The sun sets over the silent rolling plains of Rohan, nothing stirs in the failing light as it shines it's last rays of the day upon the Farmland of Brock Lonewood, owner of the stables and lands within sight of his small farmstead. The horses are for the most part sleeping, one or two graze lazily, but even they look ready to settle soon enough.
Suddenly, breaking the silence, a window on the back of the farm house creaks open, and a young man stealthily climbs out, dropping artfully the the floor he crouches, holding his breath, listening intently for any signs of his family waking. After a moment or two he grins to himself cheekily and, keeping low, makes for the stables across the yard. He is dressed in clothes that drown his small frame, yet the clothes themselves are rich, deep green and appear hardly worn. The lad appears barely out of his teens, though when he reaches for the handle to the stable door, his hands betray his age, they are worn and rough from years of hard work. Stealthily he slips inside the barn and from beneath a nearby haystack, pulls out a ready packed bag he stashed there late the evening before. He shoulders it and swiftly readies a horse to ride, choosing the strongest and swiftest of his father's mares. As the lad is about ready to lift himself up into the stirrup, he stops, and turns, leaning on the horse he looks around at the stable, seemingly lost, before slowly taking a folded note out of his pocket. He leads the mare out of the stable, and closing the door behind him quietly, he slides the letter between the crack, ensuring it will be found soon enough.
He walks for a while, leading the Mare and patting her nose lovingly, and on a grassy hillock about a mile from the farm, he climbs astride her and looks back over his shoulder at the farm he had called home for his 23 years. Lowering his head slightly he turns away, kicking the horse to a fast gallop. He heads north.
-Boen's note, left by him for his father-
"I'm sorry father, I have taken what I need to do what I plan to do, and no more, if these proves to much for you, then hopefully one day I can repay you. I cannot stay here to raise horses, like your father did, and his father, and his father before him. I love this land, but there is more to this world, and I desire to see it. Do not think badly of me father, for when I return, you shall be proud of me, for doing something more."
