The night was ink-dark, and only the breath of stars shimmered faintly above the towering forests of the Aldburg Wood. Deorla rode in silence, the hooves of her mount—the Harbinger—striking the mossy floor like low drums of war. The creature was bone-armored and wreathed in withered leaves, a beast born of shadow and decay. 

Eastern Rohan, a significant time later…

I have hidden myself from the villager's watch. I do not wish to startle them with my presence, which may distract them from their daily tasks. It is not the first time I emerged from the forest, but I have never stayed in proximity of the ocean for as long as I am doing now. This is the influence of my friend from the Far West, and all the stories he told me about his clan's love of water. I do not like it very much.

The wise often preach that time is the greatest healer of them all. It can mend wounds, pain and suffering. Restore nature’s balance and bring about the renewal of that lost through devastation and war. Some may even go as far as to say it spurs enlightenment, shattering fear and doubt born from the past and brings a sense of freedom to a troubled mind. This is a comfort to some, but not to all.

There were thirty one left. 

With the right winds it would take around five weeks to be back in Umbar Baharbel. With pursuit and attack from the Uinenlindë, out of Mithlond, it took a bit longer.

  September had come and was already passing, but the meadows looked like they had not lost a single day from the summer. Even the leaves on branches were green and bright, and the birds sitting on them hadn't lost their excitement to make songs. It was the perfect time to warm your bones under the sun, and perhaps that's what the fox of the field thinking too, if he had put any thought on it. Nevertheless, on one of such days he was lying on the grass while watching the clouds to glide in and out of his view.