A bleak sun was setting as Lathwen slowly stretched out beside the small campfire. Candroch stood a few feet away, munching on some grass. Lathwen herself was content to eat the nuts and berries she had found earlier in the day. The water flowed steadily under the bridge nearby, she had come at last, to the border of the Trollshaws, and the last bridge.
The road had been one of peril, for large hosts of orc roamed the east of the Lone Lands, and warg hunted, even in daylight. Lathwen had kept near the road, but never on it, for too many were the eyes spying on travellers, and too few were the places one could find refuge.
She had spent a night in Ost Guruth, that small settlement under stone of old, where a few meagre merchants had set up shop, and an old wisened man named Frideric, tried to keep his flock safe. Ah, at least Radagast the feeble was there, though he seemed as ever, more interested in the safe being of squirrel and bird, than of man and child.
Strange were the words in Ost Guruth, speaking of old evils rising in ruins to the north, orc crawling over the ruins to the south, and in Nan Dhelu, the remnant of the old castle, the dead were said to roam free. Lathwen shook her head as she thought back, it was as if the land itself had risen against those seeking to make a life upon it, no longer was the road safe, and no longer could one tend a field, why men would want to settle here, she could not understand.
The trollshaws loomed on the other side of the river, she knew that many dangers awaited her there, not the least being the trolls living in the northern parts, she would stick to the southern paths, and make her way towards the bruinen. Per chance she might even arrive there unnoticed, for the last word she had gotten from Frideric the Elder, was that many a traveller who crossed, never came back.
Lathwen sighed as she let her eyes follow the water until it vanished into darkness. She knew she was as close as ever to the vale of Elrond, yet as she drew near that place, she also grew more nervous. Would her kin accept her amongst them?, would they respect her wish for privacy?, her desire not to tell of her past?. She knew the letter she carried would convey to the lord of the vale her task, yet, would he councel her or would he scorn her?.
"The future is a strange thing Candroch, yet much that lies in it, comes directly from our past, what life do I not envy those like you, who see only the path from one green pasture to the next... Och!, I should not belittle you old friend, for you have proven stalwart and true in friendship.", Lathwen rose and found some grain in a pocket which she slowly fed the horse. "Rest now mellon nin, for tomorrow our path takes us into the hills and mountains".
Lathwen let the fire burn to ashes and sat long thinking about the morrow, about what path she should choose through the shaws, and about where it would lead her.
