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Amlarad

gifts

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

Now he is gone I can try to absorb what has happened. I am so used to his presence it seems strange to sit alone in the space two have filled. I thought the nights here were silent; now I hear the spaces where his breath is not, the rasp of his thumb over his emerging beard, his rare laugh.

Found him!

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary
I found him. Damn me but I am almost pleased to see the old dog! Come up behind me while I was talking to one of the northerners. Quiet on his feet as ever. He gives me a bit of a smile ... he remembers that fight in the inn. No grudges on my part, won fair and square he did. Worth it, to see the expression on her bloody face as she bundled us out of the door. Man... she was wroth! But a lass like her, see, she knows nothing, nothing, about fighting men. What can a bloody girl know about what we need to do?

the true refuge

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

I watch her pull up the hood of the cloak that I have given her. Enveloped in its sable folds, clad in the black dress, her face shines softly, the moon in clouds. She has been enclosed in this tent for long enough, it is time to move her to more fitting accomodation.

I pull back the flap of the tent sharply. The first true light for her in many a day. I see her eyes open to receive the starlight, turning her face in yearning before, senses opened, the shock of the scene before her slaps her back to reality.

an ill fated hunt

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary
I was soaked to the skin, he lost his bow. All because of a fool's argument over whether he or I should be the first to jump a stream. I was quite correct, of course, but he would deliberately choose otherwise. And now look at us, all my clothing spread out before the fire and both of us cold and cross under the fur and nothing to show for the hunt. No white susi, whatever it is.

drinking with the enemy

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

She sits. Because I tell her to sit. I am a man of passion, and dark humours boil within me now. She is wise to heed my words and do as I command.

I pour two glasses of the finest red that I have. The cut of the glasses deepen and intensify the rich colour of the wine. It is too crude to liken it to the blood of my man that she has caused to be spilt. My man, to me. To her and her ilk, just a Man.What can they know, secure within their timelessness, about what life is? About what life is, to a Man?

Wind, water and stone.

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story
The Dúnadan pressed his bulk upon the stone wall, it's touch cold and greasey as the rain lashed and lulled all about. His hooded head leant back onto the stone, his palms clung like limpets upon the surface. His breath, weak and rapid, his pulse clearly audible within his ears, the beating and pounding of his heart druming against his chest - wishing to escape. A shiver crept it's long fingers down his spine. The adrenline was almost too much, his sinews and fibers urged him to turn about and draw his sword.

News from Cardolan

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary
Having gathered fresh provisions from Bree, Filrean set her horse to the Great Eastern road and headed towards Asdo's campsite, she would leave him there and head out to the barrows on foot. On her journey from Esteldin she had since been to the camps of Amarion, Mincham and Andreg. She had also asked Saeradan to send word ahead to Candaith. Now she sought out Halbar in his watch of Cardolan and knowing he would most likely be in the area now know as the great barrows she headed there.

oasis

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary
I wake to the nagging of my bladder. I ask it, is this really necessary. Like an insisting child, it keeps returning to my conciousness. But I am so relaxed. In the charmed circle of the fire, nestled in the furs, I am finally warm. The thought of deliberately leaving this nest ... but no... there it is again.

burnt man and that helm giffer

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

All mornin' He has me there in the word-hoard. Questions, over an' over, as if I aint already told Him all I was rememberin'. Least i got a drink of His wine. so now I know what Gyth gets.

The oncoming storm

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary
They stood together overlooking the valley that housed the stronghold of Esteldin, her hand resting on his as they spoke of what was to be, of the hunt that must now happen and of how Filrean would be of help to him, despite not being able to go along on the hunt.

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