Post by Athora on Dec 30, 2006 23:16:20 GMT -5
Being the third most northern region and following along with the other northern provinces, Orrostar was somewhat mountainous in its northern area. Still, it was a relatively plain area with few real reasons for mention besides its very important farmlands which were very numerous in that part and which grew crops and also provided meat for the Númenórean people.
The dirt road wound on far beyond sight, cattle freely wondered crossing the road where they chose. As a horse rode at a steady pace down the road some of the cattle would look up, their mouths still full of grass. The farm houses could be seen in the distance, little paths that left the road marked the way to the homes but the horse and its rider kept to the main road.
A soft breeze blew across the country keeping the weather comfortable for the farmers and the rider. Tress grew along the road shadowing parts of the paths but letting the sun filter through. The white mane and tail of the horse was lifted and moved by the movement and breeze, the black cloak of the rider, matching the black horses coat moved in a similar way. The clank of the rider’s sword taping the saddle and thigh was in time with the beats form the horse hooves. The riders blue eyes surveyed the land enjoying the country ride, as every few moments she would brush stands of golden hair from her face that had escaped the braid the rest of her hair was in.
The dirt road wound on far beyond sight, cattle freely wondered crossing the road where they chose. As a horse rode at a steady pace down the road some of the cattle would look up, their mouths still full of grass. The farm houses could be seen in the distance, little paths that left the road marked the way to the homes but the horse and its rider kept to the main road.
A soft breeze blew across the country keeping the weather comfortable for the farmers and the rider. Tress grew along the road shadowing parts of the paths but letting the sun filter through. The white mane and tail of the horse was lifted and moved by the movement and breeze, the black cloak of the rider, matching the black horses coat moved in a similar way. The clank of the rider’s sword taping the saddle and thigh was in time with the beats form the horse hooves. The riders blue eyes surveyed the land enjoying the country ride, as every few moments she would brush stands of golden hair from her face that had escaped the braid the rest of her hair was in.
