Vanimar

The map had made no mention of this place. A looming stone shape stood before him, dark and forbidding. He dismounted carefully from the bay mare, ensuring his boots made as little noise as possible on the loose scree outside the squat ruin. He whispered a word of caution to the tired horse, patting her mane as he did so.

*Written with Nirhen [Rainith]*

He spat a mouthful of blood and saliva onto the patchy grass of the training field; his lungs burning from exertion. His limbs felt like lead weights and sweat ran from his brow down his face. He looked at the blunt training sword laying in the damp grass and steeled himself for the effort to reach down and pick it up.

She was suddenly aware of movement nearby; a presence that she had not been expecting. Looking up from the grinding table, she wiped her face to remove the flakes of impure iron from her skin and wondered what had woken her. Looking around she saw nothing untoward. Her tools were laid out haphazardly around the workshop and the forge-fire had faded to a dull red.