Journey

The time had inevitably come where Daphne was leaving Esgaroth and heading home.

One evening, while playing my lute outside the Prancing Pony, I met a friendly and most noble Dwarf named Luqi. We got talking about all manner of things after I had played my music and eventually he spoke about his wish to visit the Lonely Mountain. I agreed it would be a wonderful thing to do but would take many days planning and at least several sturdy people to accompany him.

Asmalinde sat in a chair in front of the great fireplace in the Hall of Fire in Imladris. She slouched backwards, legs stretched out as she enjoyed the warmth of the fire and the ethereal, timeless joy of the hall. Her journey from Mithlond had been swift. She had parted from the southern bank of the Gulf of Lhun twenty days before. Asmalinde journeyed through the wilderness. Tall trees and hilly crags blocked the old path travelers had abandoned.

Lightning peeled open the sky and thunder boomed across the hellish landscape. Flames from the desperate push of armies lit the night sky as smoke billowed in green and red hues. The warrior, sword and shield raised, blocked the attacks of a dozen or more iron blades that reigned down upon her. The flash of a flaming blue blade eliminated half of the orcish arms that wielded them. Side to side the elves fought as one.

Rain Ghost (Click to listen) *

First impressions had a power to them. The smallest of moments could provoke a myriad of thoughts. Ryheric sought the challenge of being able to capture these moods in the music he made. Though he knew he was not a real musician, and that the improvised nature of his work meant no piece would ever be polished or perfect, often not even tidy, he used his lute as an outlet.