rohan

Evening settled upon the town as the cool, damp air smelled softly of wet grass and dust.

Y by Zdzisław Beksiński

A SCOP'S UNWORTHINESS

And thus the last (or maybe not?) journey of the Shadow Walkers began. With Sauron gone, it was like a weight was lifted from their souls. The journey was long but certainly fun in a way and sad in another.

They passed through Gondor, stopping in Bar Hurin, Arnach, Pelargir, Linhir and Lamedon, and they eventually went through the former Paths of the Dead. None of them ever feared this place, whatsoever. In Rohan, they made fewer stops, and they typically stayed in the wild, except that one time they went to an inn in one of the towns and drank some mead together.

The big chestnut horse snorted a greeting Bada approached, running his hand along the arched neck of the stallion. Murmuring to it, he began to brush the steed, the repetitive motion both relaxing and gave him time to think.

After the successful attack, it was time for Ornessar and Calaerneth to return to Gondor. Katrandil, after all, was still missing, and Ornessar had to let King Elessar know of the success of the mission that was given to Nos Ornessë. A long way they took, and they travelled through Eregion, Dunland, Enedwaith, the Isenford, Rohan, and at last Anórien. It was a long journey, and it took many days for them to finally get to Minas Tirith.

The bed was warm with the blankets wrapped around me.  I slept soundly until the sound of hammering pierced through my dreams and jolted me into consciousness.  Sitting up, my hands move up to rub my eyes to clear out the sting of wakefulness burning them.  Peering around, the walls of Gerta’s bed closet come into focus and the scent of musky wood fill my nose.  I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and strained my weary muscles to stand up.  Running my hands through my hair, I felt the curls protest with the tugs an

"Welcome to the annual Foaling Festival! As Spring approaches it's end, we are gathered to celebrate the fertility of our lands as we sow them, the winter we have weathered, and--most importantly--the bounty of newborn foals! Come one and all, and take part in the games and feasting of the season! May the festival begin!  The first competition shall be archery!"

What is he possibly be doing in Aldburg?  Him.  Him in Aldburg.

Five gold coins was the price of my husband. Five gold coins for the slaying of Osgar son of Hincmar, a well-respected man in Aldburg. Five gold coins for a strong youth killing his weakened elder. Five gold coins for my beloved’s blood spilling out of his body. Five gold coins for the man I loved most to die in the darkest of nights, sputtering and gasping for breath. Five gold coins is a paltry sum. What fee can buy a husband’s love? A father’s care? A freeman’s fealty? That was no worthy trade.

I will let you know one thing.  Forgoil.  They do not know how to handle hair.  It is amusing.  If your hair is not straight and like a horse's tail, they get confused, panicky, and dramatic.  I learned this when Seaxa brought me to Ealhild's mother's house.