Winter

Continued from: Into the Cold: A Call from the Wild

The warmth of a firepit is of little solace up here in the mountains, where the wicked winter’s fist keeps the land in a firm and cruel grip. Wildermore has always been a “wild” place so to speak, for it is not the kind of land one would pass through easily and without purpose, and the people who do make their living here are hardened folk.

Some verses shared with Diruviel by a guest in Imladris many years past. She believes it is but a part of a longer poem celebrating midwinter. Perhaps she'll come across the rest of it one day, but for now, it brings cheer during the long, cold nights.

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"The Long Night"

Twilight growing, stars are twinkling

As they above in sky are winking

When winter spread to the Bree-lands once more, the window which Diane stared out was shuttered closed. She was hidden from the world, and the world hidden from her. The only warmth came from weak candlelight, or a hearth too far from the bed.

A pair of dark grey eyes peered through the hood and mask, muffled steam rising with each breath as he broke a trail through the snow that gathered on the banks of the half frozen creek. It was quiet, the world crisp and white though he spotted a set of deer tracks that lead to and from the water’s edge. After refilling his waterskin, he made his way back up to higher ground, where the snow thinned, blown by the howling winds that brought the breath of ice down from Forochel.

A season clear

When Arien’s heat is dim

And quickly through the sky she skims

Long and impulsive are the journeys of Galmaxthalion. Guided by the whispers of the wind and the flow of the waters of middle-earth, he wanders where he is needed, but mostly where his heart takes him. It is no secret also that the fading of the year has a special place in his thoughts.