Dunlending

The road stretched on, the old stones broken and grass grew between but it still stood, marking the old route that ran north to south. The day was warm and the only sounds were the rhythmic click of the oaken staff and the hushed scrape of the small footfalls on the Old Road. She knew who had laid the stones she now tread, the men of the west who came and cut down the forests to build their cities. All now fallen but the land never recovered and it was this long memory her people held. Of strangers from the sea, who came with steel and a hunger for timber to build their innumerable ships.

The wood cracked in the campfire sending sparks into the sky. It was a cold night, but the warmth from fire allowed for a comfortable evening. It was a perfect night for story-telling, and Lilu spun her tale, revealing one more of the Dunlending legends from the treasury of her folklore.

The first of the dunlending Pren's, kills whilst he is in Bree-Land, the hunt for Forgoil (rohirrim) is what brought him here and it followed through with its promises of his 'prey'. After a few weeks in these lands he finally was prepared at the time when he saw them, a camp of three Forgoil laughing and drinking in the woods near his camp...