Vale of Thrain

-Praise along the road-

 

---

 

How gracious are thy Halls, Thorin Oakenshield!
High in your father's valley, the throne of your youth awaits.
The arms of your lineage shelter its people in the mountains;
They give warmth and new strength to the sons of Durin.

Already the slender squirrel, the wildcat and the young aurochs, 
In their garments of milk and snow, roam free on thy slopes.
He who returns home hastens his pace
When he savors the sweet nearness of thy halls.

((Any who frequent the road past Noglond will notice the results of recent Goblin depredations in the area. The damage is described below.)) As the traveller approaches Noglond from the west, his nostrils are assaulted by the mixed odors of burnt wood and decaying meat. Near the road, and occasionally on it, lie the corpses of recently slain animals, lynx, bears, and sundry birds, animals that were wantonly slain and thrown down on the road to rot.