[The Perky Ent]

Erik entered the inn a broken man. After many years of traveling Rohan, he was left with nothing more than his remaining senses. Erik had roamed Rohan for many years, searching for, oddly enough, berries. As an apothecary, he would strive to find new ingredients for potions. After witnessing his father's tragic illness against the hands of a mysterious disease, Erik had thought of nothing but a potion to cure all ailments. Finding nothing but dust for three months, he continued to search for some source of produce. Finally, Erik had discovered a small patch of berries, containing golden triangular-shaped yield. He tested his berries on several of his cuts, and had completely healed him two days later. Convinced they had potential, he took the whole bush and set off for his village. On the way, raiders ambushed him. Acting like berserk dogs, they ravaged him until there was nothing left but Erik’s bare flesh. After ordering them to give him back the berries, the raiders cut his eyes, keeping them from ever seeing again.

After days of wandering in darkness, Erik found a safe village and made it his home for fourteen years. Erik was taken in like a stray dog from a caring family, which clothed him and fed him. After years of living in the village, he left for Edoras, searching for an apothecary job. Guided by his “adopted” son, he set off for Edoras. After days of riding, he finally reached his goal.
“At last! We are here. A thousand thanks, my friend. My the golden sun ever shine over your brow.” Eric said, as he carefully got off his horse and grabbed his cane, his portable guide. “’Tis nothing my friend. I wish, alas, that I could stay, but mother needs me back at home. We fear our shipment of clay will not come. We’ll need to get started on this year’s season early.” After embracing for a second, Erik carefully walked up the hill as his friend got back on his horse and rode away.

It took Erik roughly thirty minutes to find the inn, a five minutes walk. Finally reaching the door, he pushed it back, and smelt the aroma of warm ale and fresh bread. As he walked through the door, he was pushed over by a drunken man dancing around. Getting to his feet a lot better then the intoxicated one, Erik asked “Where can I find the owner of this fine establishment?” The man staggered for a minute, then pointed toward the innkeeper. Being blind, Erik angrily walked away and found what looked like a counter. As he sat, regaining his focus, a warm voice crept up on him from behind. “Hello stranger! Can I help you?”