The Battle of the Crossing of Poros

Prologue

by Barahir-(V)
October 11, 2005

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    Folcwine, Son of Folca, looked out to the crowds that had gathered there. His body and his mind were failing him He was now ninety. It was the 2903rd  year of the Third Age of the Sun and he was dying. But he still lingered for a few more moments on the recollection of the past; among the first that he experienced was the following:

 

    Many were weeping or lamenting. To Folcwine, this was among the saddest moments of his life. The second most loved king of the Mark, Brytta, had died at the age of ninety years, making him the second oldest King of the Mark next to Aldor the Old. The poor and the rich alike had loved him, but his family had loved him more.

    Folcwine had been very fond of him. He recalled the day when he lost the five gold coins his father had given him and how the King had given another five gold coins to him…the day he saw two orcs on his outing with Brytta. Then another thing was his marriage with Eonell… the day his twin sons Fastred and Folcred were born…the day they rode out from the Mark.

    He saw his son and his daughter and his counselor and the Second Marshall of the Mark in deep counsel. After he died, his son Fengel would become King. He hoped that Fengel would be a good King like he was, though he feared that he was still greedy. He looked at his Second Marshall of the Mark, Hallas, and silently thanked him for what he did at the crossing of Poros. 

    Folcwine moved his hand and took out a book entitled in Rohhiric. In Westron it ran, “The Second Great Ride of the Rohirrim” for it was indeed great. He knew with ancient foresight that it would be not the last of this Age, for he ever felt a growing evil rising out of the shadows of the East. He opened the book and read it fully, for the last time:


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