================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Dawn < About 5:10 AM >
IC day is: Orbelain <Valar-day>
IC date is: 14 Laer <Summer>
Moon phase: Waxing Crescent <VISIBLE>
Earendil: Gil-Estel shines brightly barely above the horizon in the
eastern sky.
IC year is: Loa 17 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3041>
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RL time: Thu Jul 05 18:43:36 2007
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Old South Road (Methedras) - Dunland <<Redvyrne County>>
You are close to the mountain peak named Methedras and you can make out greater detail in the crags and spikes of the rocks that cover the sides of it. Through this area, you can barely see your way because the road is faint and overgrown with grass. The only evidence that the road was ever here is that the grass is thinner and of a different variety from the surrounding plains. The trees are sparse off in the distance, but help to break the monotony of the horizon.

To the north stands clear sign of habitation, however - the dark bulk of Crebain Keep is visible against the night sky, guarding Dunland's borders. Pinpricks of light atop the walls wink in and out as the night guard passes.

Contents:
Galharth
Maglind
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It is night, and Methedras looms close, blocking out pin-pricks of the stars. In Dunland, a lamp flickers watchfully, then turns away. There is a small encampment upon the path, and a seeming-man, carefully hooded, stands at its border.

"Dawn approaches soon," Galharth whispers as he approaches the hooded figure on the border of the camp. "We'll be moving closer then. Though I must say, we won't draw too near."

"We're not going in /there/, are we?" whispers Maglind back, wide-eyed toward the guarded walls. "I didn't hear our plans. Where are we headed?"

Shaking his head before he vocalizes an answer, Galharth looks firmly to the north. "Nay, we're not going too far. Only far enough to view the land. There's a slight hope to learn something of the culture, but it's not a desire that will push us into danger." The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. "We've got you if something should go wrong..."

"I don't think I'll be much of a help," replies Maglind, smiling ruefully. "Someone said they don't like people with yellow hair. I suppose that includes Elves."

"Rohirrim....." The tailor mutters softly with a furrowed brow. "The ones we saw upon the plains were fair haired." Shrugging his shoulders, he continues to scan the distant horizon. "We'll just keep out hoods down and hope for the best."

A smile flickers on his lips and Galharth looks towards the Warden. "Besides, from this distance... what could go wrong."

"Thank Eru they have poor eye-sight," sighs Maglind, but he still glances worriedly at Dunland. "

"Come, let us break camp. You will have to teach me to fold the tent correctly, so I do not tear more cloth."

Chuckling softly, the Tailor turns back to the tents. "There is something almost funny about the fact that you are more traveled than I, and yet I am to teach you how to fold a tent."

As they near the tents, Galharth places a finger to his lips and softly shushes the Warden. "Kylin still sleeps. Let us get our own tents down so that we only have his remaining when he wakes." With that he falls silently into his work, fading into the shadows of the camp.