On the road again



It seems to be my destiny not to be allowed to enjoy my farm or my home in Bancross. I have been more away from my new home, than being able to live and enjoy the quiet life I had planned there. My Oath had forced me to serve at the Dunland borders for months… no, not forced… I mutter to myself. That is the wrong way to look at it, Duncadda. The oath had given me another opportunity to prove my worth for the mark and it had nearly cost me my life. Not for the first time either and I recollect my self appointed task on the east wall, that had placed me so close to the dark abyss or in Bema’s green fields... I’m not sure what my fate has in store for me, but at that time, it felt I was destined for the darkness and not the green everlasting fields of Bema, under a clear blue sky... Pah Duncadda! Stop this meaningless questioning about everything, you will learn soon enough

I'm sitting in front of the cold fireplace in my hall, sipping on my own brew of dark mead which matches my dark mood. I look around in my home which feels cold and raw, much colder on the inside than the outside of the house and I grin. Just like I feel right now myself. I’m almost naked, wearing only a loincloth, while I'm sharpening my sword that I just have cleaned away blood and mud from. In front of me there are two piles of clothes. In one of the piles are my traveling clothes that had been used for the hunt, which we had returned from today. They are wet, muddy and ill smelling of both troll and orc blood. The clothes have some tears here and there, where the orcs had managed to find a way past my defence.

They had cut me, but not deeply and I had not told the others traveling with me, about the light wounds I had received. Under the guise of protecting the rear of our hunt caravan, I had been able to patch up and clean my own wounds, without any of others noticing it. I think the encounter with the troll and orc warband had shaken them all… that there might be orc’s within our border is not unheard of, but a troll deep in Rohan… something foul is brewing… 

And cursed orc's!  I speak out loud to myself. My teeth's are gritting and my mood turns even darker. I cannot allow those vile and wicked orc’s to roam free...

And that is the reason for the other pile of clothes laying in front of me. Mended and clean, my green leather armour of the mark is ready to serve me again. I know Waelden will do his best to convince Denholm to take actions and find out what's happening, but I do not trust the man who leads the Bancross garrison or his riders for the task to track down the dark warband operating within our borders. I’m afraid a larger force of our folk may scare them away and the purpose for their ill deeds will be lost to us all. We need to gain the initiative, since there are so many strange things happening in and around Bancross and we cannot be idle.

Why were they so close to Bancross? Was a question I had asked myself over and over on our way back home. And the need to answer it was like an open wound that needed to be closed. I drain the last of the mead I have in my cup and toss it aside, before I stand up to get dressed for my oaths to protect the mark. Waelden and his family would not approve what I'm about to do, so I will not tell them what I’m planning or leaving. But I will send them a message through one of the stable boys at the market, that I'm out of Bancross for a few days and will return soon.

I take one last look around my home, before I open the door and step outside.