Dunedain

The man was walking on the border of the forest in the Northernmost part of North Downs making sure he was unseen. The land was unusually silent, even the birds didn't chirp as they used to do, the tall trees of Nan Amlug West are a home to many birdsand often the forest was filled with their chirping , but not that day. The man went on, his green and brown clothing hid him, making him one with his surroundings.

The air blew chilly over Weathertop, despite it being a summer day, that night was cold and moonless, the three men stood atop the old watch-tower gazing in the distance. Their watchful gaze was on Naerost, the old landmark just below the watch-tower. Once it seems to have been a great sight, now it's infested with orcs that came to the land, carrying out the foul orders of their master. Two of the three men stood motionless near an old pillar, and the third one sat on fallen part of it, resting his chin in his fist.

With a curved bow in his hand, he marched through the barren wasteland underneath the mask of darkness the land has given him. Soon, he shifted from being out in the open towards the cover of trees and rocks to hide him from sight. He waited, and his instincts were correct for soon, he had heard voices. Voices he recognized – one was croaky and crisp with age and weariness, whilst the other was simply aggressive and showing strength through even his voice.

It was a cruel night – dark and cold, empty of emotion yet corrupted, and it stabbed Nenusidh’s warm heart like a knife. The land was giving the ranger a message – a rather bitter message at that, that there cannot be mercy. The moon was neither bold nor strong enough to best the cruel skies, and the stars were too few and much covered. The land was covered in darkness, yet despite so, there was a fragment of light within the ranger.

It has been two days and well into noon, by now. Despite so, this did not trouble Nenusidh, perhaps it was one of the reasons why he had to set out so quickly, which was the journey will be a while in itself. He has made way into the steep hills of Nan Amlug, the area where the forest breaks into hill and deep valleys.

It was a cold winter, especially moreso in the northern regions such as the woods of Annúndir that resided between the Fields of Fornost and Kingsfell. Despite the temperature, the day was glowing, but the sun hid behind a mask of clouds. It was to be expected as light comes with heat, and if heat was masked so should light.

This story took place decades ago. It gives a description of the first time Dínenor was hunting trolls amongst other Dúnedain out in the Trollshaws. The story could be roughly known to rangers originating from the northern Trollshaws.

Dínenor looks up to the sky. It is full of clouds, the moon shafts sparsely through the leaves of the trees. The only light in the deep of the night is coming from three torches.