Garion sat on his stool, whittling away to a piece of wood that was taking the shape of an animal... which one he didn't know as every time her carved, something new was created. His mind was lost elsewhere, his fingers never getting cut or pricked by the wood. His young daughter sat at his feet, playing with the wooden toys he had made her.
He would be twenty five next spring, a year since his wife had died of small pox along with his son. Not paying any mind to it, he moved along his train of thought when three riders galloped into the town square. His hand rested on his sword, his brow raised and an eye kept on his daughter. War was still about them in different places, he wasn't going to risk his daughter's life.
Ushering her inside their home, he closed the door and told her to wait for him. She was only six years old, her mother's blue eyes stared up at him as he shut the door. He walked to the center of the square, his jaw set.
"Why are you here?" he asked the brunette upon a tall black colt, her blonde friend giggled in what appeared to be amusement while their male friend remained quiet. It clicked in his head. Elves.
Sat Sep 03, 2011 1:55 pm