rohan

“Keep up that shrieking, woman, and I will slice both you and your brat’s throats,” the man, Ceadda, shouted. “Your husband should have let me kill you both back at the inn.”

Heartha woke at her regular time, just before dawn. She yawned, stretched her strong arms up above her to ease a slight crick in her shoulder, stretched her long legs one at a time. She smiled. 

This story continues from The Bancross Mystery: Armament, part one.

The morning was bright and hot. Spring was grasping on with tendrils that grew thinner and weaker with every dawn. The air held a heaviness that promised the woman would be damp with sweat by the end of the day's work.

Continued from Book of Days: Explaining the Unexplainable by Yllfa.

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.