(Author's note: In case somebody has paid attention to Hellrien's comings and goings in the Prancing Pony and is wondering, I have taken some liberties with the order of sequence of some IG happenings. This is because a certain role-play session couldn't happen when I had planned, but the sequence of events as depicted in this story is how I had planned it to happen: Hellrien's meeting with The Man took place shortly after her chat with General Aren, but before Lady Katrandil's arrival into Bree.)
”How do you do, lass?” said the stranger before planting his behind to the bench next to Hellrien.
Hellrien threw a bemused look at the fellow. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him before. He was short and skinny, at least three inches shorter than Hellrien and she suspected he had to fill his pockets with stones on gusty days not to be swept up by the winds. He was pale and had some almost faded freckles upon his face, a thick, brown, well-trimmed goatee and a black bandana wrapped around his head. His eyes bothered Hellrien. There was an unsettling gleam in them. They were the eyes of a madman – or a lust killer.
How do you do? had the man asked. It was of course a rhetoric question, a meaningless phrase to greet somebody, but the truthful answer would have been: quite a bit under the weather. She had been more or less continually drunk for the past week, ever since she arrived in Bree and took a room in the Prancing Pony Inn. But now the money she had received from the Rangers of Tinnudir was almost gone, and Hellrien was facing the prospect of being thrown out to the streets. It was time to sober up and try to find work.
Many people in Bree seemed to take her as a common harlot, but she had sternly turned down all suggestions of that nature. Maybe it was because of what had happened to her in Evendim, perhaps also because of the pride in her intensive military training and skills, but she just couldn’t consider that kind of career for herself. At least not before she had tried to find something better first.
She had also made some friends and acquaintances from whom she had received suggestions and tips about some work opportunities that might be available for her. A man called Tor had gifted her his old sword he had no use for anymore, and he had also told her of a hobbit called Adso Haybank, who was recruiting guards for his construction site west of Bree. A mysterious lady called Aren had told her about a certain Lady Katrandil, a commander of a unit of Lossarnach soldiers who might turn up in Bree soon, recruiting capable fighters to fill up her ranks after a grievous battle in Minas Tirith. Hellrien had a horse, a sword and a decent hunting bow, and she was well-trained and experienced fighter with plenty of actual combat experience – that should help her find work in that field.
But before she could go look for it, she needed to come down from a week’s binge, and that was a deed in itself. In her current state, hungover, trembling and miserable, she wouldn’t have gotten a job as a dishwasher. After a drinking bout that long she couldn’t just quit cold either – it would have crashed her too bad, especially now that she had no money to pay the rent. So today she had been drinking small beer only, the weakest ale Barliman had to offer. It was strong enough to soothe her hangover, but not strong enough to render her drunk again. Two days of self-medicating like this would put her safely on the wagon again, but there was a problem – she didn’t have two days. She didn’t even have enough money for another night in the Pony.
She looked at the man who had just sat next to her. Who was he? A ’john’ looking for a roll in the hay? Judging by his looks Hellrien thought it more likely he was a procurer, perhaps wanting to muscle Hellrien to work for him. If that was the case, he would soon learn his mistake – but in her current condition even bad company was better than the company of her own gloomy thoughts, so she said to him:
”How do you do, mister. Sit right down.”
The man nodded and chuckled. There was something creepy and deeply disturbing in that laughter, and Hellrien began to wonder if she should just ask him to leave her alone after all. He offered her a leather bottle. ”I reckon I already did, lass. Drink?”
Hellrien hesitated. Whatever was in that bottle was likely strong liquor, though probably not poisoned or drugged, as she had seen the man taking a swig from it himself before sitting down. She decided that there was no danger in having a little sip.
”I guess one drink wouldn’t hurt”, she smirked at the man and took a sip from the bottle – just a small sip. It was very strong and burned in her stomach as it went down – like dwarven brandy, except it tasted like no brandy she had drank before. It had a very earthy taste, and almost immediate soothing effect on her strained nerves. Hellrien had to quell the urge to have another sip. She smiled:
”Thank you, mister. It’s very nice.”
