Our representative caught up to the fabled Lore-master as he lounged about in Staddle, haranguing the locals while taking long droughts out of his bottle.
He squinted against the noon-day sun. “No more cooking!” he warned as our courier approached.
The messenger shook his head silently and drew out a letter from his satchel. “This is for you, Sype.”
“Reading?” the Lore-master sat motionless, refusing to take it. “No reading after breakfast, lad. It’s what constipates the bowels. Spit it out and be done with ye.”
The boy shrugged and opened the seal, scanning the letter quickly. “They have a new mission for you, one of utmost importance.”
Grey bushy eyebrows rose. “Oh? Indeed? What is it — a dragon, perhaps? Are they sacking that stupid fat hobbit and giving the One Ring to someone who can actually get something done? Out with it!”
“You see,” the messenger paused. “You see, there’s a lonely hobbit near here who needs companionship.”
Sype grabbed his staff and waved it threateningly. “Go away, boy. I’m not that desperate for cash.”
“And there’s this widow nearby he’s been courting…”
The old man stabbed at the ground where the messenger’s foot stood a moment before, sending a plume of dust into the air. “So he’s a Peeping Tom stalker, so what? Tell him to apply for a character position in one of Stephanie Meyer’s novels.”
“And the Committee wants you to facilitate their courtship by being a matchmaker.”
Sype was quiet for a minute, and then uttered five words that turned the messenger into a hedgehog. The opened letter fluttered to the ground.
“I think I’ll name you ‘Werit’,” he said. “Now, in my pocket you go, and let’s see if we can match you up with a hungry wolf. Matchmaker, my patootie.”
He raised the bottle to his mouth, but lowered it without taking a drink as a thought popped into his mind. “Hm,” he said. “Hmm. Love may be in the cards after all…”
* * *
From the Desk of Constable Bolger, Staddle Bounder Department
The 28th of September, 3018
At approx. 4:10 p.m., the widow Foghorn contacted SBD in a state of terrible anxiety. An unknown assailant coated the front of her doorway with splashed pigs blood, and then used some of the blood to write by finger “IM COMING FOUR YOU ASPHODEL” on the nearby wall.
Upon further inspection, dog tracks were seen in the mud outside of the door coming from the direction of Eldo Swatmidge’s home. We asked, and received, permission to inspect his home, and found a slaughtered pig in the back yard. Suspect denies being involved, although witnesses claim that Mr. Swatmidge has been seen walking by the Foghorn residence multiple times every day.
Suspect placed under formal arrest and shipped off to Brockenborings for trial. Having no nearby friends or family to take in his dog, SBD contacted animal control who unfortunately had to put down the distressed beast.
Widow is suffering from stress migraines and nervous tics. Recommend a unit patrol around Foghorn’s farm for the next week just in case.