To serve the mark can sometimes be a journey filled with hardship, but not this time. I had been called to serve as a scout on the borders towards Dunland these last winter months and there is some sort of unspoken peace for the moment. It seems the people on both sides of the border are more occupied surviving the biting cold, than fighting each other.
But still I meet dunlendings in the wilderness when I’m on patrol, doing the same as me, watching the borders and foraging for food. Sometimes we just ignore each other and other times we share a campfire or a meal. We do not talk much during such meetings and it seems we have reached a mutual agreement to keep the peace. It's like nature is trying to show us something with its cold, maybe the folly of fighting each other, when there are more dangerous foes loose in this world.
“Pah! Duncadda your mudding your mind again with these thoughts. If your comrade in arms learned about this, you could be shunned and even considered to be on friendly terms with the dunlendings.”
But then again, it’s not uncommon for scouts to develop some sort of relationship with those we watch, isn't it?. We do see them in another light, watching their daily lives, than riders who only meet them when there is fighting to be done. I have seen their way of life, how they celebrate and love each other, just like the people of the mark do. I see families tending their homes, their relatives and how much they are willing to do, to protect each other. In that regard we are a kindred… But I know I will burn down their homes and kill their warriors, if they threaten the mark, which they often do. I know they have cruel and evil leaders, who are willing to walk deep into the shadow, to reach their goals. And with such leaders, many follow, either out of fear or respect.
Sadly I have experienced such dark men of Dunland myself, where one has threatened the life and home of my dear friends and in the process made me fail in my oath of protecting them. And that is another reason I now serve at the border. I’m not only here on my oath to serve the mark, but I also use the opportunity to keep my eyes and ear out after that monster of a man that attacked Waelden and his family. I have a vain hope that I will stumble upon him, but deep within myself, I know that is a false hope. The dunlending is too clever to search for Waelden and his family at this time of the year.
I pause in my recollection of thoughts and open one of my pockets, which have slightly frozen, covered in snow and ice. Reaching my hand into the stiff cold pocket I draw out a short black root, which I start to chew on. These black roots serve as my traveling ration. They have an awful taste, but gives me the nourishment I need to keep going in the cold. I jest to others that taste it, it will put hair on your chest, when they spit it out. It is an acquired taste I admit and smile of the thoughts on how many who have spat it out, when offered. More for me then.
Duncadda eating his trail food, the black root.
Chewing on the root, I return to observing the landscape in front of me. It’s a beautiful sunny day, which means the nights will be very cold and I will probably need to make a fire or a small snow cave, to get through the night. Beside the sunny weather, there is not even a slight breeze in the air and it seems the landscape is holding his breath, savoring the warmth offered by the sun. As I observe, there is little that escapes my attention in this sharp light and weather. For the moment I both see and sometimes hear the birds, where the eagle circling high above us all, is the easiest to spot. This majestic creature is most likely out hunting for the moment. And since it only circles around, the eagle tells me there are no visible small game afoot. I could do with a warm rabbit stew now, to warm my body and maybe do some good towards the hunger I feel. These black roots of mine are a poor substitute, to real warm food.
“Pah! You are wandering, wishing for things that cannot be provided now,
focus on your duty instead.”
So I force myself to study the terrain again, studying shadows to trees and rocks, to see if anybody is using them to hide in... Suddenly I hear a horn calling! It is far away and I'm uncertain from what direction it came. I keep my body still and stop breathing, listening intensely.... There! In the far distance east of me I hear the horn sounding again. Sounding a summon of reporting to the border camp.
That is odd… we are supposed to be out here for another week, before returning. Maybe something has happened in the camp, or some of the other scouts have reported in something… well no need speculating on why and what. That will do me no good anyway and I’m not like some of the villagers with their wagging tongues, conjuring up bad stories and problems based on nothing. There is only one course of action and that is to head back and report in.
I pack my belongings and get up, heading east, back to the Rohirrim camp near the Isen river. Maybe there are warm stew in the camp? I increase the length of my steps on that thought, forgetting my duty… again.
some time passes after Duncadda has left his post
A solitary figure is laying low, hidden between snowy bushes, suddenly stands up and reveals himself to be a large man, with a beard covered in snow and ice and clothed for conflict. The man, grinning to himself, lifts his arm and gives a silent hand gesture, before starting to trail the lone forgoil scout who had headed eastward.
Behind him more men, heavily armed, rise out of the snow and follow.
the story continues in Winter Watch: Part Two, Shadows
Copyrights
The art is made of a combination of my own photos, screenshots from the game and modified by me. In one of them there is a screenshot from the movie Willow, where Madmartigan eats black roots. Which is also the inspiration used for Duncadda trail food. Those who have role played with me, have noticed this little habit Dun has. The last picture, which is modified by me, belong to the artist Conor Burke and you can visit his website here: Conor Burke (artstation.com)
