East Rohan

Entry 10

                I left the lumber mill around midnight. Try as I might, I couldn’t bring myself to spend the night there, not while knowing that the orcs who’d slain Mr. Frumgar and Ms. Dunlida were getting farther away with every passing second.

           Seregrían and the Riders Four have returned to Harwick, and rest one more day before departing for Cliving and their ongoing errantry.  As they gather for a shared meal at the Harwick tavern, they are joined by Caeorwulf, who has bitter news to relate.  At the will of Lord Harding, he shall rejoin the errand-riders and ride north to Wildermore as planned.      

             Cliving is a well-fortified town seated on bluffs overlooking the rolling plains of the Eastfold, and is the seat of Athelward, the Reeve of the Norcrofts, a man who by all accounts is reeling from his recent widowing.  Other accounts speak not only of the despondent Reeve, but the surge of villagers seeking the safety of the walls, flying from the bands of orcs and wolves c

            Caeorwulf slowly opens his eyes and looks around at the place where he finds himself.  Nothing is around him; all is a grey-white mist, swirling round his feet and in every direction.  He is neither warm nor cold.  The sensation he has is of nothingness, no pain or fear or cares.  He has no reckoning, no memory of this place or how he cam