As we entered the forest, the days became even longer. The roof of the leaves covered most of the light during the day and so we were mostly walking in the twilight. But at least, it seemed, the might of Rohan did not reach this far north, for we encountered not a single patrol on our way. Being able to use the proper path was at least some consolation for us, for this way we could not get lost in the thicket of green and brown.
One morning, as I was just picking up my pack in order to continue our journey, Ansgar began to prick up his ears. He looked at the direction of the path, of which we camped well away from, and gave a low snarl. Quickly, I packed together what was left, and began crouching towards the trail. Ansgar was right next to me, knowing he would not do anything until I told him so, or until I moved.
As we approached the path, I heard the sound of hooves and cursed as I thought Rohan’s riders had moved into these parts of Dunland already. But then another sound reached my ears. The sound of whistling. As I was cowering in the bush, I saw a man appearing on the track before me. He was about double my age, dressed in grey and brown tunics and behind him trotted a mule with a large packsaddle. It was probably the oldest mule I had ever seen. Its mane was thinning and grey, as were the sparse, straggly strands of hair visible on its flanks between big bald patches. A halter hung from the animals head, yet the rope that was meant to be held by its master was merely being dragged on the floor.
The man seemed completely unconcerned with the war that was raging around him, and now began to sing the song, of which the melody he had just whistled. As he passed the bush that I was hiding in, the mule gave a quick look into the direction of me and Ansgar but because its master continued unawares of us, it trotted quickly after him. Only a few meters ahead, the man stopped, leaning against the next tree and stretching his back. As he turned around, he spat, and began rummaging among the many packs on the saddle until finally, he pulled out a swine bladder and a loaf of bread. He seemingly had decided to have his breakfast here, as he sat down, leaning against the tree, held the bladder to his lips, drank and spat again, before beginning to pull bits and pieces of the bread, sharing some with his mule, which eagerly ate from his stretched out hand.
I was trying to remain as still as I could, yet Ansgar smelled the fresh bread and hungry as he was began whining quietly. I moved my hand slowly ontop of his snout to calm him, but even before I could reach him, he jumped up and waddled towards the man, who gave the large dog a surprised but not unkind look.
“Now, what do we have here. Where are you coming from, big boy? Huh? Huh? Oh you want this? You want some of this? Let’s come get it then, let’s come get it.”
He spoke in a northern dialect, not the one I had heard much in Rohan or on my way to Dunland. I moved my head towards him, to see how Ansgar used his cutest pup eyes to steal some bread out of the man’s hand to the dismay of his mule, which tried to kick his suddenly appearing competition. Ansgar, however, was agile enough to evade the mules attack, and even snatched the entire loaf of bread from the man’s hand, instead of the smaller piece he had offered him.
“Now now, don’t be greedy!”, the man exclaimed, slowly standing up to follow Ansgar, who quickly returned towards my direction, obviously wanting to share his conquest with me. The situation gave me no choice but to stand up and confront the man, his mule, and his food.
I grabbed Ansgar by his ears, patted his hat and took the bread from his mouth. A bit of his saliva was dripping from one side, but the other remainingg completely untouched.
“I am sorry, but he hasn’t eaten much these days”, I apologized, offering the man his bread back – the wet side first.
The man had stood up in the meantime and slowly walked towards me, not making any sign of fear considering I had just appeared out of nowhere in front of him with a large hound at my side, and a dagger in my belt. He looked at the bread in slight disgust, and instead of taking it back turned to the packs again, to get another one, waving with his hand at me, as if to signal I should keep the bread.
“Go on boy, go on, I got plenty enough here. Come sit with me if you will.”
With that he took the new bread, and sat back down again, his back again resting against the tree.
Rather unsure about this unusual behaviour, I slowly walked towards the man and his mule, which seemed to have forgotten its pugnacity as soon as it received its bread again.
“I am Thomas”, the man announced as he ripped a big piece of his bread and shoved it in his mouth.
Courtesy dictated that I announce my name as well. “I’m Braenric”, I said, and sat down a good foot away from him in the gras, breaking bits and pieces of my bread and in turns gave some to Ansgar and ate myself.
“Where you from, boy, and more importantly, where you heading?” The man asked with sincere kindness.
I answered the first part of the question with a mere “Rohan”, and then shrugged at the second part, indicating I had not much of an idea where exactly I was going, which quite frankly had been the truth.
He raised his eyebrows. I wasn’t sure whether it was at the comment that I was from Rohan and had recently crossed the Isen seemingly unharmed with all the Rohirrim about, or on my obvious uncertainty about my future.
I shrugged again, then leaned over to pass some bread to Ansgar who was lying down at the feet of the mule, ravaging his bits and pieces of food. The man watched the dog with a smile.
“You two haven’t had much to eat for some time, hey?” He smiled at me.
“No, I guess not”, I said, giving him a quick look and then looking back down at the bread.
“You have been traveling for some time then?”, the man asked, still smiling at me, obviously trying to make me feel more comfortable. It worked.
“Yes, for quite some weeks now”, I answered, trying to smile back at him, yet compared to his genuine kindness, my expression must have looked more like distorted face than a friendly one.
After another while of back and forth asking where I had come from and what I was doing in the bush, he asked me whether I would like to travel with him. He was going to Galtrev and would love some company. Since I was not quite sure where exactly I was going, he assured me that Galtrev was the largest town in Dunland, and whatever I wanted to do here, it was the best place to start. I agreed for I did not know anything better to do, and so we soon packed up the food again, and went on our way.
He told me that he was a trader, originally from Bree but who had fell in love with a woman from Rohan and so had moved down to Edoras with her. He spoke rather open about his life, cursing the Rohirrim and the Dunlendings alike when he talked about business and how this war was ruining it. He even began descring his wife in more detail than I prefer, going on about her blonde braids, her wide, inviting mouth, and those curves beneath her dress, that he had loved from the first time he had laid eyes on them. Now he was regularly trading between the men of Dun and Rohan, and since his wife had died two years ago, he was planning on returning to his homeland.
Overall, he was a jolly companion and time flew. Even Ansgar and Thomas’ mule, whose name was Edgar, seemed to get along splendid, with the two playfully trotting behind us. And so in the evening of the next day, we had reached the outskirts of Galtrev.
