Alaya tumbled and hit the ground, but jumped back up and continued walking straight away. The infant had been learning to walk lately and hadn’t quite mastered it. She stumbled and fell a lot but never cried and always pulled herself back up.

The sounds of steel clashing together rang out in the yard, with the many boys shouting as they fought one another. It was a warm afternoon in Pelargir, and everyone was sweating and panting as they trained with their swords.

Arenborn had returned to Bree-land, his journey back from Gondor taking much time, which he had used to think. He had, not wasted, but failed to use his time in Bree effectively. He knew what he wanted in life, and how he could get it, so why had he ignored it? This is of course, the Knights of Eriador. He had met members of the secretive organisation the last time he was in Bree, and they had welcomed him to their ranks. However, he had not spent much time with them, preferring to spend it with Tosie, or with a large quantity of alcohol.

The ruins of Tharbad

Together, or not at all.

The words run through Arenborn Kolten’s mind. They blot out most of his thoughts, distracting him from all but the soft fingers locked with his, the fiery red hair resting against his shoulder, and the familiar scent of Inayat, like long grass in the wind.

Travelling to Tharbad

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