Bertha
The gates slowly opened to let Edmund out - his journey had begun and he looked onward with a grin. Riding down toward the double palisade's second gates, he looked around, noticing that the small population of High Helm was watching him leave from the fortress above. Quietly and without movement they spectated as he rode forth to leave them all behind. At the gates the young man stopped his horse and turned around one last time, raising his opened palm to wave his family and servants one last farewell.
Soon he was outside of High Helm's protected territory, surrounded by an endless pine thicket. He took a long sigh, breathing in the frozen winter air of the witherlands that greeted him once he'd left the Keep's walls - the storm was over and the air was fresh and cold... 

The road stood before him, charted and ploughed down by many dozens of footprints; undoubtedly left by the village folk that hurried along with their daily tasks pryer to him leaving. He took this small road without hesitation, riding forth to meet whatever the woods had in store for him.

The woods creeked peacefully, shaken only by this day's merciful breeze that played around like a child in the snow, throwing it about from time to time. Orn's hooves sunk slightly into the eternal white blanket that covered all of Witherlands, leaving behind a very unusual print for these parts - horses were a thing of luxury for most of High Helm's residents.

As Edmund rode forward, the road became more narrow, splitting into small paths that led in different directions. From now on, he was on his lonesome, forced to trace a path where nobody'd walked before or find some old, paved route that's been hidden by the snow storm, remains of which now cracked underneath Orn's hooves as him and Edmund continued on their undetermined way, accompanied only by the creeking of the woods and the quiet sounds of an almost dead forest.
Joyce
Dorn, woodcutter of High Helm scratched his beard as he saw the lord's son ride away from the village. In his 46 years he had seen something like that happen only once before, when he was but a child and his father, Bjorn was the one working at the sawmill. He sighed and looked down at his two twin daughters as the two tugged on his thick wool clothes. "Father why is the prince leaving?" They asked at the same time. 
The man chuckled "Well ye see... Our prince needs to become ay man of knighthood, so hel be travelin' foh a long tim.." He said as the two pairs of green eyes looked at him with curiosity.
Then the two spoke again "Father... Isn't the prince going to find the green man?"
The woodcutter rolled his eyes "You two shoul stahp talkin bout yer imaginary friend!" He sentenced before picking the two girls up "Anyway... Time to go help yer mother cook the stew!" The children nodded, clapping excitedly as their father walked back into his humble house.
Bertha
Hours passed as Edmund continued his journey, venturing onward, through the frozen pines and snowy hills - the woods just didn't seem to end at all. Perhaps, he was all turned-around and lost, but.. He followed the map, if you could call it one, pretty closely up to this point. It was a piece of pergament on which one of the villagers ahd charted up a crude-looking path that showed people where to and not to go. There were giants' resting spots marked all over, some even doubling on eachother. In addition to that, the map was also covered in small, careless scribbles of its previous owner. Edmund found it rather entertaining to read those little quips from the life of a usual peasant from his father's village. After all, it was the only source of entertainment for him. For now, at least.

"Found another iron pocket. Might notify others." The young knight read with a smile hidden beneath his helmet. "What a peculiar life they must have.. Living without manners, without wealth... I wonder how they entertain themselves?" This question brought to him a slew of memories from when he was just a small boy, visitng the Keep's village for the first time. It was a small celebration back then - he couldn't remember what of. The village folk were gathered around a giant flame, chatting about different things - what they'd caught the day before, how they'd spotted 'that one giant' one time and the rest... His father was simply visiting those peasants to show that he wasn't the one to look down upon their celebrations, no matter how pityful they must've looked like when compared to those he would occasionally host in the Keep itself...

Those memories kept Edmund from nodding off - he tried to remember all of the details so that one day, perhaps, he could write it all down in a small story about his adventures. If he were to survive this journey, of course.

A lone owl suddenly began to chirp lowly from somewhere deep within the forest. That surprised the young lad quite a bit - he'd never seen a bird roam around these woods before and always thought that those avian creatures lived somewhere southward; in Terresol, perhaps, but not in the Witherlands! Oh well.. His excitement quelled soon as it was just a sound of the forest, living its slow life.
Joyce
The freezing, relentless and stinging winds of the witherlands were being surpricingly merciful, something which Stern acknowledged with a soft grunt before returning to skin the bear he recently killed, his sharp dagger skillfully handled by the orc as he was chewing on some dried meat. 
The hunter let out a low, growly sigh before getting up from the rock he was sitting on and placing the fur near the fire to let it cure. 

