Hooves beat into the soft ground, trampling down the lush grass as the horses necks reared back with a snort of disagreement about how hard their riders were pushing them. The ranger cast back his hood, his grey eyes looking over towards those approaching.
On shaggy horses, that looked starved yet strong with coats as brown as the mud they live in. Shoddy bridles and saddles, of leather work with very little metal, and with fur blankets set down upon their backs. The riders were similar, tall and strong with long dark hair that went past their shoulders and with beards forked and braided. Swords and bows were drawn, crude yet effective. Three of them, blades and arrows pointing at the green-clad man.
"Who you?!", the leader of the group shouted out in broken Westron, his hair a mixture of blonde and brown with a leather band around his brow.
"Peace, I come in Peace. I am Rambler.", Hutin lifted his leather and cloth bound hands, showing he meant no harm. A spear jabbed gently into his hip, gesturing at his weapons to which he removed and handed over towards the leader.
Casting glances between each other, and muttering in their own languages, they decided the man was not a threat after taking his weapons and giving the man a few long looks.
"I.. Nihtegala. Come, you come Galtiskógr.", the brown-blonde haired man spoke and turned his horse, leading them back to the settlement deep in the woods.
Wooden palisades stretched around on the slightly raised land that the village was built on and smoke escaped up through the cracks in the thatched roofing of the many huts though most came from the grand hall where fires burned all day long. Children run around the streets, with wolf like dogs following them and playing with each other. Old grizzled men and wrinkled women sat around a table that looked more like a whole tree split in two, talking and murmuring and clipping young children around the ears as they misbehaved.
The three men; Nihtegala, Bjornskalf and Mulaz dismounted from their horses, with Hutin sliding off the back of Nihtegalas. A few men, warriors who stood taller than him, looked towards him with a furrowed brow whilst their blonde hair and was like a mane around their square jaws. A woman gasped, and dragged her young child away from the strangely dressed man as he made his way throughout the village with his chainmail clinking and his leather boots creaking.
He came to a halt at the entrance to the great hall, admiring the fine wood work of carved bears, eagles and wolves along the top. The elks and squirrels at the bottom, and in the center a large boar with two trees either side. With a nudge from one of the larger warriors from behind, his hand met the iron rings and pushed through..
