If scholars can be believed, the Great East Road is older even than the Sun. If this doesn't cast into doubt the very idea that scholars can be believed, or that books like this hold any promise of truth, then perhaps the age of the Road itself, or its origins, can be set aside, because the history of the Lone-lands begins instead with the long-lost kingdom of Arnor. The tales speak of Arnor being founded thousands of years ago, and spanning most of the lands of northern Eriador, as far east as the forests beyond the Hoarwell, and west and north beyond what the Eglain call the Soft Lands (which include Bree-land, the Shire, and probably other lands of plenty farther outside the knowledge of the tribe).
Arnor is noted for many things, which are already spoken of in other books, and which this book will not repeat. The marks it left on the Lone-lands, however, are mostly seen in the ruins (about which more will be spoken in a later chapter). The people of Arnor, evidently, built many towers, cities, forts, bridges, and other constructions, of solid stone, mostly white in color, which they adorned with seven-pointed stars so enthusiastically that one wonders if they knew any other shapes. Some of their fortresses still stand, though none have completely withstood the tribulations of long years, and the Lone-land is speckled with them. Finding relics of this ancient, fallen empire within these ruins is one of the primary means by which the Eglain survive, trading them for the necessities of life.
The kingdom of Arnor fell apart, turning into three rival kingdoms, known as Cardolan, Arthedain, and Rhudaur, and these three fought over their borders, as kingdoms are wont to do. The Lone-lands, as they stand now, stood at one of those contested borders. In particular, the mountain called Weathertop passed now into control of one kingdom, now into another, now into the third. Rhudaur usually controlled the lands east of Weathertop, which then was called Amon Sûl, while Arthedain controlled the lands west, and Cardolan the lands south. It therefore follows that most of what is now the Lone-lands was in control of Rhudaur most of the time, but all three kingdoms controlled parts of it at various times. Probably many of the ruins that now nestle in its hills were built by whichever kingdom controlled the land at the time of their construction (mostly Rhudaur), then were seized by the next in turn, but so often did they change hands that the relics found in any ruin are as likely to come from one kingdom as the others. Fortunately, all three of them seemed equally fascinated by seven-pointed stars, so the ruins themselves do not reflect the changes. Either that, or they all date to before the kingdom's division, and were merely claimed by those who came after.
What led to these lands becoming unpeopled is not known, but two causes stand out. The most obvious explanation concerns wars, both those between the kingdoms, and other wars fought in remote parts of ancient Arnor. Perhaps many of the people of these lands were pressed into service in battles in far places, battles from which they did not return. The people who did not go to these battles may have, as the kingdoms waned with the losses of war, migrated to dwell in the larger cities that still stood, leaving the more remote lands empty.
A more subtle, but perhaps more compelling, reason concerns the drying of the Lone-lands.
A study of the ruins, including the ways they were built, the places chosen for them, and the wells and cisterns that once stood within them, suggests that in these ancient days, water was plentiful in the Lone-lands. In fact, some of the clefts and valleys were probably rivers in those days, which explains why some bridges stand over empty, dry gullies now. What caused the rivers to dry up, the soil to become unwelcoming to seed, and the land to become so hostile, is not known. Perhaps war itself marred the lands, through fire and the spilling of blood, causing the spirits of earth, river, wind, and soil to be angered, driven away, or maddened. The people, already thinned by war, might have had all the more reason to leave as the land itself turned against them.
The oldest tales of the Eglain suggest that, when we abandoned cities and came to this land, it was long empty, its fortresses already crumbled, its soil long since sere and dusty. When we settled there specifically (and perhaps why) remains a mystery, save that we know no others dwelled here at that time. And we remain the only ones to this day, save for two exceptions: the goblins, and the Forsaken Inn.
The goblins, in recent years, have invaded the Lone-lands, mostly coming from holes dug into the deeps of the hills and mountains, from which they boil forth like angry ants from a hive; we know not what drives them into our lands.
The Inn was built long ago by men of Bree, at a time when the Eglain were still new to the Lone-lands and mostly dwelled nearer the Hoarwell; there are tales which say it was called the Last Inn at that time, perhaps because it was the last inn for travelers heading east before many miles of wilderness unpeopled (as far as the Bree-landers knew, for most of them had never seen the Eglain). How it came to be called the Forsaken Inn is not known to the Eglain, but it is telling that our people have come to visit it more than the travelers for whom it was built, and this may be part of how it came by its new name, for the name Eglain means, in some ancient tongue, "forsaken". While we, if not prosper, at least persist, the Inn has done poorly, and barely holds itself up in the harsh winds. It is not yet forsaken entirely, but it seems ready for the day when it shall be. Perhaps then the Eglain will claim it for ourselves, if it has some value. Certainly not from the ale to be found there, though!
