The great power of the world rises steadily. Even fickle fate must bow to the inevitable lord, as a whore to the whim of her master. My little linnet brings me a map, found by one of her swains in the old north lands. How childlike these grown men and women of the horselands are, for all their fair flaxen stature, unable to read or form any letters. It is quite charming.
Notice: With the Laurelin server shutting down, our website will soon reflect the Meriadoc name. You can still use the usual URL, or visit us at https://meriadocarchives.org/
aelfgth
