A Journey of Rediscovery – Epilogue

The smell of roasting pork and cinnamon woke Dralon from his sleep the next morning. He ran his fingers through his hair and, ignoring the creaking in his knees, stood up and walked over to the small round window overlooking the square in front of the Prancing Pony. It was early, but the city was beginning to come to life, and he felt invigorated and ready for a new journey. This time to Rivendell to deliver the Silithar. His first stop was a bit closer though.

He was not surprised to find the taxidermists already at work, fishing and hunting being early work as well. Clar’s eyes flicked upwards at his appearance, and a wry grin crossed his lips.

“Welcome back, my adventuring friend. Have the fish had their fill you you yet?”

“Oh, their not all off the hook yet” Dralon jibed back with a wink. “But while there are still many on my list to catch, my journeys over recent days have served their purpose. I feel refreshed and renewed in what I am to do in the service of Eriador. And that new outlook is pointing me in a new direction now. For now, to the east.”

Clar nodded, “Well I am sure the fish will be glad to hear it. I, no doubt will be here on your return, and if any of those fish happen to accident across your path on your next journey, you make sure you let old Clar know if it.”

“I will indeed. I thank you for your aid, and wish you long days and pleasant nights”

“And may you have twice the number.” Clar responded.

Dralon closed the door behind him and looked West into the gradually lightening skies. One door closed, another door opened. He crossed the street to the bank to equip for the journey ahead, likely to involve battles of a different kind in the days ahead. Then south towards the Southern gate out of bree, the great east west road, and the lands beyond.

Part 8

The stars shown brightly overhead, reflecting off the lake with a shimmering glean that bounced up and off Dralon’s sleeping form. Dralon, was not resting easily now. A voice had begun to form in his mind, and a dream image now joined it. It was the voice of the lady, and the voice was at peace, but there was an urgency behind it as well.

“Dralon….you have forgotten the Silithar. The blade….must be reforged.”

The Silithar, memories stirred, and he grasped for them.

“To Rivendell. The time of trial is soon at hand. There is yet time. The blade…must be reforged.”

Yes, I remember now, he though.. Dralon began to awaken, as the image and voice faded.

He was still on the island in the middle of Lake Evendim. His mind however went back to the battle with the Turtle in the halls deep within Annuminas. How long ago had that been. And how remiss of him to have not followed through with that duty. The Silithar he now recalled was stored back at his Kinship hall, and he had honestly meant to take it to Aragorn, heir now to this stone and the blade that it would reforge. Moria had intervened, but he now knew where his next destination lay.

He packed up his belongings. He would return to the Halls of the Moriquendi, where the Silithar lay safe. He would then make for the city of Bree, to make preparations for the journey to Rivendell.

The kinship hall was silent upon his arrival. The days of raucous celebration within it’s halls were over though now. The world had moved on. The Moriquendi were spread far and wide, engaged in battles on multiple fronts. The hall itself however seemed timeless. He collected the Silithar from the chest on the top level, and took a few moments to view the halls. He stopped on the Summer festival painting he had put up not long ago. Summer would be gone by the time he returned.

The next morning he left his Hall, and headed out for Bree. The lands were suprisingly quiet, and the journey was uneventful. It was evening by the time he arrived, and he was greeted by the lovely sounds of music, which certainly were coming form the Pony. He was overjoyed to see the Eriador Music Socity (EMS) in mid performance, and certainly in good form this evening.

He applauded the play, and relaxed again. He heard the ladies voice in his head again, reassuring this time. “Do not feel hurried, Dralon”, the voice intoned. “The journey to Rivendell is long, and a hard ride may attract too much attention to yourself, and your artifact. Make your course direct, but do not rush. In this case, patience will arrive you at your destination where haste might cause more delay.”

As the EMS finished their performance he greeted them and wished them well, then retired to the Pony for a beer and a bed.

Part 7 - The Lady

The Rimbehyando looked over at Dralon and smiled.

“Look at us. All the strife in Middle Earth, from the Mines of Moria to the Mountains of Angmar, and here the two of us are…..fishing.”

Dralon nodded. “A deserved respite however, as the battles do take their toll. It is nice as well to return to see what we are fighting for. What brings you out to Evendim friend?”

Rimbe reeled in a good sized perch, a fish he was particularly fond of, placing it in his pack. “Actually I was about to head across the lake to pay my respects to Gwindeth. I have been away from her for longer than my heart could stand.”

