war

   It's late, but I decided to write my thoughts down for a moment. 

   I remember a long time ago, before I had ever seen war. Times were better then. Love was easier to find, because your heart hadn't grown into a hunk of iron yet. You let war consume you. You let it seep into the rock that is your flesh. It was you, Azkas, who forgot how to show compassion.

It is dark. Not because it is a night time - it is always dark around this place. But it also happens to be a night. Only a few earth crystals are shedding their dim light through the window, barely enough to draw out the contours of a dwarf lying on his back in the bed. He is not asleep, he is thinking.

"Stones shall be shattered! Shape will emerge. Thus the fire of art is born.

Foes shall be shattered! Glory will emerge. Thus the art of combat is born.

Damric Sarrell was not a chivalrous man.

But is chivalry truly a key trait for a knight? It fails to assist in combat; nay, showing chivalry in combat would be a fatal mistake.  It would never be wise to allow your enemy to have the first move.

No.  

War is blunt, bloody and brutal.

And THESE are traits a warrior should have.

Tis a good thing these were traits Damric Sarrell had, and demonstrated frequently.

Meadwine and Meadowyn had before fought among the ranks, on foot. And the wars brought them to the lands further East, to Gondor. There the two fought side by side in many  battles and they were a fearsome two, potent soldiers upon the front.

My days and nights are so busy, that I have scarcely a moment to think and there is even less time for writing in my journal. Culufinnel keeps a close eye on me and none of the Golden Host can leave the fortress without permission. The guards watch the gate carefully and know me by sight now, for I am the ludicrous person wearing the thick leather armour who can barely move or lift his arms, and I stagger around the camp as if dragging a plough behind me.

Durin's Day, year 2894 of the Third Age, Hammersmith Hall,

This day was a day I would remember forever.  The day promised to be a normal Durin's Day in Hammersmith Hall.  The Ale Association was here, selling their ales and meads, and minstrels singing the songs of our forefathers.

With Abellinda away visiting her sister I have returned to Bree-Land after seeing that Brynal's babes were safe. When I returned I met with Eorran and he told me to be at the west gate in a couple of days for the ride north to make our camp. Before I headed to the gate though I filled my belly with some venison and no more than a half pint of ale. I would have needed to keep my wits about me, I feared.