The road to Rohan was easy enough for Leofrine. She knew the way well enough and due to traveling alone she was able to escape the eyes of many. One soul wasn't worth that of many to the Dunland folk. Leofrine traveled by the woodland paths as she did before. Her brown attire suiting well in the dark trees. The spear felt heavy in her hand. It took a long while before she was use to the old weapon and the shields weight didn't help either. She didn't train her body to endure the way like she did before. The need to reach her homeland was just too much.
As soon as she entered the gates the trip felt worth while. The place seemed larger than she remembered. The horses more powerful looking. The people more golden. Leofrine felt like she was in the minority with the small number of Rohirrim that had her caramel locks. The massive curls that draped her shoulders made up for it though. The town seemed fewer in number and no one seemed to want to stop and chat so she took to exploring the streets on her own.
She made her way to a smaller tavern and was able to rent out a place in it's hollows. The barman even let her sign up for a job as a bartender there. Her muscles were sore from the journey and with no familiar faces in sight she retired. She threw her old clothes in the rickety closet and placed out her new attire. The gold and brown and silver felt nice in her hands. She had forgotten herself in Bree. Her weakness had overwhelmed her and she found herself unable to communicate well with the Breelanders. No. She was done being weak. She would speak in her native tongue and raise her spear once more. Perhaps hope would come for her. She must forge new alliances. With this in mind Leofrine kicked off her boots and sat down at a small desk in the corner of the room. She took up a crumpled piece of paper and a old quill and wrote of her troubles...
