Cliving

With the sun veiled behind blood-red clouds and the fields dark and shadowed, the ground began to shake violently beneath us, and a thunderous roar of anger and outright evil shattered the peaceful evening journey we had all hoped for. 

            The Riders Four make ready to depart Cliving just before dawn the next morning, bound for Hytbold to the south.  Seregrían stands at the stables to bid them farewell, assuring each of her friends she would find them there within a day.

             Cliving is a well-fortified town seated on bluffs overlooking the rolling plains of the Eastfold, and is the seat of Athelward, the Reeve of the Norcrofts, a man who by all accounts is reeling from his recent widowing.  Other accounts speak not only of the despondent Reeve, but the surge of villagers seeking the safety of the walls, flying from the bands of orcs and wolves c

            Seregrían and the Riders Four have passed out of the moors of the Wold and entered the region of Rohan known as the Eastfold, a vast plain of rolling hills dotted by settlements and farms known as crofts.  The lands are sparsely settled, with the folk of Rohan living in a few towns protected by wooden palisade walls.  The land divides into the Norcrofts and the town of

Dytha wiped the dusted snow from her downy eyebrows and took in the warmth of her home. It was good to be back in Fréasburg. Had a month really passed since she’d traveled to Aldburg to prepare for their Yuletide? Then Edoras, then Aldburg again. She’d lost count. Even in winter it seemed there were no ends to her roads. Now, at last, she was home. 

Lord of Graevewillow,

They gathered outside of Cliving, near the path to Wildermore and the watchtower closest to Eaworth. Two groups of men, standing about chatting idly in the warm morning light. The larger group of the two sported the image of a planty green helm crowned with a horse’s head on the white background of their shields. The smaller group had a red harp on a yellow background on their shields. Both seemed nervous and alert, awaiting their orders.

The two Reeves stood opposite each other, in the currently empty Mead Hall of Cliving. There was a slight air of challenge between them, both being proud men. They stood tall, saying nothing, watching each other in the dimly lit room. Reeve Ingbert folded his large weathered hands together behind back. Reeve Athelward crossed one arm over the other, covered in the rich fabric of his tunic. Ingbert frowned, the wrinkles on his old skin deepening.