The warmth of a firepit is of little solace up here in the mountains, where the wicked winter’s fist keeps the land in a firm and cruel grip. Wildermore has always been a “wild” place so to speak, for it is not the kind of land one would pass through easily and without purpose, and the people who do make their living here are hardened folk.

It was dawn in Imloth Melui, a large town spreading over both sides of the River Erui, a tributary of the Anduin. Erui was the shortest river along the Anduin and the only one without a tributary of it’s own. The river flowed through Imloth Melui, dividing Upper Lebennin and Lossarnach.

We both looked to Elfmar, speaking with one of his men. His back was partly turned towards the door, so though he had likely heard our footsteps, he hadn’t yet seen us. I paused.