Snow quickly fell down through the grey clouds as Aravorn Snowcloak trudged on. His journey had been long. Tracking a large herd of elk was a hell of a lot more tiring than anyone thought it would be. Everyone talked about how relaxing it was to get away from the cities and towns and to just be alone for a little while, but he knew better than what they said and thought. It was tough work, skinning a deer, especially when there are bandits and mercenaries out on the loose.
A small group of mercenaries, about 4 or so men, stood back, watching the young hunter patrol on through the woods. "Maybe we can get some coin off of him," a younger one suggested.
"That's horse shit and you know it is, Elvon," their leader Ardys said.
"It's worth a shot." Daemos, a young dwarf, said.
"Fine. We'll try and get some gold off this guy. But don't think I won't report you to Ralof for disciplinary action later on." The group quickly travelled soon surrounding the young man.
"I'm sorry, but have I done something wrong in these lands?" he asked, confused by why he was surrounded. The group drew their weapons and attacked, slashing at him and stabbing him in the side as he collapsed.
“Over there. I think someone was attacked and left for dead,” Éogan said.
“Damn it, you’re right! We’re close to town though. We can talk to Father once we get there. For now, though, we need to get him back to the palace.” He carefully lifted the man’s body and mounted his horse. About twenty minutes later, they burst through the doors of the palace. “We need a few wise men on him. Now! We found him outside, nearly dead.”
Several hours later, he woke up in a small room, stretched out on a bed. His sides were burning and his throat was raw and dry. The smells of incense burning, and garlic, onions, and beef cooking were thick in the air as the young man groaned in pain. Another young man rushed over to help Aravorn up.
“You were very lucky you survived that attack. My friend Éogan here pointed you out to me. We’ve carried you back here to town, to the palace, where we had to stitch up your wounds to stop the bleeding. I wouldn’t recommend trying to head back home for right now. I have talked to my father, Chief Brethion. I imagine that he would like to talk to you soon.
“Wow, I don’t know what to say, mister, um…”
“I must have forgotten to introduce myself. Sorry about that. I’m Davion. It’s good to meet you, sir.”
“I’m Aravorn, my lord.”
“I’m not a chieftain, lad.” He laughed. “So, what brings you here?”
“I was tracking a group of elk. I’m a hunter. I was trying to get some furs I could sell.”
“I see.” He walked over to where the food had been cooking, scooping a pile of beef and potatoes onto a plate, and pouring some broth into a bowl. He then returned to Aravorn.
“Here. You haven’t eaten in a while.” Davion said as he set the plate down and walked away.