Before the Gates of Fornost

 Wisps of smoke from the pyres melded with the morning mist as I sat astride Traveller on the hillside looking over the newly expanded graveyard outside of Esteldin.  In one sad day, we'd doubled it's size. Cairns would be built to hold the ashes and headstones were being finished.  The rangers had sworn to ensure that each of the Free Folk resting there would be marked and remembered.

We weren't going to invade the ruins of Fornost.  That was a task that would take an army and there just wasn't one handy anywhere in Bree-land, the North Downs, or anywhere in the west, right at the moment.  So what we had to do was both simpler and more difficult than that.

Lady Ahmo returned into the house, leaving me with news I really didn't want to hear.  Things were going from bad to disastrous if she was correct.  It took me a moment to find what I needed. It was in the bottom of my pack and I'd not expected to make use of it.  Now was the time if there ever was one.  The carving of the owl was sleek and smooth in my hand as I cupped it in my palms and lifted it to whisper the Elven words Annabette had drilled into my memory.