Dunedain

"When the grey lake-water rushes

Past the dripping beech-bushes,

And the bodeful autumn wind

The following is a small scroll newly placed upon the Shelves of the Scholar's Stair. The Author you may not have heard of as anyone staying in Bree-town at this time, though the name is clearly Elvish. The hand-writing is neat with a quill-pen on parchment.

A Treatise on the Geneology of the Dúnedain
~ And ~
Their Spread of Elvish Blood to Men​

An old man, his face merry as the morning sun stepped through the door of the inn, a quiet day, though children played about, watched by two women no doubt giving the other mothers a rest, for there were too many children to be mothered by two. The day was fairly new, and beams of light invaded the darkness of the room, the dust highlighted as specks, as though miniscule wisps dancing through the air. 

' I need them, old friend.'

The grey-haired man pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his thumb wearily over his forehead. He looks up slowly from his stool by the fire towards the other man perched on the worn oak chest.

'Men ... lads,' he continues, ' I'd even take a green boy or two if that's all there are to spare.'

The desperation behind his grey eyes leaks into his words as he picks up his pipe. Halbarad smiles wanly back at him as he listens to the too-familiar litany before replying.

On sprinted the Noldo-maiden toward the Camp of Ruidhriel. Her true intent known to none but herself, she smiled in the rising light. Dawn broke freshly over the threshold of the red-coloured stones of Sirannon, the rocky hills and tall gargantuan boulders towering over the small, slender, yet rather broad-shouldered figure who was sprinting at her own balanced pace towards the discoloured and worn tent of Ruinedhriel. She could see the smoke from the campfire wafting over the red sky of Hollin, and finally her feet came to a stop before Ruidhriel.

Once, a company of Rangers kept the lands to the north-west safe and secured, operating from the isle within Nenuial's cleansing waters. The strongest of them all, Amendil, known as the Shadow-walker, lead them into battle against foes beyond counting. After his vanishing, it was into the hands of Vinti, known among the Elves as Alaghir, to pick up where he left, and to lead the Dunedain once more.