rohan

 A somewhat strong, but chilly, gust of wind blew straight into his face, messing his hair and making him turn his head to the side, to avoid it passing by his ears. It always irritated Grimhaleth, the cold wind in his ears. It was late in the morning and he was walking for the most of it, the long plains of Rohan seem even longer if one tries to walk them.

Minas Tirith, Nórui 3009 T.A. Steward's Reckoning

Theogorn scratched on his beardless face. He looked around to the white glimmering stones and walls of the city. The streets were bustling with activity: wagons were towed to and fro, builders were renovating an old inn on great wooden platforms and cranes, moving stones up and down. There was a market with many merchants calling and offering their wares and gondorian men and women in clothes of blue and yellow running or strolling all around the place.

A home over the deep dales of RohaN

Wes ðu Hál!

Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harp string, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

Deorgast sat upon Grimme, his long-lived and trusted horse, which he has always loved dearly. Behind him, his 70 or so men, all composed of bowmen which he was given the honour of commanding as patrolers of the Wold after coming back to Rohan and being pardoned for his war-crimes, in the times Rohan was controlled by a wizard and not by their king. All around him there were men, scared to death of the enemy they were about to face, and at the same time marvelled by the size and the beauty of that white city they faced, Minas Tirith.