Post by Valdrik on Jan 2, 2006 21:50:55 GMT
Nearly a fortnight had passed since the skirmish between the Rohirrim and the Dunlendings. The nomadic wildmen were watchfull when passing into the Westfold these days for the Rohirrim patrols seemed to pass by more often than ever before. This did not dampen the barbarian's spirits much though, and there were still raids taking place in the western pastures of Rohan, though, only netting a few horses at a time. There was one tribe though, who's number was nearly two hundred, determined to ruffle the Rohirrim's feathers a bit more. The group had traveled from Dunland to Moria, where they passed over the mountains via the Pass of Caradhras. They made their camp their, on the eastern slopes of the Misty Mountains, within the territory of Moria, but, at night they began venturing south, across the River Limelight, and into the northern territories of Rohan.
The Wold was a wild, rolling land, devoid for the most part of villages. But, there were horses, and that is what the wildmen had come for. For three consecutive nights small parties had scoured the landscape and taken their prize of steeds back to their encampment. On the fourth night though, they came across the first village.
It was a small village, consisting of no more than three or four huts, a smithy and stables. These folks were no doubt nothing more than peasant farmers and would be no trouble for the band of men that sat looking upon them in the darkness.
None were left alive, not to the knowedge of the wildmen anyway, by morning the village was nothing more than ashes, not that it was much more before that. In what was once the center of the town a sight was left that was becoming all to familiar to the Rohirrim. Every last man, woman and child was left, impaled upon pikes, their bodies left to stand guard over their burnt homes.
The raiders had retreated, back across the Limelight, out of Rohirrim territory. It would no doubt take a few days for word of this deed to make its way south to Edoras. News of these events occurring so far to the north would surely puzzle Rohan's Queen, and no doubt add to the ever increasing terror of Rohan's inhabitants.
The Wold was a wild, rolling land, devoid for the most part of villages. But, there were horses, and that is what the wildmen had come for. For three consecutive nights small parties had scoured the landscape and taken their prize of steeds back to their encampment. On the fourth night though, they came across the first village.
It was a small village, consisting of no more than three or four huts, a smithy and stables. These folks were no doubt nothing more than peasant farmers and would be no trouble for the band of men that sat looking upon them in the darkness.
None were left alive, not to the knowedge of the wildmen anyway, by morning the village was nothing more than ashes, not that it was much more before that. In what was once the center of the town a sight was left that was becoming all to familiar to the Rohirrim. Every last man, woman and child was left, impaled upon pikes, their bodies left to stand guard over their burnt homes.
The raiders had retreated, back across the Limelight, out of Rohirrim territory. It would no doubt take a few days for word of this deed to make its way south to Edoras. News of these events occurring so far to the north would surely puzzle Rohan's Queen, and no doubt add to the ever increasing terror of Rohan's inhabitants.
