The Fourth Age
0061, Years of the Sun
Ithilien, Easternmost province of GondorThe sun burned bright and high, the quiet village of Brook had yet another hot weather day. Surrounded by oaks and beeches and elms and palm trees, Brook is a beautiful valley with a river bending around it.
Indeed, it is a fair land of climbing woods and swift-falling streams, a valley with gentle slopes, southern airs filled with nature mixed by the moist winds from the Sea. Where sweet smelling herbs and shrubs grew and a vast array of tree species grew lush, and it was East of Emyn Arnen.
Down the river, Namir paddled back to the riverbank, his little boat rippled through the calm waters. The boy caught a few trout, enough to make his mother and father proud. Glimpses of joy surfaced his lips as he whistled and hummed a lively tune, birds chirped above the trees. Lunch would be good, he thought, and his stomach rumbled and churned. Far across the river, his older brother awaits. Namir hurried knowing the sun would soon cook the fish he caught before his mother could.
Suddenly, something bumped his boat, rocked him hard that his nose almost touched the bent wood. Namir cocked his head to see what goodness struck his little woodky. To his surprise, it was a body on a five feet log floating in the emerald waters. Head resting on the trunk, the body seemed lifeless. 'Blimey! Blimey!' heart leaping out he screamed.
It was indeed a body clothed in green, black was her hair. Namir was just a boy of ten, too young to think of helping the woman at first, and he was alone on his little boat. He poked the woman's head with a wooden rod he got, odd as it seemed to him, she was as pale as snow.
It was a Human, no, an Elf, he thought, for though her ears were not pointy, she wore deep-green elvish clothes. The woman coughed startling the lad even more. 'She's alive,' he bellowed.
Far across the river, his brother Emir jumped onto his boat and paddled towards him.
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The IRE of Winter
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