Gondor

The Sixth of February, Year 3003 of the Third Age

I am Edrastel of Linhir, and I am a huntsman. My family taught me much in the arts of bringing down great beasts and prey in the fields of my home in Gondor, by the joining of the Rivers Gilrain and Serni. I have brought my trappings, my tools, my bedroll, and some small rations that I will use to ease my hunger when I cannot hunt game for my meals.

"Trade licences? You'll need to speak with the Lord's steward, Tarias. He's new on the job, so I've not yet dealt with him myself, but he can't be worse than the last ones we've had."

"Pathetic! Get up!"

Her muscles ached, arms and legs trembling as she tried to push herself up to at least get her head out of the dirt. She only just managed to dribble some bloody spittle onto the ground before they gave in and she found herself sprawled face down again.

Hyrien stirred slowly from her sleep, twitching and turning from an already set nightmare that had recently become all too familiar in the dark. She turned, arm stretched to grasp what was next to her, tugging at sheets that was once occupied by warmth and something familiar. Now all that remained was the cold air of the untouched part of her bed.

She sighed deeply, laying once more upon her back and stared up to the celling. Blinking a few times as she adjusted to the darkness and the shadows danced round the room from the embers of an already extinguishing fire.