Ered Luin

Weeks had turned to months and The Raven had lost hope of rescue. He had seen other prisoners come and go, but he had a strong feeling that those who left really "left." Those who remained included an old man who, after all this time, was able to keep his treasured possesions, a small girl that could've been no older than twelve, and a blonde-bearded dwarf that seemed to be a Longbeard.

The air was cold and wet. Rimedur could feel droplets of mist freezing on his nose as tried to warm himself near the fire. "I've grown too close to the warmth," he thought to himself. The ex-guardsboy had been tracking a group of Dourhand dwarves from Evendim. Luckily, they did not disturb the Hobbits' peace. If one place was to remain pure the longest, it should be the Shire. However, with the arm of Angmar growing longer and the brigands pillaging and thieving where they pleased, it may not stay that way for long.