The man grinned and nodded. ”You’re welcome, lass. Can’t say I’ve seen you around here much before.”
”You haven’t?” Hellrien shot. ”Then you haven’t been here for the past week. But I don’t think I’m going to be able to stay here much longer before Barliman throws me out. Can’t pay the rent anymore.” Those were the magic words – if the man had any ulterior motives, he was sure to play his hand soon.
The man continued grinning and nodding: ”Aye, that seems to be going ’round recently. Lots of people short of coin. Never cared for it much myself, mind.”
Hellrien shook the bottle. ”Nice stuff you got here – what is it?”
”Dalish wiskey. Can’t buy that stuff ’round here normally.”
”’Dalish wiskey’? Never heard of it before, but it’s strong. Good and strong, like dwarven brandy.”
The man nodded, looking even a bit surprised by Hellrien’s knowledge of distilled spirits. ”You know your drinks, lass. I’m impressed.”
”I’ve even tasted orc draught on occasion”, she smirked.
The man looked – or pretended to look – even more impressed by this revelation. ”That stuff’ll tear through your insides, I’ve heard. What exactly is it that you do, lass?”
”Right now, nothing at all. Been drunk for a week, now I’m trying to sober up. But I used to be a scout, and a damned good one if I say so myself”, she boasted. ”I’ve been to some of the hard places – Agamaur, Harloeg, Evendim, Fornost.”
The man nodded slowly. ”I’ve met a few like that back home. Not an enviable job, mind. I reckon you’d be looking for a job then, eh?”
Here it comes then. ”Yeah. Anything would be good, well, almost anything. I’ve been tipped off of some opportunities, but nothing solid has come out of them yet.”
A maniacal grin appeared on the man’s face as he reached for the bottle. Hellrien handed it over to him. The gleam behind his eyes made her skin crawl. ”Well, I reckon I’ve got a job lined up for someone with the right kind of talent, see?”
Hellrien saw. But she still wasn’t quite sure what kind of talent the man was looking for. ”Oh?” she asked, almost reluctantly. ”What kind of job?”
The man peered around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation, still grinning, before he leaned closer to Hellrien and said, lowering his voice: ”Private work, lass. Might be easier to show you rather than tell you, see?”
”Private work?” Hellrien asked slowly, still suspecting the man was a panderer, trying to strong-arm Hellrien to work as one of his strumpets. If that was the case, she would whoop him so bad. Maybe that would lift her spirits. ”Does it include soldiering?”
The man laughed cheerily, nodding his head eagerly. ”Oh, sort of, aye. Perhaps simpler from what you’re used to, mind.”
Hellrien hesitated for a spell. Was she really going to do it again – walk blindly into another situation she had no idea of? Perhaps he had a whole gang of brutes outside waiting?
In that case she would make them earn their pay, she thought grimly. ”I guess there’s no harm in checking it out”, she finally said. ”Let me go to my room first, get changed into something more appropriate, eh?”
The man grinned and clambered unsteadily to his feet. ”Aye, lass”, he said. ”I’ll see you outside.” He started heading for the door. A little later Hellrien stood up herself and walked to her room in the back of the inn.
Hellrien stripped herself from her corset and yellow dress and changed into her tattered and loose traveling clothes: grey-white underwear, midnight blue tunic, trousers and moccasins, topped off with a wide-brimmed plume hat of the same color. She felt like she still needed a matching cloak to complete the outfit, but she would have to purchase that later. She weighed her sword in her hand, but decided to leave it at home. In the streets of Bree a sword would be too striking, draw too much attention. Besides, nobody needed to arm themselves with a sword just to walk around in Bree. Instead she strapped on her warhammer. Crude weapons like that were much more common for regular folk in Bree.
Hellrien flashed a devilish grin in the darkness of her room. She wondered what the man had imagined when she had told him she would get changed into ’something more appropriate’.
She found the man waiting for her in the courtyard. He didn’t seem surprised by Hellrien’s attire nor intimidated by her weapon. He seemed to regard her with assessing, calculating eyes, but Hellrien couldn’t read much into his expression.
”Here I am”, she said brusquely.
”Alright then, lass – this way!”
