It has been more then a forthnight since Lord Russell rode across the drawbridge of Castle Bowdoin. Lady Pauline still a vivid picture, standing with her forest green gown mostly covered by a heavy dark green cape. Her hood pushed down on the back, hair blowing in the windy snow. The hem of her
Arwen’s eyes sagged as she listened dully to the ranting between her husband, King Aragorn and his ‘guest’, GrimLord Torl Bain. For once the bellowing between her Lord Aragorn and the visiting barbarian king took the eyes of Bain’s troop off her. With a dismissive shake of her head she listened as they howled back