Dralon knew of the special place Gwindeth held in Rimbe’s heart, and envied it. Dralon himself, had not yet filled that space in his heart. He reeled in himself, and stood up with Rimbe, “Well, I mustn’t keep you then. Please though give her my regards.”

“No Dralon, please accompany me. I know she would take joy in seeing you in good health as well. I also wager the fish might be biting a little better after an audience with the lady.” At that a knowing smile broke out on both their faces.

“I will then, friend. But I won’t overstay my welcome” Dralon said.

“Come then. Let us head through Annuminas. I have a special fishing spot I will show you there on the way.”

The two packed up, mounted up and headed to the ruins of the Ancient city. They had explored the walls many times before, but now, though the Angmarim still were plentiful, they seemed to lack the spirit they had previously, and left Dralon and Rimbe on their own. A few however had apparently found Rimbe’s “secret spot”

They fished there a while, without success. It seems even these waters were befouled by the persistent Angmarim prescence. Dralon looked to Rimbe, and they exchanged a glance they had shared many times before. With one motion, Dralon pulled his axe and the 3 Angmarim fell with 3 quick blows.

“The time will come when we will finish this job. For now, lets head towards the lady.” They did

At dusk they reached the waterfall, behind which, the hidden chamber lay. The unfamiliar would notice nothing unusual. The two guardians were hardly unfamiliar though, and they passed through the falls without harm, and entered the lady’s realm.

Gwindeth was expecting them, as they knew she would be. She greeted them warmly, and they spoke deep into the evening. Dralon spoke of his quest to collect those rarer fish of Eriador, and Gwindeth wished him well on that quest. Knowing Rimbe would want some time to speak with Gwindeth alone, he thanked the lady for her well wishes, bowed low and let the two of them to “speak”.

“Good luck in your travels Dralon” Rimbe said. “I look forward to seeing you again”.

“Thank you Rimbe. Safe travels”

Dralon exited the hitten waterfall cave, and found it was already bright day outside. Time is funny when in the prescence of the elves he had always found. He cast out into the waters of lake Evendim and after only a few casts found success.

Dralon fished the southern banks of the lake for a couple of hours, before heading to one of the smaller islands, he had come to call “sandcastle isle”. Each time he came, a sandcastle was there. Appearing freshly built each time. A true mystery. As night fell, a Lake Sturgeon fell to his bait as well.

The lady had truly blessed his fishing this day. Not one to take advantage of what was clearly a gift, he prepared to retire for the night. He made camp on the island. His bags full again, tomorrow he would return to Tinnudir.

Part 6

The next morning, Turkka provided Dralon with a satchel of moose jerky for his journey. It was tough, salty, but surpisingly good. They bid each other farewell with hopes of hearty meals and warmer nights. Dralon placed his fishing pole across his back, tied to his pack along with his great axe, and he headed down the path leading out of the camp. As the morning cries of the snowcats echoed through the mountains, Dralon made his way through the icy canyons, heading south east towards the passage to Evendim, and Ost Forod. The day quickly warmed with the reflections of the bright sun off the snow, and was bordering on springlike as he approached the lower slopes and Evendim. A far cry from the conditions even two nights ago when he had found himself there. He was able to camp in the low hills of north Evendim, and waking refreshed the next morning headed for Ost Forod, the main hub of commerce between the lake city of Tinnudir and the cities of Oatbarton to the South and Esteldin to the East.

He arrived in Ost forod, at midday. Dismounting and handing the stablemaster a silver for the use of his stable for a time, he was startled to hear his name shouted at him from across the yard.

“Dralon! Is that you?”

Dralon turned, and saw a small hobbit trotting over to him. As he drew close, he remembered….Parr.

Parr Chopley.  A diminutive, and wispish individual, even for a hobbit. Absolutely convinced that Evendim was going to be overrun by boars….and soon. He had humored the chap in the past, hunting these “boars”. Heck they all had.   It was easier than trying to explain that all the boars here, had been hunted to extinction years ago.

“Hello Parr.” Dralon responded. “You…uhh..look well.”

“Oh Sir, it is good to see you again.” Parr began shaking Dralon’s hand with a strength that belied his small stature. “I was talking about you just yesterday in fact. I hope you made it past the boars without much difficulty on your way to see me.”

“Were you now?” Dralon said, at the same time, thinking of an acceptable way to curtail this conversation.

