Chapter Text
Across the Southlands a gentle wind drifted over farmlands and forests, softly whispering its secrets of ages long past. It wafted through the great pine grove of an ancient farm, sighing through the tops of the trees as it ruffled their silky evergreen boughs, murmuring its peaceful and timeless song.
The sleepy farmlands of an old colonial estate rolled lazily under the hazy sun, unchanged in generations. Lovingly maintained, it was the perfect example of a Numenorean farm of ages past, intentionally planted in Middle Earth. Though time was beginning to show its hand as the barns and buildings were showing some wear, and many of the fields were no longer used for growing, someone still lived there, overseeing its preservation with love and great care. Now that two generations of colonists had lived out their lives, it was left to the third generation to uphold its traditions.
Wandering beneath the shadows of the forest amidst her beloved namesake pine trees, many thoughts went through Mirthoniel’s mind. The daughter and granddaughter of colonists, she remained happily settled on the old estate of her family. Though born in Numenor, she had for the most part grown up in the Southlands, the heiress to the property of the prominent Numenorean family who had founded the estate, which was known as Mirimar. Raised with a strong sense of its history and that of her people, she felt strongly attached to her generational home. Though not as prosperous as in the days of its glory, Mirimar was still a working farm with many employed helpers living on the land who kept it running.
It concerned her to hear about the recent events of trespassing in the nearby village of Tirharad. Other farmers and landowners had spoken of breaking and entry, missing livestock, damaged fences, torn up fields, and theft. Some of the rumors even came with the implication that orcs were to blame. Mirthoniel had never seen an orc, but from her education she knew that the word meant monsters. Yet she also knew to listen to the tall tales of the town with a critical ear.
She made the rounds today near the perimeter of the forest which surrounded the property, keeping a hidden vigil over the family home that she would do anything to protect. In her hidden place in the woods, she pulled her deep forest green cloak around her, a color she had chosen so that she would blend into the forest surroundings like a shadow, and covered her dark brown hair with its hood. The angle of the afternoon sun slanted through the trees, lighting her deep green eyes which had inspired her parents to name her after the pine forest. She squinted as she peered into the distance, trying to discern the source of the noise she had heard near one of the barns.
From her vantage point it appeared as if two rather clumsy youths in strange and ragged cloaks were running away from one of the smaller barns toward the southern border of the forest. She followed them, tracking their footsteps to see where they were headed.
She kept walking and was now in unfamiliar territory, yet determination drew her onward. Having ventured farther on this day than she had before, she found herself in the place just beyond the edge of the forest where the two trespassers had disappeared.
She walked on in the direction they led toward, finding an opening near the ground, deliberately excavated and covered with tarps. Upon further inspection she realized it was nothing if not the entry point to a tunnel.
After a moment of consideration, she carefully and silently tiptoed into its opening.