The man gestured her to follow, and Hellrien obeyed. It was a late evening. They walked the dark, quiet streets and alleys of Bree in silence, Hellrien’s eyes flicking nervously from shadow to shadow, half expecting to be led straight into ambush. Finally they stopped near the mouth of a narrow alley. The man turned to look Hellrien, with a wide and maniacal grin flashing in the middle of his face, and unfastened a pouch from his belt. He shook it in the air teasingly.
”Ready for work, lass?”
”What is it that you want me to do?” Hellrien asked.
The man pointed down the dark alleyway. Hellrien squinted her eyes and saw that it was a dead end alley, and near the end there stood a shadowy figure of a man. ”That bloke over there owes my boss some money. Now he can pay but refuses to do so. I’m thinking maybe you can convince him it would be in his best interest to pay up, eh?”
Hellrien looked down the alley, considering the man’s words. So he wanted her for a muscle job then. Maybe it wasn’t all that surprising after all. Hellrien was a tall, robust and broad-shouldered for a woman, and her hard eyes, scars around her eyebrows and cheekbones and boxer’s ear denoted a person with violent past and tendencies. Should she turn down the offer? If not her, somebody else would do it and collect the money. And besides, people should know better before loaning money from loan-sharks.
”What does it pay if I do it?” she asked.
The man tossed the pouch into the air. Hellrien caught it instinctively from the air.
”Enough to keep the wolves from your door for a while”, he said with a cheery grin, ”and more work means more coin. It’s basic outsourcing.”
Hellrien weighed the pouch in her hand for a while. She peeked in to check the color of the coin. Then she pocketed it. ”Mordor’s ashes, I’ll do it.”
The Valar knew she had done worse things in her life, and chances were she would not have to hurt the guy at all. The sight of Hellrien in a dark alley with her big warhammer alone should be enough to convince the him that he was playing with his life. Heck, she would likely do him a favor. Somebody else might beat him half-dead just for the hell of it.
The man kept grinning, but the grin had taken on a hard and predatory quality. It reminded Hellrien of a shark. ”There’s something to bear in mind, lass”, the man said. ”He has been warned two times already. This is his last warning, keep that in mind.”
Hellrien unfastened her hammer and began strolling down the alley, slapping the long shaft of the hammer against her left palm as she approached the lone figure. As she came closer, she saw a well-dressed, wealthy-looking man, a typical example of Bree merchant class. It looked like he was waiting for someone.
”Waiting for someone, are we?” she asked in a dark, menacing voice.
The somewhat smug expression on the merchan’t face was instantly replaced by a concerned look.
”Not again! I’ve said I will not pay to those bastards!”
The man drew a small knife from his belt. Hellrien’s response was fast, instinctive and brutal. The hammer swung low and crushed his left knee. The merchant dropped his knife, toppled on the street and curled up to clutch his knee, screaming with pain. Hellrien winced internally as she realized she had probably overreacted. But they had not taught her how to be a debt-collector in the Stronghold. She had been trained to neutralize her enemy the fastest, most effective and brutal way possible. She had been trained to use lethal force.
None of that could be heard in her hard, metallic voice as she grated: ”You shouldn’t have done that. You still have your right knee. If you don’t pay up your debts, that one goes next. After that I will crush your arms, then your cheekbones, and finally your ribcage. I’m not fooling around, mister – pay up!”
The merchant lifted his face towards Hellrien, the expression of fear and pain gradually turning into anger. ”Debt? Debt? Is that what they told you? I don’t owe them anything! They want fees for their ’protection’ racket – petty criminals!” He spat at her feet.
Hellrien drew in a deep breath. Protection racket? Had the skinny man tricked her? That made her crime a more serious one – from debt-collecting into extortion.
And you’ve already crushed his knee. It’s too late to back down now, you have gone too far for that.
”No matter. You must pay.”
The merchant shook his head fiercely, rocking on the ground as he clutched at his twisted leg. ”If I cave in now, the others will too. I can’t do that! It’s a matter of principle, honor!”
