Wolves

Hjartoreldr. My friend, my first clansman. The one at my back, the one I will soon deck. I have not forgotten your face and my fist are due a meeting. I look forward to seeing your blood!

You swept into my life like a salt sea breeze under a desert sun.

Syllea sits by a pond; her feet are in the cool water, her pants rolled up to the middle of her calves. Her brown hair flows down her back, and her bright green eyes are full of the peace she feels. She knew she was dreaming, but it was peaceful. The peaceful dreams were new.

The young girl sat under her tree, parchment on her lap, Cat taking a nap next to her. Syllea’s own eyes were shut as she gripped the pen in her hand. The breeze blew across her, and her long brown hair flowed behind her. It was times like these where the teenager looked like a princess, instead of the orphaned girl she truly was; her hair flowed like a chocolate river, her skin glistened in the sunlight, her small smile shining with love and kindness. The girl opened her bright, emerald green eyes and looked around.

Syllea loves wolves and their simplistic lives. This is a childish poem she wrote when thinking of what it would be like living among the wolves.

The wind bristling through her fur,

One with the water, wind, earth.

Through many years wolves have been one of the biggest enemies of the free people of Bree, so it seems only natural to start with an investigation of legends involving them.

A rather large mace was the last thing he took up, Hilfar was packed and ready. A laden pony full of wares was waiting at the stables of Thorins hall. Hilfar decided to wear some chainmail for this journey and brought a metal shield, slightly bigger than a buckler, and a rather heavy bronze mace. He met his father before the gate armed with a crossbow and a sword. One last smoke as the sun slowly rises above the mountain peaks.

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OOC: This piece will be split up into parts, as I, as the author, believe that keeping such a set of information to take in and IC knowledge to learn about certain characters and events should be arrayed across different parts, in order to retain an easier form of reading, and hopefully interest.

The Finding Of Fhlynn

By a True Father

Chapter Two - A memory best kept silent

The Finding of Fhlynn

By A true father.

Chapter One - Death and a true family?

Chapter Five: The Flames of Memory

It had been many years, since Garmorn had felt like this - So shocked, so powerless in the face of events. His younger brother, with emphasis on "younger", had the strength and willpower to offend him, so deeply that he might wonder if this had been some form of curse from Mahal, or a dream - A memory of the past, of his previous pain, and of the dark torture that took place nigh thirteen years ago, relative to the time that this tale is noting.