Thinthil

Daurrie, the youngest of the sons of Gurni, had once more forgotten to pick up the order of fresh cheese that was awaiting them at the markets of Bree. Lunch was served and the young Silvan handed over the rest of the tavern business to Dal, hoping to be able to rush to Bree and pick up the forgotten crate before the inn would close for the day.

Hey Fruit Boy,

Ella pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders, as the unrelenting chill of the wind attempted to penetrate the many layers she wore.    She was much more prepared this time around, her thoughts briefly returning to the last time she was in the mountains with Adiwen.

“Don’t be difficult.”  He said with a wry smile.

Difficult? She took a deep breath slowly.

She was not difficult.  Or she never used to be.

I am cold.

No amount of logs on the fire or blankets will warm me.