Grief

The Pony was slow tonight, after it being busy for many nights it felt good. Egfor's friend's latest interest came into the common room. She has ginger hair, which automatically makes me distrust her...if she is like Egfor's friend with red hair, I want nothing to do with her. But Fox finds her interesting. I know nothing of the attraction a man has for a woman, nor do I care to know. A man started flirting with her...and she flirted back. I was a bit shocked, as women tend to do it less than men when involved but I had a feeling Fox would not like this development.

Stuck in the mire that is my thoughts. 
My mind losing all its been taught
By me.

All the fears, suffocating
While my heart, itself, stands hating.
Never did I want this path,
But fate always gets last laugh.  

If these are growing pains,
Why do I not stand taller?
If, to strength, it pertains,
Why shatter me and make me smaller?

Many would offer words
Of comfort, to me.
But I stand so alone. 
Can't they see?

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.

When winter spread to the Bree-lands once more, the window which Diane stared out was shuttered closed. She was hidden from the world, and the world hidden from her. The only warmth came from weak candlelight, or a hearth too far from the bed.

(Includes a death. The following story takes place mostly in the year TA3012)

Orcs... There were orcs swarming all over the camp. They had come seemingly out of nowhere, the detachment had gone from calmly setting up their camp to fighting for their very lives, with Neth barking out orders in the thick of battle

"Form up! Form up and close ranks! They're just Orcs! We've fought them off before!"

Battle raged about Seronaer, the screeches of orcs and the roars of trolls mixed with the battle cries of men and elves and the clatter of steel and wood. It was messy, the ashen ground was turned muddy with blood as the mountain before them spewed yet more foul ash into the air.

The pages are spotted here and there with tears, and the handwriting shakes in places.

Dear Ma, Pa, and dearest brother (who I hope knows I love 'im even as much as I teases 'im),

I am so sorry, Ma. I barely don't even know how to start. Oh Pa, you and him had been pals for so long. I am so sorry to have to write this.

Your friend, and my master, Nadvald of the Lonely Mountain, who escaped the dragon, is dead.

“For many a year, I have mourned.

For many a year, I felt like I was scorned.

But I’ve now come out of my shell,

and broke Death’s menacing spell.

“I know it is my fault, which is plain and clear.

It was such a poor choice to live here, and thus it robbed my cheer.

Maybe it would be best, if that happened to be me.