hunting

Eris looked around, each step was careful and precise. The forest was darker than usual today, so she had to be on high alert for bears, wolves and animals alike.

It only gets worse. Enemies always pouring out of Angmar and across the north, spreading like a plague. New encampments of orcs are springing up all over Eriador, I have tried to mark as many as I can on a map so I can advise other travellers on where is safe and where is not. More on that at some point.

Dusk in Mirkwood, somewhere south of Ost Galadh

After chasing the wolf through the forests and fields with no luck of catching it, Vaalea stomped back in to the forest and started a vigorous search for a certain kind of wood. She needed a tree of certain age, of certain strength and of certain flexibility and it had to be fallen a certain time ago. She did not eat nor rest, before she finally found one. A tree trunk, fitting for a perfect bow. She had done a few bows back in her youth with Aika, the bow maker of her tribe, and she remembered the instructions well.

Vaalea was picking firewood. She had piled old dry branches upon her forearm and now ripped a few fistfuls of last year’s dry hay from the ground for kindling. A lot had happened since the Spirit had spoken to her in her dream. She had found the ’tumbled hall being remade’ but not this Tyrgrim. Tall man with a beard and furs she had been told by Hrothulf, but such was the description of half the men she had encountered.