The birdsongs of the Trollshaws had been a comfort to Tivlyn at first, and her unease from sneaking away from the watchful, judgmental eyes of Thorenhad and her fear of spiders rushing upon them had lessened enough to allow for a little birdwatching, whilst she still kept an eye out for danger, but when the fellowship had found what remained of Wethorm and Blacksteel's caravan, the birdsongs started to unsettle her; the noise she'd usually find cheerful and lovely felt suddenly so wrong among the carnage and gri

“Gaerion, now is not the time for this,”I said in warning.

Gaerion nodded that he had heard me, but replied to Estarfin, “Is the thought of Valinor beyond a simple Wood-elf? Of course not. But it is rare for those of the deep forest to be interested in what lies beyond the Great Sea. They made their choice.”

Night of the Missing Shoes

Is this the right address?

Somebody in the golden window

notices your dog, who

ran ahead.

The door opens right before I

arrive.

Happy faces

call my name, though

we have not met.

colourful

the tree, bauble, ribbon

dog jumping

the father holds up a treat.

rustling above your head

The snow was deep along the high paths Yorric patrolled. He ambled along in his snowshoes, hatchets at his hips, two larger axes, Warg Smite and Wolf Smite, at his back. At twenty, he had grown fully into his father’s shadow, even a bit beyond it. Tall, black haired and broad shouldered, craggy, wrapped in thick wool and furs from wolf and warg, he looked every inch his father's son, and certainly there could be no mistaking that he was a descendant of mighty Beorn! 

He stilled as a feeling of unease took hold of him.