Cardolan

          The evening in Herne is lovely. I tried to walk in the town and countryside, to enjoy the crisp fall air. But all it did is remind me that I should be continuing my journey. South, south, to lands unknown. Nearly everyone I have told of my intention to travel into Dunland has looked with pity on the poor young woman who thinks to try such a journey alone. Perhaps they’re right. I am no Ranger. 

The traveling merchant had been a blessing, and Es purchased three bottles of moonshine from him. Once collected, he took his bottled treasure for some quality time by a small pond wreathed in banks of flowers.

Afternoon faded to evening. It was still warm enough to get by without retrieving extra layers of clothing, though the fresh coolness of the air sang lullabies through the foliage about impending autumn.

Many roaming bards and traveling merchants have brought stories and descriptions of Bree back to their homeland -- though rarely related to the village itself, an insignificant mish-mash of cobble, tile, and wood in an endless sea of jade green glades, forests, roving plains coated with beautiful tricolor flowerbeds, and cultivated land. While many in Bree had hardly the will or the means to experience the beauty beyond the hedge wall, there were still those that roamed the land freely.

Torech Besruth, Falathlorn, Lindon

16 Tuilë in the Reckoning of Imladris