Thirenel stood upon the large hill which his estate had stood for years, overlooking the southern chetwood and it's surrounds as the night sky glowed firey orange, great plumes of smoke billowing forth into the skies of the far off farmstead. He watched his usually jovial face carried a grim expression, this draught seemed to continue to worsen and the celebrations of men would be the end of his long fought for peace if they couldn't learn to manage themselves... But the Elf, known as Thorn in these lands shook away such thoughts, of a mind to go to help though he was too far off to be of any use soon.
His men had just begun to organize and form ranks to assist when the fires seemed to die down, something natural or otherwise halting it's advance and stopping it's trail of destruction, the venerable elf stood, once again in thought before dismissing most of his men, though he sent scouts and a few men with humble provisions, as even he could spare little... His house was not known as well as it was for food, produce, and the like, but steel and jewel, among other pursuits.
The Lord of the House of Willows stood for some time there, on the edge of his land under his home's namesakes, their dry branches cracking gently in the breeze for even their supple limbs had long dried of rainwater by now, his family sleeping soundly in the estate, all but one member anyhow.
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Far off in Bree-town proper, the young Lord Caidel Willowshade stood flanked by his motley crew of vagrants and gangers of the Alley, stood upon the outer ruined wall of some long broken kingdom of men, much like his father the boy watched as the flames grew and died, feeling quite useless and ashamed of his peers who had all cowered inside the walls rather than go and help fight the inferno which had threatened to engulf much of the outer countryside if left unchecked... And though he felt ashamed of his men, he was even moreso of himself, content to simply watch as the flames spread, from his perch upon the wall, a boy standing where a man might have run into flame.
The boy wondered, if his father had been nearby, would he have gone charging off, mercenary soldiers trailing behind him, ever the warrior he had lived as? Or would he, like his son, stand by and let others brave the flames for him... And so the boy stood there, well into the morning, when the fires had died and word came that Dem and his people had helped quench the ruinous fires, and again the boy felt shame, deciding at once to return to his home away from home, a small two room hideaway in the Alley with his mates to brood.
The young lord was often troubled by the trivial matters he always felt worth more thought than the average man, but this... this was different, a new sort of trouble, the kind he might take to heart more than any other recent lesson the streets of bree had taught him, where an absent father had not. The price of cowardice, and how quickly to react when the need is great.
