Riders of the Riddermark

Dig, dig, dig, for elves a grave!
For over mead, we'll soon rant and rave.

Dig, dig, dig, for elves to rest!
Dig, dig, and rest they shall!

Grain sacks he sat upon provided some measure of comfort to Veryacano as he rested his back upon the giant keg. The provisions room they had been locked in had no windows and hence he began longing for fresh air after a couple hours. By that time, the two Rohirrim guards inside had grown tired of talking and just stood there, leaning on the now empty crates. Most of the crates were full of food when the elves were herded into the storeroom, but the Rohirrim captain had all the stores moved out and only dried beans, grain and other legumes remained.

Within Redwick's adventures he had before encountered elves, yet not all of them were as they seemed and he seldom shares tales of it; especially amongst his own kin-folk. For he himself would call himself ælfwine, yet he would not have other men of Rohan hear of it.

We have done the Dun-men abundance of mischief, and we went against Grimbold’s wishes, and crossed the Isen when he forbid it. But he is not our lord to command us, and we go whither we will – that is, until now.

Tonight, we were set upon by a herd of Horse-men, and they surrounded us, and aiming their bows and spears at our throats, commanded us to lay down our weapons, because their king does not abide strangers wandering the land without his leave.

A sense of foreboding and fear lay upon him like a grey shroud, so thick he could barely breathe for the despair that clawed at his heart. Helpless and at the mercy of his captors; the thought was enough to send a chill through his blood, and he drew his knees to his still-healing chest. What treatment could they expect from these tall Men? They were raucous warriors, and he remembered well the treatment that his own band of warriors had meted out to their captives in Dunland.

The Journey Home III - Arrival.

*a letter sent to Irwinn*

Dear Faeder. 

I would want you to know that my journey home to Riddermark have ended. As for now I am sitting in the barracks of Snowbourn, writing this letter to you. 

The silvery drops of morning dew slowly settled upon the green leaves of spring as the sun began its journey across the heavens.  The coming dawn had painted the sky into a crimson splendour, and a gust of chilly wind entered through the open window and blew across Denholm’s face, which was only partly exposed beneath the grey blanket. Ysle sighed and moaned quietly in her scenic slumber, and her hair was resting all over the pillow like golden strands of wheat upon a field.