He was walking for weeks after escaping from that foul land in the North, he knew not who he was, or why was he up there. All he knew was that they called him Morthwyl and that his job was to fight to entertain those creatures who deserved nothing but death.
He read Bree on the sign on the gate as he entered the little town, he saw free people wandering about, doing their daily chores, and it felt odd. All he knew was fighting and doing hard work under the leash. He started visiting that loud inn called the Prancing Pony, all sorts of people gathered there, but Morthwyl kept to himself. Every time he went there he did the same thing, entered, ordered some ale and found a quiet corner to drink it.Every now and then someone would talk to him, but he'd answer with a growl, short answers, showing his wish to be left alone.
His long thick hair and beard covered his face and features, his hat kept iit all in place in front of his face, no one was able to tell who it was, yet he was a familiar face. One of those days Fiontann encountered an old friend, Deorgast, Fion didn’t remember him, Deor didn’t recognize him, and they insulted each other and left the inn to fight. The fight was hard but Fiontann managed to overwhelm his old friend whom he didn’t remember now.
Just before dropping him down for good, Fion got a strong hit to his head, that made him dizzy and brought images to his mind. He saw a bloody forest with dead bodies all around, blood was everywhere, even on his hands. From that day on his headaches started, followed by a stumble or even bloody images, forcing him to leave the inn in hurry, not knowing what to do…
