rohan

OOC Note: This is simply a tale Ellynore speaks of, whether it is mythology in Rohan or simply of her own creation is difficult to tell.

It began with the letter.

It was a quiet evening, the sky darkening to a deep blue as the light of the Sun faded in the West. The riders were gathered around a campfire, some talking quietly, others cooking. A cask of ale sat nearby, with several mugs stacked next to it. From the road came a weary horseman.

~ What follows is written on several loose, age-stained sheets rolled up tightly and bound with three green ribbons. It is written in a legible, practiced hand impressed deeply into the sheets in most places, but in some places the writing appears rushed and is difficult to read.~

The fire crackled brightly, bathing the room in its light and heat. It seemed to stand a resolute barrier against the bitter fall wind that beat against the windows. Its light flickered wildly across the room, reflecting in all directions off of the blade that lay across Anymer’s knees. He ran his whetstone over the edge over and over, honing it till it was perfectly sharp, perfectly smooth.

Ever since Deorgast has been forgiven by the most recent Thane of the Wold of the crimes he had been accused of, The Swiftly abandoned his nomad ways to stay in Rohan and defend the Wold against the Easterling threat that rose, each day more bold and strong. He was now not a hunter in light clothing and only a bow and backpack by his side, but he returned to being a fully armoured soldier, with a sword and shield. However, always with his bow by his side.

The leather binding that held the book together was well worn and stained. No name graced it, but on the first page Bregoàn could make out the words Sundry Tales of Elves and Magic. He had cleared a spot in one of his favorite hideouts in the tall grass of the planes. A clear, and somewhat clean, mat of grass formed a perfect nook for taking in a new book. He had used it often.