It had been days since his encounter with Captain Awiergan of the Eored, who called themselves the Esquires of the Riddermark, and Wulfthred was sitting at the fire of his acquired estate, starring in the flames. New life was running through his veins as purpose had returned to him. Awiergan had told him about the large community of Rohirrim that had gathered in and around the town of Bree. Refugees mostly that had to flee their homeland for various reasons. Many were with them at that memorable day at the gap, though none were from Wulfthred's Eored that came from Grimslade. All dead… Wulfthred guessed solemnly. Awiergan also told him how they were striving to gather as many men as possible and find a way to return to Rohan, despite dire news arriving every day that the Gap was closed and guarded by the men of Dunland and, even worse, Uruk-Hai, a particularly large form of Orc, bearing the strange symbol of a white-hand.
Nonetheless, the real chance of going home at some point filled Wulfthred with hope. Hope to redeem himself for the shame he still felt for deserting his own men in need – especially now that they were all dead it seemed. He had cut down on the ale though, for he realized if he ever wanted to return home alive, drinking himself to an early grave was not supportive of that objective. Also, as he invested all his last gold into the rather large estate at Uxhold, a little village close to Bree, he was now supporting the Bree Town Guard more than ever in the security of the Northern Bree lands. 'Luckily', more and more orcs seemed to be streaming down from the Northern Barrows, giving Wulfthred a never ending source of money and work.
Today, however, Wulfthred had not been out hunting down orcs, goblins and alike, but Captain Awiergan had asked him to accompany him on an errand that would lead him to the little village of Archet. It was a cold morning when the two of them arrived at the town of Combe, that lay on their way to their destination. While Awiergan was dressed in rich garment,Wulfthred was enjoying the comfort of his Rohirric armour that luckily one of his new kinsmen, in fact a woman, had repaired from the maltreatment it had experience over the past months. 'So, what exactly we doin 'ere, Captain?', Wulfthred asked in his deep voice as he drew his coat closer around his body, to keep the morning chill out, which his steel could do little to prevent him from. 'I heard that some of our kin have been seen in these lands. We shall find them and talk to them, ask them to join our cause', Awiergan responded, pointing to the large wooden rampart on top of a little hill, that was safely embraced by two larger rocky hills. Awiergan told Wulfthred how the little village had been raided by brigands very recently, and as the village was now being repaired, he hoped to find Rohirrim there, who might have been hired as day-workers.
As they entered into the valley of Archet, Wulfthred could smell the scent of burned wood from afar. He let his gaze wander over the flowery hills and old Anorian ruins, thinking to himself What can men do against evil that does not halt even from the most peaceful places… As they rode on the path towards the village, Wulfthred could finally see the blackened ruins of what once must have been a hospitable little agglomeration of houses. The scent of coal was becoming stronger, and wild memories of his passed stirred in his mind. The images of burned farms, cattle and bodies of men, women and children, that he had seen back in the Westfold began to creep back into his consciousness. He would never forgive the wild men for this.
As they approached the village gate, they slowed down their horses and encountered a young woman on horseback, blocking the way through the gate. With a smile on his face, Wulfthred was sitting in front of the warmth of his fire, recapitulating the encounter from earlier with this strange but somehow intriguing young women– though she must not have been much older than eighteen years. She was wearing some rather ragged leather robe, with an apparantly self-made bow on her back and a quiver with what seemed to be half-straight arrows bound to the back of her horse, which was probably the most precious thing about her. He smirked now at the young woman's initial hostile attitude towards the men that was only further strengthened when him and Awiergan had introduced themselves as men from Rohan. If it wasn't for Awiergan's ways with words, she surely would have drawn an arrow and attacked them there and then. But who could blame her, Wulfthred thought as he remember her tale about the rude Rohirrim she obviously had met earlier, insulting her and her heritage. As she was very quick to move on, Wulfthred and Awiergan entered the village, though without luck regarding their errand to find men. Nonetheless, as he was sitting there now all relaxed in his tunic, his sword on his lap and a whetstone in his right, Wulfthred remembered how he looked back at her, as she was somewhat gracefully riding south, and he realized a strange fascination about that odd young rugged women…
