Five hundred and forty-eight years ago, our nation was broken.
Earendur, tenth and last king of Arnor as a united realm, died. Annuminas, city of the kings of the North, lay decaying and forsaken. Amlaith, the true heir, was betrayed by his brothers, who shattered the kingdom into three lesser states.
Today, the wounds of that civil war still bleed.
Cardolan in the south is overrun by petty merchant-princes and mercenaries. Rhudaur in the east is lost to the Hill-men under the sway of Angmar.
In our heartland, Arthedain, the line of true kings rules from the citadel at Fornost. Despite the strength of our walls and towers along the Weather Hills, and the valor of our captains who stand against the pressing darkness, few would say that our lands are safe.