[LOTR] Ch 5: Ruins of the Kingdom of Rhudaur

— — — — — — 

The Trollshaws lay on the eastern edge of the Eriador plains — a land of hills and deep ravines, where beech, hazel, and elder trees grew thick along the slopes.

Hardly anyone knew that back in the Second Age, this place didn't even have a name. It was just a remote edge of the Kingdom of Arnor.

Legend said the woods were peaceful then, full of life where Elven hunters passed through like whispers on the wind.

That peace ended in the middle of the Third Age. Arnor fractured under internal strife and split into three small kingdoms: Arthedain, Cardolan, and Rhudaur. The forest became the heartland of the newly formed Kingdom of Rhudaur.

The Dúnedain built their capital—Cameth Brin—on the tallest hill of the forest.

But glory didn't last. No sooner had the three kingdoms split than civil war broke out among them, and in that chaos the Witch-king of Angmar, lord of the Nazgûl, made his move.

He rose in the north, founding the evil realm of Angmar in the cold wastes of the Ettenmoors, then turned his armies against the northern Dúnedain.

First, he seduced the Hill-men of Rhudaur with dark sorcery, corrupting them one by one. Then, united with those fallen hill tribes, he crushed the Kingdom of Rhudaur in blood and fire.

After the capital fell, the Witch-king sent northern trolls to occupy the forest, drowning it in shadow permanently.

Even after Angmar was eventually brought down, remnants of orcs fled into the woods, sharing the territory with trolls and corrupted hillmen. The forest looked calm from the outside—but its heart was a nest of lurking danger.

Orcs, trolls, and hillmen twisted by dark magic raided travelers along the Great Road and clashed frequently with the Rangers of the North and the Elves of Rivendell.

When Raine and his rangers reached the southern entrance of the forest, they could still see traces of ancient Dúnedain presence beneath the shade of the trees.

Shattered stone markers and weather-worn statues lay half-buried in moss, silent witnesses to a history long gone. On a distant hill, half-hidden in the mist, rose the faint, broken outline of an abandoned city.

They followed the forest's edge until they found a ruined settlement to the east.

It had once been home to the northern folk, but most of the buildings were now destroyed, stone walls toppled. Huge footprints scarred the ground—there was no need to guess whose they were.

"Clear out the houses that are still standing. This will be our temporary camp," Raine ordered, pointing to three stone cottages that remained mostly intact.

The rangers moved immediately, clearing debris from inside.

"Eljer, Ishus—you each take two men and scout deeper into the forest," Raine continued, assigning roles with practiced calm. "If you spot trolls, don't engage. Return at once and report."

"Yes, sir!" they answered, already gathering their gear.

"Alaina, take five and set hidden watch posts around the village. Rotate shifts. I don't want anything creeping in on us at night."

"Understood," she replied, rallying her team.

"Aelin, take stock of supplies—especially food and arrows. Record everything."

"Right away." Aelin pulled out her leather-bound notes and got to work.

"Talos, Kalev—you and the rest secure the houses. Reinforce the doors and windows. I want to be able to sleep without one eye open."

"You got it!" Kalev grinned, grabbing tools and heading straight for the damaged walls.

Under Raine's steady command, everything fell into order.

Two days later, the camp was established, and from there they began to push outward, slowly mapping the Forest.

This vast woodland had once been Rhudaur's royal heart. Ancient ruins lay scattered everywhere—collapsed walls, fallen columns of old palaces, roads half-buried beneath roots and dirt. Each relic told the same story: the rise and ruin of the Dúnedain.

They had to stay alert. Orc scouts lurked in the thickets. Hillmen waited in the gullies. Old traps lay hidden under tangled brush.

The trees were so dense they choked the sunlight. In the undergrowth, deep cracks ran like scars across the land. One careless step could mean a plunge into darkness.

For half a month, Raine and his rangers scoured the outer rings of the forest.

They clashed with orc bands several times—quick, brutal fights that left a few rangers wounded, though thankfully none too seriously.

Oddly, they never once saw a troll.

It was as if the troll clans had vanished into the earth.

One evening, as the scouting parties returned one by one, only Eljer's north-eastern team remained missing.

Night fell. Inside the stone house they used as a war room, the lone tallow candle flickered weakly, casting long shadows.

Raine sat at the head of the table, tapping his finger in a steady rhythm against the wood. The tension in the air was thick.

Eventually, he lifted his gaze and asked quietly, "Still no sign of Eljer?"

Talos shook his head. "By our agreement, they should've been back two hours ago."

"Think they ran into a large orc tribe?" Ishus frowned. "We found hillmen arrows in the western gorge last week. Could be an ambush."

Silence fell like a curtain.

Everyone knew what an ambush meant in the heart of this forest—and Eljer's team had only three men. If they were surrounded, there would've been no chance to retreat.

Aelin sat silently in the corner, clutching the hem of her cloak. She didn't speak, but her eyes betrayed her fear.

Alaina gently reached out and held her hand, giving a silent reassurance.

Just as the atmosphere began to suffocate the room, footsteps thundered outside, followed by a familiar voice at the door.

"My lord! We're back!"

"That's my brother!" Aelin shot to her feet and ran to the entrance.

The tension shattered like glass. Smiles broke across weary faces.

Eljer stepped inside with his two companions, all three covered in mud, clothes torn by branches. One ranger had his arm bandaged, the cloth stained red.

"Hah! Took you long enough!" Kalev barked a laugh and swept Eljer into a rough hug. "Another hour and I'd have gone charging into the forest after you!"

"What happened?" Ishus asked sharply, glancing at the injured ranger. "Orcs? Hillmen? Is it bad?"

Questions flew in from every direction.

Aelin rushed over with her satchel, already unpacking medicinal herbs.

"Quiet," Raine said.

The room fell still at once.

He gestured to the empty seats near the table. "Sit. I'm guessing you found something."

"Exactly as you predicted." Eljer nodded and took his seat, his voice steadying as he began to recount.

They had scouted the northeast all day but found no sign of trolls.

As dusk fell, they turned back, only to lose their bearings and stumble onto a hidden cave—guarded by three trolls.

Outmatched, they fought defensively and retreated, then navigated by starlight back along the forest's outer rim. The detour had cost them hours.

"Of the three trolls, two were massive. The third was smaller," Eljer added, thinking back. "And during the fight... I think I heard their names. Sounded like Tom, Bert, and William."

The others exchanged relieved looks—but Raine was already on his feet, eyes alight.

He looked around the table and declared with absolute certainty, "We've found the treasure's den."

.

.

.