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piosenniel · 01-28-2003, 01:32 PM

The journey through the Lone-lands had proved a smooth one. Thirteen days, and the weather had held for them, with only a few sullen, grey days that threatened snow, but brought none. The spirits of the Hobbits were beginning to lift a little. No Wargs had been sighted or heard, and those who had been injured were on the mend. Still, when night came, they built their campfires high and kept in close to it, the shadow of poor Celandine and her fate still fresh in their minds.

They were a half day’s journey from The Last Bridge when Bullroarer called a halt. It was still early afternoon, but he wanted to camp well away from the crossing to the River Hoarwell. He had been on the lookout since they had broken camp early this morning for a suitable place for them to stop, and now he thought he had spied one. Nestled against a small hillock was a small stand of trees. It would give them some protection from the chilly night winds, and offer a source for firewood.

Branda approached Bullroarer once the camp had been set up. ‘Shouldn’t we be hearing soon from Carl and Olo?’ The Ranger and Carl had reported back to Bullroarer twice since they had been sent out. Each meeting was brief, the exchange of information spoken in hushed tones, the faces of the three grave. Olo and Carl had stayed only long enough each time to replenish a few supplies, and then they headed east again.

‘I’m expecting them today, Branda. They know we are crossing into the Angle tomorrow.’ Both hobbits looked about the hastily set up camp, at the relaxed and smiling faces of the companions.

Branda shivered, as he looked eastward. ‘Have you ever been into Rhudaur?’ He had heard tales of that shadowed place. It had been a small kingdom set up by the Dunedain of old, then conquered by the Hill-men long ago in league with the fell powers of Angmar. When the Witch-king had been defeated, Rhudaur had fallen and all its peoples had been scattered. But there lingered a feeling of Shadow on the land, and there were still stories told of evil creatures who roamed the wild lands and forests there.

‘I’ve been there, once. In my youth. My friends and I crossed over The Last Bridge and went only a few hours journey among the hills and woods. It was bright, day time. But still we felt eyes upon us, and a presence that did not mean us well.’

‘It will be about a five day journey if we push hard. I do not relish the thought of it . . .’

01-28-2003, 01:32 PM	#248
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	The journey through the Lone-lands had proved a smooth one. Thirteen days, and the weather had held for them, with only a few sullen, grey days that threatened snow, but brought none. The spirits of the Hobbits were beginning to lift a little. No Wargs had been sighted or heard, and those who had been injured were on the mend. Still, when night came, they built their campfires high and kept in close to it, the shadow of poor Celandine and her fate still fresh in their minds. They were a half day’s journey from The Last Bridge when Bullroarer called a halt. It was still early afternoon, but he wanted to camp well away from the crossing to the River Hoarwell. He had been on the lookout since they had broken camp early this morning for a suitable place for them to stop, and now he thought he had spied one. Nestled against a small hillock was a small stand of trees. It would give them some protection from the chilly night winds, and offer a source for firewood. Branda approached Bullroarer once the camp had been set up. ‘Shouldn’t we be hearing soon from Carl and Olo?’ The Ranger and Carl had reported back to Bullroarer twice since they had been sent out. Each meeting was brief, the exchange of information spoken in hushed tones, the faces of the three grave. Olo and Carl had stayed only long enough each time to replenish a few supplies, and then they headed east again. ‘I’m expecting them today, Branda. They know we are crossing into the Angle tomorrow.’ Both hobbits looked about the hastily set up camp, at the relaxed and smiling faces of the companions. Branda shivered, as he looked eastward. ‘Have you ever been into Rhudaur?’ He had heard tales of that shadowed place. It had been a small kingdom set up by the Dunedain of old, then conquered by the Hill-men long ago in league with the fell powers of Angmar. When the Witch-king had been defeated, Rhudaur had fallen and all its peoples had been scattered. But there lingered a feeling of Shadow on the land, and there were still stories told of evil creatures who roamed the wild lands and forests there. ‘I’ve been there, once. In my youth. My friends and I crossed over The Last Bridge and went only a few hours journey among the hills and woods. It was bright, day time. But still we felt eyes upon us, and a presence that did not mean us well.’ ‘It will be about a five day journey if we push hard. I do not relish the thought of it . . .’ __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.