Adventure

This poem
Of fiery flames and halls of old,
Of things that scare, and tales untold,
Of birds that sang and Spring that sprang

Up on her feet, following the road
To the meadows sweet, jump over a moat,
Where no soul her song can hear
Not foul nor blessed, not horse or bear
Like the Fire itself she dances there
Knowing it not; the morn is here

It was still raining and the sky was beginning darken. The group now walked a few paces South of Bree before they turned right and went West towards the Barrows. They conversed as they went. They spoke about the Barrows and what they may just find there, this only made Eofeole's confidence rise like a bright sun in a clear summer's morning.

I'm worried.

Stonsten. The bloody fool, he must  be losing his mind.

He has found

                  a Dragon's egg

                                    And HE wants to Keep it.

So, where was I? Ah. First day in Bree-land. Well, it was around eleven years ago. I was tired. I had been traveling, fighting, and muling around whatever I could carry for three years. No place to call home, no time to rest. I was wanted in six different towns for robbery. Though, I knew nothing else to do. I was on a long walk. My legs felt more wobbly than a newborn fawn's. I had just walked through the lone-lands and found where grass was actually growing. At least grass means life, even if it was somewhere I had never been before. Night had just fallen, and I could hardly move.