Ithilien

The woods of Ithilien were alive with the hunt.

The first arrow whistled past Deorla’s face, snapping through a birch trunk. The second struck her horse’s flank — a warning shot, not yet meant to kill. The cries of men followed soon after, echoing between the trees:

“In the name of the Prince of Ithilien! Drop your weapon!”

Beginning of the Fourth Age, Ithilien

Dear uncle,

(sequel of Tulwië-lórë)

Forlindon, present time, afternoon

Earcalie watched the newly born foal tentatively take his first steps around his mother. The little one was just half a day old, but already lively and demanding. She smiled, feeling a sudden pang of nostalgia thinking of her own parents far away on the other side of the sea. 

"Tell me about Arnen?" she asked Histealdo.

The forces marched on. Black Speech was muttered amongst the orc forces as they lumbered through the barren fields beyond the Black Gate. Riding atop a Dire Horn Goat, a mounted warrior was fully clad in dark armor. As the goat ascended a steep, rocky hill, a scout dashed beside her, "General Aglarari, we approach Ithilien."

     The sun was just beginning to creep down the sky, and I was trying to push my men a bit farther before nightfall. They were tired, and should we have not been in friendly territory, I certainly would not have risked such a long march. We had travelled nearly all day through the realm of Ithilien, and despite my mens' strength they had reached their limit.

Something feels overwhelmingly dark and grim about the lands of Ithilien, the land in which Aranya was living her whole life. The ranger felt darkness sinking its claws into once peaceful area of the Old Forests. The Tower of the Rising Moon, which is now known as Minas Morgul, keeps her brothers and sisters in fear as every time she looks at the path leading to it. Every single day she comes there, silently observing the road as if expecting the hordes of enemies approach so he can beware his comrades of the striding Evil, which is about to invade the lands of Moon-land.