Eregion

For the hundredth time, Tuilérie goes through her light pack, the bedroll, and spare supplies. "Lembas", she thinks to herself, and nods. And there is the map of Eregion, safely rolled and carefully stowed away in a water-proof case, as well as her fishing rod. She pats Nolandur gently on his head, who follows her around, tail wagging without cease, sniffing at everything.

In the flickering light of a single candle, Tuilérie admires an old map of Eregion. It was old, yet the artwork was without a doubt well-preserved. With her finger she traced the old roads, following them to near and far off places where she had once traveled.

Dwimordene we called that forest north of Riddermark between the river Anduin and the Misty Mountains. As children we were told to stay away from there because Elves lived there and their Queen and that they meant us harm, and that the forest itself was haunted.

Elves. What wondrous, extraordinary, beautiful and terrifying creatures. Never in all my years had I seen one and indeed I had mostly resorted to thinking of them as beings of stories and tall tales, yet now I've spent a while among a few of them in this land they call Eregion. It was a name I had seen on a map once, and so it was scribed on my hastily drawn map also, but nothing else did I know of these lands before coming here, somewhat by chance.