For every season

The area surrounding Baldur's Gate had fallen steadily into a wilder and wilder state and travel was becoming increasingly difficult. Roving bands of brigands and outlaws harassed the few merchants and traders willing to brave the treacherous journey.

Outside of the once fair and prosperous city a small enclave had formed at the top of the hill guarding the path into the city. The people living their were called by a variety of names, though they themselves claimed no title or allegiance. The city officials generally let them be as they helped to guard the passage into the city and, for the most part, kept the peace.

Rumors floated around the city that the leader of the encampment was a former Paladin of Torm. Others said that it was a foul mouthed halfling, yet others swore to their dying day that it was an elf lord from a distant kingdom. Regardless, it was common knowledge that the leader of the encampment had been part of the alliance that had led the charge against the forces of the darkness years ago...

Beranhond sat up in shock, breathing heavily, sweat pouring from his brow. He looked about the room, trying to remind himself that he wasn't in the midst of the long ago battle.
"What's wrong Eth?" Came a woman's voice from beside him.
He rubbed his eyes and turned to look at her, smiling slightly despite himself.
"It was that dream again... of Candlekeep, and of my visit to the aftermath of the Temple of the druids." He said in a tired voice.
"Oh, Eth, I'm sorry." She said putting her hands around him and pulling him down into the mattress. "At least we made it safely to Baldur's Gate and can start looking to see if there is any sign or words of your friends.
"Yes." He said letting himself be pulled back into the comfort of the sheets.
 As Evelaen fell noislessly back to sleep Beranhond's mind couldn't help but reflect on all the changes since his last trip to Baldur's Gate. It had been filled with the worst kind of adventure - after the disaster at Candlekeep he'd worked with the Paladin's of Torm to stem the tide of darkness from reaching into the continent. Yet, it had been for naught, as the dark God arose, and changed the balance of the land. All across Faerun word had spread that the Gods and Godesses were distant, beyond hearing, and their miracles and blessings seemingly less potent. Beranhond's own faith had been shaken after...
No, he thought, I'm not going to think about that right now.
He looked over at the dark haired, dark eyed, Evelaen, and pushed her hair out of her eyes. It had been an unexpected event that had brought them together, but she had become one of the few sources of comfort in the troublesome world of Faerun.
The next morning Evelaen and Beranhond packed up their meager belongings, said goodbye to the surprisingly polite innkeeper and headed off into the partially ruined city that was Baldur's Gate. Along the way Beranhond pointed out the changes that had occured to the city - especially noting the square where he had once upon a time had the ability to cure the multitude, and the entrances to the underground where they had to fight giant rats. Evelaen humored Beranhond as he narrated nostalgia, even asking a few follow up questions to show her willingness to listen.

Finally, after some backtracking around blocked streets they found their way to the wharf district.
"If Darvin is anywhere, he'll be here, and I know that Violet told me that she'd leave word for me at the docks if she was ever in the area."