“Why yes sir. The Rimbehyando, your kinmate, and friend of Parr as well, was here just yesterday. We spoke for a long time about the menace these boars pose.”

A long time?  Dralon rather doubted.  As with any conversation with Parr, you wanted it to be short if you valued your sanity. But he indulged him a bit further. “Rimbe, eh. That is good news. I would love to talk with him again.”

“Aye, I enjoy talking with him as well. The elf himself does not speak much, but then that is not unusual for him is it? He seemed busy. Working on the new boat docks in Tinnudir, he said, and was here to take some supplies back there.”

Seeing an opportunity, Dralon began to walk back towards the stablemaster. “Ah, then I must reach Tinnudir quickly, before he finishes his work and departs again. I thank you Parr for the information. We are well met, but I must bid goodbye again for now.”

Parr followed after him, as Dralon remounted his horse. The stablemaster looked at him with momentary confusion, but then went back to his routine of washing down the other horses that were staying over.

“Be most careful Master Dralon, for i have heard the cries of the boars louder than usual over the past few nights. I fear they are planning on mounting a….”

“I will Parr” Dralon said, cutting the hobbit off before he could finish. He snapped the reigns sharply and his mount headed out the west gate and down the hill towards Tinnudir.

The ride to Tinnudir was short. He had heard that a new route across the lake was being planned, and it was good that they were getting input on it from the Elves.  Rimbehyando was skilled in many things, and it did not surprise him, that he was involved in this endeavor too. Dralon inquired at the stable where to find the new boatmaster, and headed in the direction the stable hand gave. The docks looked just finished, and surely would make traveling across the lake a much more satisfying endeavor.

The Boatman did not know Rimbehyando’s name, but on Dralon’s description, recognition appeared in his eyes and he said he was shoring up some stonework under the main bridge into town last he heard. Dralon found him where the Boatman thought he would be.   Sitting by the base of the bridge. Not working but rather fishing.

Smiling, Dralon grabbed his rod, cast out into the waters below the bridge and sat down next to his friend.

Part 5

Forochel

Dralon had awoken in stranger places of Middle Earth, but this ice flow in Forochel was up fairly high on the ’strange’ list. Fortunately as his vision cleared he found he was not far from land, and the frigid waters of the bay, that had killed many an unwary traveler, left him only mildly frostbitten by the time he reached shore. Fortunately for him, the groups of Angmarim that often patrol this end of the bay were not present, though he could see some further north along the coastline. He would have to be wary. As he approached them however, he saw they were simply fishing as well, for the waters of Forochel have been rumored to hold the largest fish in Middle Earth… the 50 pound salmon.

The salmon remained elusive this day however, as Dralon walked the coasts of the bay for hours on end, with nary a sign of trout, darter, sturgeon or salmon. He did note that Forochel was emptier than he had ever seen it. A sign of the evil being fought in Moria, he thought. The bears were active up and down the coastline, preying on what fish they could catch and on the Angmarim who weren’t fast enough.

Even the frost worms looked thin and haggard, and he had to fight a number off along the way, who saw him as a limited food source. Dralon took pity on one of the sad beasts and led him to a sure source of food. A bull that had always proved a nuisance to him in the past.

By days end, Dralon thought it best to move on from Forochel, and set his sights southward towards Evendim, and the warmer temperatures. On his way however, he did his part for the Free Peoples, by recapturing the Lossoth outposts that had fallen to the Guaradan. Turrka, master of the southern camp emerged from a far tent as the last of the Guaradan fell.

“Welcome, and thank you for your aid Traveler. I am Turkka, and am master of this camp, or was until the Guaradan came and killed half my men. I have not much, but what i do have, I offer you with friendship and thanks.”

Turkka bowed low, bringing the heel of his hand to his forehead in a sign of both friendship and honor.

Dralon returned the gesture, and graciously accepted his offer. In exchange, he pulled the many fish he had caught through the day from his packs and handed them to Turkka.

Speechless, and with tears welling in his eyes, Turkka accepted the gift, handing it to a young boy who had quietly appeared behind him. A boy, who could not have passed his 8^th year. The Lossoth are a tough people, but times have truly become harsh when those so young are forced to endure living in such conditions. He followed the boy and Turkka into the larger tent. He would journey to Evendim tomorrow.

