Trading was never easy. In fact, Furley had gotten this grand notion in his mind that Rohan would have welcomed traders, and would have ben in need of supply. How wrong he'd been. Instead, he'd been shunned by the traders as an outsider and a threat, and nobody seemed interested in parting with coin. Times were hard, I suppose. They clearly had an abundance of furs, and no desire for feathered hats. He'd have to re-think his strategy.
So, there he was, nursing a cup of mead in Snowbourn's barracks, one distrustful, watchful eye on the hooded ranger figure in the corner, and another rather concerned eye on the shield-maiden Esmaorva, who looked rather like she'd tried to cuddle a warg, and seemed threatening to pass out at any moment.
Stuck in his thoughts, the door swung open and in entered two women. One went straight to the bar, and the other to the fire. The one that went to the bar was straight in there with the conversation opener, and Furley couldn't help but smile. Nothing better to a Bree-Lander than a weather comment to strike up a conversation.
"Good god, get me out that winter's chill!"
"Have a drink, warms you right through" he chuckled. "Best stuff around, they don't make stuff like this in the Pony".
"I dare say they do! It isn't called 'Barliman's Best' for nothing!" she insinuated, and he grinned, feeling suddenly much more at home with someone who was familiar with his.
"Barliman's best is only best at sending your head for a spin. The only way it keeps you warm is if when you pass out it's by the fire" he chuckled, and they began to chat cheerily. Some time passed, and he learned that she was a healer. She had learned of his title and responsibilities through a slip of the tongue of another patron, and it had sparked some mutual interest.
He asked her to look for the refugees of Langhold by Harwick, and she kindly agreed to his request. After all, winter wasn't far away and he worried about their welfare, which had become his personal concern, somehow. Nethertheless, he was happy with his charge, and would do what he could for them. He hadn't planned on staying long in Snowbourn; after all he'd only come down to try sort trade links from Bree and also to Harwick in an attempt to bring work and a chance of a new life to the refugees of Langhold. He had a lady he was excited to see back home, and had recently purchased a house in Bree, hoping one day to set his roots there and have a family of his own.
It was during their conversation, though, that the other woman stepped forward; a blonde, motherly strength about her, and also rather official. Thane Haeneth. Listening in, she discussed their plans for travel, but also had news to report. She was going round spreading the news that the Isen was under attack once more, and that her Commander had sent her to gather all able to answer the call.
Looking into his mug, glumly, his heart sank. He had planned to return north to Ede as soon as he was able. Shit, he thought. She's going to kill me. He had thirteen days to report, and it would take him half that to gather his retinue, many of which were in the north on his behest. Still, one didn't accept the position of Knight without knowing the consequences of duty, and he had to answer. Though his stomach knotted with that familiar fear... the fear that he may ride to certain death, and his fate was already written. After all, he didn't want to die... he'd got far too much to live for.
"Well the horse will be happy" he attempted to joke. "She's been restless of late, clearly gunning for a fight. Crackers, that one" he smiled, before formally bowing to her, and gratefully accepting her return of the Bree-Land handshake greeting.
As he saddled up, he lifted his hood over his head to fight the chill, and breathed slowly. He didn't have much time to think; merely time enough to act. But the Thane had spoken so highly of her Commander, and that had sparked a little hope in him. He'd never found someone he could follow or trust, but she painted him like the man that Rohan needed in their plight.
"Come on, Calista" he said, tugging the reins and clicking his tongue. "Let's see if this man's what he's painted himself to be. To the breach once more, dear friend, eh?" he laughed, without humour, before bolting off with due haste toward the North.
