trollshaws

The sun has almost set behind the Weather Hills, to the west of the Trollshaws, and the third day of the mission was coming to an end. Angelnarth gratefully received a small lit candle from one of the elves around him, which he brought closer to his map, inspecting it thorough.

It is only a short ride from the stables to the Gates of Imladris. Nelnardis urges Beren to a canter, listening to the steady rhythm of hooves upon the road, trying to calm herself. However her heart inevitably beats faster as she nears the watchers.

One of them sees her approach and they sigh as Beren slows to a halt. Before Nelnardis can even ask the question the watcher shakes their head. Nothing. She nods, sadly, turning back to the road to the stables.

After aiding the proprietor of the Forsaken Inn tracking down a shipment that had been overrun by goblins, the last days have been quite uneventful - but still beautiful and somber in their own right. I made my way through the Lone-lands and into the Trollshaws without too much excitement. Walking along the Trollshaws road with it's eternal fall-trees on both sides, yellow leaves swirling past me, my mind begun to wander. The memory once more arose. 

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