The fields of Kingstead Meadows stretched out before me, a vibrant tapestry of greens and golds swaying gently beneath the wide sky of West Rohan. After years of wandering, the call to settle in one place had grown louder, and here, surrounded by grassy plains, farmlands, and the soft whispers of streams, I found a home. The farmhouse and barn were sturdy, the stables strong, and the tilled earth promising. Yet there was much to be done before this land would truly flourish under my care.
Remembering the lessons learned from my time spent with the Beornings, I knew the foundation of any thriving homestead was self-sufficiency. Animal husbandry, farming, and crafting essentials such as a forge, bread oven, and grain mill were tasks I could not manage alone. So, I reached out to old friends from my travels, the Beornings—those skilled and hardy people who had once taught me the joy and rigor of a self-sufficient life.
Within days, a small group arrived, led by Waenwild, a towering man known for his mastery in woodworking and metalcraft, and his sister, Elska, whose breads and pastries were famed throughout the Vales of Anduin. With them came Freygar, a younger Beorning with boundless energy and a knack for handling animals. Our reunion was warm, filled with laughter and memories shared under the starlit skies of many campfires past.
“It’s a fair place you’ve chosen,” Waenwild remarked, surveying the land with a craftsman’s eye. “We’ll set your forge close to that cave by the waterfall. The stream’s current will help cool the metal swiftly.”
Elska nodded approvingly as she examined the farmhouse kitchen. “And here, we will build you an oven large enough for loaves to feed even Waenwild’s appetite,” she laughed, her bright eyes sparkling.
Together we worked from dawn to dusk, erecting chicken coops and pig pens, repairing fences, and carefully preparing the soil to sow fields of wheat. Freygar proved adept at coaxing a small herd of sturdy pigs and laying hens into their new homes. In the evenings, by the flickering firelight, we shared stories and feasts prepared by Elska, reinforcing old bonds and forging new dreams for the land.
At the heart of our labors was a sense of community and friendship that had brought these Beornings across the many leagues from their northern homes. I had once aided them in preserving harmony between their lands and wildlife, and now they returned the favor with generous spirits, eager hands, and hearty laughter.
When the mill was finally completed, its great wheel turning gently beside the rushing stream, and the first fields of wheat began to sprout vibrant green shoots, we stood back to admire our efforts. It was a humble beginning, but filled with promise.
“You have your land now,” Waenwild said, clapping a strong hand on my shoulder. “A good home to sustain you and those who come after.”
As they departed to return to their own distant lands, I watched my friends fade into the horizon, grateful for their strength and kindness. Kingstead Meadows was no longer simply a place—it was home, born from shared dreams and the warmth of friendship. Here, amidst the whispering grasses and beside the tranquil waters, I knew I would thrive, guided always by lessons of self-reliance, community, and harmony taught to me long ago by the Beornings.