Nigh Baranduin, 37th day of Iavas
It was with lighter hearts that we left Nen Harn behind. We were joined by Galawyn and her sister Ninimeth – who I now know to be daughters of Mirineth - together with Elnarael, son of Cironael. Aearandir challenged us to a swimming race, and several of us took part. Certainly, it was an invigorating way to shake off the dust of our swift passage across the Weather Hills!
The leafy land south of Nen Harn is quiet, rarely trod by many – and far from the townships of the Breeland folk. We resupplied those watch camps along our path, enjoying the fair weather that dappled sunlight on the grass under the trees.
Crossing the Greenway, we fell into the company of a Man – one of those who carry on the legacy of the North. Adunzil, he is named, and he seemed eager to accompany us for a time. We wound our way into the Brandy Hills, and camped at the ruin of the old watchtower that overlooks the Baranduin – a place we often use on our travels that way, for it offers a fine view across the river. It was there that Aearandir’s watch proved most bountiful in its results! Within an hour, he had fetched a few curious watchers to our campfire: an elf-maiden, by name of Nethaellas, and another man, named Dunisthil. We offered them the hospitality of our camp…but alas! Talk soon turned to tidings of a dark nature, of things groping in the shadows – even here, nigh to the pleasant lands where the Periain dwell!
Unsurprisingly, our talk of orcs and…other such things…well, our hearts were dimmed somewhat. The newcomers bade us farewell, and departed to pursue their own purposes in light of our news, and our company settled down to spend the rest of the night in more sombre mood.
