tharbad

“To the sward, and to warmth and life.”

I had a vision of both Parnard and Estarfin racing for blankets, making a fire and sitting as close to it as they could without catching alight. The bitter cold was now pushing them beyond reasoned actions. But it was a foolish thought. None of us would be running anywhere. 

Estarfin kicked some loose soil into the dying embers of the fire to smother it. Time to move on. 

Yaelithe in Linhir was possibly her only hope. But it was a distance away, and Khahaynd was injured in body and even more so in spirit. She was not sure she would make it. She had fled the Elves, not because of their weapons, but because of their love. Strange, unknown, unwanted emotions had been evoked in her. She had no time for them.

~~The Ambitious Corsair~~

Chapter VI

A child should not have to see this. The end, then, of childhood. And a reason – if any is needed – why he has always hated wolves …

It comes to him as dawn rises over the lake. The water steaming gently as it warms, as though the lake itself breathes. This early in a cool autumn morning the birds are only beginning to wake. A single heron flies with deliberate strokes along the edge of the shore, grey bird against misted water, coming to land with surprising grace.

The heron finds its fishing spot and freezes.Tarchlang watches the bird, looks over the lake. The solitude oddly magnified by the presence of one fishing bird.

'He's as tight as an overstretched lute string.'

' I need them, old friend.'

The grey-haired man pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his thumb wearily over his forehead. He looks up slowly from his stool by the fire towards the other man perched on the worn oak chest.

'Men ... lads,' he continues, ' I'd even take a green boy or two if that's all there are to spare.'

The desperation behind his grey eyes leaks into his words as he picks up his pipe. Halbarad smiles wanly back at him as he listens to the too-familiar litany before replying.

Part One