Part 4

Giving back and Taken away

Dralon awoke in Bree the next morning, tired, but also feeling great. He still had a number of cloaks to hand out and knew where he might find some young adventurers for whom they would be perfect. He also knew there were a great many fish to be found not far from there as well. He made his way towards the Bree west gate, and hailing the stable master, hired a horse towards the Shire.

He arrived in Hobbiton as the sun rose high in the sky, and the familiar sounds of the Summer festival rang in his ears from up on the Hill. The place was bustling as he had always found it, but the visitors had an extra energy that could only be attributed to the games and drink the festival offered. Members of all races were there of course, but hobbits were in abundance today. He grabbed a handful of fireworks from the firework vendor near the Party tree, and made his way towards the voices coming from the top of the Hill.

On the hilltop he found the Hobbit eating games going in earnest, with a large crowd of spectators, wagering…and eating. Burdy seemed to have won this eating race, where 4 hobbits each compete to outdo the other in how much and how fast they can eat. Dralon joined in the celebration, launching some fireworks, and getting his wager in on the next race.

It was not long before the hobbits were back at it, and Dralon laid his coin on Gladdy.Her being a Baggins’ relation, he had great faith that he would not be let down, but he made sure to plead his case to her before the race began. The race went off on schedule and while some heavy meals early on slowed her down, she recovered in true Hobbit fashion and was victorious! This allowed Dralon to purchase some of the Festival triple brandy that he had yet to try, but had heard “good” things about

The smell of the Brandy was irresistable, and Dralon couldn’t help but to seek some shade in the nearby tent and have a draught. Very smooth indeed, and with an apple flavor not totally unexpected in this land of apple orchards. Strong though. Hobbits, are known not only for their capacity for food, but also for their capacity for drink. And something about this one was different. He took another sip and his vision began to blur. Another, and his left side seemed to disappear. He found this odd. A fourth, and the patrons nearby noticed his head slip off his curled fist, and land with a thud on the wood table where he sat.

He awoke wet and cold and disoriented. How much later, he did not know, but the sun was still in the sky. A frog, sitting on a log next to where he found himself sitting, gave him a disinterested glance, then hopped off into the bog. A bog? As his vision cleared, he realized he was just a short distance west from Hobbiton in the Rushok Bog. As the smell then hit him, he knew for sure.  Well, this was as good a place to start fishing as anywhere. Despite his slowly beginning headache from the brandy.

He spent the better part of that day exploring the shallow waters and cattail-strewn eddies. A couple of travelers crossed his path, and realizing he had never gotten around to handing out his cloth cloaks, he gifted them both with new cloaks, for which they seemed most grateful. By that evening he had not found one of the rare fish he sought, and thought he better head back to Hobbiton to clear his packs fully of these cloaks before they smelled more of fish.

Arriving back in Hobbiton, a group of young hobbits were chatting energetically about the days festivities. Seeing they would benefit from more sturdy cloaks, Dralon offered them the rest of his supply. They thanked him and offered him more brandy, to which, this time, he politely declined. They celebrated with a variety of multicolored fireworks and fine dance, before Dralon excused himself and headed back home.

By the time he had arrived back home his brandy headache had set in full force. With part of him knowing better, he took a draught from the Inn Keg in the chamber off his main room, to ease the pain.   He slipped down against the wall nearby. His headache did ease some. But soon, so did his vision, as he slipped into sleep.

Awakening cold, but not wet this time, and looking around he thought, “It’s time I lay off the ale…”

Part 3

An Unexpected Turn

After the thrill of catching the Speckled Trout, Dralon looked up to see the sun beginning to set over the western hills. After a few casts into the shallow pool beneath those hills, he made for the town of Combe again. He was parched after a long day in the sun and a brief respite at the Combe and Wattle Inn would just do the trick. His packs were also full to overflowing, and he knew he would have to stop off in Bree in the morning to exchange some of his fish and obtain a larger pack.

He was up well before dawn and, after stopping off for some fishing in Little Staddlemere (long before Joy had gotten up to return to her fishing post), he headed for Bree. It was on his return to the Pony that his day took an unexpected turn.

A message had been left with Barliman by his kinmate, Rimbehyando. It seems he and a friend had been recruited to “execute” some of the Wicked in the depths of Haudh Iarchith. The reward was promised to be worth the effort, and he wanted to offer Dralon  the opportunity to join in.   Dralon wondered though.  He had returned from Moria to avoid battles. But he had also come home to reconnect with himself, and part of that surely was aiding friends of old. It also occurred to him that there were dark waters to be found in the depths of Haudh Iarchith, and who knew what secret fish may lie there. That clinched it. Dralon picked up a new, larger pack from the Auction house, and slung it across his back. He also exchanged the fish in his bag for trophies and coin, and began his way to Haudh Iarchith.

