He had been riding for some hours under the spring sun when the West Gate of Bree took shape ahead of him, it was months since the last time he saw his hometown and now he returned again. He travelled through the Northwest parts of Eriador, remaining out of sight, avoiding the company of others and curious eyes, but now he was back, for how long even he didn’t know. Hedinn trotted faster, knowing that once they’d reach the town Fion would get off his back and walk on foot, the horse would be ridden of the burden of the man and his equipment after a long time.
The town looked as if nothing changed, except that there were some new faces here and there, especially outside the Inn of the Prancing Pony. Fion chose to walk past it for the time being, walking straight to the room he rented moments earlier to spend the night. Once his reached his quarters he put his things down, took a bath and fell asleep on the bed, having not enjoyed a bed under his body for months. It was now a late afternoon and he rose, made ready and walked towards the inn, a hot meal was all he needed for now, after that he would see what is to be done now.
He wanted to leave again, this time go East and maybe South too, but first he had to rest and maybe seek some trouble, just for the fun of the fight and to swing his sword. The night was young and warm, as was the inn, full of people, many strangers, some Breelanders and some Dwarves and Hobbits. Fion stood near the counter with a tankard in his hand, looking around, listening to the conversations and seeing the movements of those around him…
