Trollbridge was a small village near the High Forest.

North of it lay
the Evermoor Way and the Dessarin with the Dead Horse Ford. Less than
two days' march from it lay the Drygully Tunnel, an entrance to
the Underdark. Through this raiding parties of drow came to the World
Above to threaten the inhabitants of the small village. [1]

The only inn of Trollbridge was the Steaming Kettle, run by Saida in 1361
DR. The inn itself resembled a barn with stone walls and narrow windows.
The inn served meals of dark ale and steamed grain porridge. [4]

The Evermoor Way is the road from Triboar to Bridge Gate in Everlund,
[1]
and extending to Silverymoon.[2] Everlund has taken on the responsibility
of keeping the road clear of danger from Everlund to Calling Horns, however
has been hard pressed to do so in recent times. [1]

Travel Times or Distances

 Silverymoon to Everlund, 50 miles[3]
[3]
 Silverymoon to Yartar, 320 miles, via the Evermoor Way.
 Everlund to Yartar, 270 miles

 The Evermoors, or Trollmoors, was a region of the Savage

[6][2]

Frontier that comprised hills and troughs, partially filled with chilly bogs
and rolling landscapes. It was a place that clouded the senses, with
[7][4]

dense fog that permeated travelers' field of vision and winds that roared
within their ears.
[8]

 In addition to the trolls that famously infested its bogs, the Evermoors
were home to a variety of other monstrous creatures. Despite this, a few
[4]

scattered drovers, shepherds and prospectors managed to eke out a life

within.
[5]

The Evermoors were a large and unpopulated area [4] bound by the River
Surbrin and the Lower Rauvin Vale to the north, the River Surbrin and
the Surbrin Hills to the west, and the Silverwood to the east. To the south
and east was open land and the expansive High Forest.[9][10]
The Laughingflow river originated deep within the Evermoors, meeting the
River Surbrin after it passed though the Surbrin Hills. [9][10]
The major road that linked Yartar to Everlund, known as the Evermoor Way,
passed between the Evermoors and the High Forest. [9][10]

Drygully Tunnel
Edit
The Drygully Tunnel was an entrance to the Underdark[1] at the edge of
the High Forest, less than two-days' marches away from the small
village Trollbridge.
While the humans in the area did not know much about the tunnel,
the drow used it regularly for raiding attacks upon the inhabitants of the
World Above. The human berserker Fyodor used it to escape the Underdark
after he learned from Liriel Baenre of its existence.[2]
There were many gates the female
might have used, for dark-elven wizardry had opened portals to distant
places such as
Calimshan. But the price for such incredible power was correspondingly
high. The
caverns near Drygully Tunnel were the easiest areas to reach through
magical travel.
They were open, near the surface, and had little interference from the
Underdark's
radiation magic. At short notice, it might have been the best anyone could
do. He felt
fairly certain Liriel would have fled using that route.

Liriel staggered up into the bright moonlight some two days after she had
been thrust
from Menzoberranzan. Kharza's teleportation spell had sent her to a place
near the
caverns where she had staged a battle for the benefit of Fyodor of
Rashemen. She had
followed the path the human might have taken, up a steep winding incline
and into a
vast network of caves that lay among the hillsides of the Lands Above.
Not once daring to stop, she'd fled the Underdark and the ravenous,
murderous drow
greed she had inadvertently awakened. Kharza's warnings had echoed
through her
mind like mocking laughter as she'd run wildly through the tunnel and up
into the
labyrinth of caves. Her instinctual sense of direction took her unerringly
upward
toward the light.
Slowly Liriel edged out of the cave, alert and vigilant despite her exhaustion.
She
recoiled at the sight beyond, and her lips moved in a silent cry of dismay.
The landscape stretched before her was like nothing she had ever seen or
imagined.
Rolling, rock-strewn hills seemed to go on endlessly, and looming far
overhead was
the infinite depth and breadth of the night sky. This was nothing like the
forest, with
its comforting walls of trees and vines, and its glades that were like caverns
carved
out of the thick foliage. This was vast, open, and barren.
Liriel's eyes ached in an effort to take in the enormous distances. From the
maps she
had studied, she knew she'd emerged somewhere west of the great
woodland where
the Chosen of Eilistraee danced. There were fewer trees here, and none of
them had
the mystic grandeur of that wondrous forest. The plants reminded her of
verdant
dwarves: small, tough things that had won their place through grim struggle
with rock
and soil.
Then voices came to her on the night wind harsh yet musical sounds that
could only
be drow. For a moment Liriel thought her pursuers had found her. Then she
remembered the strange, linear path sound took up here in the open air,
and she knew
the voice came from beyond the cave.
She pulled her piwafwi close about her and spoke the words that would
grant her
invisibility. Even so, she shrank back behind the sheltering rock and
crouched low to
wait and watch. It might be that these drow were like the ones she had
encountered in
the forest: helpful and welcoming. Liriel hoped it would be so, for she felt
very alone
and vulnerable in this dismal land.
Soon the dark elves came into sight. Lithe and dark-clad, their white hair
covered by
the cowls of their capes, the drow walked with admirable stealth. Even so,
Liriel knew
at once these were not drow of the Underdark. There was no aura of magic
about
them, and although the night was bright, their eyes shone with the red light
that
indicated the use of the heat-spectrum. Even Liriel, whose eyes were trained
to
candlelight, could see perfectly without infravi-sion in the bright light of the
moon.
Were these hunters' senses so dulled that they could not?
Wrapped in her piwafwi and shod with enchanted elven boots, she had the
advantage
of invisibility and silence. She crept closer to see what these strange drow
might be
about. They grew uneasy as she closed in, looking furtively about and
fingering their
weapons, as if their hunting instincts perceived what their senses could not.
There is a village nearby, Trollbridge

Many people turned and

ran, trampling the slower and weaker as they fled from the much-feared
drow. For
several minutes, the crush and press of the panicked villagers held Fyodor
immobile.
Then came another, uglier turn of mood. The area around the dark-elven girl
soon
emptied, and the villagers saw she was one alone. A lifetime of hatred,
generations of
remem- fbered wrongs, flowed toward the drow female. Like hounds baying
at a treed
snowcat, they began to close in. Knives flashed in the late-day sun.
was fascinated by the strange
beasts, so different from the mounts of the Underdark