​

It is a rainy night in the town of Bree. The Prancing Pony is sparsely attended, just a few Bree-landers drinking their beer; a dwarf, carefully studying a map of the eastern roads; a weary-looking man, trying to regain strength by some stew and a jug of beer; and you. Incorrigibly curious, you decide to have a closer look at the man. His clothes are mudded, the chainmail is covered in dust. To his right, a one-and-a-half handed sword is leaning against the wooden table. Your eyes fall at his cloak-clasp, a white tree made of silver, shining bright and recently polished, not really fitting the man’s far-travelled apparel. You decide to walk up to him and ask him about his background, when he suddenly starts talking

„‘Who are you, and why are you here?‘ do you want ask me? Do not lie, for I have noticed you eyeing me the last few moments. Well…” The man sitting in front of you grabs the bulbous jug full of beer and a mug, and puts it down in front of you. “Sit down, take a mug and listen. But listen carefully, for I am going to tell this story just once…” He finishes the stew and takes a gulp out of his mug.

“I was born as the first of three sons to an officer of the Gondorian army. From my childhood on, I was trained to follow in my father's footsteps. While other kids were playing hide and seek or tag, I was taught how to fight, how to ride and had lessons about war tactics and lore. Well, this training was successful. I joined the Gondorian troops when I was seventeen. I did well, and became one of the youngest deputy squad leaders in my day. One thing led to another, I could impress one of the high captains of Gondor, and he got me as one of his soldiers. I was at his side, when Osgiliath was attacked a few months ago. In that moment, when everything seemed lost, he was at his best. We could not defend Eastern Osgiliath, but we prevented the western side from being overrun. From this day on, my esteem for this man became love. I loved him, like I loved my father, I respected him, even more than my father; for he was the light in the dark, when everything seemed hopeless. I was not the only one to feel like this.”

The man takes another gulp and stares pensively at his mug. Just when you want to want to cough slightly, he starts to speak on.

“Like I said, I was not the only one to feel like this, and when our captain left for the north, we decided to follow him; travelled through Rohan, Dunland, Enedwaith… The whole North-South Road, if you know what I am talking about.” He does not seem to be really interested in your reaction to this question. “And then, we lost his scent. Two days did we spend talking about what to do now, and lastly we decided to ride onwards, to sweep the whole north for him, if necessary. Now, stranger, you know my story, so tell me yours.” Another gulp empties the mug, Arantion refills it and looks at you eagerly.