Sutwarden stood as a testament to the Edain presence from a previous age. The battlement wound around a natural spire overlooking the rich farmlands surrounding the bustling town of Bree. The recent drought had finally broken, and recent rains had washed the wind-cast dust from the ancient ruin and accentuated its faint stonework carvings, vaguely proclaiming glories long past and forgotten to all but the scholars, and to those whose immortal lives allowed memory.

It was nearing the end of day two in the old boarding house at Trestlebridge and time had not helped to heal any of their sorrows. Gwyn leaned on the windowsill and stared out the window, Dar sat on a bench next to her and occasionally he would touch his right eye, and Nethrida sat again

Walking down the dilapidated, ransacked streets of Millshaw, a couple held hands as they conversed in the night. Both hooded and cloaked, Nimraph and Eira walked through the small town. Passing some sprawled out scrap wood from the orc raids, Eira tried to distract herself from the destruction by asking, "How did a cookbook wind up in your library?"

She spoke in a light, amused tone. Deep down, however, she did not like the idea of going to that library.

Dear Mama and Papa,

I hate boys. They are mean, and have fractured my rib. I know they won’t feel bad, which just angers me more. I am thinking of stopping helping at Eogar’s, I don’t want to be in such a scary situation as I was the other day.

Syllea listened quietly as her sister, Em, told her about the reason behind her fear of dogs. After the horrific story finished, Syllea nodded in understanding before quickly saying she had to check on her horses. In truth, the pain in her side had taken a turn for worse when Lynn had helped her stand in the Pony. She hid her pain until she was out of the earshot of her sister. “Lynn, we need to find Rae; I can not wait until morning,” she said in a whisper.