Esteldin felt almost empty, with the Dunedains and their allies gathered, preparing for a journey further South. Yes, Grey Company was needed elsewhere, but the North was far from being safe. Many of the Rangers knew that and they left their beloved lands with a heavy heart.
The Wyld Hunt was always there and their allies could always count on the Wolves help, but the Pack was far from numerous. Spread around Eriador and beyond, the Hunt overextended and needed new eyes and teeth themselves.
Mahin awaited in Esteldin, with a heavy heart. His memories of Moria were still fresh and what he and Lilu encountered in depths of Dwarrodwelf did cast a shadow upon his heart. Still, he did not lose hope, for Angmar did not look that menacing anymore, in comparison.
Yet, even with Mordirith dead, Angmar remained a threat. Angmarin, orcs, trolls and worse things still prowled the land. Warbands broke away to go south and pillage, usually easily repelled, but what if they were to be united by a strong leader again?
No, Angmar was too dangerous and its touch kept spreading. Fornost awakens once again, the Eglain kept whispering about a new gaunt lord, the road to Angmar was strangely quiet.
Calm before the Storm...
The warden raised his eyes above the campfire and gave a long, through look to the two approaching people. It seemed that the first missives finally managed to yield some results. The Wyld Hunt shall prevail, even if bloodied.
That much was clear.
