[Alcarillo]

The baggage was loaded onto the cart, and once Osfrid had ran inside to retrieve a basket of food from the cook, he and Muriel rode off down the dusty road to Edoras. Osfrid smiled and wrapped an arm around Muriel's shoulders. It was good to be on the road again, out of Sorn's musty house and away from his shifty henchmen and servants. It was just like the days before he had met Sorn… He basked in his joy while he could, until Muriel pulled him out of it with her questions.

"What did Sorn tell you, when you and he spoke before we left?" asked Muriel.

"What? Oh, just a little thing about a doll," Osfrid said. "The rich lady had a doll with her when we took her from the fair. Sorn thinks it must've been a gift for somebody. He wants us to investigate if we can."

Muriel pursed her lips and considered this bit of information for a moment. "Does she have a younger sister, maybe?" she suggested, "Or maybe a young friend?"

"I don't know. We'll have to wait and see." He smiled at Muriel. She was beginning to think like a spy. He leaned back, casually holding the reins, and resumed his daydreaming about the good ol' days when he once traveled all across southern Rohan, committing all sorts of mischievous crimes, before he had even heard of Sorn.

The rest of the journey to Edoras was rough and bumpy. Though Osfrid didn't mind it, Muriel complained that her legs were sore, and so she and Osfrid would often rest by the side of the road for a bit. When noon came, they stretched a blanket at the roadside and had a picnic. The cook had prepared a rather bland meal of bread and cheese, but Osfrid and Muriel were grateful after their scant breakfast earlier that morning. Once Osfrid had hitched the mules back to the cart, they continued their journey. They passed through rolling farmlands mostly, and occasionally passed through a few tiny hamlets. They traveled long into the afternoon, and Muriel soon began to complain of boredom.

"Oh, Osfrid," Muriel said, turning to him from where she sat gazing at the countryside, "When will we reach Edoras? There's nothing to do here but sit and watch the scenery!"

Osfrid shifted in his seat and dropped the reins from one of his hands to stroke his moustache. "Well, Muriel dear, I'm afraid we won't reach Edoras for some hours." Muriel slumped her shoulders in disappointment. "But we can pass the time by embellishing our disguises," Osfrid continued, "False names won't be enough! We need complete false identities, histories, and reasons for traveling!"

Muriel sat up, eager to pick a new history for herself. "Oh! I want to be a noblewoman!" she said.

Osfrid chuckled. "I'm afraid I had something a little more simple in mind," he told her. He turned his head for a moment to take a quick look at the luggage loaded into the back of the cart. Nothing that would indicate a specific occupation… An abundance of cloth, for example, would let them become cloth merchants, or carrying barrels of apples could give them the disguise of orchard-tenders. Osfrid sighed. They would need to be traveling for non-commercial purposes. "Now, listen here, Muriel," he continued, "I'm afraid we can't even disguise as merchants if we don't carry any possible merchandise with us. We can be…farmers, possibly? Traveling to visit your ill mother east of Edoras?"

"I suppose…" Muriel said. "Must we be farmers? Can't we be anything…um, richer?"

"Well, dearie, our luggage isn't the stuff of luxury. Just the bare essentials, and rather simple essentials at that..." He paused to stroke his big, blond moustache again. "I think we can best be farmers on our way to your ill mother. Bertwald and Hilda, traveling farmers."

Muriel shrugged and turned back to watching the countryside go by, a little disappointed that she had became only a farmer.

The journey continued as before. The sun headed west, and they spent afternoon riding. Muriel still sat in absolute boredom, while Osfrid contented himself with driving the cart down the seemingly endless road. The afternoon became early evening. The stars appeared, and still they rode on. Muriel, feeling tired, had rested her head against Osfrid's shoulder and tried to sleep, but the jolting of the cart kept her awake. Just when she finally felt at rest, Osfrid nudged her in the ribs.

"Look, Muriel," he whispered to her, "We're here."

She sat upright and leaned forward to peer at Edoras in the dim light of the evening. There it was, the long-awaited city. "Finally!" she muttered.

Osfrid drove the cart up to the wooden gates, where a soldier stepped forward with his hand upraised, indicating that they should halt. Osfrid slowed down the cart. The soldier was unexpected. Was this because of the kidnapping? Undoubtedly. "Remember our disguises, Muriel," he told her as the cart rolled closer, "I'm Bertwald and you're Hilda. This is especially important now. The guards must be here to question travelers." Osfrid turned from Muriel and took a deep breath, grinning amiably as the guard approached.

"Hello, there, friend!" Osfrid called from the cart, "We weren't expecting guards. I don't suppose some urgent matter of safety has come up now, do I?"