Crossing into the Barrow Downs, he felt some of the old excitement return to him. It had been months since his last foray here, and he had only once been deep within the complex. As he entered to seek his friends, supposedly already far within, he was surprised at how little attention the wights paid to him. Perhaps it was his attire, still dressed like a simple fisherman. But he rather suspected that their minds were all bent on a much greater evil. He met up with Rimbehyando and another friend of old, Golovir, within and they soon found one of the Wicked they sought. The gaunt lord Fergandir.

Unsuspecting they snuck up on him, then when all had prepared themselves for battle….attacked

Unsuspecting as he was Fergandir did not stand long. The 3 of them, along with a couple of other intrepid adventurers searched the rest of Haudh Iarchith, finding only 2 others they sought, which were dispatched with equal skill. The rest must have retreated into the depths hearing the sounds of battle above, and after no sign of them for hours, Dralon and his companinons abandoned the search for that night as well.

However before returning to Bree, Dralon sought the deep waters. An area of flooded stairs and landings was explored and while there were fish, they seemed listless and some were clearly diseased or mutated as he brought them up. The Tomb of Maenadar however, now a flooded basement crypt in this labyrinth of crypts proved different. It was filled with the stench of rotting, mildewed death, however fish were very active. Perhaps feeding on things he did not wish to know, or innervated by other powers. Dralon caught many fish from this area and found the 2^nd trout of his journey. This time a Brown trout. A truly successful day of fishing, in a place he never expected to see himself when he awoke that morning. That however is the true joy of Middle Earth, and what he was seeking in this journey.

Dralon returned to Bree, so invigorated by the day that he stopped off at the Vault, grabbed some of his old tailoring supplies, and spent some time crafting Heavy cloth cloaks, and gifting them to eager new travelers in the world, along with some of the trophy fish he had spares of.  He did this well into the night, as the moon hung full and gorgeous over the boar fountain. Who knows what tomorrow has in store.

Dralon’s Rediscovery

The sights, sounds, and yes, even the smells of Moria surround the wearied Guardian as he finds himself once again in the 21^st Hall. Dralon has moved from one battle to the next, for months on end, with little respite. Even the brief forays into Lothlorien, as beautiful as it is, did not serve to fully refresh his body or restore his spirit. There is great purpose and satisfaction in the battles he has fought, however he knows it is time to retreat to quieter lands…at least for a little while. His body is willing, yet his mind and spirit are beginning to fray. But what to do? Where to go?

A traveler once told him,

“When you feel you have lost your way, return to the beginning. Return to what you first knew.”

Whether that is good advice or not, he was not sure. The phrase kept repeating itself in his mind however.

The beginning?

What he first knew?

The fact he had to think about what those were for a time, confirmed to him that this is what he must do. He hired a goat, and began his journey home.

His home in the Falathorn homesteads was as he remembered it, but a particular wave of nostalgia washed over him as he first crested the bridge overlooking the great falls there. As the stars shone down on him, he felt months of troubles lift from his shoulders. He spend the better part of that night reliving the memories brought on by the various items decorating the rooms of his home. Trophies of animals he had hunted. Holiday festivities from a day seemingly so long ago. The foul tentacle of Helchgam, still twitching in its barrel. Scores of others.

His eyes kept returning however to the many fish he had caught and displayed over the years. Those were different times. He would live off the land for days, weeks, longer. Fishing, and returning to town when his bags were near to overflow. At one time he thought he had caught them all. He wondered now.

As he pondered the various maps strewn over the large table in the center of the main room, his mind suddenly cleared. Fishing! That’s what he would do. A time spent away from battle, and a chance to reconnect with the land he is fighting for. The land and it’s many people he would encounter again along the way. And a rediscovery of who he is.

In the morning he arose and stowed away in his home many items he no longer needed outside of Moria, and packed up a number of others, including a pipe from his journeys in Oatbarton, left too long unused. On his way to his beginning, he would pick up what other supplies he might need along the way. First stop from here though? The Taxidermist in Bree.

Clar, the taxidermist, grunted with seeming indifference upon Dralon’s inquiry. He continued his whittling while answering.

