Atmospheric music if you like)
Baralandir's grandfather always rose well before the dawn. Unless he was extremely ill, he would pull his creaking bones from his bed, and sit on the balcony and look east. Grey and still and old, he seemed to become part of their modest manor, like some sort of guardian statue. Even in the winter, when the cold wind blew from the north, he would wrap himself in his great cloak and sit. It had been deep black, now years had faded it to a grey that was almost blue, but the scepter and star embroidered in silver thread was as bright as the day it was given to him.
Their home was on the foothills of the Mountains of Evendim, and his grandfather looked east over the great lake Nenuial. On clear days the tall towers of Annuminas could be seen far away to the south. But for most of the year the lake was covered with fog at morning and evening. And this is what grandfather would watch, waiting for the sun to slowly melt it away. And often he would sing to himself a common song,
"Mist and shadow, cloud and shade.
All shall fade, all shall fade."
And when the sun was well up, he would return to bed.
Baralandir rose early himself this cold morning. He was grown to his full height and strength now, and was impatient to go to the capitol and enlist in the service of the King. But his father and mother still forbade him from doing so. He had half resolved to leave before they woke and ride away into the mist. His grandfather's milky eyes were open, and he called to him.
"I am glad you are awake. I was just thinking of you. It seems to me like it was just such a morning that I swore my vows as a Knight of Annuminas, and though the years lie heavier on me, I think I was your age or near enough. Stay awhile, and listen. We have time enough before the dawn."
Baralandir was intrigued. His grandfather rarely spoke of his days as a knight, though he had heard stories from those who served with him. He put more fuel in the brazier and drew a chair close.
"It was far from here, at Fornost Erain, in days when hardly any of our folk lived beside the lake. But though it lay over the north downs, the mists were the same..."
Baralandir's grandfather always rose well before the dawn. Unless he was extremely ill, he would pull his creaking bones from his bed, and sit on the balcony and look east. Grey and still and old, he seemed to become part of their modest manor, like some sort of guardian statue. Even in the winter, when the cold wind blew from the north, he would wrap himself in his great cloak and sit. It had been deep black, now years had faded it to a grey that was almost blue, but the scepter and star embroidered in silver thread was as bright as the day it was given to him.
Their home was on the foothills of the Mountains of Evendim, and his grandfather looked east over the great lake Nenuial. On clear days the tall towers of Annuminas could be seen far away to the south. But for most of the year the lake was covered with fog at morning and evening. And this is what grandfather would watch, waiting for the sun to slowly melt it away. And often he would sing to himself a common song,
"Mist and shadow, cloud and shade.
All shall fade, all shall fade."
And when the sun was well up, he would return to bed.
Baralandir rose early himself this cold morning. He was grown to his full height and strength now, and was impatient to go to the capitol and enlist in the service of the King. But his father and mother still forbade him from doing so. He had half resolved to leave before they woke and ride away into the mist. His grandfather's milky eyes were open, and he called to him.
"I am glad you are awake. I was just thinking of you. It seems to me like it was just such a morning that I swore my vows as a Knight of Annuminas, and though the years lie heavier on me, I think I was your age or near enough. Stay awhile, and listen. We have time enough before the dawn."
Baralandir was intrigued. His grandfather rarely spoke of his days as a knight, though he had heard stories from those who served with him. He put more fuel in the brazier and drew a chair close.
"It was far from here, at Fornost Erain, in days when hardly any of our folk lived beside the lake. But though it lay over the north downs, the mists were the same..."
Last edited:
.png){kind=avatar}