The green giant stretched his back, groaning as it emitted a symphony of cracks. His naked torso had some recent stitched wounds and blood stains, suggesting a recent fight. "Dohl marak fod buradd..." He cursed as he looked back at his old clothes now too torn to be effective against the wind. He crossed his muscular arms as he tried to look at the bright side. The kids were alive and he now had meat for the rest of his journey... Plus he still had his pants, boots and handwraps. He heard a owl nearby, deciding to ignore the animal.
Bertha
Suddenly, Orn neighed out, stumbling over a rock that was deceptively hidden by the deep snow. Its voice echoed around the woods, notifying anything, from little vermin to the Giants that rested in cravises all around the white pines. "Wooah there, easy, easy, Orn!" Edmund sputtered out, caught off guard by the sudden stop and loss of balance. Stopping Orn dead in its track, he jumped off... Only to sink waist-down in the deep snow below him. "Oh, bloody.." He angerly muttered, pushing the snow away to check on Orn's legs and see if they were alright. All the while, the steed neighed yet again, stumbling backward a tad - it was frightened by something.

"Orn, calm down." The knight spoke, carefully petting the frightened animal. "We are alone.. At least for now. I just need to check your leg, alright? Then we'll get on our way. Just stand steady." He continued while pushing the snow away from Orn's front legs. A couple of minutes later he sighed in relief, finding that no damage was done to the horse by the treachorous terrain.. He then got off from his knees and looked around to see if they weren't watched by any unwanted observer that was interested in a good old snack. Though he knew nothing of Stern and his business in the witherlands, he'd definitely heard and even seen some of the giants that roamed these lands... "Let's get moving, Orn.. I am not planning on stumbling across any danger today." Concluding, he jumped back into the saddle and commanded the steed to head forth yet again, treading forward with caution this time.
Joyce
Stern's ears twitched as the sound of hooves in the snow. He smelled the air, nodding as he acknowledged the presence of a single horse, which also acknowledged him when closer. The hunter checked the fur, nodding as he found it dry and cured enough to be wore, so he wore the head of the bear as a hood attatched to his now fur mantle. The orc secured it to his neck with some tight rope and grabbed his bundle of wooden throwing spears. He put the fire out, ready to resume his travelling. To do so, unfortunately, he had to cross the road which was now being occupied by what his nose recognized as a man... Smelling too good to be a traveller... A noble perhaps... 

The orc carefully got closer to the side of the road, hidden by the bushes and snow. He put some snow in his mouth to avoid emitting vapour with each breath, also throwing some fine snow over his mantle to add a primitive camouflage to it.
Bertha
Though Edmund was trying to soothe Orn's worries, the horse was still frightened to move too quickly. That made the young man nervous - a simple stone couldn't have caused such an irrational fear to completely take his steed over. Someone was out there... But he couldn't see nor hear anyone besides the distant song of the owl in the distance, somewhere. 
Deciding to play a risky game, Edmund halted in his tracks and, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword called out into the grey pines that surrounded him "Is anybody out there?"

...

His voice echoed for a little while, getting spread around by the trees and the wind, but his question was not answered. "Either they are preparing an ambush, or it was just some wolf that spooked you, Orn. Either way, we must move. Quickly now!" He drove his spores into the horse's sides, forcing the animal to get back to its senses and focus on getting as far away from the strange odor it could no longer feel...

Meanwhile Edmund, though he was still skeptical, quickly drew his bow and trained an arrow - just safety's sake. Once that was done, he called out once more "Oi! Is anybody out there? Show yourself!"
Joyce
Stern was now laying in the snow, covered and resembling a part of the environment. He had been moving closer to the road and the increasingly close thuds of hooves in the snow made him decide that faking to be a small pile of snow for a while wouldn't have been a bad choice. He remained pefectly still, breathing softly in order to keep the noise and movement at an almost imperceptible level. He was completely hidden and could hear the knight closing in. His ears gave him an ideal measure of 20 meters. He was ready to hold his breath from ten.
Bertha
As they rode closer, Orn became more and more worried, neighing and shaking hiis head as if refusing to go forward. But Edmund kept his eye on the road and the nearby trees, bushes and boulders, trying to see if he could spot any movement whatsoever. What could be causing such distress to the horse? He couldn't understand, pointlessly trying to soothe Orn's worries with careful pats on his head. "Go on, don't be so afraid. It's alright. There's nothing to be worried about." He repeated, still looking around for the source of a possible threat... 

They rode closer and closer to Stern's hiding place for a while unaware of his cloaked presense, howeversoon, Edmund's paranoid eye landed on some huge trails by the side of the rode. They led to a big snowdrift in which the orc was hiding.

"Oi!" He called out, drawing his bow and aiming at the snowdrift "I can see the bloody trails you left! Get up and show yourself!" While saying that, he backed Orn up a bit to gain some range and reach advantage over his possible foe.