So here they were. That what she had sought to avoid, fate threw right in front of her, these two men of Rohan. Could she believe that they had come to Archet to find kinsmen or had they come to heckle the residents like it were some sport in which these Rohirrim loved to engage?
The moment of realisation not only produced a bloom of awareness in Bri's mind, hackles rose along the back of her neck like an angry goose. She felt no sense of welcoming at that moment. Monk on the other hand, greeted the other horses, muzzle to muzzle, as if they had been old friends.
The younger of Men smiled broadly at Sybri and announced himself as Awiergan of the Mark. He sat upon a mighty steed with fine apparel, befitting of a noble yet his deportment seemed mismatched to his clothing. His voice clear and cordial, which paired with his smile, gave the impression he was genuinely pleased to meet the huntress.
"Wulfthred, Son of Wulfert," was how the other rider introduced himself. He was clearly a man with a few seasons in the saddle. Firm set of his jaw line, the little grey in the beard, his stern scrutiny of his gaze, collectively suggested his age. Both well cared for, the sharp eyed hunter could see that he took pride in his armour and arms, as well. Astride his fine horse, he cut a striking figure.
Awiergan and Wulfthred had probably not expected the next turn of events, especially from where thay sat looking at the slight woman, dressed in a moth-eaten dusty coat on an older horse. Sybri sharply relayed her tale of the outspokenness and ignorance of what she heard from her first encounter of Men from Rohan. If her words had been wind, it likely would have blown both men completely out of their saddles!
In answer to her rhetorical questioning of their purpose in visiting Archet, Awiergan assured the obviously bristled blonde woman that not all Men of Rohan regarded Bree-landers as louts and boors. Wulfthred remained alert but quiet as the younger man spoke, making his case for his Kinsmen.
After some persuasive arguments in evidence of what he claimed, Sybri lowered her guard and tentatively accepted both the pronouncements of good will and respect for her people. The proof of what was said needed to be demonstrated over time, but she had the natural inclination of assuming people were good hearted at the core of their beings. Only time would tell if this quality in Sybri would serve her or fool her.
Satisfied with the conversation and the encounter, she said her farewell and Monk whinnied his good byes. Into Archet the two men rode while Sybri trotted toward the Chetwood. As Monk laid down each new hoof print, the young woman began to develop new questions about the two men she had just met. Why was the one man dressed in heavy armour and the other in fine clothing? Wulfthred, ever watchful, yet Awiergan ever verbose?
Just as the horse and hunter loped into the edge of the forest, it hit her! She knew what they were about...
