Deorgast sat on the stairs of his new house, as the sun was rising above the hills in front of him. He felt content for being able to move into a proper residence, and not just sleep here and there where weather would allow him to. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Also, he was now Fiontann's neighbour, so he could bother him anytime he wanted to.
In front of Deor were two large bags and his old backpack, as long as a paraphernalia of equipment laying on the ground. He thought as he was going through the bags, whistling and seeming relaxed.
"So, the traps are ready, spare set of arrows... Where's my food?! Ah, here. I'll need salt, seasoning leaves and... Can't forget the rations, that'd be bad."
Deor now touched the furry cloak he hasn't used for long, which smelled like old. He picked it up and coughed as dust was still coming out of it. "This will keep me warm. I hope that what the dwarves told me about the Mountains is nothing but dwarven tales. They sure exagerate, sometimes." He shrugged as he rolled the cloak neatly and straped it with a piece of cloth.
He looked at the now clear sky as he took a deep breath. The time was coming for yet another journey for him. Except this time, the company he much loved was coming with him. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, for he heard and saw queer things happening on the path to where they were going, but he knew that his companions were more than capable men and women.
"If we ever come back, which we will of course, I wondered if anyone will ever sing of our doings... Like they did with the Riders back in the Mark! Alas! That would be very impressive, yes it would. If not, I'll be the one to sing! Let's see:
Ere the Dawn departs
Sturdy folk that swiftly travel
Good fate will bring them back someday
To tell and sing tales that will marvel.
Aye, aye, that will do it."
Deorgast chuckled as he got up and pulled Grimme's reigns, keeping a content smile on his face.
He was ready.
