A darkness had fallen over Bree-land. The sun had long been set, and the moon made its claim over the sky. Amathlan did not fear the dark – in fact, he loved to revel in the stars as his kin once did, and oft still do. Yet just because he had no fear of the dark, did not mean that his steed was happy with it.
West, a steed he loaned out from a stable-master in Bree, suddenly and stubbornly refused to go any further east past the Midgewater Marshes once he took note of the darkness. Nothing Amathlan tried would get the stubborn beast to move – even dismounting and attempting to lead it by the reins on foot. The horse firmly planted his hooves and refused to go any further, and thus Amathlan was forced into having to rest not long after he left from the town of Bree. He genuinely could not believe he had been loaned out a horse that was afraid of the dark. He had never heard of such a thing before, but the evidence was plain in front of him.
“Come on, you stubborn mule,” Amathlan murmured as he guided the horse off the path and into a nearby clearing. It was not ideal, but it was the best he could find given the fact that the horse did not want to go anywhere it could not see. Frustrated, Amathlan lit his lantern and set it upon a nearby rock, and only then did the steed stop his nervous chuffing.
“You make for me a terrible travel companion on a quest of urgency,” he sighs, but West did not offer any reply to him. Not as if Amathlan truly expected it as he settled on the grass. He was quite used to sleeping on less comfortable ground than this, even if it was a little soggy from the nearby marsh. It was still better than trying to sleep near the shores of the lake in Evendim – one would give up trying to get a dry night’s sleep before long.
He set his bow and his shield to the side, propped up against the rock that held the lantern. (He prayed the flame would go out before long, but not too soon that West would get anxious once more). He kept his sword right by his side, however, as he did not take for granted the peaceful travels that he had experienced through the Bree-lands so far. He had heard tell of brigands and Orcs and other foul creatures that could and would hound travelers across the Great East Road.
So, he allowed himself to fall into a cautious, light sleep.
He was awoken by shouting and the sounds of heavy footfalls nearby. Too close for comfort, and certainly far too close for his easily spooked horse, as West startled and took off down the path. Amathlan lunged for a moment as if to stop the horse but realized that his greater concern should be protecting himself. He grabbed the lantern and blew it out, and then flattened himself against the ground. He tossed his cloak loosely over his form while he waited to see if the rabble would come into his view.
After a few moments, they did. It was at that moment that Amathlan identified them as young adults, perhaps just before their peak maturity, with Breeish accents. They were not armed… just drunk, by the smell of them. And they had scared off his horse, though not intentionally.
As he was now alone and without means of travel in a land unfamiliar to him, for many long decades had he been in Evendim, he decided his best course of action was to seek shelter for the night. He was confident he could handle drunk youths, even could he take brigands, but Orcs in these lands and any could catch one unawares.
In the distance, he spotted a homestead of houses. He knew it was late, but it was worth as good a chance as any. He grabbed his weapons and moved towards the homesteads; in the distance was the only building that had lights on. It was two-stories, and large, and must have housed a fair amount of people. As he made his way up the path, he heard a woman speak.
“Is the Company expecting you?
