Dolthafaer twirled an arrow in his hands, keen grey eyes flickering in the light of the fire as he examined the fletching – one white feather, two speckled brown. Satisfied with the spacing, he took up a length of thin sinew and began to bind the feathers to the shaft. A quiverful of arrows was already stacked neatly on the floor beside him, but his mind was full tonight and the familiar task helped him think.
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/