Hellrien couldn’t help but feel admiration for the man’s stubbornness, and loath herself for the role she now found herself in. Why these things always happened to her? You never learn, lass, do you? It was her mother’s voice in her head. She sounded sad. But Hellrien forced callous remorselessness into her own voice as she replied: ”Not my problem. Pay up.”
”Evening, John.” The oddly happy voice came right behind Hellrien. It was the skinny man’s voice. The merchant’s gaze focused on the man behind Hellrien, his face slumped white as a sheet and his eyes gleaming with horror. He turned his eyes at Hellrien, almost pleading. ”You have killed me”, he whispered.
Hellrien shook her head. ”No, I haven’t.”
The skinny man chuckled at that, having moved to stand by the merchant. He knelt down by him, looking up at Hellrien. ”Well actually…” A folded straight razor appeared in his hand. He flicked it open with one quick, experienced motion and slit his throat from ear to ear. A gush of blood spurted out onto the cobblestones and Hellrien’s shoes. She took a quick step backwards. Suddenly a veil of murderous rage veiled her eyes. The skinny man had carved an image of an eye to his victim’s forehead before he had stopped gurgling and thrashing on the street. Then the skinny man wiped his blade on his victim’s coat and stood up, grinning the same madman’s grin.
”I suppose you have friends up there in the alley, waiting for you to walk out unharmed?” Hellrien asked in a husky, gravelly voice.
”Friends? No lass, that’s why I brought you, see?”
”Well then”, Hellrien asked, ”tell me why I wouldn’t just bash your head in with this hammer in my hand, keep your money and walk away?”
The man laughed loudly at Hellrien’s threat and shook his head. ”You can try, lass, but I’ve taken the eyes of better fighters than you before. Besides, my associates know all about you, and they would be very interested to hear what you have to say about my missing.”
For a moment Hellrien really wanted to make him prove his statement, for she doubted it. The man was quick, quick on his feet, quicker than Hellrien - she had to give him that. Quick, and eager to use that nasty razor of his into live targets he wielded so expertly. It would be a mistake to underestimate a man like that. She did not doubt one second he had used it on opponents much bigger than him, and much bigger than Hellrien – he looked it. But if he thought he was now dealing with one of those clumsy thugs who had never set foot outside of Bree he was in for a surprise.
In the end she managed to quell her temper. She had no reason to doubt the second part of his statement. She knew it to be true. The skinny man had not been up to this alone. Why her, then? What had made them think she would go through with it? The answer was all too easy to find. For the past week she had been relating her adventures in the Pony to anyone who would listen – loudly and repeatedly. Somebody had listened, and decided to put her on a test.
And now she was trapped. For people like these would never let you go once they’d gotten their hooks in you. They would always come back for more favors, and they would always pay well for them. And with the carrot always came a terrifying stick, for turning your back on them, betraying them, refusing to work for them would mean a horrifying death. She could flee from Bree, but who knows how far the tendons of their organization stretched? Probably no farther than Bree-land, but still – she would have to go on glancing over her shoulder for the rest of her life. And besides – they had just made her accomplice to a murder. They had laid out a trap and she had stepped into it – fully and firmly.
”You underestimate me”, said Hellrien, ”but I’m not going to do the same mistake with you and your organization. You have tricked me, but I guess it was my own damn fault. I suppose this is not the last time I’m hearing from you, mister?”
The man chuckled and shook his head. ”There would be no point in bringing you in otherwise. Trust me, lass, it’s better to be on the winning side. And if you try to betray us, I will have to get creative with my work.” The madman’s grin never departed his lips.
”Do you have a name? Or what should I call you?”
The man shook his head. ”No names, lass. All you need to know is that you now work for the Network.”
”Very well. I’ll just call you ’The Man’ then.”
”Aye, that’ll work. Well, now you have your coin and your new job, lass.”
”Yeah”, said Hellrien heavily. ”Those I do. I guess we should split before somebody comes this way.”
The Man nodded. ”Aye. Probably for the best. I’ll be seeing you, lass.”
Hellrien turned and walked away. Now she had money again. Enough to keep her room, enough for other things too. But she still needed to get a regular job as well. Otherwise people would begin to wonder where all that money came from.
