The crowd at The Broken Dragon was finally starting to thin out, but not fast enough to suit Mistress Eastorhyld. She had just decided to tell the hanger-ons to drink up and go home, when suddenly the door to the tavern burst open and Freeholder Cadda came staggering in, out of breath and shouting incoherently. He ran to the bar, then slumped into a nearby chair, his eyes wide with terror and his clothes torn and muddy.
“Master Cadda!” screamed Eastorhyld, as she threw down her bar rag and grabbed a mug of ale. “What has happened? Easy, good Sir. Here, drink up and tell us what has happened.” The men in the tavern all gathered around, trying to help Cadda catch his breath by smothering him in a crowd.
“Beda!” gasped Master Cadda. He took a great gulp from the ale mug, then continued “Beda’s dead! Shot! Shot by an arrow as we hunted badger in the hills.”
“What? Beda dead? How? Who would do such a thing?” screamed Eastorhyld.
“Holbytlan, that’s who!” shouted Cadda. The crowd around him gasped and murmured among themselves. “That’s right. Me and Beda took Gyrth the hound out to hunt for badger dens. We were climbing a hill, when one of those Long Feet stepped from behind a tree, and shot both the dog and Beda. I barely made it out of there with my life! Arrows were flying everywhere! There may have been more than one, hiding behind the trees, but I saw one for sure. Sure as I‘m seeing you all here. He stepped out and murdered poor Beda without warning. I tried to help him, I did. But if I had stayed, I would be dead myself.”
The rumbling of the crowd was getting louder, when suddenly a lone voice from the back of the room cut through the shouting. “Murder, Master Cadda? In all my years this is the first I have heard of the Holbytlan waylaying men in the dark.”
The crowd turned and split, as a large Man in hood and boots came walking slowly up to the hysterical freeholder. Later, the patrons would argue whether the Ranger had just “appeared”, or had been sitting in the shadows the whole time that evening.
The Ranger towered over the cowering, breathless farmer, studying him with eyes that revealed nothing. “Your tale begs for examination, Master Cadda. These are serious charges you bring,, and it is the duty of the Dunedain to seek out and punish murderers in these parts. I’d like to ask you some questions about the event you have described.”
“Of course, of course. I‘ll try to help you in any way I can, good Sir Ranger,” muttered Cadda, looking at his feet. ”It’s lucky we are that you happened to be here tonight.“ Cadda, however, seemed to feel anything but lucky.
“Very well, Master Cadda. The first question I’d like to ask you is: What were you and this Beda really hunting tonight?“
[ September 05, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]
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