Ents

Nimlindir sat upon the bed in her room in the inn of the Prancing Pony, Bree-town, Eriador. She leaned over the small writing table, quill in hand, penning a goodbye missive to her companions. The musty smell of tobacco curlicued like little tornados through the cracks of the wood stained walls. The floor rattled from the stomps of revelry in the main room and unrequited love in the hallways.

Of Uiloniell and Tinnurion

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Dimmed lights of the inn, flickering.
Many voices speaking, silently.
Anxiety, doubtfulness within the air, dulling the mind like an invisible mist.
Some are on duty. They make ready, prepare for the next day.
Some are just resting, recovering from perilous endeavours within a dangerous forest.

(Previous chapter: Sun and Stars)

"Open the gate!

Open it!"

                I could not sleep. The forest is restless, and I can tell there is something going on here. Collecting some of my equipment and dowsing my campfire, I chose to investigate.