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Almost Home
Into the land that the Halflings called the ‘Green Hill Country’ we rode, the horses speeding up to a canter as we passed a few small villages to our right, hiding now in the misty early evening, their window lamps being the only sign of life. It was an evening to be indoors, though it was nowhere near as bitter as it had been in Cardolan. Off the road we traveled uphill, winding our way through closely growing trees above Woodhall. Then there came the clearing. Trees on three sides gave way to an open view to the east, and what appeared as a natural ‘Great Hall’. The clearing of the old Elf Camp was empty.
(Picture by Estarfin )
(Story : An Overnight Halt in the Shire )
