Bulivye leaned on a post just infront of the fire as he tried to warm his frigid body through the tattered remains of his once knightly tunic. The people of Aughaire had taken him from the ashen wastes of the dark hole that is Angmar, a foul and evil region inhabited by a great many fell beasts and people. He looked down at his bloodied and beaten hands as he moved them closer to the fire, being careful as to not scald himself. As he stood staring into the flame, a man who did not wear the normal trappings of the people of this region, he watched him slowly as he stood opposite of where Bulivye stood. "May I take a seat?" The man asked quietly as he looked towards Bulivye, staring at the withered and beaten man as he replied softly. "Go right ahead my friend, its not often people come up here. Warm your soul by the fire, it is a frigid night." The stranger gave a slight smile as he sat down in front of the fire as Bulivye adjusted his robe, trying to hide the lash markings along his back and shoulders. "Tell me friend, what brings you to this foul and dark place? Might I ask your name?" As they sat and conversed, he realized that he had been gone so long that he forgot what it was like to actually speak to another man, without worry of punishment from the task masters. They sat around the fire, when the stranger spoke of his true intentions and the reason behind his travel to Angmar, in which completely changed Bulivye's fate, as well as his mission.
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The hooves of the horses met the grass of the plains with loud thuds as they galloped across the open plains of the Northern Downs, in a desperate attempt of escaping the forces of darkness that had ambushed them. The stranger he had known to be the 'prospector' was leading him back to his home, a place which he thought to be destroyed had remained strong and vigilant in its quest to push darkness from the lands. The two rode hard through the the downs, and were soon met by the open plains of Evendim as they rode to Oatbarton and the Shire in order to break their sight from the riders that followed. Bulivye rode into the small town, taking in the cool breeze and fresh air of the wilds that he had so desperately missed as they entered the place he knew as Arrowhaven. The two dismounted, and strode carefully into the large house, finally safe from harm as they were met by an old friend, whom Bulivye had not seen in ages. The slender man stood in front of them, as respectful and welcoming as he remembered. "Northman?" The man asked as he looked Bulivye over, and asked him again. "Bulivye, is that you?" Bulivye was at a loss of words for a moment, he knew this person who stood infront of him, but yet his name escaped his mind as he removed his hood and revealed his beaten and worn face, his hair and beard riddled with ash and soot from the foulness of Angmar. In Bulivye's mind, all was not lost, there was still hope. He knew of the darkness that rose in the north, he knew in his heart and mind that he must warn the Lady of the terrible force that rises. For the first time, in many many days, he realized his mission had not failed at all. It had only begun.
