Othrikar

It rained a little, of course. How could it not rain on them? But they kept up a good pace over the farm and grasslands of Annundir, into the gently rolling hills of the West. It was a trail Yrill had only followed a few times before, being far more a haunt of Men than of Elves. She knew the way, but not much of the surrounding land.

Hello, old friend! I haven't written to you for some time, have I? How have you been? Sitting in my saddlebags, gathering dust, I see.

I know it's been far too long, and perhaps you'd like to hear what I've been up to. No, not yet. I have more pressing concerns. But you know how I can be; how I tend to ramble, covering ideas from here, there, and everywhere in between. Maybe you'll catch snatches as I go.

The early spring warmth could be felt as the sun rose on the Othrikar mining outpost. Hilfar was standing near the gate catching the early light while smoking his pipeweed. He was quite pleased that the cold winter was slowly coming to an end, it would surely improve the mood and productivity of the workforce. Hilfar emptied his pipe when he noticed a grumbling sound coming from outside the gate. He walked out and saw a poney struggling to pull a cart full of ale kegs on the steep entranceway towards Othrikar, next to that he saw his father Ullfar.

Hilfar was buried in paper work in the DFTC office in Othrikar. While he was half-way working on a mining record, there was a knock on the door. "Enter" Hilfar uttered solemnly. The Othrikar guard captain walked in and bowed slightly "Master Hilfar, bad news I'm afraid". Hilfar laid down his quill, and looked at him with a worried expression.

Smoking yet another round of pipeweed to keep the mind soothed, Hilfar was hanging around the main gate awaiting the Uzbad. Master Thalamath returned once more with no news " no sign of anyone for miles". Hilfar shrugged,  " he will show up, he always does". Thalamath continued patrolling the road while Hilfar was watching the sun fall in the distant, smoking a pouch of south-farthings finest.

After almost 12 days on the road both Hilfar and Ullfar were getting close to their destination. Hilfar travelled on foot, pulling forth a poney laden with barrels of pipeweed, and a barrel of food. Fish tightly packed and roasted by Master Kandral. The wind was chill here, biting the nose and cheeks. Hilfar tucked his warm hat over his ears as they passed over the barren hills. They have not encountered anyone since Trestlebridge. The ruins and the landscape showed signs that this region used to be full of activity, long ago.