home

noun

the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household

-

Along the southern border of Gondor and northwest of South Ithilien ("moon land"), a small village known only to a fixed minority resided there. It rested a half hour's ride from the Anduin itself and was in close proximity with Pelargir, the great port. Much like the port, it was an unlikely resting point for weary travellers.

Very few had come across Ilfracombe, yet those who had were often quick to doubt the village's integrity, calling it the home of the cowards. Rumours encompassed the village like a girdle. Combe is special and small. Combe is home to the Quendi yet to set sail for the Undying Lands. Combe is a part of the imagination. Combe does not exist. 

The irony was not lost amongst Combe's inhabitants. 

Ilfracombe's décor was always something travellers (who were quite rare, it must be said) marvelled at, as though their dreams had been lain out before them.

Combe was a reason to keep going, despite the lingering destruction from the great war against all evil. The post-war atmosphere had included a swift change in morals and values: where men and women alike were free to do as they pleased, with attention to boundaries, which was justified in Ilfracombe's continued success in keeping to itself. The village's inhabitants, isolated as they were, prefered it this way. No one left Combe, just as no one arrived at the village without great purpose.

Ilfracombe was hardly polished and perfected, yet it proudly flaunted its happiness and freedom that was often hard to come by on the eve of the fourth age.

Smooth, honey coloured huts made of an earthy mixture of straw and dirt had been used to sculpt golden structures that homed the people of Combe. Cobblestone pathways twined across the premises, running betwixt golden huts like an endless stroke of paint. Youthful Culumalda trees (the very trees planted by their ancestors in last thousand years) followed the pathways with their branches reaching low enough to touch the earth. Their rich, red petals often fluttering to the ground in cooler temperatures, leaving the stones below smeared a velvety brown.

There were no animals, although plenty of plants bloomed and grew large quite quickly. Exotic fruits and rich vegetables were discreetly distributed amongst outside traders in order to keep Combe thriving in business. The beautiful fragrance of colourful flora filled the air like a comforting quilt would on cold days. The scents stifled the pungent saltiness that the sea threw Combe's way and had the small village been established earlier it would've been known for its magical affinity to sustain vegetation so well. The weed, Athelas, better known by its common name "Kingsfoil" grew in heaps and mounds, always ready to be used in stews, healing salves and sometimes everyday drinking water, when the colder seasons would fell even the youngest.

Aye, Ilfracombe was extravagant in its simplicity and lacking in ugly political strifes that had mostly taken the joy from coming out victorious in the war against all evil. Its people reflected its beauty in every sense. Their attitudes could be misread as barmy, yet their hearts were in the right place and their minds were always sharp.

The youth enthusiastically scouted the village on a daily basis; contagious shrieks of delight loud and ringing under the clear, blue sky. Duties were distributed fairly to everyone and everyone enjoyed each task with unnaturally rare brightness—each and every one done with a smile and no questions asked. Combe's general attitude was genial at worst and screamed of hardwork.

'A mirage', some would say when passing the beautiful village, believing it to be a dream- too impossible to be a reality in this day and age. Too far away from business and appearance and protocol. Too far away from the harsh realities that had risen in these post-war conditions. It simply defied logic and therefore any understanding. In that way, chalking it up to wild imagination seemed appropriate to tired travellers passing by.

It was an unbelievable reality that many had only dreamed of living. Although, more than anything—Ilfracombe was a home. 

And so, Combe continued to be ignored by the outside world. The larger, surlier, scarier cities of Arda left it alone - hidden and silent, as it always had been.

That was, until the raids begin.