Fun Places, Fun Loot: Wildermore

Hey all, Thelouise of Dale here. I’d like to tell you all about my recent trip to Wildermore. It all started one day when I was outside demoralizing the local vermin, and felt the heat a tad excessive. After taking a peek around to make sure Smaug hadn’t returned once more to pillage my village (worst part about the last time it happened was losing all my dresses…I had to order more via Thranduil Express Mail…oh, and I suppose all the charred flesh was bad too), I rushed over to the nearest steed travel agency and took a connecting stable flight right on into Wildermore’s capital town, Forlaw.

What a difference! I don’t know what all these locals are talking about, with their incessant babbling about being cold and thawing out their ice-encased children – it feels GREAT here! The constant wintry gusts ruffling through my cape and snowflakes falling on my nosie are hitting the spot. I can only imagine the fun things the people here get to do: year-round sledding, snow-Rohirrim, and eternal snow days for the kids!

The landscape isn’t half that bad, either. Sure, it’s currently under the whim of an frozen-pocalypse, but worse things could happen. At least it’s not infested by Nazgul…yet. I mean, just take a peek at that view:

That is a premium polar bear swimming experience right there – none of that incapacitating baloney over in the Ice-Bay of Forochel. I like my water cathartic…not catatonic.

Sure, there may be one or two enemies meandering this frosty wonderland – nothing I can’t handle with a few well-placed ballads and codas. Although those blue ghosties keep rising from the ground, they’re much wimpier than the children of Dale (they won’t even sneak into the Lonely Mountain to grab some of those precious jewels for my collection).

Then there is this fellow named Núrzum. While I’ve tried to make peace with him, he just kept on giving me the cold shoulder…not a nice guy at all. I think he needs to just chill out or something…

Anyways, I suppose it’s time to leave this land of Red-Bearded men. Gotta get back to rat duty – that bell isn’t going to protect itself!