept into a queer smile that caused discomfort, ‘They were found, then,’ he began before taking three steps closer to the other man, ‘How many were slain?’
The other man tried to take a step back, failing as his legs met a chair. He brushed his face with a gloved hand before speaking, ‘Of Thistlemead’s thirteen: nine were killed in the Midgewater and two made for the hills in terror. In his rage, Thistlemead stuck a spear in one of the survivors and a sword in the other.’
Silence fell upon the room and neither of the men moved or spoke; then the man in black turned, returning to the table. Sitting down slowly, he pulled back his hood to reveal black locks of hair, neatly pulled and tied into a knot at the back. ‘You will bring Thistlemead to the Greenway,’ he commanded, ‘at the junction where the road from the west meets that coming from Bree, he shall be judged. You shall take your own company of seven: such a number will suffice.’
The other man gave a swift nod of his head, making for the door to leave, though he was brought to a halt upon hearing more of the man in black’s words. ‘Should you fail,’ said he, ‘it would be best for you to not return.’
He left at once.
The man in black, now that the other was gone, spoke to the silence, ‘I will need you to be swift.’
Then, a man cloaked in brown came out from behind one of the wall’s corners. He was a tall thin man with a rough beard; he bent his crooked neck and spoke with a hoarse, disused voice, ‘How swift?’
‘Greyleaf should take a week to catch Thistlemead,’ the man in black noted, ‘you must find him after two days from now, but before four days. You will tell him of Greyleaf’s plans to slay him: warn him of Greyleaf’s seven; give him advice; make him recollect a band of thirty; make him equip them well. Tell him to slay every man and woman in Greyleaf’s company, save Greyleaf himself. Tell him to bring Greyleaf to the Greenway, at the very same junction.’
‘Understood,’ the bearded man said, before bending his crooked neck once more. He turned to take his leave, moving quite slowly (indeed it is the slowest that move further and faster than anyone else).
