Estarfin

This evening, as we crept through the woods of the Horse-men, we found a cache of supplies, abandoned we think, or stolen from a village, more likely. We stole it back, and decided to keep the goods ourselves, for safe-keeping. Inside we discovered dried beef, and cheeses, all unspoiled, and in another crate, many bottles of wine, young and harsh red. We were mighty glad of this treat, and it was a stroke of good luck to get it; for we had near run out of supplies, and we had not had any wine for many days - none since I left the Valley.

I have made too many observations on Men in my wanderings throughout the lands, and I have found that many are imbued with an instinct of cruelty, if I may call it an instinct. Their hearts are strange to us; and while it is true that there are, in every people, exceptions to the rule, in my travels through the Eastern Wilds, I have found Men who do not possess a natural delight in distress and horror to be woefully few.

They moved quickly from the deep shadows and despair of the dungeons into a small courtyard full of broken stone. Belegos led them out, moving with almost indecent haste to escape what they had done, had been forced to do. As he reached the middle of the courtyard he seemed to realise his mistake, as his sharp eyes scanned the empty windows and rough holes that had been delved into the high walls surrounding the open space. Nothing stirred in the silence, but the scout did not let his guard down.

We have done the Dun-men abundance of mischief, and we went against Grimbold’s wishes, and crossed the Isen when he forbid it. But he is not our lord to command us, and we go whither we will – that is, until now.

Tonight, we were set upon by a herd of Horse-men, and they surrounded us, and aiming their bows and spears at our throats, commanded us to lay down our weapons, because their king does not abide strangers wandering the land without his leave.

A sense of foreboding and fear lay upon him like a grey shroud, so thick he could barely breathe for the despair that clawed at his heart. Helpless and at the mercy of his captors; the thought was enough to send a chill through his blood, and he drew his knees to his still-healing chest. What treatment could they expect from these tall Men? They were raucous warriors, and he remembered well the treatment that his own band of warriors had meted out to their captives in Dunland.

(reposted as I accidentally posted this in the Poetry Category - P.)

It has been a long time since I last wrote anything. We had some very busy few days lately. However today was the worst. I am really beginning to hate healing anyone wearing an armor. Sadly when I look around me everyone wears one, even myself.

It looks like this.

Close to the bank of the river, a cluster of trees spread their branches above a pool of shade. In the gathering darkness, the figure hidden there is motionless, almost invisible in the gloom. A lone bird sings its farewell to the sun as it soars overhead. The wind casts a series of ripples across the surface of the water, breaking and re-breaking the reflection of the trees. All is still. If you did not have the ears of an elf, you might almost think it was a peaceful scene.

Estarfin slapped his hand away, surprised and angered by his presumption. Parnard looked taken aback at the reaction, and sat back down next to the small fire, holding his hands out before the orange flames to warm them.

Yesterday the Lord Tindir’s company returned to us at last, leaving the remainder of our missing company to be the Lords Estarfin and Veryacano, and