Post by danja on Jan 2, 2006 13:26:56 GMT -5
The north south road passes a lake, deep and cold. By its still waters sits a young man cross legged on a large rock, facing the rising sun; relaxed in the knowledge that apart from alpine elves or solitary animals, he was unlikely to encounter anyone, on the surrounding wooded slopes. Early autumn birds are singing, yet the lake collected far enough south to be unfrozen, and the young man to wear only light furs.
Beside him on the rock lay his hardwood quarter staff, arrows, and composite hunting bow made of sinew and animal horn. As the morning wore on the chance of meeting travellers on the road, dwarves or even other men, would increase. He stood to survey the road heading south, which skirted the western bank of the lake. From his vantage point, he could see someone in the distance; too far off to determine race or purpose. Sitting down again he basked in the sun once more and waited neither bow drawn nor staff raised.
Meanwhile to the west above the Blue Mountains a change in weather was afoot.
The first breeze, subtle warning of the approaching storm; made Hann turn and stand once more. Forgetting the traveller he gathered his things. He would have need for shelter soon and the southeast valley lay well beyond the lake, where the road ran down hill again.
Unknown to Hann; the land gently sloped for many miles, until the River Lune to the east. The river flowed south; parallel to the mountain ranges the source of its tributaries. After flowing beyond sight of the Northern summits, its course skewed west and met The Gulf of Lune at its peak.
The gulf cut the mountains into two ranges and with them; Lindon, ‘land of song’.
The Elvin lands of Lindon lay west of the Blue Mountains, last remnant of ancient Beleriand, long since lost to the western sea.
Forlindon to the north: Harlindon to the south.
Beside him on the rock lay his hardwood quarter staff, arrows, and composite hunting bow made of sinew and animal horn. As the morning wore on the chance of meeting travellers on the road, dwarves or even other men, would increase. He stood to survey the road heading south, which skirted the western bank of the lake. From his vantage point, he could see someone in the distance; too far off to determine race or purpose. Sitting down again he basked in the sun once more and waited neither bow drawn nor staff raised.
Meanwhile to the west above the Blue Mountains a change in weather was afoot.
The first breeze, subtle warning of the approaching storm; made Hann turn and stand once more. Forgetting the traveller he gathered his things. He would have need for shelter soon and the southeast valley lay well beyond the lake, where the road ran down hill again.
Unknown to Hann; the land gently sloped for many miles, until the River Lune to the east. The river flowed south; parallel to the mountain ranges the source of its tributaries. After flowing beyond sight of the Northern summits, its course skewed west and met The Gulf of Lune at its peak.
The gulf cut the mountains into two ranges and with them; Lindon, ‘land of song’.
The Elvin lands of Lindon lay west of the Blue Mountains, last remnant of ancient Beleriand, long since lost to the western sea.
Forlindon to the north: Harlindon to the south.