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[img]https://img03.deviantart.net/3763/i/2013/247/6/1/the_heart_of_mirkwood_by_jonhodgson-d6kz7km.jpg[/img]

[h3][i]Southern Mirkwood[/i]
[sub]3rd December, FA 219[/sub][/h3]
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Although it had been many years since the fall of Sauron, it was clear to anyone that the forest of Mirkwood would forever be tainted by his evil touch. Thranduil himself would not spare anyone to truly reclaim the remainder of the once green forest, allowing simply for a sparsely-manned watchtower at Dol Guldur, and the allowance for any other fools to do as they wished in those haunted, sick trees. The darkness and the creatures that often dwelt within had ruined the beauty of much of the forest; and with the rings of power gone, there was no Elf on Middle-Earth or Arda that could cleanse Mirkwood. However, that did not stop the quest of a few brave settlers - a handful of Elves, hoping to reclaim their lost land, and to found the most independent and inclusive colony in all of Middle-Earth. Things only seemed to improve at the discovery of a mithril mine, and suddenly their small hamlet of about 13 families tripled in size, with folks of all walks of life and species coming to settle down. It was a place to start anew; if you wanted to work, and had some sort of good in your heart, then all were welcomed to the reclusive colony... provided people could find their way, that is.

In more recent months, the inclusiveness of the colony began to dwindle. Folk found it harder and harder to find the once well-trodden paths through Mirkwood to find the place, and even if they did, they were often turned aside unless they had something to offer. The mithril in the mines was being exported to many different kingdoms in the land, but it was beginning to turn those in Dôr-min-Taur greedy. While a common trait found in Dwarves when it came to the treasures of the earth, it began to seep through all of the miners, regardless of race. Deeper and deeper they dug into the earth, ghosts of the past being ignored as they forgot what had once happened in Moria. The mithril brought them wealth, and wealth meant their small, unimportant colony could be built into one of the greatest kingdoms of the fourth age. All would know about Dôr-min-Taur, and their wealth would make Erebor itself look small. The people would flock to their great gates, their lowly citizens would become lords and ladies of great stature. People dwelling there sent out excited letters to their loved ones and friends outside the borders, promising great riches and power. "Come!" They would say. "Come to the great forest city and share in our wealth!" 

But all of a sudden... the letters stopped. The birds and messengers did not come from the forest anymore. Nobody really noticed until the shipments of mithril, jewels and other rich ores dried up. Those few merchants who believed they were being robbed ventured into the forest in anger, but none of them ever returned. Some blamed the forest, for even Elves could go lost in those mind-boggling trees and enchanted rivers. Others blamed orcs and spiders, saying the few that were left in Southern Mirkwood could easily pick off a few lonely travellers. But after several months, mild concern grew into a great worry. Dôr-min-Taur had been silent for far too long.

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[i]"[abbr=The trees in this forest are too quiet... and crooked... wrong.]I yrn mi taur na íd dîn... ah raeg...[/abbr]"[/i] Although murmured softly, the voice of the tall Elvish ranger cut through the thick silence of the forest jarringly. The three others with him shuddered lightly, but couldn't help agreeing in their own heads. At the head of the group was a female; just as tall as her companions, but with hair a deep red that contrasted sharply against the other's silvery-blonde locks. Her face was stern as she crouched low to the ground, fingers lightly running over the underbrush of the forest before coming to a sudden stop - something laid there that did not belong with the fallen leaves. It was a small wooden doll - minute, but beautifully carved. Picking it up gently, the elf let it lay in her hand for a moment, gazing at the discarded toy in an almost melancholy manner. No child would throw such a beauty away on purpose. She could only wish that this doll had fallen from a merchant's shipment, and when she and the others were to arrive at the colony, she could reunite it with many other dolls, being happily played with by children.

"Elennína." Her companion spoke again, and she snapped out of her reverie, straightening up and gazing back into the gloom of the forest. Elennína was no naive fool - she could not say what would await them at Dôr-min-Taur, but it would not be frolicking children being watched by adoring parents. The silence brought with it a sense of impending doom, and terrible danger. She could not fathom why someone would settle down here in the first place, let alone bring children with them... but it had been better before. Now, things seemed to be changing for the worst. "[abbr=We must not stop.][i]Boe ammen al-dar.[/i][/abbr]"

Raising one hand to quieten him, Elennína swiftly and silently drew out her bow, the doll falling to the floor. Her keen ears had picked up movement in the darkness - too loud to be a spider, but too quiet to be goblins. Hopefully they were more travellers seeking the same as she and her group... but it was better safe than sorry. With all four Elves now having drawn their bows and pointing them into the darkness, Elennína stepped forward cautiously.

"Come forth! We wish you no harm, if it is not wished upon us."