Wind blew through his red hair, and the rider on the grey horse stood upright in the saddle with a content smile on his lips. He breathed in the fresh air, the lush smell of grass filling his nostrils as he heard birdsong float on the wind. He felt free again.
He spurred on his horse and set off through the long grass, even his loyal companion Hrimfell feeling free as he raised his head back, whinnying into the wind as his dark mane flew about, prancing without a care in the world. The sun was casting a low light at the early hour, the fields shimmering gold with the morning’s dew.
A familiar path was ahead, the dusty brown of the well tread trading route that led towards the City of the Mark; Edoras with it’s Golden Hall. Without a second doubt, the horse and rider took up this new road and went on with courage and freedom in his heart.
It was in this city where Langhund would once again feel like a Wild Son once more, with a different woman on his lap each night, and a mug in his hand each hour. It was also in this city where he would learn to where his paths would take him.
North.
Over the plains my steed does fly,
With nerves of steel; soundest of minds.
Through forests watching trees pass by,
Conquering boars, wolves, stags and hinds.
Through bitter winds and the wildest of snows,
My greatest of feats happened in Wildermore.
My sword slashed swift, and fierce were my arrows,
And the blood of their chief will fame me evermore.
From town to town my dark eyes prowl,
Seeking for daughters, maids and wives.
In bed with me, they always growl
And I still linger in their lives.
There is a reason for my name,
Beyond dark eyes, and my wild red hair.
You see, I put most men to shame,
With my Lang Hund to which none can compare!
