Fate

The night-terrors plaguing him since Gondor had faded and peeled back since his visit with the strange Bree-woman and with Reviadir. They were not gone, but far rarer so that they were not a key feature of his life, privately, anymore. He knew when he was ready for further healing, he could find it.

The Great Eel Hunt was the crowning achievement of his new clan. The houses were underway. Slowly but surely, his people were learning one another and finding peace.

His people? Peace? Had he really done this?

Forcibly neat pen strokes paint the page. His handwriting is too formal, in the exactness of the style he had been taught. He takes a long time to write the brief poem, mistakes discarded until he has every letter formed to his satisfaction. The peach, orange and pink blush of dawn sprawls upon the page as the black ink dries.
Fitting.


"Smile in the sunrise

Dance with our firelit colors

Burning like secrets"

The white horse, Wyndafrend, galloped hard and fast towards the orange pine tree objective, as Cwenawynn yelped a laughing objection to Ry.

Wyndafrend was a fine beast, nobly held and wasting very few movements. He gained speed with smooth solidity, the petite Eorling rider and valiant steed from Rohan a mix one who had ever seen the horsemen should know to expect only the best from.

Gold Click here to listen

"Smoke Noise
Flame Severe
Ember Warm
Gold Ashes
   Gone."

"So it has come to this. The night before starting our journey to Eorlsmead..."

​Régnwald sat in his room in the upstairs of Mead hall. The map rolled out in front of him and only lighted up by the stump of a candle. The path he had chosen for his kinsmen to travel upon was not one without danger, neither did he believe that many of them were as prepared as he would have wished them to be. Nevertheless the decision had been made, and they were departing at the break of dawn.

“Oh, I can never be happy again

nor can I ever be a Dad,

thus Death had much to gain.

Am I mad?

"Welcome to The Prancing Pony" The Ranger said from underheath his hood. He took hold of the door-ring and pulled open the door. A shower of water from the top of the staircase flowing freely over the edge and down to the stone road below.