The company had travelled finally close to Cliving, their previous outpost was one was nestled neatly near Helms Deep. In which they used to recuperate from their wounds, many things transpired there. The Company returned to the Troll-Cave and harvested it's bount as they could. Not covering it up as they left, to make certain another company down on their luck might find it. Yet they all hoped, that nothing as disgusting would use it as their home again.
There in the Norcrofts did they set up their Camp along with many travelling merchants. All day long the company browsed the wares, coming from far and wide. Trinkets from the west, trinkets from the Dale-Lands. Food and provisions, as were common-place in such an encampment. The smell of freshly made food filled their noses, cooked venison, golden brown potatoes, amongst carrots and corn. It was Orduin, who'd prepared the hearty food, with a collection of ingredients he'd collected but only earlier.
So they sat, and they ate. Rosehildda told a story, one of her discovery of a dragon. Yet she did not tell the company until the end that her dragon was in truth just an overgrown cave lizard. Not terrifying, nor flying, nor did it have it's own hoard. The Company shared laughs all around, and enjoyed the food cooked for them. Barst, the other bear of the group had his own story to tell. It was rich and deep, of the meaning of his peoples insignia.
Yet as he spoke, his tone grew somber. As if it brought him pain. Quite soon after he finished telling his tale did he walk away from the group. Orduin, in knowing the suffering silence of a warrior walked to his side. Staring into the starry night sky. He spoke in a tone of mutual-respect, and comradery. "The stars, oh what have they seen. Often do I stray, and stare. I wonder most nights if I shall find answers."
Barst turned to Orduin and shook his head "They have seen many things, and in them the pain of this world. All the war, the hate, the fires of the wicked." Orduin knew in truth, the terrible things they had seen. Speaking to the man, not as a comrade in this moment but a friend. "Though they have seen bloodshed, death, and famine. They have seen the good times as well my friend. They watched every smile you gave under their light, every kiss, and every loving gesture. We live in a wicked, dark and cursed world. Yet in it, light."
The night was a blur, and not soon after they finished their conversation did Orduin find himself crawling into his tent, keen on some rest. The Eorlingas knew they'd be in Cliving soon, among those he'd like to make friends with. Hopeful, as he ever could be.