“Fishing? Trophies? Not much call for ‘em these days. Sure, I’ll get the random Flounder or Dace, or one of those nasty sticklebacks someone wants hung up. But the rarer ones…the ones that actually make use of my skill in preserving, in displaying…those I hardly ever see anymore.”

“What fish are these?” Dralon pressed.

“It’s not the fish so much, as it is the ‘group’ of fish. I am sure you have found the occasional trout in your time eh?” Clar asked.

“Aye, I have. Upon a time I caught many of them. Sturgeons and Darters too. I was told they cold not be preserved.”

Clar looked up from his ash branch, “Yes, and you were told right…to a point”.

Dralon’s eyes widened slightly, but enough to bring a small chuckle out of Clar. Clar too, however, seemed to have gained more interest in this conversation from where this turn had brought it.

“Hold on youngster” Clar said before Dralon could interject. “It’s not as easy as you might think. For the key to the preservation of these fish stems from how their natural oils interact, along with a concoction of my own making. They therefore can not be preserved individually, but only as a group. And as these fish are spread throughout the lands and with no specific spawning grounds, gathering them all is truly a daunting task. How rare to see 9 of each species brought together.”

“If I bring them to you….you can preserve them then?” Dralon asked.

“Yes.” Clar said breathlessly.

“Then expect to see me again.” Dralon nodded his head in thanks, and turned to depart.

“Ha! I am not as young as I once was. Luck to ya that ya see me again before I too visit the clearing at the end of the path.” Clar looked down again and returned to his whittling.

Dralon walked out, heading toward The Prancing Pony. “The Clearing at the end of the path. Where had he heard that phrase before? He didn’t know, and would not make it his concern for now. Two more stops before returning to the only beginning he remembered.

Archet.

PART 2 Return to Archet

After stopping off at the Prancing Pony for the night, grabbing some rations and ale for the trail, Dralon moved on the next day to Staddle. He recalled Joy well from his early days in this land. She recalled him as well…though not quite so fondly. Dralon reasoned he understood, as the condition of their parting had been, well, rather sudden. He exchanged a modest amount of coin for a fair amount of Red Wigglers ( a fresh batch, which was a pleasant surprise), and thanking her, turned and made for Archet.

He arrived at Archet later than he intended. He was delayed in Combe by a couple of young adventurers, fresh and still wet behind the ears when it came to battle. Their daggers were stained with fresh boars blood. Dralon chuckled and warned them to be on the look out for the boars in their travels, particularly in Evendim, were they to reach that land. He offered some roast pork he had in his bags and passed the time. So the stars were bright in the sky before the burned ruins of Archet came into view.

This was the Beginning. His memories do not go much before this burning of Archet, he was there to witness. His first visit was to the Jail to pay his respects to Peg Pruner. Her husband’s death still prey’s on Dralon in his dreams at times. Could he have done more? Peg greeted him warmly and offered him her hospitality. The jail is quiet this evening, and Dralon graciously accepts. As he drowses he notes the blood stains that remain on the walls of the jail, that even Peg’s most arduous scrubbing had not been able to remove.

Before dawn, Dralon is up. He leaves a silver piece on the table for Peg, who is not yet up and a note of thanks. Today the search for the trout, sturgeons, and darters begins. In every lake, river, small pond…wherever in Middle Earth his journey might take him. He knows however it is not the fish that he truly seeks, but rather the journey on which this search will take him.

Dralon travels east a short ways to the island in the middle of the lake near Archet. He greets the morning with rod in hand. The day quickly warms however, and with the foliage around the lake rather sparse, the water warms quickly and the fish quickly slow their biting. Dralon moves into the shadier regions following the river south, and finding some good results, including a lovely Dace and a Courageous Carp, among many others. He spends most of the day fishing around Archet, and in a small hole of a small pond there he finds one of the elusive fish. A Speckled Trout, hidden in the branches emerging from the pond. One step taken on his journey.

I love the social aspect of LOTRO.  The community across servers and particularly the server of Elendilmir where I and my kin make our home is one of the strongest reasons that this game rises above all the other MMO’s out there (and I have tried quite a few).  This site should be a great way of keeping people connected, learning new things about old friends and old things about new friends.  I look forward to seeing how it progresses and how the community grows.

Long Days and Pleasant Nights

Dralon Ligead , Man of Dale, Guardian of Elendilmir