Home close to heart

I have found the man and I have spoken to him. He hadn't changed much, other than becoming more what he was - broad, unkempt man, wild and free. He became broader, wilder and remained as free as he ever was - for one cannot be more free than us woodsfolk. We live off the land, wherever we may roam, upholding customs and traditions of the people - but also our own. With no men or women to lord over us.

I thought the same of rangers, but what Rowan - now that I know this was but his claimed name, I can share it without fear - told me of his people has shown me they are no more free than any other. Their chiefs demand of them plenty, and even though they serve the greater good of all, a servitude it remains. A vigil, over people who turn them away at the mere sight, as an ill omen of hard times to come. While true, they mistake their presence for the cause, while they are both the warning and remedy for it. People of Bree do, at least. I know not how Dunland fares with these rangers.

Dunland is... as I remember. Free, wild and untamed, although a great shadow looms over it. That of Isengard - I haven't been deaf over the years, I have heard tales in Enedwaith, of the Ox and Boar clans and their fates. Of the adventuring souls, who came and freed the people from it's grasp, of the forest which rebelled and razed Isengard to the ground. Of the wizard, who fled like a rat from a burning grainhouse.

Even this land wasn't free, but it is now. Or so I hope - I have deicded to stay until the harvest day, to see if I can feel at home in here, if I can find a man to share a life with. Oakhaft - a name given to him by me - had spoken to me of that. He seems content to have me here again, as I am one of the two children that he had taught, who had made a life for themselves. The other was, apparently, a halfbreed - and through hard work, became a renowned merchant. Others may scoff at him, but buy the goods nonetheless. He even found a wife and sired a son, who both Oakhaft and me hope won't need the kind of teaching his father received.

I shall stay with him for now, follow the man until I learn the tradition of Dunland anew. It was almost twenty season cycles since I arrived and, naturally, my knowledge eroded. Why, the man seemed amused and somewhat insulted when I gifted him with soap, well remembering the oft lingering smell he carried after days of no raining. He had helped my family to accept bonecrafting into their traditions, I can only hope good hygiene shall be my addition to his.
He sleeps now and I keep watch for beasts. The nightly sound of Starkmoor is soothing, familiar. Like the nightly sounds of Chetwood I fell asleep to over the years. It already feels like home. Now, all that remains is to find whether my heart lies here as well.