My mind hearkens back to a yester-year when I first heard the tales of the Shadow-Goers around the campfires. An old superstition of my peoples. Shape-shifters, neither living nor dead. They dwell in the forests. Occasionally they creep into villages. Solitary for most of their lives. Sometimes they grow weary and try to find themselves a loving family. Seeking the occasional food or companionship. They settle for a while, then when the attachment becomes too strong or they grow bored. They move on. Vanishing in the wind.
Notice: With the Laurelin server shutting down, our website will soon reflect the Meriadoc name. You can still use the usual URL, or visit us at https://meriadocarchives.org/
Random musings.
