Enedwaith

Pren nodded as he ran a hand through her hair briefly before the voice was heard, pulling the kitten back towards himself and putting him in his furs, letting his head pop out.

Gwennol looked up, standing and going to fetch her bag, "What is wrong with him?" She asked the young man, a boy really, who came to deliver the message. He shrugged, looking away from Pren, a hint of fear in his eyes, "I don't know, he has fever and won't wake." 

Gwennol's face grew serious and she turned to Pren, "I must go help."

Pren looked back as his name was mentioned,  before he looked over to Brisen, nodding once more before surveying the large hut and the people milling around, staring at the strangers. 

Brisen looked at him boldly, her eyes roamed over his broad chest and up to his face. "Come, this way." She walked towards the door, her hips swayed under a tight fitting hide skirt.

The journey through Eregion was quiet, the land full of rolling hills and dry creek beds, clusters of holly trees giving the area the name, Hollin. Ancient elvish ruins dotted the landscape as they rode along the faint path, dust kicking up under the hooves of the big brown horse. 

As Pren and Gwennol walked through the thick forest of the Mournshaws, the birds chirped in the canopy above and the leaves rustled calmly in the wind. Many hours have passed as they walked on following paths made by derudh before, until they came to a crystal clear lake in a small little glade. Even though trees surrounded this, not a single leaf floated in these mystical looking waters.

"Lond Daer? It was once a great and proud harbour of the Númenóreans, now it's a free port and a haven for all manner of seafaring outlaws, scoundrels, rogues, and smugglers. It's still mostly a crumbling ruin that's been abandoned to the ages, but near the docks it has been rebuilt, then that's rotted and been partly rebuilt again, and that bit is bustling with all the activity of a small town.

She'd known that their luck would run out eventually, that it was only a matter of time until they were discovered during their little trip through the orc-infested region. That it had to happen just then, on that narrow path along the cliffs by the Greyflood with heavy rain coming down and the blasted hillmen too far ahead to help, that was more than piss-poor luck.

"It's no good, damn orcs are everywhere down there," said Ameren, pulling her mare to a halt as she came closer to the cart. "If we still had the cover of rain we may have been able to slip past them, but on a beautiful day like this they'll see us coming from a mile off."