Norrin has spent the last week at Rockwood Hall, deep in conversation with Flint, helping the dwarves rebuild after the attack -- although he definitely felt like excess baggage compared to the building skill of the dwarves -- and riding out on patrols to keep an eye out for any return of the orcs. His patrols unconsciously kept bringing him closer and closer to Orc Glen. Or did they? He's curious to see what kind of community the orcs have built for themselves, and is even more curious to learn if they're rebuilding after the defeat at Rockwood Hall. But he knows that he should be cautious, and he tempers his desires. On the way back from a patrol a chilly gust of wind catches him unawares, and the steel armour he wears is uncomfortable where the cold bites into him. Aye, winter is coming, and he wonders if it's time to settle down for more pastoral pursuits for the next few months. A mug of hot apple cider with rum in one hand, and ear scratches for Ranger with the other. It might be time to start expanding on the small trade network he has started to build, and turn D'Ashe Manor into a proper trading hub. He hasn't spent much time in Damara, but he's sure winters here are long and unpleasant. Although it's actually further south than Waterdeep where he grew up, Waterdeep's climate was a lot milder due to being on the seacoast; Damara is an inland country, bordered on the south and west by high mountains, and nothing but open steppe and tundra to the north. He's definitely not looking forward to it. Aye, time to go home. Home -- there's that word again, something that will take some getting used to. His home in Waterdeep was naught but a small room he shared with his mother at the inn where she was a housemaid. It was comfortable, but really just a place to live. At D'Ashe Manor, he is lord, and it is his home. He smiles. The festhall is comfortable and his friends are there, but he knows -- he hopes -- it's only temporary, until he can build a proper keep for himself. Another gust of wind shakes him out of his reverie, and he spurs his horse forward. He finds the dwarven folk to be a little too dour, a little too serious for his liking; although they are grateful for the assistance that he and his companions have provided in defeating the orcs and he considers them to be likeable neighbours, he still much prefers the comforts of home. And he's been away from Barbara long enough. Yes, time to go home.
