] Hundrehtar, the Killing Thunder: The great steel bow of Barazir, nearly the full height of a mortal man, passed down through the long years as an heirloom. Due to his slim stature, it is actually slightly smaller than the average Númenórean bow, a fact which only adds to the legend. According to tradition, it is only ever borne by the greatest of the city's hunters. When the sound of it's firing echoes crashing in the hills, it is said to make the orcs wail, for they call it Rattler, and remember well it's cracking in the halls of Gundabad. The elves of far Rivendell call it in their tongue the Hundrehtar, the Killing-Thunder, and it became in later days among the most storied of the weapons of the north, so that whoever bore it might find respect wherever he went in all the wild lands between the mountains and the sea.
[] The Gate of Barazir: In after times, the gate through which the Great Northern Expedition embarked became known in legend as the Gate of Barazir. All warriors and expeditions venturing northwards forever after would pledge their mission and it's success to the first First-Ranger, and it became a popular belief in the city that all adventures and travels so sworn were more assured of success and glory. Under Imrazor's instruction, the Shapers later wrote many great words of power into the stone, and so the men of later times held also that the city might fall before the gate did.
[] The Hunting-Oak: Long years later, when Barazir of the tall men had gone to his final rest, he was lain outside the city on a hill that was known ever after as Amon Faroth, the Hill of the Hunter. On the night of his dying, a wind arose in the forests around the city, and men were said to hear a great moaning on the wind. In the morning, when they woke, they found a sapling atop the hill, growing from the spot where the heroes' tomb lay. It grew with time into a tree, sturdy and tall and fair to look upon, which dominated the hill on which it stood, and men called it the Hunting-Oak. Many were the stories that sprang up of that noble tree, which wove ever after in and out of the legends of Tar Nilon, and became as beloved in the hearts of the men of that land as the White Tree in the Blessed Isle. The Middle-Men came from many long leagues away to honor that great oak, for they told among themselves that it sheltered any who touched it from misfortune or ill deeds. And always in the north-lands thereafter, Númenorean warriors on journeys of great import would spend a night asleep beneath it's branches, in the hope that the trees might whisper to them as they had once to him, and they would dream of becoming stories themselves. (Only becomes active on Barazir's death)
