<div style="text-indent:1em;">Thofred drifted in a field of grey, his mind dragging about like it was clad in stone.  He could barely place together the thoughts to ask where he was, let alone why he was there.  As he forced the drifting strings of him mind together, he began to recall something</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">It was a clear evening, him and the guards he travelled with had made good time.  They had passed Bree the previous night, deciding to bypass the town in order to get to Rivendell even a moment quicker.  They wanted to visit the renowned elven city before they stopped in The Shire, where they expected to become quite busy.  Their wagon was loaded with the most exotic tobacco and spirits, the hobbit's love of them being well known.  they wouldn't have time to visit the elves with such profit, so better to visit it before things got to busy.  Besides, who knew?  Maybe the elves would be interested in trade as well.  It never hurt to ask</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">They had just passed Last Bridge when they were attacked.  They heard the Orcs crashing through the trees to the south, and had positioned themselves in that direction.  The men formed a semi circle around the cart, while Thofred stood upon it's seat to negate the height difference.  But when the Orc's came crashing through the trees, the five failed to notice a lone Orc sneaking around the clearing.  It was after the first thrust of combat that the lone attacker struck, stabbing Thofred through his back.  With their rear compromised, the men panicked, and the rest of the Orcs fell upon them.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">The memory of the attack rose Thofred's anger.  They had robbed him, and far worse they had killed his men, his friends.  He would not let those deaths go without vengeance.  Pushing with fury fueled power, he rose from the grey.  His eyes opened, the world was still a blur of pain and blood loss.  However, he could tell he was moving, and the feel of shoulders beneath his back told him he was being carried.  He tried to speak, but the words came out a pained whisper.</div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">"Who, where..."  He closed his mouth as his wound flared in pain, but pushed on again, this time the words came out clearly.  "My men, where are they?  Are they alive?"  He asked, speaking in common.  He had seen the Orcs cut them apart, but he held to hope.  If just one of them made it, he wouldn't have to shoulder their deaths alone.</div>