Fiontann

These past weeks have been fortunate with me, I was able to find a job as a wood-worker at the Combe Lumber-camp, which had been quite successful, however, I had found a better job, one which would pay more. Alongside this fine job, I had found a good chance for love. Elfcwyn. I had asked her if she would want to take a chance, but she had declined, however, she had said that she does fancy me but needs more time.

Day …… (in Bree)

The remaining townsfolk gathered behind the line of fighters. Even without understanding a word, Phaewyn knew what was happening. The fighters retreated slowly, everyone pressing towards the doors, with a few combattants in front of them, pushing the wooden gates open. A couple of them slipped outside, readying themselves on the other side of the doors, to push them closed afterwards. It was going to be difficult. They had to be fast, to slip out before they were chased. Phaewyn leaned a bit against the boy she had deemed a friend, sword in her uninjured arm.

From atop a watchtower, her arrows flew, one after the other, doing their small share of lessening the storm of orcs swarming the town.
Fo’ Ath.
Fo’ Gae.
Fo’ Lieta.
Fo’ Kim-somethin’.

Fo’ Big Bear.

Fo’ Tess.

Death!

Gæded's heart raced as she stood before the closed gate. It was coming. These men, these soldiers, would fight for their home. So would she.

Death!

She felt slightly afraid, but she did not let it show. She was one of the eorlingas. She had to be brave.

Death!

She looked around her, at the men. Their golden hair glinted in the sunlight and their eyes sparkled with fear, excitement and determination. She felt those feelings too - she was not alone.

Death!

It was a day like any other for Fiontann, he was sitting somehow apart from the Company, but kept his on them, as well as the townsfolk, he was expecting an attack on Eaworth any day, after his Company burned the orc encampment. They were all there, together, around the fire, talking, he was next to a house, sitting on a stump of a tree, holding a jar full of ale, as always.

They had made it to Gaeded’s home town of Stoke under the worst of conditions. It became apparent that the Eorling was finding that her home was changed since she last returned. The building stress was making Lieta nervous about staying, but the Eorling wanted to continue their journey from Bree. It also wasn’t helping that Athlenah was getting homesick after she and three others of the company were captured and beaten in Dunland.

Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harp string, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?