Léofwine

Grey sky stretched unending above her, but ahead rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds. Wind swept across the green and gold grass on the road to Edoras.

MELODY

Bound to this land

In peaceful starlight, 

In darkest chaos.

Words are like breath on a cold day, you say them and they're gone. But write them down and they will be remembered. The stories of the people of Rohan are their history, and will never be forgotten. Songs of their deeds will be sung long after their passing. 

Time is passing. Much has changed since the death of Léofwine. No longer does his sword and his shield fight to defend the land of Rohan. His life is spent now - like a fire burnt down to mere embers after his passing. Flowers grow on his burial mount. Ivy twines around the trees of the forest.

The Rohirrim brave the threat that rises from Isengard and sing as they charge into battle, spears and shields bright, iron and steel, hair like flaxen gold. They ride through danger, under the threat of shadow looming from the East. Now a young woman of the Mark watches as the beauty of land and ancient forests darken and decay, and her people grow wary and scared in their fear of the world’s ending.

Shadows fall and darkness stretches over Rohan, its reach growing longer still. The free and proud people of the Mark face enemies from the East, from the West and from the South. Orcs, Uruks, Dunlendings, and even a hidden and secret one, the great Enemy of Middle-earth is trying to break their spirit, their will to fight, long before his armies come forward.

[Distant memories often flow into Mearhe’s dreams.