"Let me laugh out loud, as I make your innards fall out!

Let me give you a taste of death, as I make you gag for breath! 

Let me hear you scream, as I make you swallow all my steel!"   

Such the cruel songs came out of a dozen mouths, a line uttered by one man repeatedly stabbing an orc here, another line by another man there as he kept yet another orc down while his comrade-at-arms bashed his skull on an ancient tree root. 

Exile...
When a path ends, finding a new path is not always the easiest thing to do.
When you find yourself forced to look at your own history, at your own fallibility, you must face that which you have done, and that which you have become.

It is clear now that the main reason for this exile is me. 
It is as much a choice, as it is a natural consequence of what has happened over the years. Too long have I wandered without aim and without accepting the consequence of the choices I have made along the paths trodden.

I left the discussions of elves and dwarves to walk through several doors at the back of the storerooms as Frárin gave long talks on the design of the fortress. ‘Your people are no good at building defensively’ he said,  ‘much of the stone above the surface had to be completely replaced by my kin as soon as they arrived. However, the foundations are serviceable. They bind the structure above to the hill below well enough.’ So then, these were passages from the original fortress.

Beannaithe Returns to Lyndelby

I began me evenin' storytellin' with Beannaithe's return to Lyndelby...