Amaron had kept a low profile during the feast. The battle still weighed heavily on his mind. The band of Orcs had needed to be stopped, it had been causing way too much trouble for the innocent people of this area. Amaron had also accepted the fact that this band of Orcs bode ill for the future. Orcs had been keeping a low profile since the reign of Sauron had ended all those years ago, and they were far too stupid to come up with a gameplan like this on their own. Though this band had been defeated, Amaron feared that their problems had only just begun.
He had spent the beginning of the night sulking. He hated the aftermath of the battle. Killing Orcs was fine, but somehow it always took him a few days to recover from all the violence, the chances he had taken, the risks of battle. The risk of getting hurt was always present, as was the risk of losing consciousness. For Amaron, being aware of what was happening around him was crucial.
In spite of his own feelings, he certainly understood how the slaughter of the Orc band gave the people of Breeland cause for celebration, and he accepted his fair share of thanks and congratulations with good grace. As soon as he realised this, he made an effort to force his concerns and gloom to the back of his mind. The food was excellent, as one would expect from Hobbits and people used to dealing with them, and the booze certainly made forgetting the battle a lot easier. All in all, Amaron had a better evening than he’d expected.
He had sat quietly in a corner while Raven indicated options for their next move on his map and discussed options and allies. Thanneth’s suggestion brought everything he had pushed aside back into his thoughts, and he sat quietly, listening and contemplating options. Rivendel was fine, but seeking Saruman’s council would bring him awfully close to home. Memories of Minas Tirith and Osgiliath flooded his thoughts, and for a moment, he was overcome by an almost unbearable sense of loss and grief.
In his current state of mind, Raven's order to go to bed almost came as a relief to Amaron.
Lost in thought he entered his room and locked the door behind him. In spite of the apparent safety of the bolted door, he waited until he was certain everyone else had gone to bed before removing his gear and settling in for the night. As he fell asleep, his last thoughts were with his family and his city he could no longer call home.
The next morning, Amaron awoke as the others began making their way down stairs. He dressed quickly, and after a moment of consideration strapped on his weapons. He disliked breakfasting in his full gear, but did not enjoy the idea of leaving his things unprotected. They were all he had left of his old life. He double checked that everything was in place before unlocking the door and joining the others for breakfast.
Seeing Raven and Eros eating stirred his appetite in spite of his weary mind, and he joined the others, ready to eat as much as he could before they would be hauled off for the next leg of their journey.
