Misty mountains

Somewhere in the North High Pass, Third Age 2462
Two years after the end of the Watchful Peace 

Day 7, Foredawn

Black blood splattered across the snow.

A hollow scream pierced through the air, and Díllothel drew back her two-handed sword. The orc that she had killed crumpled to the floor in a foul heap. She raised her blade up to cleave the head off another and let out a string of curses.

Somewhere in the North High Pass, Third Age 2462
Two years after the end of the Watchful Peace 

Day 6, Late Watches 

Ascending the Pass of Whitcleft in the Misty Mountains, Third Age 2462
Two years after the end of the Watchful Peace

Day 3, Morning

Taraborn’s fingers twitched on the hilt of the sword strapped to Thunder’s saddle, his eyes scanned the mountains around them, and his ears were pinned back for any sudden noises. The Misty Mountains were dangerous, and he knew it.

Brrr...  It is cold up here, even with the extra tunic and thick fur cloak.  At least this old dwarf haven protects me from the blizzard raging outside.  But I don't know if I have enough food to outlast the blizzard...

Fruni follows the tall elf deeper into the cave and is pleasantly surprised to see how this part of his dwelling is fair and adorned with all sorts of elvish motives of which he can not say what they mean. The floor is evened out and from the ceiling hangs a blue crystal that covers the room in a dim but pale light. There is an entrance at the back that glows a faint yellow and he can feel a familiar warmth coming from it. There is food and wine stacked upon a large stone table, and a place with herbs and pots of salves all around.