Want to write a story based in the world of the Dominion of Men? Want to use this thread to pressure Count into having a go?
Well, here's your chance. I'll start it off - feel free to add your own next part of the story (or suggest improvements/corrections)!
The hills staggered down from the city, stands of beeches and tall grasses filling their clefts and rises, before they evened out to form the wild beauty of Ithilien with its rich woodland, verdant clearings and colourful gardens. Faelan could smell the flowers even from up here on the walls. And if he listened carefully, filtering out the noise of the streets and markets behind him, he could hear the Anduin on its journey southward toward the Ethir. Emyn Arnen. The jewel of Ithilien.
It was hard to believe it was now occupied by the enemy. The rebel kingdom that had dared to challenge the legitimacy of the Reunited Kingdom of Gondor and Arnor. The kingdom that had seized his father's lands and forced his family to flee over the Great River. The kingdom that had shamed him.
His father had been counted among the rangers of Ithilien. Faelan had been so proud of that. He remembered how his father would take him out into the wilderness and teach him how to track, how to hunt, how to survive for weeks on end with little more than a bow and knife. His father, robbed of his own land, now employed his skills as a simple scout attached to the army of Minas Anor. Faelan had decided on another course. One that still required stealth, survival and a skill with a knife and bow. He had come to Emyn Arnen to exercise those skills. He had come to Emyn Arnen to kill.