I gazed across the wild grey seas, silky white sand effectively warming my feet. Dramatic, snow capped mountains seemed to rise in every direction, sheltering the natural bay from a vicious wind. Picturesque would be an inadequate word to describe my surroundings.
I had learnt many lessons during my relatively short life; never mix Miruvor with Dorwinnion wine, cravenness is the fair child of self-preservation, and most importantly, not everything is as it appears to be.
I, Rodwen of the Dunedain, tell this tale from beyond the Circles of The World, for it is a tale of how my life was torn asunder.
This is the story of how I died.